Okay, this is my first fan fiction. Yes, there are spoilers for the end of season 6. Please feel free to tell me about any mistakes, grammar or whatever. And as always read and review.

Disclaimer: ASP owns… yadda yadda. I could do better than her lately, I think.

A Home

She listens as the young boy runs through the house. His laughter is heard over the drone of the washing machine as he heads for the door. The next sound is that of a man. Telling the boy to wait for him as he loudly stalks down the stairs. She hears their hurried goodbyes and watches out the window as they gather fishing gear from the garage and go off on a manly bonding adventure. As the old green truck drives away from the house she is content. Knowing this is all she needs, this family she's made for herself.

Suddenly her smile fades as the room becomes deathly silent, the bright light of the day fading.


Not a night goes by
I don't dream of wandering
through the home that might have been

She awakens now. Her skin is damp and her nightgown soaked, whether from the heat of the early morning or her restless sleep, she knows not. Getting up, she heads for the bathroom shedding her garment as she goes. The old brass knob of the shower is turned to cold and she steps in allowing her overheated body to cool. The water rains over her dark curls and down her body, a reprieve from the sizzling drops that adorned her skin when she awoke so abruptly.


And I listened to my pride
when my heart cried out for you
now every day I wake again
in a house that might have been
a home

Once dressed she makes her way to the kitchen, her day has begun and although only 5 in the morning she knows there is no way she will be able to go back to sleep now. Coffee made, she sits at the table. Despite the heat she welcomes the warm liquid on her lips… it is her elixir of life and not a day goes by that she can resist it.

It is this early time of day, when she is alone and has had one of her dreams that she reflects. For her a reflection of her life is full of viewing and judging various mistakes.

When she was seven at one of her parent's lavish parties and twirled and twirled in her frilly dress until it nearly came up above her head, causing laughter from the upper crust of Hartford society and nearly a seizure from her thoroughly embarrassed mother.

When she was sixteen and her coming out dress did not fit. When she realized why and had to tell her parents about her own impending motherhood.

That one time when she lost her young daughter in the super market, frantically searching and calling her name.

Sleeping with her daughter's father on a balcony at her parent's house after a particularly taxing Friday night dinner.

Waking her daughter on the eve of her first wedding to run away, not even bothering to call her fiancé. When she fought with the best friend she ever had over his punk nephew. Believing that Christopher had finally gotten himself together enough for her. Not telling Luke not to go away with Nichole. Dating 'Digger' Stiles to annoy her parents. When she fought with her daughter over the younger girl's sleeping with a married man.

Not telling Luke about 'tequila night' with Christopher. Not speaking up about April.

When she let things between her and the only man she ever truly loved get so bad.

But most of all, her reflections surround her greatest mistake and regret, when she told Luke she couldn't do it anymore and ran to Christopher, believing that he would be a friend, believing wrong. To this day she doesn't remember much about what happened.

Screaming. Crying. Driving. Drinking. Waking up in a peculiar state of undress in Christopher's bed.

What happened afterwards however, is burned into her memory.

Being angry with him for taking advantage, for not being the friend that she had needed. Flying out the door of his apartment and racing back to Stars Hollow. The drive from Boston to the sleepy Connecticut town seemed so long as she thought of what to say. How could she tell him what had happened and still hope that there was a chance for them to work it out. In the end, she never did figure it out. He had been angry, as she knew he would be, but what hurt her most is the pain she saw in his eyes. It was there as he told her there was no way for them to get over that, that he couldn't forget or forgive, that had it been any other man they could have but not when it was Christopher.

It was four days later; when her pain of completely losing him became too much that she searched for a nearly forgotten number. It was a long shot and she was surprised when the man on the other end was more than happy to bring her to his company.

Ten days after her indiscretion the home she had lived in for over a decade was for rent, her things in storage. Her beloved dog, Paul Anka, was secured in her jeep along with the few things she took with her. It was painful to leave and knowing there would be questions she left in the dead of night. Her daughter understood, albeit sadly. Her parents less so, but they tried to be supportive.

It was one month after that ill-fated night, as she sat in her deluxe suite at the inn she was training at, that the stick turned pink. The tears burned as they trickled down her eyes. Wondering, how she could have been so stupid to let Christopher father another child of hers.

It was two days later, when the only hope she had left for a life not wasted came about. The doctor had been surprised as she cried tears of joy and jumped up to hug him.

Two months.

