September 23, 2005

Piece by piece he filled the holes that you burned in me
At six years old and you know, he never walks away

The wooden board was rough under her fingers where they rubbed absentmindedly, in time with her legs swinging over the edge of the old bridge. Rory stared across the lake at the street lights twinkling through the trees, disappearing and reappearing with the light movement of the wind. In the time she had been sitting there, the temperature had dropped enough that she yearned for a jacket. How long had she been there, staring off in the distance, pleading with her anxious thoughts to settle?

Rory had left the Fort Drum event in a daze. She'd waited for every crew member to leave, staying until the very last second of clean-up after the extravagant DAR event. She never thought she would be overseeing an event of the Daughters of the American Revolution organization that her grandmother was so fond of, so involved in, and yet here she was, in a 1940s service costume, complete with big curly hair. The hat had come off as soon as she got in her car.

How she ended up in Stars Hollow, Rory wasn't sure. There was no decision made, no thought of returning here. All she knew was that she had gotten in her car and driven until she stopped, and then her feet carried her here, where her brain instructed her to sit down and breathe. The tightness in her chest hadn't let up, despite her valiant efforts at calm breathing. Breathe in, swing left leg out, drag fingers down wood, then breathe out, swing right leg out, drag fingers up wood, and repeat. Over and over she had breathed, and swung, and felt the uneven lines of this aged board.

She really didn't know what time it was. She had left the DAR event sometime after midnight, and it was a half hour drive from Hartford to home – no, Hartford was home now, and that thought interrupted her careful breathing pattern. Rory fought for control and lost it, doubling over as the tight pain in her chest increased and her heart raced. She recognized the symptoms for what they were – a panic attack, like she had been having sporadically every day for the last two weeks.

They only struck when she was alone. Rory thought that might be what scared her the most; the anxiety creeped in while she was alone, with no one there to talk her down, help calm her breathing, or hold her. Oh, how she wished someone could hold her right now. Her phone, where was her phone – in the car. Rory had left her phone in her car, and Lorelai likely wouldn't answer anyways, given the results of their conversation last week at the baptism of Sookie's kids. And now that she thought about it, Rory wasn't sure where she'd parked her car. Around the town square somewhere? The side street not too far from the bridge? Heaven forbid she had parked it at home – Lorelai's house, not home, she told herself, but correcting her thoughts only increased the overwhelming feeling of no control.

Rory nearly screamed when she felt a hand press into her shoulder. "Rory?" Luke crouched down next to her, moving quickly, his voice now closer to her ear. "Rory, are you okay? Answer me. I need to know you're okay."

She gasped at the worry in his voice, feeling air rush into her lungs. "Okay," she managed, lifting up enough to reach for his hand where it pushed against the ground next to her, holding up part of his weight. Luke shifted to kneel beside her, letting her grasp his hand tightly. Rory focused on the tactile feeling beneath her fingers of Luke's hand in hers. Rough around the callouses, soft in between his fingers, strength lingering under the surface, gentleness in his grip around her own small hand. Unfamiliar, but so comforting, so like… home. Luke wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, cradling her head to his chest, tucking it underneath his chin.

Rory didn't notice she was shaking until the movement stopped. She tried to pull away, but Luke was unrelenting and solid; his hand held her head to him tightly. Relaxing into his chest, she once again focused on her breathing pattern. Breathe in, squeeze his hand, breathe out, release the tension. Luke didn't speak until her breath had evened out.

"Panic attack?" he asked.

She took a quick breath in, faltering in her pattern, surprised. "Yes," she whispered. "How did you know?"

Luke shook his head against the top of hers. "Lorelai," he said, with no further explanation. Her mom was having panic attacks? Surely this wasn't some weird freaky Friday incident, where their bodies were in sync. Once she left home for college, they gradually stopped feeling each other's physical pangs, the distance lessening their bond. That train of thought was quickly stopped, though, as Rory felt her heartrate quicken again.

"Breathe," she said, concentrating on the feel of Luke's flannel against her cheek, unaware she spoke aloud until Luke pulled away to look at her.

"This isn't the first one?" he asked, not quite letting go of her.

Rory focused on a point across the lake again rather than face this man who had now seen her at her weakest. Sure, he had seen some pretty low points before: petty fighting with Lorelai, acting out over bad grades and boys, being angry with him for the disastrous double date that ended with a failed game of Bop-It. And of course he knew about the yacht incident, her big fight with Lorelai, sleeping with married Dean… all very low points in her life. Now he had seen her weakened to the point of a panic attack, unable to move or escape her anxious thoughts. "No," she finally bit out when he asked again.

"Have you talked to anyone about this, Rory?"

She rolled her eyes and pulled away. "I'm a big girl, Luke. I don't need to talk to anyone about it, especially now, especially you."

He winced as if she had slapped him, and she felt the pain in her chest tighten again. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. Luke had done nothing but love her, and here she was lashing out at him again. "I'm sorry," she breathed out, barely audible. The apology was a blow to the righteous pride she had been building up ever since Mitchum had told her she didn't have it. Seeing him tonight had solidified the truth that she wasn't good enough to make it in the world of journalism, but she was determined to hold her head up high anyways, just like Emily did.

