A/N: Grab the Kleenex

"I'm not going without you," Rory exclaimed.

"Really, I'm just not in the mood to do the whole festival thing. Cotton candy is just wasted on me tonight babe," Lorelai answered.

"Mom, you haven't been out of the house except to go to work or run errands for days. It will be fun, you'll see, we'll drink Patty's punch, watch the festivities, mock Kirk. Like old times," Rory implored.

"He won't be there," Lane added.

"Lane, it's okay. It's okay if he's there," Lorelai answered weakly.

"I know. But I heard April ask him about going and he told her he couldn't make it."

Sighing, looking into their two expectant faces, she finally relents.

"I'll come for a little while. But I'm not staying til the bitter end, that's for you guys. And watch that punch Missy, you remember the last time don't you? . And believe me, I really haven't washed that bathroom floor in awhile now."

"I'm fully in tune with my alcoholic limitations now. Not to worry," Rory exclaimed, tugging her out the door.

The first thought as she reached the square is that Taylor indeed outdid himself with the lights. Everything looks beautiful, lit up like a thousand fireflies against the clear summer night sky. The light softens the faces of the patrons, and for the first time she feels like a spectator instead of a participant. The excitement of the evening twirls around her, but she can't quite join in, can't quite feel a part of it.

She hasn't really talked to anyone in town for weeks. It hasn't been an uncomfortable silence, just a necessary one. She doesn't know what to say, they don't know what to ask. But she's noticed that the diner has been full to the brim daily, and the knowledge that life goes on, and that everyone has rallied around him in support, has eased her guilt somewhat. He has always needed this town more than he has let on.

She settles on the bench near the gazebo, content to watch Patty's latest class of dancers, and to let Lane and Rory wander through the displays and booths.

No one stops to talk to her but she really doesn't notice. She sips her punch and people watches.

"Come on Luke, just come out for a little while. Mom's going to come find me at the festival when she comes to pick me up. She says she hasn't been to one of these things since she was a kid, and it's . . . fun," April exclaims, emphasizing the last word.

"I'm busy," he answers his daughter, amazed how she's learned so quickly that she can influence him to do just about anything she wants.

"There's no one here. Everyone's out there. You haven't left the diner in days. I don't like leaving you here by yourself, when everyone out there is having fun. Pleeeeeze," April asks, smiling at his rolled eyes and grumpy demeanor.

"Geez. I'll walk over with you. But I'm only staying for a few minutes. Then you're on your own. And don't eat too much junk food," he admonishes, tucking a ten dollar bill into her hand.

"Thanks," she says smiling, turning the closed sign around on the door, and tugging him out it.

"I love this town," she says happily, the smile on her face contagious.

"Solidarity, brother, solidarity," Kirk says solemnly, slapping him on the arm as he walks by with Lulu.

"Yeah, I love this town too," he deadpans, giving Kirk a confused look, and rolling his eyes.

It doesn't take long for April to hook up with friends she's made since hanging out at the diner. And it doesn't take much coaxing from Luke to have her going off on her own to enjoy the evening.

He stands at the edge of the crowd, unconsciously looking for Lorelai, hoping for a glimpse of her face. There has not been a day when his first thought in the morning hasn't been about her. There hasn't been a night when the bells chime unexpectedly late, that he hasn't looked up, hoping that it was her. And he longs for a quick glimpse of her smile.

When he sees her sitting on the bench, lost in thought, he's surprised. She's usually surrounded by a crowd. He watches as people walk by, seemingly oblivious to her presence, or as others that know her well, deliberately take a route around her. And it doesn't take him long to realize that something is very wrong.

Catching Patty's attention, he calls her over.

"Why isn't anyone talking to Lorelai," he demands.

"Well honey, it's not like anyone knows what to say. I think everyone's still a little in shock that she really did that, you know. . . that. . . to you, and . . . well, she really hasn't made an attempt to talk to anyone either."

"Geez, does everyone know?"

"Pretty much."

"Kirk? Right?"

"Well, that boy does love you, you know. I'm sure he was just trying to support you."

"Right," he says as he walks away, "Damn town," he mutters under his breath.

After the fourth person stopped to talk to him, or pat him on the back, or touch him on the arm, he was about to explode. He kept watching her, watching others, sitting so still on that bench by herself. He watched every thought flicker across her features. He watched how the light played across her hair, shone in her eyes. He watched frozen from a hundred feet away, that felt like miles.

