Hello, all. Yes it has returned! Sorry about the time it's taken, but I've had major writers block. Anyway, thank you to Anna Luna and Beth for your encouragement; it really got me working on it again. Hope you all like it! x

8. Anniversaries and Birthdays

The months had flown by in a flurry of work and routine. Kaley had entered her "terrible twos", Luke had finally started Will playing T-ball, and with the weather getting nicer, the inn was booked beyond its accommodation limits. Life was so regular and normal that Lorelai didn't have warning. She was preoccupied with life as it moved forward, and barely having time to scratch herself, the dates crept up on her. It wasn't until June passed and they were well on their way through the month of July that Lorelai realised just what date was creeping up.

A year had passed. One full, long year since she had seen her daughter. One year since her baby, her best friend, once her whole life, had lived with her. She hadn't held her, talked to her, felt her. And yet, she had somehow miraculously survived. She was still here, a year later, living and breathing. Moving forward, and leaving her baby girl behind.

This was going to be a long month.

-XooooX-

Bernie's pneumonia overtook him as the temperature got warmer. I didn't know it was pneumonia at the time, but I feared. I knew it was not good: pneumonia, hypothermia, or any such illness was not good. Especially not in our situation, where I could do nothing for him.

Such a plump man when I first met him, Bernie withered away in front of my eyes. I mean, he had been thin before he got sick; we were underfed, and I myself was bordering anorexia by that stage, but Bernie, oh poor Bernie shrunk before my eyes. With so many things to be terrified about, it is amazing how much his weight drop scared me.

We had been alone in that room for months now. Thinking back on it, it was probably five or six months since Tristan had left. I have no idea why they kept us there. As far as I know, there was no ransom for a journalist and humanitarian against the US government, looking for hostage exchange, or however they organise those things. But they kept us there, an anorexic girl and a deathly ill middle-aged man. Harmless as can be. We had nothing they wanted or needed, not like Tristan. We knew nothing, and so they didn't take us and question us like they did him; but they didn't do anything else, either. We were remained alone, fed infrequently, and left to rot.

-XooooX-

The days crept slowly by, and Luke held his breath as he observed his wife. So far, nothing had really changed. She got up most days, worked through her routine, played with the kids, and put herself to bed at night. To the outside eye, nothing much had changed. To Luke's eye, however, he knew. She was feeling it, waiting for the day to arrive, but trying to ignore it as well. Lorelai Gilmore was nothing if not a fantastic avoider of reality.

She tried to ignore it. She tried really, really hard. But when April made her disappearance to New Mexico for the rest of her summer, all bets were off and Lorelai was faced with a hard, cold reality she didn't want to face. As much as she had been telling herself she hadn't, she had substituted one daughter for another. While she was well aware that April was not Rory, her presence had allowed Lorelai to hold onto something so... Rory. She couldn't explain what it was, exactly, maybe just the comfort of a grown daughter, a young friend who wasn't living quite so close to the picture. Whatever it was, Lorelai realised she'd lost it the second April left the house for her trip south.

That night, Lorelai faced the reality and cried herself to sleep.

After that night, all bets were off and the change Luke had been waiting for exploded before his eyes. In the weeks leading up the the anniversary, Lorelai had more bad days than good, and camped herself once again in her bedroom.

Luke calmly took this deterioration as calmly as he could, having been prepared for this for weeks, and having experienced it many times in the last year. He had already made plans for the diner, had discussed options for the inn with Sookie and Michel, and had organised as many activities and play dates as he could for the kids in the following weeks in order to make himself available for his wife. This time, with this kind of preparation, Luke wondered if he would have a chance to mourn too.

The day arrived with minimal fuss. Lorelai, as everyone expected, stayed in bed. And as soon as Luke saw Will and Kaley off with Emily and Richard, who had insisted they spend the day with their remaining grandchildren, he knew where his day would pass. He would be where he wanted to be more than anything in this world.

As quietly as he could, Luke crept back into his bedroom and crawled in behind his wife, wanting to just hold her. For the first time in a year, Luke had allowed himself time to grieve for the lost daughter. He held her to him as she cried to his chest, and she clutched at him as he left droplets in her hair. Looking beyond the circumstances, it was a beautiful day, a magnificent image of the couple laying in each other's arms, the bright blue sky shining through the curtains in the background. The immense pain and sorrow, however, could not be confused nor ignored.

