Spoiler alert: If you haven't read Jane Austen's Emma, beware! Spoilers ahead. Then again, it's been around for more than 200 years so surely if you haven't read it by now, you never will! ;)
-o-
Chapter 26
She'd left countless messages on his machine, including one decidedly tragic rendition of Cher's 'If I Could Turn Back Time.' It was all to no avail, Luke's silence speaking volumes.
Lorelai had felt a fissure snake across her heart as the cab disappeared into the night, and it was all she could do to avoid collapsing into a pathetic heap on the curb. Unable to stop the flow of tears, she'd stood helplessly as they slid down her cheeks, splattering the concrete beneath her feet.
When the parking attendant had inquired tentatively as to whether she was okay, Lorelai was promptly reminded she was not alone, and hastened to dry her eyes with the backs of her hands.
All she'd been able to answer with had been a despairing shake of her head as she'd turned on her heel and steeled herself to return to the function room for the sole purpose of retrieving her belongings and hustling Rory out to the Jeep.
Christopher had approached her the moment she'd stepped through the door, Emily hot on his heels. She'd demanded they get out of her way, pushing past them determinedly and hoping they didn't notice the tear tracks on her cheeks as she snatched up her purse and coat and scanned the crowd for any sign of her daughter.
Rory had registered the weight of the situation immediately, noting her mother's determined stride and humorless expression. Abandoning her board game without complaint, she'd slipped her hand into Lorelai's and uttered hasty goodbyes to Honor, Logan, her father and her grandparents.
Hesitant to upset her mother further but clearly confused, it wasn't until they'd been driving for over 15 minutes that Rory worked up the courage to ask what had happened, and why Luke wasn't travelling home with them. She'd immediately regretted the question, Lorelai's carefully constructed facade crumbling at the mention of Luke's name.
Now, having tucked Rory safely in bed and still not heard a peep from Luke, Lorelai resigned herself to the largely sleepless night awaiting her. Save for the occasional overnight trip to Washington DC, she couldn't remember the last time she'd spent the night alone, with Luke's overnight visits having quickly morphed from once or twice a week to the daily norm. She wondered what was going through his mind, and longed to feel the warmth of him pressed against her. In his absence, she settled for donning her pilfered flannel – the shirt the closest thing in the house to the man himself.
Tears soaked her pillow, and she wanted nothing more than to go to him. It was not to be, of course, as she couldn't leave Rory unsupervised for long, and she certainly didn't need her daughter witnessing an emotionally charged row at the apartment.
Across town, Luke too was battling to fall asleep, his mind racing with recollections of the evening as well as dread at the thought of what was to come. In all honesty, Lorelai's failure to mention her lunch with Christopher was the least of his worries. Sure, it pissed him off – even hurt him a little if he was completely honest – but he trusted her to be faithful to him, and if she said it meant nothing, then he'd take her at her word. If that had been the worst of it, he likely wouldn't have ventured to his apartment for the night.
What really made his heart ache irreparably was the prospect of walking away from the Gilmores. As much as he hated to admit it, Christopher was right. Despite his frugal lifestyle, Luke couldn't afford to fund Rory's private school tuition, let alone Harvard. He'd had to pay off tens of thousands of dollars in medical debts in the wake of his father's passing, not to mention close down the failing hardware store and bail Liz out of financial trouble on multiple occasions. It was only in the last year or two that his savings had begun to accumulate noticeably.
While the diner's profits had been steadily growing year on year and he was confident he could comfortably afford Rory's first year of Chilton, there were no guarantees he'd be in a financial position to put her through school in the years beyond that, especially given Harvard's extortionate price tag. He knew Lorelai would never expect that of him, but would it make her regret being with him down the track when she realized others could have made Rory's dreams a reality?
If there was one thing he knew about Lorelai Gilmore, it was that her daughter's happiness meant the world to her.
If there was one thing he knew about himself, it was that he'd do anything for Lorelai Gilmore and her daughter.
He loved them deeply, and while it would damn near tear his heart to shreds to walk away from them, it occurred to him that the ultimate sacrifice was also the ultimate act of love.
He just needed to find the strength to do it.
-o-
Sleep-deprived and in serious need of caffeine, Lorelai took a deep breath before pushing open the diner door cautiously the following morning. She was grateful to Sookie for agreeing to mind Rory at short notice, and could tell by the concern written blatantly on her friend's face that she looked as bad as she felt following her restless night.
Luke didn't look up from behind the counter at the sound of the bells, but she knew him well enough to realize he'd registered her presence when she entered. He always knew.
