A.N.: I know it's been a while since I updated this story. I've been working on other things. Please don't just 'Follow' this story; I'd love to hear your thoughts on Lydia, the boys, the change in dynamics with Lydia in the story, how she affects Rory and Lorelai's relationship, etc. I welcome plot-suggestions, too.
The Lorelai Paradox
03
As much as the first week back at school was about settling in and discovering which classes she had been assigned to that she wanted, and starting on the unconquerable pile of reading that was expected for each class, for Lydia, the first week back at Yale was also about catching up with her friends.
Enrolment week was always hectic, but her entire life had been building up a training regime to prepare her for this; the only thing that dampened her memories of the first week of her sophomore year was Paris' insistence in mourning Professor Fleming. Their first night of freshman-year, a phrase had been coined in honour of Lorelai, and last year everyone in their building had remembered Lydia and Rory for having an incredibly cool mom. This year, their suite had been opened up for a wake, her grandmother had apparently stopped by, terrorising the entire party, Rory had snuck back to Stars Hollow, leaving Lydia alone to deal with Paris when she had stumbled back from Korean barbecue and drinks with Juliet, Rosemarie and the boys.
Loaded up as she was with every class she had thought absolutely intriguing, the first week was a beautiful balance of parties and incredibly engaging lectures that, strangely enough, had her itching to do research. The same flu-like bug had bitten her last year, too, the first time in her entire academic career that she had been so enthralled by her classes that she wanted to study without it having to be for the good of her GPA. Nobody had told her that attending Yale would give her an enjoyment of learning.
She hadn't spent much time in the Hollow since…well, since Christmas; and the summer had been devoted to Emily Gilmore slowly but surely sapping away her will to live. But being back at Yale felt like a return to norm; she had a schedule, she had her social life back, which all combined to make her very happy. She was busy, happy; she felt like she had a purpose when she fulfilled her reading quotas for the day, excited by future dates and parties as much as she was excited to sit in her 'Cities, Art & Protest' module, her fifteenth-century literature lectures; the enthralling 'Harlots, Housewives and Heroines: Reformation Women, 17th Century Feminists' module and the first instalment of her six-week Art History class.
"He was not flirting with me." Lydia glanced up from her dinner, eyebrows raised inquisitively.
"Who?"
"Logan."
"Ah, Logan," Lydia smiled. "Yes, he was."
"He was not!" Rory flushed.
"Rory, you're love-dense," Paris sighed. "He loved getting you riled."
"Everyone knows irritating someone to get a rise out of them, especially when the person doing the irritating is Logan and the girl being irritated has your eyes, it's flirting," Lydia said.
"He was a jerk to Marty."
"So we hear."
"How do you even know him, anyway?" Rory frowned.
"You know him, too," Lydia said, glancing across the table at her sister. "He used to go to Grandma's Christmas parties when we were little. Or, was dragged to Grandma's Christmas parties, is a more accurate description. His father's Mitchum Huntzburger."
"Mitchum Huntzburger—the newspaper guy?" Rory blurted, her eyes popping, and Paris turned to stare at Lydia.
"Yeah, he owns at least a dozen newspapers," Lydia nodded. "Lucky boy, Logan gets to inherit the entire enterprise." She shook her head; part of Logan's sabbatical and his disinterest in graduating college lay in his fear and hatred of having to accept the mantle of heir to the Huntzburger newspaper empire.
"Mitchum Huntzburger was shortlisted for a Pulitzer at twenty-five," Paris said, sipping her water. "Impressive guy."
"I remember him as kind of a jerk," Lydia said, frowning as she took a few bites of her garlic-bread.
"You think all Grandma and Grandpa's friends are jerks," Rory sighed. Lydia shrugged.
"They usually are," Lydia remarked. "Floyd Stiles, Straub Hayden—"
"Isn't that your grandfather?"
"Technically speaking," Lydia nodded.
"The one you walloped in the face?"
"I figured it was better I do it than Grandpa," Lydia sighed, sipping her soda. "Anyway, you should go for Logan, Rory."
"I should—"
"At the very least, don't attack him next time you see him," Lydia said, glancing at her twin. "He might be stopping by the Yale Daily News now that he's back; he could be a good contact."
"I'd rather not have contacts like Logan."
"Paris, correct me if I'm mistaken, but most guys in the big positions in newspapers around the globe are kids like Logan," Lydia said, glancing at Paris. "Kids who went to schools like Chilton and have Ivy educations and have parents like Grandma and Grandpa?"
"Most," Paris agreed with a nod.
"At least Logan's cute," Lydia said, tucking in to her lasagne.
"He was condescending and rude and let his friends treat Marty like dirt," Rory frowned.
"He apologised," Lydia said fairly. "And he's cute."
"He's irritating."
