Wow, lots of nice reviews from that last chapter! Thanks guys! One thing I realised from some of the reviews was that I forgot to make it clear that there's a bit of a time jump in the second part of that prologue. Alice discovered P&P when she was eleven, but then it cuts to the present where she's fifteen. So it's not that I don't know my own character, I'm just a scatterbrain. Anyway, a slightly longer chapter this time!

Disclaimer: Let this be for the whole story, because I'm far too lazy to do this every time. Only the next generation are mine, and even then, to call them original is a fair stretch of the imagination.

Chapter One: I Never Talk to Strangers

Her first impression is that he doesn't look anything like Liz. He mostly looks like the thirty-nine year old man he is, and a tiny bit like Luke. That might have been due to the expression gracing his features, which clearly said you just woke me up from a nap and that bothers me.

"I'm not buying any cookies," he tells her. His voice is raspy and a little bored.

Yep, she woke him up.

"Huh? I'm...I-I'm not," she stammers, blushes deeply and proceeds to stare at her feet. He raises his eyebrows and rests against the door frame. He crosses his arms and leans in conspiratorially towards her. "If you're looking for the clinic, it's on the parallel street to this," he signals with his head. "You wouldn't be the first to get lost."

She gapes at him.

Screw it.

"No! I'm your cousin."

His eyebrows shoot up to the sky.

"That so?"

"Yeah," she admits nervously. "Not by blood. I'm not sure what kind of cousin. Our family's way too dysfunctional for all that once-removed stuff to figure out. Not that you're dysfunctional or anything! Just, there are a lot of step-parents going on and Doula and Gary just call me their cousin. So do Will and Audrey even though they're technically my aunt and uncle. Not that they ever let me forget that, because they don't, but they usually refer to me as a cousin to make life simple and to placate the parents and-"

"Okay, okay, I get the picture!" He straightens a little. "Cousins. I presume by the excessive use of words you're Gilmore?"

She nods and shifts a little from side to side.

"You're soaked," he remarks.

"It's raining." Stupid, she berates herself in her head.

"Huh. Who'd have thought? Come on then." He disappears into the dark head. Unsure of how to proceed, she loiters at the threshold of the house.

The house is dark and a little gloomy, but not totally unwelcoming. Clearly the Gothic theme was in her imagination. She is a little disappointed. There are books everywhere. On tables and under tables. Piled on chairs and stacked under chairs. In shelves and on top of shelves. On the stairs and under the stairs.

Seuss would have gone wild with delight.

She lingers in the hallway for a moment before he reappears with a towel which she gratefully but nervously accepts. She begins wringing her hair while following him to the kitchen. He makes her a coffee, without asking her. Oh yeah, he definitely knows her family.

"Which Lorelai?" He asks suddenly

"Rory."

She can't see his reaction; his back is to her.

"She doesn't know you're here." It is not a question.

"No," she admits. "I skipped school. She doesn't know that I know who you are. Liz told me not to tell her. But I had to come see you because...well I've read all your books and I'm a huge fan and my teacher wants me to do a project about a writer...and once Liz let slip who you are-" Here he snorts dismissively. "I was just curious..." she trails off and realises they are now in a poky living room. They sit.

He stares at her for a long moment, and she doesn't quite know where to look. Has he heard a word she has said? A long, pregnant pause follows in which she stares engrossed into her coffee. She takes a sip and feels some warmth return to her, even though she is still shivering mildly. She shifts a little under his scrutiny.

"You look like her," he says finally. "Your mother."

"Everyone says that. But my hair is like grandma's and I have my dad's brown eyes."

"Your dad is..."

"Logan Huntzberger." She dislikes telling people who her father is; they tend to judge her for it. He nods slowly and meets her eyes.

Another pause.

"What age are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Huh. You look younger."

She doesn't know how to respond to that.

"How did you get here?"

"I skipped final period. I can get a later bus home."

He groans, "No-one knows you're here?"

"Um...no?"

"And they're expecting you?"