She made her way over to her usual spot by the register, pausing beside the stool as she uttered quietly, "Think you could spare a vat of coffee and some room for me and the giant, neon 'I'm sorry' sign flashing above my head?"
He didn't make eye contact immediately, instead finishing off whatever he was doing with a wad of receipts before turning to the coffee pot and pouring her a cup without protest. He slid it across the counter toward her, and she noted with a pang of sadness that he'd put it in a to-go cup, suggesting he was in no mood for her company.
"Can we talk?" she murmured, her voice sounding raspy and much quieter than normal.
His mouth was set in a hard line, and he continued to focus on his chore as he replied, "Not now Lorelai. I've got a diner full of people."
When he finally looked up and met her gaze, she saw his eyes widen ever-so-slightly and his expression soften. Damn, she must look like hell.
Not that it was any consolation, but she noticed he appeared just as disheveled, his eyes somewhat bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles.
"Luke…"
"I said not now Lorelai," he breathed, cutting her off. "I can't do this right this second. I need some space." I need to work out how to tell you and hold it together, he added silently, feeling his gut twinge horribly.
Lorelai's gaze fell to the counter and she felt the telltale prickle of hot tears threatening to fall.
"Patty's second and third husbands said they needed space and they filed for divorce," she whispered, knowing the words sounded silly even as they fell from her lips.
"Well she tells me fourth time's the charm," he grunted, opting to wipe down the counter rather than make eye contact.
Lorelai swallowed, accepting that she wasn't going to get the conversation she sought just yet.
"Could I come by tonight?" she asked hopefully.
He sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea. I need time to think, okay?"
"But Luke...shouldn't we work through this together? Talk about it?" she pressed. "I mean, I don't know, because I've never been in one until now, but I'm pretty sure that's how functional relationships work and…"
"I think you should go, Lorelai," he said quietly. His voice was calm but firm and it silenced her immediately.
She gulped, staring at him wide-eyed before feeling the sting of hurt arrest her heart.
"Uh…okay," she managed to get out, accidentally knocking over her coffee cup in her flustered state. Her cheeks flamed red and she immediately set the to-go cup the right way up and looked around helplessly for a napkin.
"I've got it," he assured her.
"I…uh…well, I guess I'll…okay, bye," she stammered, managing to grasp hold of her hand bag on the second attempt and feeling the tears break free as she scurried toward the door.
-o-
"Lorelai?" Sookie called, entering the Crap Shack with Rory at her side a few hours later and finding it largely deserted. "Sweetie, where are you?"
When she was met with silence, the chef forced a reassuring smile for Rory's sake and murmured, "Kitten, why don't you go and set up that movie you were telling me about earlier? I'm just gonna go upstairs and check on your mom. See if she wants some lunch."
Rory nodded dutifully, but Sookie could tell she didn't buy a word of Lorelai's claims that she was coming down with something, particularly after seeing her tears the night prior. Lorelai's voice had sounded shaky and hollow when she'd called to see if Sookie would mind keeping the 11-year-old for the morning while she took some much-needed time to herself.
Climbing the stairs, Sookie shuffled her way to Lorelai's bedroom, calling her name as she went.
"Lorelai? Oh sweetie," she sighed, catching sight of her on the bed. She was draped in Luke's flannel once again and curled up in a ball on the covers, her cheeks stained with the remnants of tears and mascara. "Honey, are you okay?"
Her words merely prompted more tears, and Lorelai was powerless to stop their flow.
Taking a seat on the bed, Sookie reached out to stroke Lorelai's hair soothingly, doing her best to calm her.
"You want to tell me what happened?" she asked softly. "What did Luke say?"
"H-he…he n-needs space," she hiccupped, her eyes filled with tears. "W-won't talk t-to me."
"Oh sweetheart," she breathed, giving Lorelai's shoulder a gentle squeeze. Grappling for the right thing to say, Sookie added hopefully, "Well, it's not forever, right? You know what men are like; they just need to retreat into their cave every now and again. He's probably just processing. Maybe you could try again tonight."
Lorelai shook her head distraughtly.
"H-he…he said no. I asked and he s-said no. H-how are we s-supposed to sort this out if h-he won't talk to me?"
Sookie frowned apologetically, wishing there was something she could say or do to appease her best friend. Realizing it was a lost cause, she simply whispered, "I'm sorry sweetheart. Just hang in there. I'm sure he'll come around eventually."