"Blonde guy, cute, arrogant but charming, has a comeback for everything… Hey, Paris, does that description ring any bells?" Lydia asked, without looking at Paris.
"He's Tristan DuGrey mark two," Paris said, deadpan but succinct as ever.
"I wonder what he's up to," Lydia said thoughtfully; she hadn't heard anything about Tristan from any of the guys who had once been friends with him at Chilton, but she was sure he had probably ended up at an Ivy League like Colin, Logan and Finn, all of whom had a very long record of pulling practical-jokes, blowing off school to go snowboarding and spending the weekend drinking instead of doing homework.
"Logan is not Tristan, Second Edition," Rory sighed, looking irritable.
"I have some more reading to do before my early-morning lecture tomorrow," Paris said, getting up from her seat. "I'll see you back at ours?"
"We'll be back after dessert," Lydia said, and Paris smiled sadly and carried her plate away. Lydia was one of only two people in the entire world who could handle Paris Gellar with any equanimity, and it was good that both she and Rory lived with Paris, or she'd have a burial-plot right beside Professor Fleming's, filled by whatever roommate she had driven psychotic. Lydia glanced after Paris. She hadn't realised how much Paris had loved Professor Fleming; their relationship had been just too shudder-some for Lydia to consider without needing a shower in a hazmat room, but she didn't like seeing Paris so quiet and mournful.
"We need to help her get out there again," Lydia sighed softly. "Maybe she can meet someone her own age to take over the world with."
"Asher only just died," Rory said, frowning.
"He was sixty years old; they were together less than a year," Lydia said, giving Rory a look. She sighed. "Sooner or later, he was going to die, as are we all, but at least this way, Paris' whole life hasn't been railroaded by his death. She still has time. Speaking of…how's Dean?"
Rory glanced up. "How's that a 'speaking-of'?" Rory's phone, sitting on the table next to her plate, started to buzz.
"Dean?"
"Yeah," Rory said.
"That's just creepy," Lydia grimaced, glancing at her sister.
Everyone always thought Rory was the angel; Lydia was the playful, bubbly girl oozing with charisma, who got caught kissing boys and went to parties and consecutively won Miss Patty's talent contest every year. When people looked at Rory, they saw the porcelain-faced, doe-eyed angel who went to private school; when they looked at Lydia, they saw…well, probably someone they expected to sleep with another girl's husband.
But Lydia would never sleep with someone's husband, and the only time she had ever kissed another girl's boyfriend had been Tristan, and the wires had been crossed so she hadn't known he'd been dating…whatever her name was.
She knew, even if Rory was in denial about it, that sleeping with Dean while he was married to Lindsay was wrong—and that Dean's divorce was a direct result of Rory sending that stupid, thoughtless letter to Dean.
Lydia had gotten her rebellions out of the way the last few years, and most of the time it had been directed at Grandma; she loved Lorelai too much to make her life difficult, because she knew very well that if Lorelai had chosen to be selfish, had she wanted this great Ivy education for herself and all the things that that could have given her, she and Rory wouldn't exist. Her rebellions had been tame in comparison to her mother's, but she had gotten them out of the way, had done the childish stuff while she was still a child, and could now sit across the table from Rory and know that what her sister was doing wasn't right.
She didn't want to agree with the hissing viper that turned out to be Theresa, but Rory had broken up a marriage; yes, Dean had made the gross error in sleeping with Rory, and leaving Rory's letter for his wife to find, but Rory hadn't stopped him, and she should have known that was very wrong. So Lydia sat, eating her dinner and watching Rory while she had a quiet conversation with Dean on her cell-phone. When Rory hung up, Lydia wiped her mouth on a napkin, sipping her soda.
"How's he doing?" she asked.
"Dean? He's okay," Rory said quietly. Lydia nodded.
"Has he even taken his stuff out of his wife's place yet?" she asked. Rory gave her a look. "Sorry, it's just…what do you expect me to think about the situation? You slept with someone's husband and she found out…" Rory's face flushed shamefully, and she focused on her plate. "So you two are, what…back together?"
"Yes," Rory answered.
"I thought Dean was back at his parents' house."
"He is."
"And they're okay with this?" Lydia asked; she had seen Dean's mother shortly before she and Rory had made the trip to Yale. She hadn't been best pleased that Lydia was Rory's twin-sister—usually, nobody was—but she had been polite to Lydia, because Lydia had been polite to her. Mrs Forester had told her that Dean was moving back home until he could find a place of his own. "With…you?"
"I don't…I don't know, okay," Rory said, her cheeks still warm as she tucked her hair behind her ears. "So I guess I've got your opinion on the situation."
"You'd have Lorelai's too, if you'd ever talk to her about this," Lydia said, and Rory gave her a look. "I mean, this was a really big deal, Rory, we didn't talk about it all summer. I assume you two are going to…again."
