a/n: I guess I'll just continue as long as I have inspiration to?

DISCLAIMER: I Don't Own Gilmore Girls.

Richard Gilmore did not arrive home from the office until very late at night. Pulling his car into the circular driveway in front of his house; he checked the dashboard (fruitlessly hoping), looking at the time for the first time in hours. It was long past seven (though he had known it would), so there was the certainty that he'd already missed dinner.

The horrible thing was; as he grabbed his briefcase and bustled out of his car, up the walkway to the door of his grand house...He could not decide if he was sad about that or not.

Considering the late hour, and the fact that it was his house, he didn't bother with ringing the doorbell. Everyone should have already been in bed by this time, and he didn't want to wake them. So he took the extra time to fumble with his key in the lock.

Pushing the heavy wooden door open; Richard was met by a surprise, and not the pleasant kind.

One thing he had been disappointed about, all the way from the office and on the ride home, was that everyone would most likely be in bed by the time he got home. Though apparently, if the voices he was hearing echo throughout the house; he'd been wrong in that assumption.

Resigned, Richard took the liberty of hanging up his own coat in favor of calling in the newest maid out of wherever she was hiding. And she would be hiding, because (as was the norm in their house now) he could hear his wife and his daughter's voices shrieking at each other. He heaved a sigh as he deposited his briefcase by the coat rack. Later he would come back and move it to his office, but for now, he only wanted to do two things...The first one being to get some type of food.

Instead of entering the kitchen through the more traditional route-from the living room, and dining room-he turned right off the foyer. Completely and utterly doing his best to avoid the living room, and the bickering females in his family; he trudged straight into the kitchen. Oh, he knew Emily would be horrified if she knew what he was about to do, but he didn't feel like hunting down the maid to make him something. So a large ham sandwich on rye would have to suffice as his dinner for the night.

Pulling out the container of ham from the fridge and the loaf of bread from the cabinet; he did something he hadn't since college. He didn't use a plate. With the package of ham and bread still open he simply leaned over the sink and took a large bite. While he ate he did his best to tune out the arguing; he was fairly good at that by now. Really the only thing that affected him out of it all was the sheer noise level the girls were getting too. Though they might not have been asleep, there was more than a twinge of irritation stirring in his chest at the fact that they so easily forgot that there was someone else in the house who should be tucked soundly away by now.

Truly, though he didn't like the current situation in the household; he really wasn't surprised. It had never been uncommon for him to come home and hear Lorelai and Emily arguing, but recently things had gotten worse. Ten times worse in fact.

The past year and a half or so had been rough, what with their new addition to the household. Lorelai was having to learn how to be a mother, Emily was having to come to terms with the fact that she was a grandmother, and Richard was constantly battling the urge to murder each and everyone of the Haydens. Together, that equaled even more volatile tensions between Emily and Lorelai, and him hiding in his study more times than not.

Though as he cleaned up his mess in the kitchen he had to remind himself that despite the tension, there was one very plus side to this new situation. And that plus side was the reason why he'd tried so very hard to hurry home today.

One baby Lorelai Leigh Gilmore.

Tying the twist tie back in place for the bread package, Richard trudged wearily out of the kitchen. It sounded as if Emily and Lorelai's argument had at least decreased in volume, though not intensity; he took what he could get. Leaving his briefcase where he had deposited it earlier, he decided to call it a night. Braving the predator's eyesight; he made his way into the living room, his destination-the staircase, and then-his bed.

"If you had just-"

"Well you need to stop shoving your nose-"

His wife and daughter's voices pierced his ears; as he took the steps two at a time. They were arguing, he was fleeing, and the one person he really truly wanted to see tonight, was most likely already counting sheep. Or...should be.

On the landing to the second floor; Richard paused. Up here he couldn't quite make out the words being spat downstairs, but he could still clearly hear the rumble of voices. And if he could, he was sure there was a good chance a thirteen month old could too.