Having only heard a brief summary of the drama that took place at the country club, Sookie prodded Lorelai for details, doing her best to wrap her head around the situation. They talked at length, only stopping at the sound of Rory's footsteps on the stairs.
When the 11-year-old appeared in the doorway, her forehead creased with worry, Lorelai dried her eyes and waved her forward, inviting her onto the bed for a hug. Rory cuddled into her mother, feeling a mixture of confusion and concern. Frustration soon set in when Lorelai proved either unable or unwilling to answer her many questions, and Rory balked at the idea of staying with Sookie or Mia for the night, desperate to comfort her mother.
Sookie won that particular argument, which is how Rory found herself begrudgingly packing an overnight bag an hour or so later.
Lorelai remained in bed all afternoon and evening, refusing to eat, unable to sleep, and desperately trying to pull herself together through bouts of tears. As the hours dragged on and darkness blanketed the town, she wondered what she would say to Luke if given the opportunity. She wondered if Christopher had said something to force him away, or if her mother had tried meddling once again. She wondered how long Luke would continue to hold her at arm's length and if he'd forgive her for keeping quiet about the lunch with Christopher. She wondered if it was possible for a person to fall out of love overnight. She wondered how she would possibly tell Rory that she'd failed them both if Luke decided to call it quits. Worst of all, she wondered how she could ever live without him.
Feeling her stomach churn painfully at the thought, Lorelai bolted upright in bed. She couldn't bear to spend another second in limbo. They needed to hash this out and soon, she decided, because every minute apart from him was a minute wasted. She'd go to his apartment and she'd demand they talk, because who gave him the right to call all the shots anyway?
Not bothering to change, she pulled on a pair of sneakers and took off down the stairs at a run, grabbing her car keys on her way out the door.
After pulling up outside the darkened diner, she commandeered the spare key and hastily let herself inside, skirting the tables piled with chairs and taking the stairs two at a time.
She pounded on the apartment door insistently, causing the glass pane to shake violently in its frame. When it opened to reveal a confused Luke, she noted he was sporting his sweatpants-and-t-shirt combo, signaling he had been in bed or was on his way there.
"You don't get to decide," she declared hotly, pushing past him before he could so much as open his mouth.
"Uh…?" he stammered, blinking at the hurricane that had suddenly overtaken his apartment.
"You don't get to feed me some bullshit line about needing time or space, or whatever the hell it is that's stopping us from getting to the bottom of this, Luke. I'm in this too and I'm going crazy!" she exploded, pacing the kitchen.
At the sound of the door clicking closed behind them, she turned on her heel and charged toward him, crying, "I've got my kid asking me when you're coming around next and why you're not there to read to her at bedtime, and I've got no fucking idea what to tell her. So tell me Luke, what am I supposed to say?"
He swallowed thickly, his chest twinging uncomfortably at the thought of Rory being hurt or confused by the mess surrounding them.
"I…" he began, but stopped abruptly when he found the words wouldn't come.
"Really? That's all you've got?" Lorelai demanded angrily, but her indignation quickly morphed into distress, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "Rory asked me if we were fighting. She asked me if it was because of her," she cried, her voice choked with emotion as she shoved his chest with her palms.
He took a step back, managing to grasp hold of her wrists and hold them steady.
"Lorelai…"
"What the hell am I supposed to say to her?" she asked again, and this time her words were soft and pleading.
"I think you should go home, Lorelai," he murmured, her tears almost proving his undoing.
"No!" she cried, more traitorous tears falling from her eyes. "I'm not going until we talk this out."
"I can't…" he sighed, closing his eyes as if the action would give him strength. It was easier not to look at her, especially when she was wrapped up in his flannel.
"Tell me what's going on in your head," she begged. When he didn't respond, she wrestled her hands free of his hold and grasped his shirt firmly. "Tell me what you're thinking," she pressed desperately.
"I'm thinking…" he began, his voice gravelly and low. But he couldn't seem to get the words out, so he stood there silently, his eyes closed and his mouth opening and closing awkwardly.
"What Luke? What are you thinking?" she entreated. "Tell me!"
He'd wanted to find the right way to break it to her – if there even was one – but he knew that was no longer a luxury he could afford. So he simply said the words the only way he knew how.
"I'm thinking…I'm thinking it might be best if we end this," he finished quietly.
She stiffened against him, her hands tightening their hold as she registered the weight of his words.