"Lydia," Rory frowned, flushing.
"Well, I just…" Lydia shrugged. Everyone thought she, the flirtatious, extroverted twin, had the most experience out of her and Rory; but Rory had had two long-term relationships, whereas Lydia was the noncommittal girl who 'played the scene'. Lydia had started dating earlier than Rory, invited to parties and dates since she was fourteen, but everything about boys and dates and sex, she went to Lorelai for; Rory had never even contemplated having sex until late in her relationship with Jess, and even then, she hadn't really talked about it with Lydia, whom she had always been able to talk about such things with, because sometimes, Lorelai didn't handle it so well. The thought of her daughters having sex, potentially putting them in the same position as her when she was sixteen, tended to push Lorelai's panic-buttons, so sometimes it was easier to talk to each other about tender subjects. "Just, go see the campus doctor."
"For what?" Rory frowned.
"For birth-control," Lydia said, staring at her sister. Not that she needed it, but at eighteen she had gone to the doctor for the birth-control patch. It simplified a lot of things, and though Lorelai knew Lydia didn't need it, they had had a frank conversation about birth-control and sex, a conversation that Rory had conspicuously been absent for. If Rory needed telling to go and get birth-control, Lydia was a little worried a chapter had been skipped between her and Lorelai. Little Miss Responsible wasn't thinking about proper precautions.
"Lydia," Rory hissed, flushing red again, glancing around and giving her a glare.
"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't see you running to Lorelai for advice," Lydia said defensively, raising her palms, "and, hello, we wouldn't be here if Lorelai had been able to go to her mom for the Talk."
"We are not having this conversation right here in the dining-hall," Rory flushed.
"Well, we traipsed all over Europe with Great Aunt March—"
"Harsh—"
"—and you pouted and sighed for two months, but not a word from your lips did slip," Lydia said remonstratively. She sighed, setting her knife and fork together on her empty plate, leaning forward, saying quietly, "We always used to be able to talk about stuff, you know. I mean, when you were thinking about it with Jess… Who'd have figured he'd be the more honourable of the two."
"Lydia, he—"
"You know that what you two did was wrong on a lot of levels," Lydia said sternly, glancing up at Rory, who worked her jaw but looked down at her plate shamefacedly. "You won't hear it from Lorelai, but I'm not gonna kowtow and pamper your feelings." There was no point candy-coating the situation; Rory had inadvertently broken up a marriage, hurt a lot of people, and was making the mistake of getting back together with a boy she had dumped before. There were few times when Lorelai had played the 'Mom'-card; Chilton being the last example when Rory wanted to stay at Stars Hollow High for Dean, but Rory had never not listened before when Lorelai had pulled it out. This issue was the first time the two hadn't seen eye to eye, even though Rory had to know she was in the wrong. "So, what have you two figured out?"
"Us two who?"
"You and Dean. What've you talked about? And have you both thought things through, I mean, this can't be a good place Dean's in right now, everyone in the Hollow knows—some—of what's happened, and what's happening with Lindsay? And…"
"What?"
"Well, would Dean be with you if Lindsay hadn't kicked him out?" Lydia asked delicately.
"What do you mean?"
Lydia sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. "I mean, it's been painfully obvious he's been pining for you since you dumped him, but would he have left Lindsay to be with you? Considering your history, it seems like a bit of a risk to me."
"A risk?"
"You two getting back together. You're not in the same place anymore," Lydia said, as they sat back down with their dessert—ice-cream with a warm brownie underneath and hot caramel sauce for Lydia.
"Stars Hollow isn't that far away," Rory said quietly.
"That's not what I'm talking about," Lydia said, glancing up at Rory. "Dean's…homeless. He's back in his parents' house, he's working three jobs with manic shifts, he dropped his college classes to work, and you're at Yale."
"So, what, I'm too good for him?" Rory scowled, insulted.
"Well, you're my sister, so you're too good for a lot of people, but that's not what I'm talking about," Lydia said lightly. "At the very least, you two both have to realise how difficult this is going to be."
"You know what, I don't even know why I'm listening to relationship advice from you," Rory scowled.
"You're not listening to relationship advice from me—"
"Good, because you've never been in a relationship."
"For the sake of argument, you know that's not true," Lydia said. She had tried a relationship once, when she had thought the guy was worth it, but in the end, he hadn't, and she had that experience under her belt to gauge the next potential relationship. "Haven't you learned anything from Lorelai's relationships—particularly with Dad?"
"What about Dad?" Rory frowned.