While the third floor of their house was dedicated solely to his and Emily's room. The second floor had a multitude of rooms; two large guest bedrooms, a bathroom at the end of the corridor, Lorelai's room and her ensuite, and...the nursery. A nursery that over year ago, had just been another guest room. But now had beautiful white details, soft corners, and an ornate crib that was the home of the newest Gilmore.

Richard paused; hand kneading the banister and rocking uncharacteristically back and forth on his heels, he deliberated on what to do. Recently his main reason for getting home from the office at a decent hour was the sweet little girl Lorelai had quickly nicknamed 'Rory'. Most nights he was able to get home just in time for dinner and to see her for a good half-hour before Lorelai put her to bed. And he found that today, a rare exception when he hadn't not only been able to get home in time for dinner-but many hours after, he felt...bad.

The sad part was that that half-hour in the evenings with Rory was easily the highlight of his day.

Mind made up, he ignored his own logic that screamed there was no sense in it, and started forward. He made a conscious effort to lighten his steps as he approached; holding his breath, he figured there was no harm in just peeking in on her before he went to bed.

Almost timidly he pushed open the door just the tiniest crack; at first his heart stopped...the room was completely and utterly dark. With the heavy curtains Emily had had a decorator hang covering the large bay window, no moonlight was able to penetrate. But that wasn't what made Richard sick, what made him feel like that was the fact that he was well aware that his granddaughter was afraid of the dark.

Gently he eased opened the door a little more; allowing more of the hall lighting into the room. He was trying his best, but all he could distinguish besides the mess downstairs was the sound of gentle breathing. Nothing distinctive enough to give him a hint as to if Rory had managed to fall asleep like this or not.

He was glad he had pushed that little bit further. Because that scant amount of extra lighting illuminated the wide awake eyes of a little girl clutching at the bars of her crib.

"Oh, Rory," he murmured, careful not to startle the poor girl. Pushing the door completely open, he walked fully into the room. And that pesky little irritating feeling he'd had all day simmered down slightly at the way the girl's eyes lite up at the sight of him. She wobbly tried to pull herself up by the bars; Rory almost had standing down, he had to give her that. But she had a little ways to go before she got the walking part down.

Guiltily, Richard was relieved that she wasn't there yet. According to Lorelai, Rory had already said the word 'Mama'-many times. All of which (including the first time) he had missed. Though he hadn't expected it; he had found himself feeling very slighted at the fact that he'd missed what was essentially her first word. To be fair, he hadn't been there for Lorelai's either.

Maybe that was why he found himself wanting to be there at least for her first steps.

Richard put a soft smile on his face; crouching down in front of the beautifully made crib, he stuck a finger through the bars. Immediately Rory's small hand latched onto his finger. Below, he swore he could hear the voices rising.

"Have they been at it long?"

Apparently he wasn't the rational man he thought himself to be because he would hold to the statement that his granddaughter just nodded in assent to him right then. His smile became a little more sincere, though it was still tinged with sadness, "Yeah. That's what I thought so."

Lorelai and Emily had been at it all day; making Rory the unwilling listener. It must have been one of their more vicious ones too if Lorelai had forgotten how to tuck her daughter in properly. Whether he liked it or not, Lorelai had shown herself to be a very good mother. Though-at the end of the day-she was still a teenager, who had a habit of going for her mother's throat whenever the opportunity presented itself.

His other hand came up and gently stroked her dark, downy hair. She didn't have much, but she did have enough that little ringlets were starting to form a halo around her. Even after this long...she was still so tiny. He could still remember the one thing Emily and Lorelai had seemed to agree upon in the in the last thirteen months-

Around Rory's sixth month Richard had come home extremely tired, a night much like this evening, and Rory had apparently had a 'cold'. From that night the only thing he remembered was violently yelling down a phone at some moronic pediatrician, and then the lecture and accompanying eye roll he'd received from both his wife and his daughter. According to them, he had... 'overreacted'.

"G'm'pa," Rory whined in front of him; impatient for his attention to be back on her. Hastily correcting his mistake he refocused back on the girl in front of him...

Wait.

Rory had demanded his attention.