"Luke, no," she breathed, a hot, burning ball settling somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. "You don't mean that. You can't possibly mean that," she stressed, her eyes combing his face for any further insight. "We can work through this. We'll talk about it and we'll get past it," she rambled, her voice taking on an edge of hysteria. "This is just a minor fight. It's nothing…it's…we'll yell and I'll cry and we'll have some great make-up sex and we'll move on. This is just a blip on the radar, it's…"
"No," he said simply, because he didn't trust himself to say much more. Finally he opened his eyes, and they bored into hers, reiterating the significance of his statement. "This is over Lorelai."
He tried not to focus on the pain reflected in her eyes, or the feeling of his heart being ripped to shreds as he stood there, actively destroying the one good thing in his life.
"W-what…what did they say to you?" she hiccupped, trying to understand how he could possibly have felt the need to break it off. "It was my mother, wasn't it? She said something. Or Christopher, did he threaten you? Did he lie and say something happened at the lunch? Tell me!" she pleaded, her body now racked with sobs.
"They didn't say anything," Luke murmured.
"I don't believe you. You're lying! They did something!"
Luke shook his head sadly, willing her to let it go before he caved.
"But Luke, I love you," she sobbed. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm so, so sorry that I didn't tell you about having lunch with Christopher. I had no idea he was going to be there last night, and the last thing I wanted was for you to get Shanghaied. He was supposed to be flying to California before the party, and the lunch was so insignificant I didn't think it was even worth mentioning. I'm sorry, okay? I'll never do it again. No secrets, no omission of facts. You'll know every boring detail of my life. You have to believe me. You have to give me another chance."
Ever so gently, he pried her hands from his shirt, lowering them to her side.
"I think you should go, Lorelai," he said, his voice soft but firm. Go before I crumble, he begged silently.
"I won't," she said defiantly, shaking her head. "I won't let it end like this. This is too important to throw away and I won't do it. I love you Luke and you love me. Tell me I'm wrong," she challenged, her chin lifting.
He knew her intimately enough to recognize that beneath her layers of faux confidence, she genuinely believed herself to be unlovable to anyone but Rory. Or had done, until him. He'd sworn he would never take advantage of that chink in her protective armor, but he now feared it was the only ammunition he had to do what he needed to do. It was the one thing she'd believe without question. He had to hurt her to set her free.
When her pleas were met with silence, Lorelai reached out one tentative hand to cup his stubble-roughened cheek, her voice cracking with emotion. "Say the words and I'll go Luke. Tell me you don't love me."
Then, though it surely ripped his heart clean from his chest, Luke drew on every ounce of strength he possessed and forced the words from his lips.
"I don't love you, Lorelai. This is over."
-o-
She didn't get out of bed for five days, save for bathroom breaks.
Beyond that point, Lorelai only forced herself to venture downstairs for Rory's sake.
The 11-year-old had finally put her foot down, informing Sookie and Mia – in a manner she hoped came across as stern but in reality, was nothing short of polite – that she wasn't a baby, thank you very much, and she was well aware her mom's lethargy had less to do with being sick and more to do with the blatant absence of a certain diner owner.
The last thing she wanted was round-the-clock babysitters blocking her path upstairs while her mother was falling apart. Rory wanted to help, and since she wasn't sure how, she wanted to be present, because at least that way she was doing something. It was better than spending her time worrying or wondering about Luke. She missed him, more than words could say.
Despite her best intentions, the movie night she planned a few days later in hopes of cheering her mother up did not go well. Rory had given careful thought to their viewing catalog for the evening, but it didn't take long to figure out that no amount of upbeat Judy Garland films would be enough to bring Lorelai's smile back.
She silently chastised herself for being thoughtless enough to wear her movie night flannel. The action had become so habitual that it didn't even cross her mind that the familiar plaid might be enough to shatter her mother's fragile resolve. Lorelai's face had crumpled the second she'd caught sight of the offending garment, and she'd begged Rory to change clothes, sounding small and breakable and nothing like herself.
That in itself had reduced Rory to tears, her worry for her normally unshakable mother consuming her and mingling with confusion and sadness surrounding the break-up. It was final, Lorelai had told her, and there was nothing either of them could do to change that. Luke simply didn't love her anymore.
That sentiment didn't add up for Rory, because Luke loving Lorelai was a fact, not something up for debate. He ran a diner, he wore flannel, he ate health food, he yelled at Kirk and Taylor and he loved Lorelai Gilmore. Simple.