"They were high-school sweethearts, too. They still have feelings for each other, probably always will because of us, but even though they love each other and Lorelai will always be there for Dad whenever he needs us, they'll never get together because they're in two different places, everything going on in their lives, it just wouldn't work," Lydia said. She had thought long and hard about her parents' relationship, at different times in her life, and now she understood what Rory couldn't, that their parents would always have ties because of them, but they were so much older and had changed so much from the kids they had been, and had so much going on in their own lives, that getting together would only be a recipe for disaster. "And you think about this; you're at Yale so you can get the most out of life, take all the opportunities that come your way. Dean's working three blue-collar jobs; he's dropped out of college. And I know you; you'd think about Dean before you took a great opportunity that would help your career."
"That is not true," Rory protested.
"Sure," Lydia shrugged. "You wanted to stay at Stars Hollow High instead of going to Chilton when Dean showed up in town and started talking to you."
"That was different," Rory flushed.
"How?" Rory didn't seem able to come up with an answer that Lydia would right away be able to shoot down, and Lydia gave her a look that said a lot.
Two things could occur with Rory's new relationship with Dean: Either, and this was a long-shot, it would work out, Dean would go back to school part-time while he worked, eventually the scarlet letter would be removed from Rory's dress, she would graduate, go to work for a local newspaper so she could stay close to Dean, her priorities would shift from Christiane Amanpour to June Cleaver and she would settle down with Dean and a family. Or, and this was the far more likely scenario, in a few weeks, or months, they would figure out that they were in two different places, neither of which accommodated for the other's lifestyle; that Rory didn't have time for Dean with her college schedule; that Rory was too motivated and driven and had a life so full of possibilities that she would never settle for a small-town blue-collar guy.
Lydia had always liked Dean—had…been jealous of her sister for the great boy she was dating all through high-school, but the relationship between Rory and Dean should have ended when Dean dumped Rory, and she started dating Jess. The back-and-forth, the new drama, Lydia didn't like what Dean's thoughtless actions had done to her family. Because it wasn't just Rory who was affected by her decision to sleep with Dean; a huge blowout between Rory and Lorelai had occurred, and they had spent the next two months not speaking; they still didn't speak, not about the important things—Dean, sex—and Rory was giving Lorelai attitude and being snippy and nasty to Lydia whenever she had brought up the subject, because Lydia didn't want Rory to not talk about it. It was a huge milestone in her life, and it had turned out to be a really bad one. Catastrophically bad. Broken-marriages bad. But it was still a big deal, and like with the birth-control issue, it wasn't something that couldn't not be talked about. Especially in their family.
Finishing her dessert, Lydia sighed. "Come on. We'd better get back to the dorm before Paris lights that pipe again. I mean, I love Bilbo and Aragorn more than the next gal, but if they lit their pipes around me, they'd get them shoved up their noses." With a strained smile, Rory traipsed after her back to their dorm.
As Lydia entered her bedroom, brushing her teeth to get rid of the garlic from dinner, the landline rang; kicking off her shoes, she darted to the phone, struggling to say, "Speak!"
"Hiya, baby," said a familiar voice.
"Hi!" Lydia chirped happily, grinning. "Brushing my teeth!"
"Okay, I'll talk. So, d'you wanna hear all the hairy details of my first date with Luke, or shall I just skip to the part where I walked into the diner wearing only Luke's plaid shirt?" Lorelai asked. Lydia walked back to the bathroom, laughing, before spitting out her toothpaste.
"You didn't?"
"Apparently Luke's can open without Luke being there," Lorelai sighed.
"Well, if you were caught in dishabille at Luke's, I take it the date went well," Lydia grinned, throwing herself down on her bed on her back, wriggling for a comfortable position.
"It went great," Lorelai hummed happily.
"Tell me, tell me!"
"Okay, well, there was a slight mishap to begin with; we didn't specify where we were gonna meet; I'd just locked the front-door when Luke drives up in his truck—"
"Well, it was your first date," Lydia said. "Of course he was gonna pick you up!"
"Right, but I don't have much experience with guys picking me up at home," Lorelai said, and Lydia nodded.
"So where'd he take you?"
"Sniffy's Tavern," Lorelai said happily. "You will not believe it; Luke has a Luke's."
"No!"
"Yeah, he goes to this place two, three times a week; apparently the owners were friends with his parents since high-school," Lorelai said. "Apparently, I'm the first girl Luke's ever taken there."
"Definitely very special," Lydia smiled. She had always liked Luke; at five, when she had run away from home, he had caught her, sat her outside at Weston's with a piece of cake and asked her about her troubles, long enough that Fran could call the Inn and have Mia come and get her.
"So we're sitting in this booth Luke reserved, and Maisy and Buddy—they're the owners—go and get one of their waitresses to bring us over some champagne, and I asked Luke, you know, I couldn't remember the first time we met," Lorelai said, and Lydia frowned.
"You can't?"