For the first anniversary, Luke held Lorelai on her Dark Day.

-XooooX-

Two months passed, as Lorelai brought herself back into her world and her life. She had lived through the pain and misery for more than a year now, she had survived a whole year and still continued to. However, another trial approached as the holiday season began to near. Rory's birthday. What would have been her twenty-eighth year was creeping upon her poor grieving mother. Yes, she had passed one October Eighth without her daughter already, but last year it had slipped by, unnoticed. She was in the depth of her wallowing last year, and so this birthday seemed fresh. She recognised the date and it hurt like hell.

The morning of October Eight, Lorelai lay staring at the blaring green light of her alarm clock, informing her it was exactly 4:03am. The pain in her chest was at its greatest, so much so that it felt like it was going to rip right out of her chest. For the first time in seven months, Lorelai thought she felt the beginnings of another panic attack brewing. But for that minute, she forgot to notice, and to care.

She blinked thoughtfully as the time clicked over to 4:04 and nothing happened. The world had continued turning, nothing jumped out of the darkness at her, nothing moving nor made a noise. At 4.05, Luke's arm snaked around her and brushed a kiss to her shoulder. She let him pull her to himself, and closing her eyes tight she relaxed into his embrace. "Tell me," he murmured into her shoulder, offering her the chance to either tell him the long-practised story so she had a chance to, or to voice all her thoughts and feelings.

She sighed and pressed back into his arms. "I don't want to just let it pass," she finally said.

He kissed her shoulder again, and neither moved again, nor fell asleep, until Will poked his head into their room to inform them he had, for the first time in months, wet his bed. As Lorelai soothed the distressed boy, Luke rose and quickly stripped the bed for his son's peace of mind.

That day, Luke had expected to again spend in bed with his wife. However, when he came downstairs after sticking Will into the shower, he found Lorelai in the kitchen talking to Sookie, who had again made herself at home in his kitchen.

"Hey Luke!" she greeted him nervously as Lorelai handed him the cup of tea she'd prepared for him. "I just came by to see how things were before I left for work, you know, see what I could do." she fidgeted nervously as she glanced at a calm Lorelai who studied her intently. "And then when I got here, you were all still in bed and I thought I'd prepare you some breakfast in case you didn't get the chance, what with today being so..."

Trailing off, she glanced between Lorelai and Luke. Seeing Lorelai studying her closely and Luke's indifferent face glancing into his tea, she nervously finished, "Well, I just wanted to help!"

Luke rose from his stool next to Lorelai, and rounded the counter towards to kettle to refill his cup, and said, "It's fine, Sookie. Thanks," He added more sincerely. If the last year had taught him anything, it was to be more accepting of friendly offers of assistance. Especially when people were offering help more for their own peace of mind, just like he had for so many years.

Luke leaned back against the counter, facing the kitchen, once his cup had been refilled, and let his eyes drift to his wife who still sat silently on her stool. Before he could ask, Lorelai said, "I want to do something today."

"Okay," he answered easily.

"I want to go out, breath some fresh air, you know?"

"Okay,"

She rose from her stool, and leaving her mug on the counter said more confidently, "I'm gonna go take a shower."

He watched her wait for his "Okay," again before she turned on her heel and headed upstairs.

Sookie let out a tired, relieved sigh before handing the bowl of waffle mix to Luke and informing him that now she was heading out to work. She closed the front door with a parting statement of "Take care of her!", as if all these months that was the thing Luke had been forgetting to do. Luke nodded to her words as though it was the best advise he'd heard in years, and poured some mix into the waffle iron.

Twenty minutes later, Lorelai appeared back in the kitchen with an impatient toddler in her arms crying for food and an upset child yabbering questions at his father, wondering why his dad had not waited for his help with breakfast this morning when every other morning he needed Will's help.