Nonetheless, Rory cried for her mom, for Luke, for herself and for the family they should have been. She tried to make sense of what had gone wrong, gleaning only the censored, Cliff Notes version from Lorelai, Sookie and Mia and wondering why on Earth everybody kept reiterating she'd understand more when she was 'older'. She was fairly certain she could be 73 and still think the break-up was a monumental mistake.
She hadn't been given the opportunity to say goodbye to Luke, and as her mother couldn't even bear to hear his name – never mind be in his presence – Rory read her bedtime stories alone each night, pondering what he could be doing and whether the ache in his chest was as relentless as her own.
She absently wondered whether he'd have a blue-eyed, brown-haired daughter of his own one day, and if he'd love her enough to stay.
-o-
For Luke, lifting weights helped to numb the pain.
It wasn't that the exercise took his mind off Lorelai and Rory, but rather that it left him so fatigued that he fell into bed utterly exhausted each night. Without it, he would toss and turn for hours on end, his heart aching to be with the girls and his head reminding him time and time again why it had to be this way.
He worked his body from dawn until dusk and beyond, slaving away in the diner by day and pressing hundreds of pounds each night. It was either that or turn to KC's, but aside from the fact he'd never been a big fan of drinking himself under the table, he hated the prying eyes that cataloged his every move.
The townsfolk had made their thoughts on the break-up crystal clear, and though he was certain Lorelai would never have given details to anyone but her inner circle, word had nonetheless gotten around that he'd been the one to call their relationship off.
Damn Babette and Patty's God damn phone tree.
Gypsy had made a point of boycotting the diner in a show of female solidarity and Taylor had taken it upon himself to inform Luke that he was holding him personally responsible for the collapse of the Stars Hollow Bridge. Luke couldn't even begin to fathom how he was guilty of that particular offense, especially as it had happened more than six years prior, but he accepted it with only a weak tirade of abuse, his threats hollow and his obligatory rant lacking conviction.
Kirk was the only Stars Hollow resident who seemed genuinely confused by the whole state of affairs, resolving to eat a pack-lunch supplied by his mother each day rather than risk offending either Luke or Lorelai by stepping foot in the diner or the Independence Inn. Mia eventually took pity on him and set his mind – and his anxiety-induced hives – at ease, assuring Kirk that Lorelai was perfectly comfortable with him tackling a tuna melt across town.
The only thing that kept Luke sane throughout the ordeal was the knowledge that his actions would be best for the Gilmores in the long run. After some initial hurt and disappointment, Lorelai would move on, and she'd eventually find someone that possessed the means to care for her in the manner she and Rory deserved.
The thought of her with anyone else made him sick to his stomach, but if it meant Lorelai would be happy and Rory would make it to Harvard, he'd endure the pain of not being by their sides.
As for him, Luke knew he'd never move on. Lorelai was the love of his life, pure and simple. No one else had the ability to get under his skin quite like she did, whether turning him on, making him laugh or needling him until steam came out his ears. Somehow, she'd woven her way into the deepest parts of him.
He'd love her until his dying day, he knew. So he kept the tattered horoscope in his wallet and the picture of Rory on his nightstand.
Because if he couldn't be with them, at least he could remember.
-o-
The shock had set in first for Lorelai. Then anguish and disbelief.
The denial was so free-flowing toward the end of spring it was practically a river in Egypt, and she couldn't count the number of times she awoke expecting to feel Luke's arms around her.
It was when the guilt began to surface just a few weeks later that the pain worsened – something she hadn't thought physically possible – slicing her insides bit by agonizing bit. Hour after hour, day after day, she ran through countless scenarios envisioning how she could have changed the course of fate with just one simple decision.
She should never have pushed Luke to talk before he was ready.
She should never have attended the party at the country club.
She should have told Luke about the catch-up with Christopher.
She should have declined going to lunch with Christopher in the first place.
She should never have even become friends with Christopher all those years ago.
No, she wouldn't change that last one, because it had given her Rory.
She never made it to the anger stage, Kübler-Ross theories be damned.
Sookie assured her it would get easier with time, but Lorelai knew the words were hollow and ineffectual. She would never truly recover. How could she when her heart no longer belonged to her?
Luke didn't love her, and that was that.
One thing was for sure: she didn't wallow.
Wallowing was for hurt feelings and bruised egos and broken hearts, but this was more than that. The pain was so acute Lorelai felt a part of her had been ripped from her body.
All she knew was she was bleeding out, and there wasn't enough Ben & Jerry's in the entire state of Connecticut to cauterize the gaping hole inside her.
That summer was the first time Rory was introduced to the ex-box, or more specifically, the Luke Box.