"No. But, apparently, eight years ago, this drop-dead gorgeous, chatty brunette saunters into Luke's, very sweetly asking for a cup of coffee," Lorelai said, and Lydia laughed.
"Yeah, 'sweetly'," she chuckled.
"Well, anyway, apparently I was chatting and chatting, like you know I can, I was jonesing for caffeine, and Luke's was packed, so I kept bugging Luke for coffee, he turns around and say's, 'You're being annoying. Sit down, shut up, I'll get to you when I get to you'."
"Well, I bet you took that very well," Lydia smirked.
"I kept bugging him for his birthday, when he finally gave in and told me, I opened the newspaper, scribbled something underneath a horoscope, and handed it to him," Lorelai said, and even by her tone, Lydia could tell her mother was trembling with delight and happiness.
"What'd it say?"
"Under Scorpio, I'd written 'You will meet an annoying woman today. Give her coffee and she'll go away'."
"You lied," Lydia laughed.
"I told Luke to keep that horoscope in his wallet to bring him luck," Lorelai said softly, and she sounded like she was smiling. "So we're sitting at this table in Sniffy's Tavern, and Luke opens up his wallet…and there's the horoscope I gave him. Eight years ago."
Lydia gasped, a hand to her chest. "Oh my god!" she sighed. "You're his Ava Gardner." Lorelai giggled.
"That's what I told him," she laughed.
"He's been waiting forever for you," Lydia smiled warmly. "Wow. Eight years." She shook her head, smiling.
"You wanna know what else we did?"
"If this gets dirty, please feel free not to share. I don't need to know about you two playing Scrabble," Lydia said. "I won't ever be able to look Luke in the eye again." Lorelai laughed.
"Okay, well, after we hit the triple word-score bonus—"
"Ew!"
Lorelai cackled, "—Luke pulls out this notepad and pen—"
"To give you a rating out of ten?"
"To write down all the CDs I want him to buy so he doesn't have to hear me lecturing him," Lorelai said happily.
"Wow!" Lydia grinned. She sighed softly, smiling. "That sounds like a really great first date to me."
"It was," Lorelai hummed softly. "So, now, I get to tell you all the dirty details of the town meeting."
"Oh, tell me!"
"Well, first of all, Hello! magazine didn't even mention my floor-show at Luke's," Lorelai said, and Lydia's eyebrows flew up.
"Babette, Miss Patty? They didn't say a word?"
"Not a single one," Lorelai exclaimed indignantly.
"That's kind of a bummer. Everyone's been waiting for you and Luke to get together for years," Lydia frowned.
"Ex—what? They have?"
"Of course," Lydia smiled. "So, the town-meeting?"
"Right, so, I was kinda a little bummed that Babette and Miss Patty weren't interested in…well, me and Luke…playing Scrabble. But I conned Luke into stopping by the town-meeting so I could give you and Rory the headlines, and after Andrew and Gypsy's fender-bender issue was settled, Taylor gets up, and he says the next case is the negative ramifications of the diner owner and inn owner dating."
"That's you two," Lydia frowned.
"Yeah! Taylor had all these charts and figures on how the local economy in Stars Hollow would be affected if Luke and I broke up."
"You've only just started dating," Lydia frowned.
"Apparently Taylor's not happy with Luke and me comingling," Lorelai remarked.
"Nice word for it," Lydia smirked.
"So Taylor's going on and on about some florist and Faye Wellington ten years ago who caused the town to split—"
"Yeah, and I'm betting Taylor was at the forefront of the fight to segregate the town to avoid altercations," Lydia said drily. "God, Taylor's such a knob."
"I know. And your grandma kept calling and bugging me about Dad going out at seven-thirty at night, so I had to slip out of Miss Patty's—when I got back, Luke exploded, he told everyone in Miss Patty's that it was none of their business, our relationship, and he confiscated all of Taylor's slides and pie-charts and maps."
"Lucas likes you," Lydia beamed.
"Yeah," Lorelai sighed, happy. "Hey, kiddo, I'm sorry I didn't get to see you at Friday-night dinner this week."
"Oh, yeah, things have been kind of crazy around here," Lydia yawned.
"I figured. Tell me about it," Lorelai said excitedly.
"Okay, well, it started on a weird note; Asher Fleming died, so Paris turned our common-room into headquarters for a wake," Lydia sighed. "The Stooges happened upon our dorm by chance when Finn was trying to track down the girl I sent him home with the other night, so we chatted; Rory and Logan argued about Marty and servants and Judi Dench; Finn got a black eye; and the boys invited me out for Korean barbecue after my Cupcakes and Ice-Cream Social. Um…I had a bunch of socials, I caught up with Max—"
"Your gay stripper friend?"