The day went fine. They took the kids to the circus that was showing in a neighbouring town, took them on a picnic lunch, then spent the afternoon at the lake. Early in the evening, on their way home, Lorelai asked Luke to drop her in the town square. Unable to argue with her, he left her and took the kids home, knowing that what she wanted was some time of the day for herself. Shaking his head, he wondered whether the town would be smart enough to leave her be today. Sometimes, when they tried too hard to help, it just made it that much harder.

After circling the town one time, Lorelai strolled towards the big tree plated in the centre of town. On this tree, Rory had spent many years of her youth reading after school, under the watchful eyes of Taylor, Patty, Andrew, Luke and Gypsy, all who could see her from their places of business. Now attached to the tree, is the plaque Taylor had fixed for the memorial service more than a year previously. Lorelai had avoided this particular tree since that day, but today, it was her main focus. As she reached it, she reached out and gently stroked the gold lettering, marvelling at the perfect little rectangle that said nothing and held no significance as far as Lorelai could see. It was a pointless little artefact, and surprisingly held so little meaning.

Lorelai sighed, saddened that she could get nothing more out of this stop, and instead headed to the next location. She knew this next stop would be harder: she was going home.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Lorelai walked behind the old dilapidated building. She knew better than to walk through the main structure, it was still as charred and unstable as it was many years ago when it was shut. No, Lorelai could deal with not walking through there, there were other places around here she could visit. Walking behind the old Independence Inn, she made her way towards the lake and the old potting shed. The garden around this part of the property was what she had wanted to see anyway. She knew this wouldn't be easy, but it was time. And she had time.

She was there for hours that evening. She sat on a bench outside the shed until the sun went down, gazing out over the garden to the lake, remembering. In her sight, she could see a young child laughing and playing with her young mother; she could see laughing children running and screaming over the lawn, as a clown was led away by the town policeman; she could see her three-year-old daughter crying because the grass was wet and she was being forced to walk on it by her mother; and over, under a tree by the lake, sat a pair of seven-year-old girls giggling and braiding grass and flowers together.

Softly, tears cascaded down her cheek, longing for that child back, for the time when she herself was nothing but a child. Those days weren't exactly carefree, but they were filled with so much love and happiness and inner peace that she was afraid she would never be able to find again.

The sun set over the lake, falling behind the trees, and Lorelai remained perched on the rusty old bench. Not until twilight had really set in, did she stand. Turning to the shed she had called home for nine years, she reached out and grazed her palm against the wall, simply feeling it. It marvelled her now, realising what they had grown through, how she had managed. But there some something about the simplicity about that life, being so joyous with so little in her life. Her daughter, a job, and a couple of friends. Few possessions, no complicated relationships were welcome in her heart. It was just her daughter, her whole being.

Her hand stretched out along the wall towards the door, and the rest of her followed, as if being pulled. The open door let in no light, night having set in. But Lorelai didn't need it. She leaned against the door frame, gazing into her old home as she let the memories and feelings wash over her. Running her had down along the inseam on the door frame, she sighed dramatically before turning and leaving it all behind. At least for another year, she told herself.

As she made her way home, her legs followed a once familiar path before she had any control over where she was going. She had made this trip for seven years, and Lorelai wondered if it was habit that led her here. Or maybe her subconscious had needed to visit this home too. Either way, Lorelai found herself hidden in the trees gazing upon the blue house. The product of all those years spent living at the Inn in near poverty. She stood quietly, arms crossed in front of herself in protection and let her mind wander. She had not planned on visiting this home. It was not just Rory's home with her, and so felt less special than the potting shed. They meant two completely different things in her heart, but this was the home Lorelai had worked for for Rory.

Lights were on in the house. The Hewitt's lived here now, the elderly couple that bought the house four years ago now. They were pleasant and friendly enough for Lorelai not to be uncomfortable selling to them when they retired and moved out of the city into the charming small town. Inside, Lorelai knew that they had probably finished their dinner, and were playing board games or dancing around the living room. They were a lively pair and spent every day with plans, so as not to lose moments of their life. Or so Mrs Hewitt always said.

