A/N: So apparently I was wrong! (And don't feel badly about that; it happens multiple times a day to me!) There aren't that many of you following this rerun after all! But to you dear hardy souls that are, here's the next chapter! And remember please, that this is going to bend towards a dark, Poe-inspired place, and that Lorelai is very confused at the moment, as is Luke. Neither is completely in control of their actions right now. All clear? Then here we go...


'Tis a Visitor Tapping at My Chamber Door

"Goodnight," Lorelai said.

She reached over and turned off the light beside the bed. The room disappeared into darkness except for the dim light over the stove, which was apparently left on to help Jess navigate through the apartment when he returned from work. She brought her arm back to rest on top of her head and blinked up at the strange ceiling. She wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

The second that the stupid Hatlestads had appeared at her door, her feet apparently had an agenda about getting her out of the house and heading to the center of town. They never deviated towards Sookie's, where she knew an air mattress was still laying in wait in the front hall closet. They didn't turn towards Manny's, even though he'd called her earlier to let her know that his brother's room was available if needed. They didn't even pause at Patty's, where she'd helped set up Red Cross cots just that afternoon.

No, she'd nearly jogged down the main street of town, her feet knowing her goal. Only when she was in sight of that coffee cup logo did she pause, to call Rory. And then she held her breath, fearing that Rory would insist that she come over to the Kim's, where another bed could surely be found. But thankfully that wasn't what Rory had said. Rory did exactly what Lorelai needed her to do. She'd given her permission to go to Luke's.

Luke's! Her body rolled in agitation and the bed creaked loudly. Instantly she stilled. She didn't want him to know the turmoil in her mind. The turmoil that had caused her to push him for special pancakes this morning, just to satisfy some sort of disgruntled yearning within her. The turmoil that had made her later call the diner and leave the message that she wouldn't be back, claiming that she was needed to supervise all of the fire odds and ends at the Inn ― though truthfully she was just too embarrassed to face him right away. The turmoil that continued to churn through her every time she remembered what his arms had felt like wrapped around her the night before.

Now here she was in his bed. His bed! What the hell was she thinking? When she first arrived and was cajoling and teasing him out of it, it had seemed like the perfectly Lorelai thing to do. Plus the thought of just being in his bed had carried the hint of the forbidden. It had seemed exciting; dangerous. Boy, was she wrong.

Now all she could do was squirm with the knowledge that she was in his bed. His tiny bed. How did such a big guy fit into such a tiny bed? How did he make it work when Nicole stayed over? She'd have to be practically on top of hi―

Lorelai sat straight up, gasping, her body wrenching the straightjacket-like sheets from where they'd been tucked around the mattress.

"You OK?" Luke's concerned voice drifted over from his spot on the couch.

"Fine. Fine," she said automatically. She took a breath and forced herself to lie back down, ignoring her pounding heart. "Just thought of something. Sorry."

"Let me know if you need anything," his drowsy voice commanded.

She bit her lips as she stifled an insane desire to giggle. She needed something all right. Valium. A real straitjacket. His warm body on top of hers.

She pressed her hands over her face and forced herself to take slow, calming breaths. She was the one who'd engineered this bizarre situation. She was the one who now needed to find enough grace and dignity to somehow get through it without destroying the relationship she'd cultivated with this man. It was bad enough that the Inn was in shambles. She didn't need to tear apart what she had with Luke, too.

Her arm once again arched over her head, her fingers playing idly with her hair. What possessed her to tell him about the twins? She'd kept the most intimate details of that dream pressed inside of her, not even sharing them with Rory. Why did tonight's surreal circumstances pave the way for those memories to come pouring out of her? How could she have admitted all of the stuff she did? He was an intelligent guy. Now he knew she dreamed about him. Now he knew they'd had dream-sex in order to conceive the twins. And she knew, from the smug tone of his voice when she'd too-late cut off the word 'kiss' that he knew exactly what she was going to say. He knew too much.

Oh, God! Her body writhed in panic. She longed to bolt from the bed. She wanted to run from his apartment; to run away from the humiliation she feared. It was so wrong. Being here was so wrong. Having these feelings that she didn't even want to admit were hers―it was wrong. So wrong!

"Tell me about Nicole," she blurted out, desperate to hear anything besides the shrill thoughts inside her own head.

"What?" Luke's voice sounded weary.

"Nicole." Lorelai made herself say the woman's name again. "I mean, it's weird. Don't you think it's weird? You've been dating her for a long time now, and I don't know anything about her. She's this big part of your life, and I don't know her at all. Tell me something about her."

"Like what?" Luke asked warily.

"I don't know." Lorelai's mind was suddenly blank. "She's a lawyer, right? I mean, that must be exciting."

Luke snorted. "If you're thinking it's something like Law and Order, don't. She's not that kind of lawyer. She reads over contracts all day. She works for people like Taylor, for cryin' out loud. Listening to her talk about her day is better than taking a sleeping pill."