"Yeah. He's got his housewarming next-month; you wanna go shopping soon, I want to buy them a really nice coffee-machine," Lydia smiled.
"Absolutely!" Lorelai enthused.
"I went out with the girls, we're going to do the draft soon," Lydia smiled. "I got a really great new top and clutch-purse from that great vintage boutique. I managed to get my name on the list for that 'Harlots, Housewives and Heroines: Reformation Women, 17th Century Feminists' class, and 'Cities, Art & Protest', which is great."
"They're the two you really wanted, right?"
"Yeah," Lydia smiled. "I've already read half the books for the courses."
"Freak."
"Bibliophobe. I've had a bunch of lunch-dates and I met up with a few people for a dessert, and cocktails," Lydia smiled, "and a group of us including the Stooges and Robert are going to Rocky Horror next week."
"No way!" Lorelai grinned.
"Yep. And I'm going for a steak-dinner with Robert," Lydia smiled.
"Refining your plans to take over the world?" Lorelai laughed.
"Something like that," Lydia smiled. "Oh. I might have also had a frank conversation with Rory in the dining-hall," Lydia added, wincing guiltily.
"How loud did it get?" Lorelai asked, dread filling her voice.
"Not loud. I just…told her things that she probably already knows, just doesn't want to have to admit are right," Lydia said, fiddling with her throw-pillow trim. She sighed heavily, glancing at her door. "I told her to go see the campus doctor."
"For?"
"For birth-control," Lydia said, wincing guiltily as Lorelai inhaled sharply.
"Birth-control," she said tightly. "Right."
"Has Rory not told you she and Dean are…whatever?" Lydia asked, wincing guiltily again; if Rory hadn't told Lorelai that she and Dean were back together…
"Yeah, she mentioned that," Lorelai said lightly, the way she got when she was uncomfortable about something.
"Well, I told her to go to the doctor, because, hello, Lorelai, daughter of Lorelai," Lydia sighed.
"You're a good kid for looking out for your sister," Lorelai said warmly.
"Who knew I'd turn out to be the morally responsible one," Lydia sighed.
"Well, every kid has to make mistakes at some point in their lives," Lorelai said disapprovingly.
"Except Rory's not a kid anymore. We're almost twenty. And mistakes usually involve pageboy haircuts, missing curfew, hangovers and skipping homework-assignments, not becoming an adulteress," Lydia said.
"Harsh," Lorelai said. "Well, I guess Rory's a late-bloomer."
"And Gilmores never do anything halfway," Lydia remarked.
"So, on the subject of boys, has anyone special caught your eye?" Lorelai asked. Lydia paused, surprised by the image of Finn flashing through her mind, but she frowned, licking her lips.
"No. You know me," she sighed.
"Not even the Australian?" Lorelai prompted, and Lydia felt her cheeks warm, her memories of Santorini flashing through her mind. "Seemed like you had a lot of fun with him that week Grandma relinquished her hold on you."
"We did have fun," Lydia said quietly. "But it was…summer. Santorini. There was Ouzo involved."
"Copious amounts of it, I'm told," Lorelai chuckled.
"It's kind of strange that they're here, at Yale, involved with the Life and Death Brigade," Lydia sighed. Lorelai was the only person in the entire world that Lydia told all her secrets to: she knew all about the numerous boys Lydia dated; her struggles all through Chilton with the level of difficulty of the workload; her triumphs last year; had been supportive of Lydia's relationship with her great-grandmother (she had sent letters, and Gran had given Lydia a hefty annuity, trust-fund and inheritance upon her death, giving her the financial freedom to circumvent Grandma's Friday-night dinners for school-funding) and even though she hated that world, didn't blame Lydia for enjoying the more charming, fun-loving, younger generation of money. Lydia told Lorelai everything about the Life and Death Brigade—after the fact; if she told Lorelai she was going hang-gliding, Lorelai would have driven to Yale to temporarily kidnap her until the period of madness had subsided.
"They are?" Lorelai asked curiously.
"Yep," Lydia sighed. "So at the very least, I'll spend time with them in that capacity. "It kind of does make me want to hitch myself to the TARDIS and get the Doctor to prevent me going skinny-dipping…"
"I've warned you about that," Lorelai laughed.
"What, skinny-dipping, or waiting for the Doctor?"
"Regret, little Amelia Pond," Lorelai said. "Don't look back and start regretting having a great time, living in the moment. You're only young once."
"And you're living vicariously through me," Lydia smiled.
"Exactly!" Lorelai exclaimed. "As long as you're not omitting the dirtier details of your little Greek sojourn, preventing me from daydreaming about your very own Christopher Atkins, go with it. Have fun. Don't get embarrassed that three boys have seen you stark-naked."
"I stopped being embarrassed about total nudity when I was two," Lydia smirked.
"My little exhibitionist," Lorelai sighed happily.