Luke put his arm back around her, pulling her close as a dry sob wracked her body. She wondered how much she really wanted to be like Emily. Rory was so angry at everyone, all the time, and she didn't even know why. "I'm sorry," she repeated, a little louder, throwing a wrecking ball into the wall of pride. "I need you," she breathed. "I always need you."

The man who was always there when she needed him brought his other hand up and cradled her head, shushing her, telling her it was okay, everything was going to be okay. In a moment of clarity, she felt like giggling at the absurdity of the hushing noises Luke was making. Instead Rory let him lull her into a feeling of peace.

When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. "I'm here if you ever want to talk," he told her. "You know where to find me. If you can't come here, I'll come to where you are."

Tears again threatened to spill from behind her eyes as she squeezed them shut. Could she talk to him? Would he go home and tell Lorelai everything? Could she risk that her mother would know her broken like this? "I think I messed everything up," she confessed.

Luke again shook his head against hers. "You didn't. And if you did, we can fix it."

Continuing to trace her hand against the board, Rory's fingers lingered on the open knotholes. So many holes, she thought, all over her life and her heart. "I don't know how to fix the holes," she whispered.

It suddenly occurred to Rory to wonder what Luke was doing out here. "Why are you here?" she asked. "What time is it?" She pulled away to look at her watch. "Luke, it's after two in the morning!"

He chuckled. "I know what time it is. I was doing some night fishing, and I was headed home when I saw you." Rory then noticed the tackle box and fishing pole lying behind them.

She nodded her head in response and found herself leaning back against his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin again. Luke let her stay there, drawing on his strength until she could talk. "I don't know what to do."

"I'm not gonna tell you what to do, Rory. You have to figure that out," he told her.

"I've never had to figure it out before. Everyone else has always done it for me. I knew I was going to an Ivy League school from the time I could understand my mother's words. It was always her dream for me. I'm not saying I didn't want it, but there were never any other options, despite all of the times she told me I could be a circus clown if I wanted to. By the time I was old enough to think for myself about what the rest of my life should look like, it was already expected of me." Once she started talking, she couldn't seem to stop. "I've tried not thinking about anything now, beyond planning parties for the DAR and spending time with Logan, but even then I'm constantly reminded of the terrible choices I've made in the last few months. Years, even. I'm a terrible person. I don't know why you're here. I'm not worth the trouble."

Luke cut her off with a rant of his own, hugging her tightly against him. "You are worth more than anything, Rory. You are loved so deeply by your mom, your grandparents, this town, me. We love you, and we are here for you, and you are worth everything to us. Whatever you decide you want to do with your life, we support you one hundred percent, no questions asked. Rory, you know that. You know that's the truth. What happened?"

His words prompted more tears, but she still fought against them. "I'm not. I'm not worth it. Everyone knows it. Emily is only happy when I do what she wants. I had to cut back on my class load and take less than Grandpa did. I'm a disappointment to them, just like Mom was. And Mom doesn't want my new phone number; she's not even speaking to me. And Sookie – how can I be a godparent to an infant if I can't even take care of myself? Dad has never been here, ever. Logan can't understand, his dad told me-" She broke off, letting the tears come. She was worthless, didn't he know that? Why did she have to tell him? Couldn't he see how broken she was? Rory wrapped her arms around her stomach in protection, doubling over again as she cried.

"Mitchum is an ass," he said, not letting go of her at all. "Mitchum is an ass and anyone else who has ever read anything you have written knows how good you are. You are good enough, Rory. But it's not your writing that makes you enough. We love you. You listen to me. You are loved." Luke's voice shook with the effort of getting his point across without crying himself.

The dam had broken. All of Rory's hurts and fears and anxieties came flooding in, sending her spiraling into another panic attack. Even when her body stopped producing tears, she still heaved with sobs, unable to get enough air to slow down. Questions and accusations flew through her mind, confronting her weakness. Was Mitchum right? Did she not have it? She enjoyed the DAR so much. Could she really amount to anything if she enjoyed a socialite life like that? Why did Emily have to control everything? Did Lorelai not want her anymore? She didn't want her phone number, that was for sure. They hadn't told her when they got engaged, not until she came to see Luke. Would she get to be part of the wedding plans, or of the wedding itself? What did he think of her now? Would he abandon her like Christopher had? And Logan, would he leave like Jess and Dean, once he realized she didn't belong anywhere, and that he couldn't be enough for her? Even playing the part of socialite, she didn't see how his parents could ever accept her. How could they want her? How could anyone want her? She was so broken, so screwed up… She had pushed everyone away, and no one had stayed.

Luke's murmuring crashed through her haze of brokenness like the sunlight trying to break through storm clouds. "I'm here," he kept repeating. "I'm here, Rory, you're not alone. I love you. I'm here." It was as if he heard every damaged thought and every scattered dream, and Rory realized she had said some or all of her fears out loud when Luke told her they weren't getting married without her, that Lorelai loved her more than life itself, that they would never leave her. Rory let him rock her into safety as she once more came down from the heights of a panic attack.

She knew, even as he held her, this feeling of security would not last through the night. Eventually she would pull away, and he would let her go, and they would go back to their separate lives where he was by Lorelai's side and she was on her own. But for now Rory let Luke hold her as she sought to memorize every nuance of complete safety.