"What did you just say?" His voice was hoarse, throat tight. Just like it had been the day he had first held her in his arms. He wiggled his finger; Rory's tiny hand still clutching it tightly. Richard had to resist the urge to get down on his knees and beg her to say what he'd thought he heard again.

She smiled sweetly-blithely-up at him; the darkness of the room forgotten.

"She said Grandpa," a familiar voice spoke from behind him.

Richard jumped, shocked; he had enough sense to be careful when peeling Rory off of him. Turning around he could clearly see the outline of his daughter leaning against the door frame.

Huh, that was interesting. So caught up in his granddaughter; he hadn't realized that it had gone silent in the war zone. Richard cleared his throat; awkwardly shifting, slightly embarrassed to be caught talking to a baby (even if he was firmly convinced that she understood every single word spoken).

"Where's your mother?"

"Bed," Lorelai answered curtly; walking into the room and flipping the light switch. Richard squinted at the sudden onslaught of brightness in the room, behind him, he heard Rory whine again. "Or, at least, I saw her go up that way. 'Got no clue if she's actually going to sleep or not. Don't care either."

"Lorelai," he warned; not bothering to go into the same old lecture. She rolled her eyes at his tone, something so childish that he wanted to laugh, because she was standing in her daughter's nursery. Lorelai shrugged her shoulders in the over sized sweater she was wearing, bunching up the sleeves; she huffed, tired. He narrowed his eyes at her; trying to muster a glare. "How long were you standing there?"

She smirked slightly, a strange look on her otherwise blank face. "Long enough," she said simply. "Came up to go to bed, and I saw the door open-"

Steadily her smirk and look of amusement had been falling, as she saw the way he was looking at her. He had no right to parent her about her parenting, he knew that. But he couldn't help the accusing way his words came out, "You forgot to turn her nightlight on."

"Yeah, Dad, I realized that." She chewed her lip, a tick she still hadn't outgrown. "Came in here to fix it."

For what felt like a long moment; they stared each other down. He saw the dark circles rimming her eyes, and the way she looked practically folded in on herself. Just from looking at her; he could tell it had taken a lot out of her, fighting with her mother. Especially if she had forgotten such a key component in Rory's bedtime ritual. Eventually...he decided to venture on a solution that should make them both happy. "Lorelai," he said heavily; hoping she wouldn't jump him for this. "Go to sleep; you're exhausted. I'll put her to bed."

Lorelai kept steady eye contact with him, something he respected (especially considering he had a good foot of height on her). But she kept quiet; silently assessing him, looking for the hidden meaning in his words. Determining if she was going to be judged for this one concession in motherhood. When she finally determined that there was no judgment or condemnation behind his offer; she sighed. Relaxing her half-hearted fighting stance slightly; she came forward, bypassing him she leaned over her daughter's crib.

Richard took a step back; allowing Lorelai room with her daughter. He watched as she bent over the railings; brushing one hand over Rory's silky smooth curls in a gesture reminiscent of his own, she kissed her gently on the top of the head. "Love you," he heard Lorelai say sweetly, in a tone completely different than the one she'd had before. "Nighty, night."

With that she stood erect, nor sign of her previous slump in her posture as she looked at her farther. With a curt nod she turned to leave; Richard and Rory's eyes both trailing after her, but before she went-she paused in the doorway. Looking over her shoulder at Richard; she gave him a small-but genuine smile, "Thanks Dad...And you did hear her right the first time. She said 'grandpa'." Lorelai shrugged (with what Richard noted as a little bit of resignation in her posture that made his blood run cold). "You were her...second word. Well, anyway, night Dad."

Giving a lackluster sort of wave; she left in the direction of her room. A second later, Richard could hear the sound of her bedroom door opening and closing quietly. There would be a baby monitor on her dresser that would alert her in the middle of the night if Rory woke up needing her, but-for now-she would be able to get some much needed rest.

And while this compromise benefited her...it benefited him as well.

