21 – Spreading The Holiday Cheer

A/N: Again, I thank you for the reviews. Leave me your thoughts at the end, please! This is just a quick update – I am not sure when the next instalment will be, please bear with me!

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Bathroom. Toothpaste. Water.

Rory blinked disoriented, her mind too befuddled by sleep to put a name to anything but the most basic of bodily needs. She rubbed the sand from her eyes and sat up.

Go to the bathroom and get rid of the metal carpeting in your mouth and drink enough water to drown the angry troupe of elephants thumping around your head. Then figure out where you are.

As she splashed water on her face, the clouds of sleep scattered enough to clear her memories of the previous night. She couldn't bear the thought of arriving at Lane's house halfway through the night again, especially not with the taste of foot in her mouth. How childish to expect that her family, of all families, would be able to go through a divorce in an amicable manner? she thought. Divorce would place an immense strain on any family, especially one with a collective emotional intelligence equivalent to the average four-year-old's.

"You seriously thought that Lorelai "Industrial Forklift For My Emotional Baggage, Please" Hayden and Christopher "All Problems Can Be Solved By Applying Enough Cash" Hayden would sat down and discuss things like the mature adults they'll never become? Or that Richard "Oops, Hide, Here Comes An Emotion" Gilmore and Emily "Dictators Without Borders" Gilmore would actually allow them to solve their own problems. Especially not once Sherry "Unmarried And Having A Baby With A Married Man" Tinsdale and Jason "Serenades Married Mothers" Stiles entered the picture." Rory mocked her reflection resentfully. "For a supposedly smart person, you can be a real idiot sometimes, you know."

She dried her face. Obviously, going back to the Inn was out. And, since more than half of her clothes were still at Paris's house, the choice became moot and she steered the silver Merc over to the Gellers' house.

"Wow," Paris remarked when Rory finished her story, including divorces and custody disputes and babies soon to be born out of wedlock. "Strange to be on the other side of one of these my-family-should-be-on-Ricki-Lake-stories."

Rory sniffed, half-stifling her tears and half-laughing. "Coming from you, Paris, that's as good as a hug."

"And as close as you're going to get," Paris warned. "I saw on a documentary on Charlie Rose last night about germs. I TiVoed it and, trust me, it is going to put you off physical displays of affection for the rest of your life."

"That'll make me really popular in college."

"Hmmm," Paris looked at her. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you want. Until college, if that's what you need."

Rory felt like crying again, but for a completely different reason. "Thanks, Paris, but I can't impose on you."

"There's nineteen bedrooms in this house, Rory, it's impossible to impose."

"Nanny made you waffles for breakfast," Paris called from the bedroom. "She has this insistent, semi-pseudo-quasi-religious belief that breakfast in bed can solve most problems, so get your butt under these covers, Gilmore!"

"Such service," Rory said as she slipped back into bed. Paris handed her a wooden tray piled high with waffles, a variety of syrups and butters and a perfectly adequate size of coffee. It also held copies of the New York Times, the Post, the Telegraph and TIME Magazine. Rory glanced at Paris. "Nanny believes in the healing properties of print media too, huh?"

"Shut up and eat your waffles," Paris replied amicably, taking the Times and settling down cross-legged next to Rory.

"Thanks, Paris."

"Remember what I said about no hugs."

"It'll haunt me until my dying day," Rory promised.

Paris took the television remote from the end table and switched on, flipping through the channels until she reached her favourite news channel. She froze as a familiar figure filled the screen.

"... footage showing the car accident. It appears that Mrs. Hayden steered the vehicle into a rooster statute just off the I1 between Hartford and Stars Hollow. She has been taken into custody following a breathalyser test showing that she was well over the legal limit. When questioned about her possession of the Romanian ambassador's vehicle, Mrs. Hayden said that quote she and Stefan were like Lily and Marshal, only less creepy and we don't share a toothbrush unquote." The journalist smirked. "The Romanian embassy has since declined to comment on both Mrs. Hayden's possession of the vehicle and Mr. Varushnykov's dental hygiene. Back to you, Veronica."

The camera panned back to the anchor's bemused face. "Looks like James Bond is not the only one asking Santa for a new Ashton Martin this year. Let's check in with Todd in Chopper One to see if Mrs. Hayden has caused any other traffic jams, shall we?"

Paris glanced at Rory, wondering if it was possible that the Telegraph had distracted her friend from the smirking and the sneering. Rory was staring at the screen, mouth open, a piece of waffle speared with a fork halfway through the air. She blinked twice and stared incredulously at the screen.

"My mother crashed into Monty the Rooster after stealing the Romanian ambassador's Ashton Martin and she's been arrested for drunken driving?" she shrieked.