Lorelai stood outside, like a deranged stalker, for only about ten minutes. This time, no tears sprang forth. Maybe she was finally out of them. But what crossed her mind, was the years she spent alone in that house more than the ones spent with Rory. Realising with great difficulty, she was glad she no longer lived in that house. While their new home had little memories of her eldest daughter, having not lived at home long before they moved there, Lorelai found it refreshing. It was so hard, some days. The new house smelled and sounded like children, and gave her memories of her other babies. Memories that made her happy, not sad. As she walked away, towards the home she now knew she was very grateful to have, she wondered how some parents survived the deaths of their children. Without the support and life she was surrounded with everyday, she knew she wouldn't be here today, more than a year later to reminisce.

Tiredly, Lorelai made her way into the house, and went directly to the fridge, hoping to re-hydrate herself. In the back of her mind, she realised that she had not received a call from her undoubtedly worried husband in the last couple of hours, and was very grateful. She listened intently, but could only water running. She smiled softly to herself, thinking of her babies passed out from exhaustion in their beds, but the smile dropped of her face instantly as her gaze held on the door at the other end of the room. The door that had remained firmly closed for about ten months now. Remembering what she had thought about 'Rory memories' in this house, Lorelai's brow crinkled in horror at the feelings of happiness she had felt less than an hour previously. Hearing that the shower was still running above her, she walked swiftly to the door. She had to know. She had to feel it.

Swinging the door open sharply, with no concern about disturbance, she looked searchingly through the darkness that filled the room. Turning the light on, she stepped though the room and looked around as if expecting to see Rory in there hidden behind or underneath some piece of furniture. She had been in this room, had lived in this room. Though only for a couple of months as she waited for a new job to arise after the campaign, she had lived here. As an adult. She had stayed here less than a week before leaving that last time, to Israel. Not sure exactly what it was she was looking for, she knew she would know when she found it. Whatever it was.

Luke found her in this state minutes later, fresh from his shower and dressed for bed.

"Lorelai!" he called to her, shocked at finding her tear about the room.

"Yeah," she responded, barely aware of his presence.

He walked up to her and grabbed hold of her by the wrists to hold her still. "Lorelai," she finally looked at him, his concerned expression hardly bearable for her, "What are you doing?"

She stood calmly, no fight in her. Shrugging her shoulders, she responded easily, "Trying to feel it."

He paused and looked at her for a moment, trying to read her. Finally, he asked, "Feel what?"

Lorelai sighed one more time before shrugging him off to sit on the edge of Rory's bed. She controlled her thoughts before delving into an explanation. "I just... want to feel it."

She didn't continue for a long minute, in which he took a seat next to her and grasped her hand in his, waiting patiently for her to continue with his support.

"I don't feel it. Like she's gone. Shouldn't I feel it?"

Luke's heart dropped as he heard her say this. He remembered a similar conversation on the day of the memorial service over a year ago, but she had accepted it, he'd thought she'd come to terms with everything. Briefly, he wondered if her being so close to her normal self is because she'd been in denial for months.

"Lorelai..."

"I know what you're gonna say. But just let me say this," she looked searchingly into his eyes, hoping to find understanding, "Please, Luke."

He nodded his consent for her to continue, all the while knots returned to his stomach as he waited for her dreaded words to be said.

"I went to the Independence Inn today. I sat outside the potting shed, and mourned for her." She whispered her story to Luke, her voice choking at times, knowing how ridiculous she knew she was going to sound. "I cried for the little girl I loved and raised there, for the years we spent by ourselves, totally content. Before she grew and our lives became separate, you know, my life and her life."

Luke watched her quietly, waiting for her to tell her story.

"I mourned the little girl she hasn't been for almost twenty years. I mourned the happiness we shared in those years. Everything that has been gone for so long now, long before all of this. On my way home, I went by the Crapshack. I just stood and gazed at it for awhile, and mourned the teenager she grew into in that house. In that house, we each made our own lives, separate of each other. We both grew up properly. I met you when we lived in that house."

She paused for a moment, trying to read his unchanging expression. She needed to explain this right, she didn't need him to think she was any crazier than she already was.