With his head still ridiculously lightheaded from the mumbled sounds of a thirteen month old; he turned his attention back to his granddaughter. He was pleased to note, that unlike the reaction most babies would've had to the tense situation-crying; Rory was silent. From his own limited experience he believed that was just another area in which his granddaughter differed from the majority; Rory was a surprisingly quiet child. Never really fussy, never really mean, and didn't didn't to do the outrageous squealing of most infants.

She just sat, tiny hands back to clutching the bars, looking at the doorway her mother had just left out of. Then she turned her head back to him, large brilliant blue eyes blinking up at him.

He really did love the color of her eyes. He'd been ridiculously happy that they so far showed no signs of changing colors.

"Are you ready for bed?" He asked her seriously, almost expecting a verbal answer from her. Rory just stared at him; scrunching up her little button nose just the slightest. Richard was smug at that..and Emily thought she couldn't understand them. Their granddaughter was already, and would become even more, smart as time wore on.

"Alright then," leaning his large frame over the small crib was no easy task, and neither was it to lift his granddaughter. Of course she was tiny, and already lifting her arms up towards him in the universal sign of 'pick me up'; she weighed no more than a feather in his arms. It was just that he was still absurdly terrified that he would accidentally hurt her.

Standing back up; he got her situated on his hip. One large arm bracing her back being more than enough to support her as her little fingers clutched in the fabric of his dress shirt. Walking out of the frilly nursery, he looked down at the baby in his arms, something akin to happiness running through his veins at the possibility of the word she'd said only moments ago.

Richard wasn't just liberating Rory from her doily covered prison for no good reason. If she wasn't asleep yet, and Emily and Lorelai fad finally called it quits for the night, than he saw no good reason why he should rush off to bed either. Not when it gave him a chance to gain back some of that time he had missed because of the bumbling Floyd who just couldn't seem to shut his mouth.

This time he traversed the stair much more carefully. The heavy curtains that adorned the windows that made up a large part of the front of his house; were shut tightly. He felt Rory tense a little in his arms, and he picked up his pace. Passing the place where he'd sat it earlier; he swooped up his briefcase with his free hand and swiftly made his way to their target-his study.

Shouldering open the door was no easy task, but he managed. Nudging it shut with his foot, his first priority was to carelessly sling his briefcase down on his desk and flip on the antique fixture that served as his desk lamp. Instantly, light flooded the room, and he felt the little body in his arms relax at that. When he felt Rory calming down. the tenseness that had been creeping up on him all day, dissipated too.

Carelessly (but gently) he flung them both down into the large leather chair that he specifically favored. He heard a sweet giggle when he slung her around; pretending for the sake of it to throw her. Smiling broadly as he looked at his grinning grandchild; he settled her snugly on his chest as he reclined back. Finally relaxing for the first time that day; he stared down at the blue eyes only a shade different than his own.

"Shall we continue?" He whispered theatrically to her, scrunching his nose up in a feeble impression of a funny face. Nevertheless, it sufficed for Rory, as he managed to get another giggle out of her. "I'll take that as a yes."

See, while Richard didn't necessarily take part in Rory's bedtime 'routine'. He and her did have a sort of...tradition of their own. And that tradition was located in the one drawer of the small inn table that was positioned right beside their chair. Reaching over with one hand, the other still laying lightly on her back, Richard fumbled for a moment. Getting the drawer open; he pulled out it's only object...

"Ok then," he re-situated them, Rory's back propped up against his chest while his arms held the book in front of her. It wasn't a children's book, at least not one you would expect to be read to someone who was still practically an infant. The leather binding fading, and the pages yellowing-it certainly didn't look the part either. Yet, that didn't faze either him or Rory in the slightest.

"Mmmm," he hummed lightly; feeling Rory snuggle closer into him, her eyes on the flicking pages as he flipped to the spot where they'd last left off. They'd been at this for a few months now, just whenever they could sneak the time. Richard had never meant to start something like this, and most certainly hadn't told Lorelai or Emily of it, not that he was ashamed of it-but that he knew it would just be the fuel for another argument. Even if he was just reading the child a bedtime story!