Two months before, she had been engaged to Luke. Two months before, he had given her a piece of him that she could always keep.


Guess I did what I did believing
that love is a dangerous thing
Oh but that couldn't hurt anymore than never knowing

She is startledby soft footsteps, but smiles as a tired little body shuffles into the room dragging a ragged quilt behind him. He looks up at her and with his shining blues eyes smiles. He is her miracle, her hope, her reason for not becoming a bitter old cat lady. It is early, but as soon as his small belly is filled she knows he will be completely awake and ready to be the light in her life that he is.

He is small with dark hair and at five years of age already has his mother's finely tuned sense of humor. With him she can joke and quip as easily as with her daughter and receive the same giggles and squeals she did when Rory was young. When she looks at him she can only smile. He is perfect, as perfect as the father that created him. Despite the similar hair and eye coloring to her, he is Luke. In facial features and demeanor, with a brilliant dimpled smile and quietness that are not uniquely his own, he is his father's son.

If only he knew.

As she looks at him she knows she is in the wrong, that she is no better than Anna that she has kept something so precious from the man she claimed to love. Her decision to keep the boy from him was not out of spite, it was not out of some inane idea that he did not like children, she told herself it was out of love and self-sacrifice. With April, he needed time and what would another child do to him and his single-mindedness. Being a half a world away made it easier for the deception, although not easier on her mind or heart.

Not a night goes by
I don't dream of wandering
through the home that might have been
and I listened to my pride
When my heart cried out for you
Now every day I wake again

Luke Danes has never been a particularly social person, that being said the past six years have take him to a level of hermit beyond even what he expected. His life is routine. He wakes early, runs his diner, sees his daughter, goes to bed and starts the cycle over again. At least, that was the routine. Now, with April happily ensconced at M.I.T. and slipping farther away from childhood and into the young adulthood where hanging out with her father is insanely un-cool as well as nearly impossible with the distance, he is left with only his diner. He still serves many customers, still makes good money, but the people of Stars Hollow know that everything is not right with him these days. Everyone knows why, everyone knows that Lorelai Gilmore, once beloved denizen of the Hollow, broke his heart by breaking their engagement and falling into bed with her grown daughter's father. Not to mention the pain of finding out that she had left and had not been heard from in over half a decade.

They talk about him a lot, as they are prone to gossip. They say he is lost, more so than he ever was after his other failed relationships or the death of his father. He is unable to cope with the loneliness and the knowledge that he was right to fear his fiancées relationship with her high school flame. He is bitter, more so than ever before, not the violent bitterness of their first breakup, but a quiet defeated bitterness that casts a pall of him. The only time he seems to break from this is when April is near and with that being less frequent the residence of Stars Hollow worry for this man who has, it seems, always been a part of the town.


In a house that might have been
A home
A home

Four walls, a roof, a door, some windows
Just a place to run when my working day is through
They say home is where the heart is
If the exception proves the rule I guess that's true

At night, he sits alone. Sometimes he can hear the sounds of revelry as Stars Hollow celebrates some insane holiday with a loud and garish festival. A festival she would have loved and dragged him grudgingly to with promises of appreciation later, when they were alone and at home.

With a beer in his hand he sits in his old lounger and thinks of her. He sees her smiling at him, tastes her tongue dueling with his, feels her body on his. When he has had a particularly bad day, he will cry for her and once his eyes are too dried out from the tears, he will fall asleep in the old chair and dream of her.

Not a night goes by
I don't dream of wandering
through the home that might have been
I listened to my pride
When my heart cried out for you

He is in her house, their house, the one he helped her to renovate. They are snuggled together on the couch watching another one of her classic movies that he is barely paying attention to. He looks at her, memorizes her every feature, watches the rise and fall of her chest, holds her so tightly.

It is then that he hears the squeak of a step and looks to see a child, a perfect little part of them.

Sometimes is it a little girl in a frilly princess gown clutching her teddy bear and other times it is a young boy in Red sox PJ's, no matter which one, he gets up slowly so as not to awake the sleeping woman in his arms and picks the child up. He cuddles his child close to him as soothing words are whispered, monsters are scared away, and covers are neatly tucked under a small chin.

Now every day I wake again
in a house that might have been
a home
a home

In the morning when the sunlight hits his face through the open curtain, he is pulled back to reality. Reality for him means routine. There are no moments on the couch, no children with nightmares, no passionate nights with the woman he loves, there is only cold harsh loneliness and thoughts of what could have been.