He saw her face light up for a moment, a grin splitting her face, one of true joy, and he saw her mouth the words congratulations across the crowd to Liz, who answered with an uncomfortable half-hearted wave, before an angry looking TJ tugged her off in the other direction.

And he watched as the blush rose to her cheeks, and he swore her eyes glowed as lights reflected the sudden sheen of water in her eyes. He watched as she bent her head briefly, and he watched as she lifted her chin to the night sky, and sat up straighter on the bench, her defenses rallied.

Lost in his observations, he didn't see Jackson and Sookie until they were right on top of him.

"Solidarity, brother," Jackson states.

"Oh God, not you too. . ." Luke shakes his head in disbelief.

"Please tell me you have talked to her, helped her through this?" he demands of Sookie.

"She really hasn't wanted to talk about it. I mean we talk every day, we run a business together. But it's hasn't been about anything personal. She just clams up if I even try to bring it up. . ." Sookie answers distressed.

"But you're her best friend, you should be there for her. . ." Luke rants back at her.

"No Luke, you're her best friend," she answers sadly, as she walks away.

Heart pounding, he tries not to think too hard about his next actions, or he knows he'll talk himself out of them. Skirting around behind where she's sitting, he pauses for a moment, shaking his head, need and protectiveness, overtaking self preservation

Sliding onto the bench next to her, he grabs her left hand before she has time to react, before she can process his actions. And he entwines their fingers tightly leaving her no way to escape.
"Luke, what are you doing?" she asks, her heart leaping into her chest. She tugs on her hand, but he just pulls it over onto his knee, pressing his other hand against their joined fingers.
He doesn't answer immediately, and she's at a sudden loss for words, his hands warming hers, causing the blood to rush to her cheeks. She glances at his profile, as he hasn't taken his eyes off some distant point since he's sat down.

"I thought you could use a friend," he answers quietly, meeting her eyes briefly, and she has to look away first as the rush of emotion is overwhelming.

Tears instantly sting her eyes, and she tugs again at his hand, wanting more than ever now to just run and keep on running.

"You don't have to do this," she whispers, her voice slurred with emotion.

"Don't cry," he demands, the words coming out more harshly than he planned, his voice gravely from the sudden lump that has formed in his own throat. And he doesn't know if the command is for her or for himself, as he feels the sudden urge to wail and beg and curse what has brought him to this point.

But his words have the desired effect for them both. She swallows once, determined to do what he asks. He struggles to know what to do next. And they are both oblivious to the tears in their friends eyes, as they watch the pain so evident between them.

"We need to talk," he tells her finally.

"Luke . . . hi," Rory says slowly, interrupting them, the obvious fear in her face, making him feel ashamed and low. And he's rushed with the feeling that he's let her down too, this child/woman that he's always championed.

"I'm going to walk your Mom home, okay?" he asks, but it's a weak question, because no one is going to stop him from having this moment, having captured her now so successfully.

"Mom?" Rory asks, looking for a sign that she's okay with this.

"I'll see you later," Lorelai answers her, looking directly in her eyes, looking calm and resigned. And she is, resigned to face the inevitable confrontation, knowing that this is the final step that she has been avoiding.

They walk in silence to her door. He still clutches her hand tightly, afraid she'll somehow disappear into the night if he lets go, she has stopped fighting against his steely grip. The walk seems to take longer than usual, or maybe it's because she's aware of every movement, every brush of his arm against hers, every little touch that has her heart beating wildly.
He can feel her pulse as his wrist lies against hers. He can hear her measured breaths, feel her trembling slightly beside him as she fights to contain her feelings.

They reach the steps, and still he doesn't release her, gesturing for her to sit before he joins her. The air is soft, the coolness of early summer taking away the heat of the day. They sit in the dark, the street lights not quite reaching the porch, leaving them in the shadows.
He pulls her hand onto his lap again, his fingers tracing the back of her hand, unconsciously tracing the place where his ring was.

He hears her catch her breath, hears her struggle against the emotions he's invoking, that she's kept so successfully in check.

And he turns just slightly into her, and leans to whisper in her ear, to brush his lips softly across her cheek.

"Don't cry," he whispers as he catches the first tear that streaks her cheek with his lips, as he releases the flood that he knows she won't be able to stop, now that they're alone. And his words contradict his actions, as he encourages her to let go with soft words and gentle touches.

And she rests her head on his shoulder, and weeps, great choking sobs of grief and confusion.

And for him, this is a beginning. The first glimmer of hope he's had in a long time.

tbc