"Well Mom's working. But I suppose Luke will notice if I don't go for coffee after school. And Will and Audrey will notice I'm not on the bus. I don't have my cell phone; I must have forgotten it this morning." Suddenly she feels very stupid.

"Jeez," he mutters and before she has time to protest he has found the phone and dialled.

"Lorelai? It's Jess. Jess Mariano, how many Jess's do you know? Non-fictional... No, Male! Lorelai? Calm down. No, because...No. Because she's here! Yes. No. I don't know she just arrived at my door. I tried to but you kept interrupting me talking about Jessica Fletcher. Yeah, yeah. Same house, yeah. Okay." He hung up and sighed heavily. "Lorelai's on her way."

"I'm in big trouble," she said guiltily.

He looked deeply uncomfortable. "Sorry to rat you out, but I know how Stars Hollow overprotects their princesses." He really does look sorry.

"This was a bad idea," she says softly. "I'm sorry. You're probably busy."

She's horrified to realise her voice is choked up.

Apparently so is he.

"Ah jeez, alright. Conduct your interview. You're destroying my Salinger-style reclusive rep, but go ahead."

She sniffles. "I don't have any questions prepared. Dammit, impulsiveness is not my friend!"

He chuckles. "You sound like your Mom." He sobers for a moment. "You've really read all my books?"

She nods. "Yeah, my mom has them all except for The Subsect, obviously. It's impossible to find."

"All of them except The Subsect," he repeats hollowly.

"It's a collector's item," she informs him, because he doesn't seem to know.

He smiles a little. "We only a printed a few. I had to haul my ass all over the eastern seaboard to get bookshops to stock it. Sweet justice."

"Who's your inspiration?"

She pulls a pen and paper out of her bag, determined to get something from this.

"God, I've no idea," he sighs. "A combination of a lot of people, I guess. Hemingway, Salinger, Kerouac, Bukowski...everyone I guess. Beats, mostly. But I couldn't tell you how they influenced me directly, though."

She nods emphatically.

"Your writing is so unique," she gushes. "I can't think of anyone who I could compare you to."

He smiles a little sadly.

"Yeah, I've been told that before."

She searches for another question. "Um... when did you start writing?"

"When I was eighteen." Luke had kicked me out of Stars Hollow and I was on the road, homeless, a little hopeless. It just...burst out of me." It seems to make him a little sad, so she moves on, although she stores the gem in her head that he lived in Stars Hollow for later.

"Like Bukowski?" She tries to remember, but comes up with only fragments:

unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.

"Like Bukowski." He seems a little impressed. She smiles, validated and a little proud.

"How often do you spend writing?"

"A lot. I don't run Truncheon anymore, that's the publishing house I worked at in Philly. They wanted me to get my books out faster. So recently I've been trying to do it full-time. We opened a store in Hartford and I moved here to help set that up, but I don't have much to do with the day-to-day running anymore."

"So you're working on something new? When's it coming out? What's it about?" She could probably be hired to be his personal cheerleader.

"It's nothing yet, just a bunch of ideas in my head. But it'll probably be a collection of short stories."

A car's headlights beam through the window and Alice knows it's her grandmother. She only now realises how dark it is. He tells her to wait a minute and returns with a battered little book.

"It's a little ruined. I have new ones in a box somewhere, I'll see if I can find you one."

She holds it like the precious item it is and flips through the pages. The book is filled with tiny, precise handwriting. Half the chapters are crosses out with light pencil. Light enough to still read the text, but enough to show he wasn't keen on that particular section.

"Part of the editing process," he jokes. "I hate that book... I write in the margins a lot," he says by way of clarification.

"I do, too," she enthuses. "It's perfect. I love books with character."

"I bet your mother loves that." He smiles at her and she realises he has a crooked, almost lopsided smile.

"She's used to it by now. Thanks."

"It's cool," he waves it off. "Just don't tell your mother."

"Why?"

They are interrupted by Lorelai's frantic ringing of the doorbell. Jess opens the door for her and she storms in. A cape should have swished behind her. Ominous music should have been playing. Alice could imagine Wagner writing for this type of situation.