In a fit of grief, Lorelai tore around the house, stuffing spatulas and toiletries and clothing items into cardboard boxes – four to be exact, because practically living at the Crap Shack meant Luke had a lot of belongings stowed around the place.
When she ran out of boxes to fill, Lorelai commandeered the washing basket, desperate to purge her surroundings of any trace of him. It hurt to be confronted with remnants of her scruffy diner man at every turn, and while she could hide away most of the physical reminders, she still saw Luke in every room – cooking dinner, shaving his three-day growth over the bathroom sink, watching ESPN or quietly reading to Rory at bedtime.
Rory didn't complain when Lorelai declared the easy chair Luke favored expendable and dumped it on the lawn, bribing the pizza delivery boy with a crisp $20 bill to make it disappear. She didn't protest when her mother cleared out the entire cutlery drawer, leaving them with just three measly forks in the sink that managed to escape her line of sight.
It was only when the 11-year-old found Lorelai attempting to wrestle her beloved books into a charity bag and eyeing her hand-carved bookshelves as if she was contemplating how best to pry them from the bedroom wall that Rory was forced to take action. Packing up half the house was one thing, but her books were off limits.
"Mom," she said tentatively, eyeing a frenetic Lorelai from beneath her long lashes. When the elder Gilmore continued to unceremoniously dump book after book into the flimsy bag, Rory set off toward her, resting her hand against her shoulder gently. At Lorelai's pause, Rory reached down to pull the topmost book from the bag and, holding her mother's gaze, whispered, "We all know Bill Sykes wasn't the most stand-up guy, but what did Dickens ever do to you?"
Lorelai appeared to take her in for a few long moments, before she finally felt her lower lip quiver and she dissolved into irrepressible sobs.
In a well-practiced move, Rory simply wrapped her arms around her mother's trembling frame and held on for dear life.
Because they were the Gilmore girls, and they held each other up.
-o-
After accepting a kiss goodnight and hearing the click of her bedroom door closing, Rory laid stock still in bed, straining her ears for the sound of her mother's disappearing footsteps. When it was apparent Lorelai had retired to the couch, the 11-year-old quietly slipped from beneath the covers, tip-toeing across the room to where her pink school backpack rested.
She quickly removed the various books and stationery items, leaving her water bottle tucked inside. With a cursory click, she determined her flashlight was in working order, before wedging it into the side pocket alongside a tattered copy of The Catcher in the Rye.
It didn't take her long to change out of her pajamas, and after slipping on a light cardigan, she stuffed a throw she'd commandeered from the linen closet into the bag, just to be sure. She bit her lip in indecision as she weighed up whether there would be room for Colonel Clucker, reluctantly deciding it would be too tight of a fit. She gulped at the thought, feeling just a little anxious at the prospect of walking alone in the dark.
Steeling herself for the journey ahead, Rory took one last look at her alarm clock, then inched the window open as noiselessly as possible. The diner would be trading for at least another hour yet, and with the walk only likely to take around 15 minutes – 10 if fear prompted her to run most of the way – she assured herself she'd make good time.
She tried not to look at the trees that lined the roadside, their swaying branches making her jump on more than one occasion. Instead, she focused on keeping her eyes forward as she clung tightly to the straps of her backpack. Shadows loomed ominously at every turn, and she forced herself to press on, grateful when the brightly lit town square came within sight. Tucking her head to her chest, Rory ran the rest of the way to the gazebo, panting heavily as she mounted the steps. She winced at the realization she'd forgotten to pack her inhaler, but breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't feel any tightening in her chest. Even though the June nights had proved far from humid so far, the summer air was much kinder on her chest than the icy chill of winter.
After catching her breath, she turned her gaze to the diner, squinting to see how busy it was. She was relieved to see Luke behind the counter. A handful of customers were scattered around the tables, and it appeared she would have to wait a while to catch him alone.
She had to duck when Andrew waved a friendly goodbye to Luke and exited out the front door. The last thing she wanted was for the townsfolk to see her, as they'd surely wonder what she was doing wandering the streets alone at night and either take her home or call her mother.
Resigning herself to the fact she'd need to relocate somewhere a little more inconspicuous, Rory looked left and right before darting across the street to the alley beside the diner. She was grateful for the soft glow the safety light cast over the lane way, alleviating her fear of waiting in complete darkness.
At first, Rory settled on the step by the diner's back door, but when Luke's truck blocked her view of the square, she knew it wouldn't suffice. She needed to be able to see the diner customers driving away so she'd have some idea of when Luke was finally unaccompanied. Inspecting his truck, she determined the back tray would provide the best viewing angle, while largely shielding her from the eyes of anyone roaming the town square.