"I am but an amateur compared to Finn," Lydia sighed, smiling.
"Might be kinda nice to get to know those boys a little better," Lorelai said.
"Yeah," Lydia smiled. "We only used to see Logan once a year at Christmas, and, it wasn't very jolly at Grandma's parties. And Finn…"
"What about Finn?" Lorelai cajoled. Lydia sighed. Finn, the enigmatic, insane Australian. It had been his birthday-week, of course, but that wasn't the reason she had spent most of her time with Finn during her little mini-vacation in the Mediterranean. She had chatted with Logan, teased Colin for being pompous, but Finn… Those pretty eyes, that smile, his tan, that accent. He kept up; always had a nice thing to say to everyone he met; had made her laugh and could catch fish right off the side of the Andromeda, gut them and grill them beautifully; wore eccentric shirts and that cord choker; slipped Wodehouse bits into normal conversation; and mixed one hell of a gin martini.
"I don't know, I just… It would be nice to get to know him a little bit better," Lydia said, sighing softly.
"Because he's gorgeous?" Lydia smiled to herself.
"Maybe," she chuckled. "And insane."
"Keeps things interesting."
"I'll say," Lydia said, as someone wrapped on her window. Surprised, Lydia glanced up, and laughed, clapping a hand to her eyes.
"What?"
"Speak of devils, they appear," Lydia said. "Mom, I've gotta go smack Robert's and Finn's bare asses with my paddle."
"What!" Lorelai laughed.
"Tell you tomorrow?"
"With photographic evidence if you can wrangle it, babe," Lorelai said warmly, and Lydia hung up as she loped off the bed, grabbing her Lumix G3 digital-camera, snapping several shots of Finn and Robert mooning her, Colin with his hands over his eyes, laughing, Logan trying not to laugh. She opened the window, raising her eyebrows.
"To what do I owe this unexpected revulsion?" she asked, grinning. The boys jumped, tugging up their jeans, and Lydia set her camera on her desk.
"We have come with gifts and an invitation, poppet," Finn said, smiling charmingly as he reached for something in the flowerbed at his feet.
"My favourite kind of man," Lydia smiled.
"Wild Turkey, as promised," Colin said, grinning easily, as Finn handed Lydia the bag; peering inside, she saw a bottle of Wild Turkey and another of Bombay Sapphire.
"Thank you!" she beamed.
"You're coming to the Pub with us," Logan said.
"Am I?"
"We've got to fine-tune plans for initiation-week," Robert said.
"Excellent. I'll bring my 'Pranks, Dirty Tricks and Flat-Out Mean Things I Plan to Do to My Loved Ones' journal," Lydia grinned. "When are we going to the Pub?"
"Now."
"Right."
"Put some lipstick and heels on," Robert said, clapping his hands to hurry her.
"And nothing else," Finn grinned charmingly, and Lydia laughed as she set the bag down on her desk, rummaging around for her wallet to stuff in her purse.
"I don't have any cash on me," Lydia said, frowning down at her t-shirt, tugging it off to rifle through her closet and pull on a nice top.
"We'll put your drinks on Colin's tab," Finn said.
"On Logan's tab," Colin spoke up, smiling. Lydia popped her head round her bedroom-door.
"I'm going out!"
"Don't make any noise if you're back late!" Paris shouted back. "I'm reading."
"Got it," Lydia called back, tugging her door closed as she whirled to her makeup-case, tugging out a handful of lip-glosses—a Bite Beauty Honey Lip-Lacquer, a Stila Lip-Glaze, a MAC Lipgelee—and tucked two in her bag without looking at them, tugged a pair of snakeskin J Crew flats on, found an emergency twenty in her Wuthering Heights book and tucked it into her pocket, grabbing her soft denim jacket, and eyed her windowsill.
"Someone lift me," she said, climbing up onto the windowsill; Finn smiled and took her waist comfortably in his large hands, letting her brace herself on his shoulders before lifting her down from the window-ledge.
"Light as a feather," he said, flashing a grin.
"Stiff as a board," Lydia smirked saucily, winking at him, and his eyes lit up as he laughed, grinning, setting her gently on her feet. Colin closed her window, and Logan sauntered off, leading the way to the Pub.
It was busy when they arrived; Rosemarie and Juliet had secured a small table, and had been chatting up Thomas the bartender for free drinks; several other members of the Life and Death Brigade had convened around them, several of the girls Lydia knew, two boys she had gone on dates with, and it was nice to hang out and chat with them, the ideas for initiation-week for the Brigade getting sillier and more disgusting the more the boys drank, records kept in Rosemarie's eye-liner on a cocktail-napkin.
"Please don't go easy on them, okay," Lydia said, sipping her gin and tonic, bought for her by Finn. "Some of the things I had to do? Horrifying."