"Where is she? ALICE LORELAI GILMORE! You are in soo much trouble, missy! I have a cell waiting on Robben Island with your name on it!"

Alice responds by staring at her feet and scuffing them against the floor.

"If your mother ever found out! What were you thinking? Skipping school, leaving your cell phone at home. I was worried sick! I called your school! I attacked the bus driver! How could you be so irresponsible?"

Alice's cheeks suddenly feel very hot and wet.

"Lorelai," Jess interjects. "Come on, she's alright. Nobody was hurt."

Lorelai ignores him, but her tone softens. "You have no idea what was going through my head."

"I'm sorry."

She sighs. "Just go and get your stuff."

She runs to the living room to get her backpack and the towel. When she returns, the adults are arguing.

"Come on, Jess."

"No!"

"It's just Thanksgiving."

"I'll pass."

"Luke's cooking! Sookie will inevitably send dessert. I'm going to make turkey hands with the kids, even though they're too old and they'll grumble the whole time. April's flying in from Boston. Kirk and boy Kirk are re-enacting the First Thanksgiving! By themselves! There's going to be multiple costume changes."

He makes a different dismissive gesture at each sentence. His creativity is a little impressive.

"Come," Alice pipes up.

The two adult's heads swivel toward her.

"Listen to the little delinquent. You can teach her your school avoiding skills. Impart some Mariano wisdom."

"You're hilarious," he informs her, dryly. "Will it be hard for your children when you go away to do Last Comic Standing?"

"Come on, Jess! Luke told me not to leave without a promise that you'd come!"

He sighs. Looks at Alice. She gives him her best Gilmore pouty eyes.

"'Atta girl," Lorelai cheers.

He points at Alice, "Put them away."

"Only if you come for Thanksgiving. We can finish my interview. Please."

He sighs deeply. "Maybe."

"That's enough for me! Come on, kid!" She grabs her granddaughter and runs out the door before he has time to change his mind.

He shouts, "That's probably a no!" as they are leaving the driveway.

"I can't hear you!"

"Lorelai!"


After a monumental telling off from her grandmother in the car on the way home, Alice got some of the information she craved. Jess and her mother had fallen out before she was born, Lorelai said. Everybody had been busy at the time, with her pregnancy with Audrey and the wedding. Nobody knew why, and nobody asked. That was that.

And for God's sake, don't ever tell your mother I told you this.


Three days later, spontaneously and of his own accord, Luke decided to fill her in a little more.

"I think he was always a little in love with her," he remarked as he fixed the TV and she sat on the sofa reading The Subsect. Everybody else was out doing God knows what, but Alice was bored and she wanted to relax. She wasn't as close with her cousins and other relatives as her mother would have liked. It wasn't that they disliked each other, but there was a couple of years between her and the next youngest, Audrey, and it seemed to become more obvious as time passed. Although she had some friends at school, she always seemed to be the loner in the Gilmore-Danes clan, preferring to read than to shop with Audrey and Doula and play sports with Will and Gary.

It wasn't a problem to Alice, anyway; she was happy on her own with a good book. The sun was streaming through the room, illuminating every dust particle in the air. She revelled in the peaceful setting. Luke tilted her head in the direction of the book and gave her a meaningful look. "Your mom and dad were having problems at the time. They were breaking up one minute and making up the next. It looked for a little while like her and Jess were finally going to...have their moment, I guess. At least, it did to me. But then your mom found out she was pregnant with you and went back to your dad."

She let this information sink in.

"I wish she hadn't gone back to him," she said softly.

"Hey, now." Luke had his ' fathers united ' face on. "Your father loves you. He's just not very good at showing it. Plus, he's not around much to show you. But he makes sure you and your mother never want for anything and he never forgets your birthday. Remember how jealous Audrey and Doula were last year when he sent you that Gecko coat from Paris?"

"It's Gucci, grandpa," she groaned and rolled her eyes. "And I would have preferred a hug." Suddenly she did not want to be having this conversation at all.

"You can't choose your parents, kiddo." Luke patted her head tenderly as he left the room.

She shrugged, sighed heartily, and went back to her book.