Besides, selfishly, he liked that it was just him and Rory. He liked that he got to regale her with the long ago written tale of a secret world hidden inside a wardrobe. Of children both brave and strong, selfish and prideful. It felt right to read her the stories he himself had read as a child.

"Ah, here we are," he said; coming to a stop at the last page he'd read to her. Taking a deep breath, he glanced down at Rory; her blue eyes blinking up at him, as if demanding him to get on with the tale.

So he did.

Time ceased to exist. Not in the cinematic way, where everything just paused around the one fixed point in time. But in the way that he simply forgot everything. Everything but lions and witches, the thumbing of the wearing pages, and the attentively listening little girl in his arms. This was time simply for him and is granddaughter. Away from the expectations, from the arguing and the bickering, and the demand that came with being a high society family.

He'd forgotten it all. His voice narrating in a rumbling whisper, he continued until the words were blurring on the page and his head was dizzy with the tug of sleep. With a deep yawn; he folded down the corner of the page they'd left off on. Next time he would forget where they'd stopped, and they would reread portions again. But Richard didn't mind, and Rory never complained. With fumbling fingers; he put the book away, back in it's hiding place, where it would stay until they were ready for it again.

Looking down, Richard checked on Rory. She'd been silent while he read, but that wasn't anything unusual. Still, it made him chuckle quietly when he saw her slumped down against him, her eyelids drooping drowsily. Though she was fighting, fighting valiantly against the pull of sleep; Richard knew she wouldn't even last the journey back to the nursery.

And if he were being truthful with himself; he didn't really feel like moving either. In the morning his back and knees would protest, and Emily would have a fit about propriety-but those were things that could be dealt with later.

Propping his feet up on the settee; he pulled Rory closer to him. Both were slowly loosing the battle against sleep; her curled up against his chest, and his arms loosely cradling. With one large hand; he stroked her hair back soothingly.

Tiny fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and before she lost the final battle he heard her say one mumbled word-

"G'm'pa."

Come morning the cycle would start all over again. Richard would go to work where he excelled; battling idiots and wishing he were at home. While Lorelai and Emily with rejuvenated energy, went at each other again. Each wearing the other down to that inevitable end. And Rory...sweet, innocent, Rory was shuffled back-in-forth between it all.

But that one, garbled, barely there word made all of that worth it. Made him suddenly, fiercely, willing to endure the endless bitter cycle over and over again just to hear it one more time.

That night, Richard Gilmore fell asleep with a smile on his face.

A/N: Ok so first of all, I don't have children. So I might have gotten the milestones wrong (walking, talking, standing, etc...). Sorry about that but I hope it was at least semi believable.

So, so far I think I've kind of built up this headcannon. That when Rory and Lorelai still lived with Richard and Emily until Lorelai ran away (when she was 17?). During that time Richard bonded a lot with Rory. Cause Emily and Lorelai were fighting all the time (which is what I think inspired her to leave in the first place) he just really took to Rory as peace and serenity. Someone he could love without worrying about having them cut his throat out at the wrong word. And I wasn't making Lorelai out to be a bad mother, just at the end of the day-she's a teenager still. Even if she is a wonderful mother at the time we see her, I kind of think while she was living with her parents still; she would've relied slightly on them until she decided to leave with Rory and do it all on her own.

And we all know how Emily took Lorelai running away. But the only reaction we ever really got out of Richard was on Emily's behalf. So I like to think that Richard wasn't so hurt that his almost grown (17, 18) year old headstrong, stubborn daughter took off on her own. But more that she all so suddenly took Rory away. And that in the early episodes the reason why Richard seems so distance towards Rory is because he's scared that at the wrong word between Emily and Lorelai. Lorelai just might take away access to his granddaughter again.

Does that make sense? Lol.

This is pre-series. If I continue I think I might do like two more pre-series before I get into the episodes.

And if any of you are confused about the book Richard's reading to her. It's the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Part of the Chronicles of Narnia.

R&R please let me know what you think. I'm curious.