"But still. I mean, good for her, right? Good for her having the perseverance to stick with college and law school and have a profession, right? I mean, that's amazing, as far as I'm concerned." She paused a moment, trying to come up with something else to say. "So the two of you must be pretty serious, huh?" She winced after the words escaped her. She was pretty sure she didn't want to hear the answer.

She heard him scoff. "Serious? No, I don't think we're serious," he said dryly.

Her eyes closed in relief, but she had to press on. "But you've been dating for quite a while now, haven't you? And I assume…I mean, you're exclusive, the two of you, right?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "But we're not…" She swore she could hear him shrug. "It's not that serious," he said flatly.

"Is she good to you?" she once again blurted out. She clamped her lips shut. She really needed to get a handle on that.

"What?" Luke asked again, his tone moving towards scandalized.

"Well, she was here last night, at a town thing. A dull, dreary town thing. So I assume that means she tries to do things you want to do. Not that you usually want to do town things. But you know what I mean. And she called you tonight. She called to check in with you. She made you laugh." She tried to stop, but the next words came out anyway, sounding wistful. "You have a nice laugh."

As though to prove her point, he laughed. "Yeah, she calls to check in with me. Sometimes I think it's because it's one of the things on her agenda. One more thing she can check off her 'to-do' list for the day. 'Call boyfriend: Check,'" he mocked.

"Oh." She listened to herself breath for a moment. "But still, she made you laugh." She didn't know why she couldn't leave well enough alone. "I try to make you laugh, you know, but usually I think I make you growl instead."

She'd been trying not to look at him through the dim light, but she could hear him propping himself up on his elbow, looking at her. "That doesn't warrant a dirty?" he quizzed her.

She played her words back. "Yeah, maybe it does." She tried to chuckle.

After a pause, Luke said quietly, "Nicole's OK. I think…I think she's been good for me. She's made me…re-evaluate some things."

Rachel, Lorelai thought, a new batch of anxiety dripping into her veins. Her mouth was suddenly so dry. She tried to picture where she'd sat the mug of water he'd brought over for her. She licked her lips. "That's good," she muttered. "I'm glad."

And then she willed herself to stay perfectly still and quiet, and prayed for sleep to come.


Luke breathed cautiously in the dark, waiting to see what she'd say next. After a few quiet minutes he came to the realization she had ended the conversation. Which was good, because he knew they both needed to get to sleep. He also knew that the chance of him falling asleep after her revelation about the twins and just the fact that she was here at all, with her scented lotion and her hairbrush and her pajamas and mere breathing a few feet away from him made that option pretty much impossible.

But above all the weirdness, he couldn't get past the feeling that her being here, in his apartment, just felt so right. Talking to her while they got ready for bed, bringing her some water…it was just right. It could be right. Except…

"So what about that guy you're with?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Guy?" She sounded bewildered. "What guy?"

He didn't appreciate the coyness. "Your boyfriend, Lorelai."

"My boyfriend?" She gave a little giggle, setting his blood to boil. "Who's that? Chief Baker?"

He sat up on the couch, doing his best to glare through the dark. "The guy who took you fishing," he snapped.

"Oh, you mean Alex?" He heard the sheets rustling as she tried to get comfortable. "I don't think he's my boyfriend."

"You don't think―" he fumed, cutting himself off. "You went to New York with him!"

"That was just…" He waited, listening to her get her thoughts together. "He's a friend of Sookie's friend. He's opening a coffee place, so that seemed promising. He's nice, you know? And sometimes it's just fun to get out and do something. But…he's not my boyfriend."

"Really?" Luke scoffed again, with more heat around the word than he'd intended.

She chuckled. "Luke, since I didn't even remember who you were talking about when you asked me, I'm pretty sure. Frankly, I can't even say with any certainty when we went out last. Three weeks ago, maybe? I'm not even sure…" She paused, sounding like she was searching her memory. "I don't even remember where we left it. Was I supposed to call him? Was he supposed to call me? Thanks a lot, Luke," she huffed, pretending to be upset. "Now you've given me one more thing to worry about!"

"I don't want you to worry," he muttered, pulling back about a dozen other questions he wanted to fire at her. "It's late. You need to get some rest."

He heard her sigh. "I don't think that's going to happen tonight," she whispered. "My head's just spinning." She paused and he could hear her rubbing her forehead. "I shouldn't have come here tonight and disrupted your life, too. I should have just kept walking through town." Her voice was soft and sincere and apologetic.

He could hear distress there too, and automatically he wanted to help. A solution popped into his brain and instantly he knew it was a bad idea. A colossally bad idea. Epic. But his legs were already on the floor. He was already moving towards the bed.

"Roll over," he ordered, trying to ignore the lump in his throat and the look he could see shining in her huge eyes even in the dark. Not fear. Something else entirely.

"Luke," she squeaked out.

"Over," he ordered again, throwing out his arm. "Scoot."