Rather ungracefully, she scaled one of the back tires and scrambled into the tray, landing on her bottom with a thud. Thankfully, there was no one around to notice the noise, so she took the opportunity to begin setting up her makeshift camp. Pulling the throw from her bag, she draped it over her legs then snagged her copy of The Catcher in the Rye. The metal bed of Luke's truck wasn't particularly comfortable, so she propped her backpack up behind her and leaned against it, the diner's outdoor light allowing her to focus on the pages of her book.
At 9.35pm, Rory spied a cohort of out-of-towners departing the diner, suggesting only a few customers remained.
As 9.45pm rolled around, Rory's eyes felt heavy with sleep, and she didn't notice the last diner stragglers disappearing down the street.
By 9.50pm, she'd succumbed to slumber, unaware of Luke flipping the lock on the front door and emptying the remaining dregs of coffee down the sink. Because, of course, Lorelai wasn't there to take them off his hands.
-o-
As the credits ran on An Officer and a Gentleman, Lorelai prepared to retire to bed. It was lucky she'd seen the movie countless time before, because ever since the break-up with Luke, she'd had little appetite for movies or popcorn. Or anything, really.
She'd mostly just stared at the screen blankly, consumed with thoughts of how – despite her best intentions – she'd managed to screw up so badly once again. Old habits die hard, Gilmore.
Flipping off the lights, she paused at the foot of the stairs before deciding to check in on Rory one last time. Her daughter was the only thing that brought her joy of late, and she found it comforting to watch over her sleeping form – a reminder that no matter how dark her days felt, she always had something to live for.
Padding down the darkened hallway, Lorelai edged Rory's bedroom door open, her eyes still adjusting to the lack of light. She focused on the bed covers, scanning them for the familiar curve that marked her daughter's outline.
When she didn't immediately locate Rory's frame, Lorelai blinked repeatedly, willing her eyes to focus. A second search proved no more fruitful.
Feeling the panic flare in her gut, she flipped on the light, scanning the bedroom desperately for any sign of her daughter. She pulled the bed covers back frantically, her heart plunging into her stomach when her worst suspicions were confirmed.
"Rory!" she called urgently, running out into the kitchen. "Rory, where are you?"
The resulting silence terrified her and her yells soon morphed into angst-filled screeches as she begged for her daughter to answer her.
"Rory! Where are you? Are you okay? RORY!"
Lorelai flew up the stairs at speed, knowing in her heart that she'd find the bathroom empty. She would have seen her daughter journeying up the stairs if she'd awoken to nature calling. She checked every room as well as the front lawn, her fear increasing with every second.
She was half-way through dialing Luke's number when she remembered this was not his problem and she could no longer expect him to come to her rescue. But in the absence of her Mr Fix-It, who would she call?
She decided on the police. With her daughter missing at 11 O'clock at night, there really was no other logical option.
She picked up the receiver, and forcing her shaking fingers to function, she dialed 911.
-o-
Between Officer Weston and Taylor, the town was mobilized in under 20 minutes.
Babette and Miss Patty were put in charge of the phone tree, and while they ordinarily wouldn't have been caught dead fraternizing with Eastside Tilly, they begrudgingly joined forces with their arch nemesis in the interests of finding Rory quickly. After all, the gossip-monger's contacts on the eastern side of town were unparalleled.
Taylor of course, assigned himself the role of Commander-In-Chief – a title that was largely ignored by the townsfolk as he roamed the town pompously and issued directives over a megaphone.
An unlikely leader came in the form of Mrs. Kim, who left Lane in the capable hands of her father while the stern Korean woman joined the throng of search volunteers and barked orders like a strict drill sergeant. With Luke's help, she systematically divided the town into clearly defined search areas, directing Andrew to the library, Al to the various bus stops, and Gypsy and Lulu to the high school. Bootsy was tasked with braving the hostile Armbrusters down by the lake as he scoured the bank and surrounding forest.
As always, Kirk proved more of a hindrance than a help. Eager to assist, he happily took on an urgent assignment from Luke to locate a red safety whistle in the store room of Miss Patty's dance studio, vowing not to return until he found it.
Miss Patty seemed awfully confused as she watched him prance across the town square, and she eyed Luke questioningly as she murmured, "I don't recall seeing anything of the sort out the back, Luke. In fact, I don't think I've ever used a red whistle as a prop in any of my performances."