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Lorelai stalked through the halfway, the staccato clack of her heels a perfect accompaniment to her anger. She mumbled something inappropriate as she signed out her personal effects, sarcastically thanking the officer for giving her back her possessions and strode out of the police station.

"Slamming the door to a police station that loudly can probably get you booked for public vandalism," Jason remarked. He was perched on the bonnet of his Maserati and Lorelai gratefully flung her arms around his neck, half-laughing and half-crying. Jason rubbed her back in slow circles, enjoying the feel of her body against his. "I talked to Jonathan Burchell; he talked to the embassy and got them to lean on the police to drop the charges. He's also going to take your divorce case, if you want him to, and he's already been yelling at his interns to get him all the case law on custody awards granted to grandparents. Frankly, he was so happy to take your case that it was just disturbing."

"Any word on Rory? She got the Inn safely?"

"I phoned the Inn and the delightful French concierge told me that she hadn't checked in," Jason began and hastened to reassure his frightened girlfriend. "Just as I hung up, Paris called and said that Rory will be staying with her for a while. She wanted to know if any of Rory's things was at my apartment. Apparently Paris is driving around the state of Connecticut today with a collection of boxes to make sure that all of Rory's possessions can be in the same house for the first time in more than a month. Her words, not mine."

Lorelai stepped away from Jason, nodding and rubbing some liquid salt from her eyes.

"Lorelai ..."

"It's been a long night," Lorelai said, her voice cracking as she tried to smile. "Thank you for ..."

"No thanks necessary," Jason comforted her. "Jonathan Burchell did say that the chances of your parents winning are very slim. Slimmer than the average Scandinavian air hostess."

Lorelai shook her head, thinking of the last time she saw her daughter and reliving the powerlessness she experienced when her daughter drove away from her in a rage. "They already won, Jason."

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Packing was a chore made rapid-fire by rage. Yanking linens off the bed, seizing clothes from closet rails so quickly that the hangers rattled, grabbing books from their shelves – all bodily movements designed to moderate wrath, all designed to ease the indulgence in fury and ire. And indulged Rory did.

"Can you bloody believe this? She's all oh, Rory, I'm worried about what'll happen with you if you go out with Tristan and oh, Rory, please don't crash any more Civil War re-enactments," Rory fumed as she slammed a desk drawer shut. "But then what does she do? Steal a Maserati, crash it into a landmark and get herself arrested for drunken driving after causing a scene on national television! Can you say hypocrite?"

"I'm assuming this means you are definitely not going to want to live with Lorelai," Paris calmly surmised as she stacked dictionaries into a box.

Rory snorted.

"That means the court will want you to choose between Christopher and your grandparents, you know."

"The choice between the father who has procreated out of wedlock or the grandparents who want to exercise every last inch of control over me?" Rory pointed out with another angry snort. "That's like choosing between rabies and a flesh-eating bacteria."

"I am sorry to hear that you feel that way," Richard remarked as he walked into Rory's bedroom. "However, I certainly understand your feelings."

Rory looked at him mutely, the sting of betrayal and loss clearly marked in her eyes.

"Oh, Rory," he sighed. "I was not aware of your grandmother's bid for custody. Nor, as it happens, do I support or condone it."

"Your signature on the papers," Rory muttered as she grabbed clear laundry bags filled with designer summer dresses.

"Forged," Richard succinctly explained. "Emily has a certain gift of penmanship."

"Clearly."

"However, I have come up with a viable solution to the predicament we find ourselves in," Richard said, helping Paris to tape up the box. "You are aware of the fact that I am the trustee of a trust fund that will accrue to you upon your twenty-fifth birthday."

Rory grunted.

"I am also the trustee of a trust fund established for the express purpose of allowing you to pursue your academic goals. Be it college, grad school or," Richard paused, "high school."

"Yeah, you're like Richie Rich's dad," Rory mumbled. "What's your point?"

Paris looked inquisitively at Richard. "Are you suggesting what I surmise you are suggesting, Dick?"

"Quite possibly," Richard nodded. "As trustee of the funds, I am capable of paying Rory an allowance that would allow her to rent or buy and furnish a moderately sized apartment in a good neighbourhood while she completes her studies at Chilton. After that, and if Rory so wishes, I would be able to pay for any college tuition."

Rory turned to look at Richard without a smile on her face. "What's the catch?"

"What do you mean?"

"Gilmores never do anything without ulterior motives, do they? You just want to keep me under your control."

Richard sighed brokenly. "No, Rory. I want to ensure that you have all the opportunities you deserve, unmarred by a hostile family environment. You have clearly expressed your disinclination to live with either your parents or your grandparents and, as much as it hurts me, I understand it. I therefore wish to provide you with the chance to live on your own."

"Like the courts will allow me to," Rory grumbled.

"They will," Paris said, "if you apply for emancipation."

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