"I know," Robert said, patting her knee familiarly. He paused, frowning thoughtfully. "I made you do them."
"Which is why I'm holding on to all those incriminating photos of you for when you run for the Senate," Lydia said, sipping her drink, and Robert laughed.
"Wait, what photos?" he asked, eyes widening; Lydia laughed, and handed Juliet a single pretzel.
Lydia's natural state was enthusiastic, with moments of quiet introspection, great waves of ecstasy coupled with inquisitiveness, and a surprisingly stringent work-ethic. Flirting was something she was good at, and something she loved doing; as the evening went on and others from the Brigade meandered around and left the Pub, hitting clubs, the hole-in-the-wall pizza joint next-door, the hardcore veterans of both the Brigade and the Pub remained there, getting slowly more and more toasted.
Lydia slipped away when the boys wanted to go club-hopping, and Rosemarie and Juliet headed home, bored; she had an early class in the morning, and, no matter what other people thought of her, she was a very good student. She couldn't afford not to be.
She came across Paris in the common-room when she got back. She sat, listening to Schubert, morosely puffing on a curved pipe. Lydia sighed, taking off her jacket and shoes, and sat down on the sofa next to Paris.
"I know you hate it… I just wanted to smell like him," Paris said softly, and Lydia sighed again, tucking her arm around Paris' shoulders.
"That's okay," she said quietly. "A little toxic pipe-smoke doesn't do any harm. Queen Victoria laid out her husband's clothes every day for forty years."
"Her life with Albert was cut tragically short," Paris said sadly.
"They had twenty years together. Nine children," Lydia pointed out quietly. She glanced at Paris, knowing that Asher Fleming had been married twice, had four children, at least eight grandchildren, some of whom were adults. Professor Fleming had had a long, full life. It was a shame that there had been such an age-difference between them, that Paris hadn't been alive to meet him a few decades ago. "Hey, Paris?"
"Yeah."
"I realise I haven't said it yet," she said quietly, "but I'm really sorry Asher died."
"Thanks," Paris said throatily, sighing.
"And you won't be sad forever," Lydia said softly. One of the many things she had learned, observing Lorelai's relationships, was that the world didn't end after a breakup. Asher dying was in effect a breakup, and Paris was very young still; she wasn't the type to hold on to the memory of her dead lover like Heathcliff. Psychotic like him, to an extent, yes, but she would become too busy to continue mourning Asher.
"I hope not," Paris said sadly. "I've had stomach-ache the past three weeks." Lydia rubbed her arm comfortingly.
"It'll ease," she said softly. Paris sighed, glancing at her. There were times when Paris would drop her guard, momentarily, and would show a startlingly endearing side of her personality that was otherwise lost due to her drive and hyper-intelligence. Her breakdown-speech when she had been rejected from Harvard, sitting on the stairs and letting Lydia hug her, telling her that Gellars of the future would look back and say, 'That Paris, the maverick, she carved her own path, and she dominated. Whatever Paris Gellar tackled, she triumphed'.
"Have you ever been in love?" Paris asked her quietly, dark eyes searching Lydia's face.
"Once…I thought I was," Lydia sighed. "Travis Fimmel." Paris frowned at her, bemused. "Tommy Hilfiger underwear model. Australian," she added, thoughtful. What was it with her and Australians? She sighed, shaking her head, smiling as Paris rolled her eyes, giving her a watery smile. "No, I've never been in love. I've heard it's pretty spectacular, though."
"Oh, it is," Paris nodded, then sighed, her features crumpling.
"And I've heard that you're supposed to fall in love as many times as you can," Lydia said softly.
"Where did you hear that?" Paris sniffed.
"Practical Magic," Lydia smiled. "Nothing like the Death-Watch Beetle to put things into perspective." She sighed softly. "I do know that Asher wouldn't want you to lose momentum over his death." She unfolded from the sofa, standing. "What kind of 'a wise, wilful, wonderful woman' would you be then?" She bent to kiss Paris on the head, smiling, and took the pipe from Paris' hand. "And I'm confiscating this."
"Hey!" Paris didn't try and fight her for the pipe; she was smiling softly.
"Start going over your plans for world-domination; you'll start to miss him less," Lydia advised gently. "I promise." She picked up her bag, jacket and shoes, making her way to her bedroom.
"Hey, Lydia?" Paris said, and Lydia glanced over her shoulder.
"Yeah."
"Thanks," Paris smiled. "You're pretty wise, you know that?"
Lydia smiled warmly. "I get it from observing my mother."
A.N.: Please review. It's my goal to bring my favourite moments of Gilmore Girls into this story, with an alternate timeline, changes made due to the addition of Lydia to the dynamic. I'm also thinking of killing Mitchum.