She did as he asked, silently. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his knees facing the headboard. He decided the only way to get through it was to not even think about what he was doing.

His hand went to the top of her head and he drew it through the length of her silky hair, flipping it over to one side of her shoulders. Her shoulders jerked away in shock and he heard her take a ragged breath.

"Shh," he soothed her. He stroked through her hair a few more times and then oh-so-gently started to rub her neck and shoulders, barely putting any weight into his movements. After several minutes he felt the tension starting to ease out of her, which encouraged him to continue.

She moaned, a contented, purring sound that caused him to bite his lips and try to ignore what was going on in his own body. "Goooood," she sighed, drawing the word out.

"When I was a little boy," he explained, very softly, "this is what my mom would do on the nights before a big test or the night before we were leaving on vacation. Anytime that I couldn't get to sleep, this is what she'd do."

"Smart lady," Lorelai murmured.

"Very smart," Luke agreed, his hands continuing to slowly move over her back. He felt his cheeks flame, thinking that his mom would kill him if she knew what his thoughts were right now.

After a while he felt her breathing become calm and steady, and he knew she'd drifted off to sleep. His hands had found a rhythm, however, and he didn't seem to have the willpower to stop.

His hands eased over her back, down under her shoulder blades, where her bra would have been if she'd been wearing one. His breath seemed to be choking him, so he solved that problem by stopping his breathing altogether. His hands continued down further, spanning the top of her waist. His fingers found a smooth, warm band of her skin, where her top and her pajama bottoms had separated. He let his index finger trace that silky strip of skin until he felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Finally he was forced to draw in a deep breath and the warm sugar cookie scent drifting up from her skin made him even woozier.

For a moment he sat on the edge of his bed, turning his back to her while his blood pounded and roared in his ears. His hands clutched at the edge of the mattress while he desperately searched for control. Finally he got up and stumbled over towards the couch, sinking down onto it in despair.

His suspicion from the night before had been proven true. He could no longer prevent himself from touching her.


She was having the best dream. She was warm and cozy and so contented.

"Lorelai," he whispered to her. In her dream, she smiled. He wrapped her name in so much sweetness, and that sweetness just shot right to the core of her.

"I've got to get downstairs," he continued, whispering into her ear. She felt him brush the hair back off of her face and her heart fluttered. "I've reset the alarm for you, OK?"

"Mmmm," she murmured, not capable of speech. She sensed him starting to sit up, away from her, so she looped her arms around his neck and went with him. It was her dream, so of course she could find his lips unerringly. She pressed her mouth against those lips fully, her heart fluttering again at the warmth and softness waiting for her there. His hair was still damp from the shower and smelled faintly like the woods. She pulled back just a fraction of an inch and tasted the tang of his toothpaste. More, her body demanded. She needed so, so much more. Her mouth pressed back against his and she applied the tiniest bit of suction to his bottom lip, loving the way it felt between hers.

Somewhere between the first kiss and the second, her brain tried to send her a memo. It tried to point out, logically, how taste and smell didn't actually exist in dreams. Ultimately though, what made her eyes shoot open in panic was his absolute stillness. If this had been a dream, her dream, there would have been no stillness from him.

"Luke," she choked out, all of the humiliation she'd only feared from the night before now drowning her for real. She realized instantly that she had possibly a split second to decide how to spin this. His eyes were clamped closed and he was grasping handfuls of the blankets on either side of her.

"So…Um…Have a nice day at work, sweetie!" She patted the top of his head, trying to sound carefree.

His eyes popped open and he drew in a ragged breath, his face darkening as he stared at her. "What?" he thundered.

"Hush there! Remember Junior," she said playfully, motioning towards Jess asleep across the room. She threw in a wink for good measure, anything to show how not-serious this moment was.

He glared at her, and the hurt and confusion she saw in his eyes made her back up away from him as far as she could, until her back hit the headboard. "Are you insane?" he growled, remembering to whisper, however much he may have wanted to yell.

"Probably," she agreed soberly, for one second anyway. "Now, shoo! Go! Go run your annoying business that requires you to get up in the middle of the night!" She blew him a kiss and simpered at him, anxious to show him that this was nothing but just another of her outrageous Lorelai moments.

He opened his mouth and she thought he was going to explode, but instead he got up with such force that the bed bounced. He stalked to the door.

"Bye! Have fun storming the castle!" she quietly trilled at him, waving her hand.

He glared at her one last time before he exited. She held her breath, waiting for the noise of the slamming door to wake Jess. But there was no slam after all. Luke had more control, it seemed, than she gave him credit for.

She huddled under the blankets, curling herself up into a ball. Her fingers sought the pillow, and when she connected with it, she pulled it over the top of her head. For long minutes she just let the embarrassment and humiliation fill her up.

Eventually she realized those feelings had faded. Instead she was remembering the feel of his lips against hers. She was wondering what it would take to get him to actually kiss her back.

What the hell is wrong with me? she despaired, and pulled the pillow back over her face.