"I mourned my perfect, book-loving, shy teenager she was in that house. I mourned my less perfect, young adult daughter she was when she visited home during school breaks. I mourned my grown daughter. But when I was standing there, I realised I mourned so many aspects of what she was, but not what she is. Or at least, was last time we saw her. It's like," she paused for a second, hoping she'd say this right, "It's like, my adult daughter, the woman she became was never in my thoughts in that mourning period. She's not here, Luke. I'd feel her. I mean, I don't know that much about death, but she should be connected to me, right? I should feel that she's dead. It's like, when someone you love is hit by a car, miles away, you know something is wrong. You can feel the person you love slipping out of this life. I didn't feel it then, Luke."

Before he could say anything, because she could see him trying to get a word in, she cut across him. "I know she's dead, Luke. You don't need to talk that into me. I just... It's like I was mourning for everything she hasn't been in years, but when I think of the woman I saw off on that plane... I think, shouldn't I feel it? She was a part of me. Shouldn't I feel that she has moved on and is at peace? Or that she's here, really inside me? But I feel nothing. I don't feel pain or peace for that Rory. I feel nothing! Nothing, Luke! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Tears started to roll down her cheek as she looked at him, waiting for him to give her all the answers she sought.

He had no answers for her. "I don't know," he all but whispered before drawing her into him, brushing his hand through her hair, soothing her the best way he knew how.

-XooooX-

October passed in much more pain and sorrow, as Lorelai and Luke tried to bring back their normal lives after the moment in Rory's room on her birthday. As November started, so did a happier time for Lorelai as she planned a birthday extravaganza for Luke's birthday, hoping to make up for ignoring his previous one.

In her attempts to make this birthday as wonderful as she could, she arranged for a trip into New York, where she took him to see the Yankees play the Red Sox, something she had wanted to do for him for years now. April came home for the weekend, and so the five of them made a day of celebrating his birthday. It was a day of pure happiness on their parts, the first day in a long time. As Luke lay in bed, late that night, Lorelai wrapped in his arms, he believed for the first time in a long time that they were going to be okay.

The next evening, Luke and Lorelai sat contently on the couch, basking in the aftermath of a truly happy weekend. April had left not long before, headed back to school, and they had decided to have a movie night with the kids, rounding off the weekend. Will and Kaley sat immersed in front of the TV as The Incredibles played for them, while their parents snuggled on the couch whispering teasingly to each other. Just as Elasta-girl and the Incredible kids crash-land on the island in search of Mr Incredible, the phone began to ring.

"It's probably April, telling us she forgot something again," Luke said as he moved to stand.

"I got it!" Lorelai said quickly as she sprung from the couch quicker than Luke had seen her move in years. He watched her disappear into the hall as she called back to him, "She likes me better anyway!"

Luke snorted in response as he followed her, deciding whatever was going on on that phone would interest him way more than the washed-up obese superhero in the cartoon.

"Hello," Lorelai said into the phone milliseconds after the ringing stopped.

"Hello, is Mrs Lorelai Danes there please?"

"Speaking," she answered, a crease appearing on her brow.

Luke imitated the look and mouthed What? to his wife. She shook her head slightly at him as she listened intently to the person on the other end of the line.

"... I don't know many details, but she has no deathly injuries as far as we know. She's in one piece and is relatively coherent." Lorelai's hand covered her mouth as she registered what she was being told.

"Uh," Lorelai interrupted, momentarily forgetting how to make words, "Uh, what do I do? How do I get there?"

"Well, actually you don't. She's already on a plane back to the states. She was well enough to leave straight away, and we like to send them home as soon as possible. She's arrive in New York tomorrow morning, before being admitted to Bellevue Hospital Centre. You can see her there, as long as the hospital permits it."

"I... uh... thank you," Lorelai finally spluttered to the man on the other line.

"No problem," he answered easily, "These are the calls I like to make. If you have any questions, please call me. Take care."

"Uh- bye," she answered him distractedly, not noticing she didn't take a number from the man, nor remembered what name he gave her. She carefully ended the call before looking up at Luke, confusion covering her face.

"What's wrong?" He asked her timidly, scared of what news she had just been given. His thoughts drifted to Emily and Richard and worry began to set in.

Her eyes rose to meet his and she told him, wonderment still covering her face, "Rory's alive."

tbc