He shot her a sideways glance as he grunted, "That's what I'm banking on."
He was glad to be free of Kirk and able to focus on the task at hand, a sentiment Patty seemed to share as she shot him a nod of approval and called loudly, "Kirk honey, I think they're in a box right up the back. When you find the stack of honey badger costumes you'll know you're getting close."
She turned her attention back to the papers in front of her, raising an eyebrow when Mia tutted, "Patricia, I am yet to see a honey badger in any of your performances yet."
If the situation hadn't been so dire, the women probably would have shared a conspiratorial smile. Instead, Mia turned to pore over the map in Luke's hands, her face etched with concern.
"I'm going to head to the elementary school," Luke remarked, his forehead creased with a frown. "No one's looked there yet and I know the grounds."
"I'll come with you," Mia replied determinedly, leaving no room for argument. He simply nodded, his jaw clenching with fear and worry for Rory.
Luke felt like a jittery mess, but he drew strength from being able to contribute to the search effort. He knew Lorelai must be out of her mind with worry as she waited by the phone, and he was glad to hear that she at least had Sookie by her side. She was never one to sit idly by if she could help it.
Officer Cooper Weston – or Coop as Luke referred to him – had insisted Lorelai remain at home in case Rory returned. Mia had told Luke so when she'd appeared on his doorstep earlier in the evening. The other townies had been reluctant to inform him of Rory's absence given his and Lorelai's estrangement, but kind-hearted, steadfast, dependable Mia had refused to leave him in the dark, making sure to rouse him as the town began to rally. Luke was grateful for that, so he raised his lips in a way that he hoped resembled an appreciative smile then led the charge to the school.
They combed the outdoor corridors and playground for the better part of 25 minutes, shining a flashlight across the grounds and calling Rory's name repeatedly. The building itself was locked for the night, but they made sure to check behind the storage shed as well as the stairs at the entry.
When there was still no sign of her, they returned to the town square, searching every inch of concrete and shrubbery. They split apart as they did so, Mia taking one end of the square and Luke covering the side closest to the diner, his hopes of finding Rory in the gazebo soon dashed.
Desperate to cover more ground, Luke determined they might have more luck if they combed the town by vehicle. He called out to Mia across the square, who agreed readily and did her best to scurry after Luke as he barreled at full speed toward the back alley where his truck was parked.
So intent on his mission, he would have propelled himself into the driver's seat without a second thought had it not been for the trace of pink that caught his eye. His heart thudding in his chest, Luke rushed over to the tray and felt a flood of both relief and fear when he caught sight of a motionless Rory curled up on the cool metal, her head resting on her pink school backpack and her eyes closed.
"Rory!" he blurted, immediately reaching for her. "Rory, are you okay? Can you hear me? Rory!" he called again, shaking her arm insistently.
The young girl's eyes blinked open slowly and a smile lit up her face the moment she registered his presence.
"Luke!" she beamed.
"Are you okay?" he asked again hurriedly. He drew her frame to him, his hands falling to her forehead, her pulse, her cheek as he searched frantically for any sign of injury or ailment. "I need you to answer me!" he stressed, desperate for confirmation that she was unhurt.
"I'm fine, Luke," she said, a little confused by the urgency in his tone. She smiled when he pulled her to his chest and held her to him in a fierce hug. "I came to see you."
"You're okay," he said faintly, as if trying to convince himself. "Mia!" he yelled loudly, still not relinquishing his hold on the 11-year-old. "Mia, I've got her!"
The older woman appeared at the edge of the alley a moment later, her cheeks flushed from running after him. "Rory!" she exclaimed, finding a second wind and dashing to the truck to hug her. "Oh sweetheart! You're here. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Rory reiterated, baffled by the level of panic etched into their faces.
"What were you thinking?" Luke demanded, but there was a hint of softness in his tone. "We've been so worried. Half the town has been out looking for you."
"They have?" Rory clarified, her eyes almost bugging out of her head and a tinge of pink coloring her cheeks as she absorbed his words.
"Didn't you hear us calling your name?"
"I-I fell asleep," she confessed sheepishly, ducking her head in embarrassment. "There were still lots of people in the diner when I arrived to see you so I thought I'd wait out here until they left to come and talk to you."
"Ah geez," he sighed, ditching his baseball cap for a moment to run his hands through his hair. "Your mom found your bed empty, kid. She's got to be worried sick. We've got to let her know you're okay. Mia, we should call or…or is Taylor still out there with that damn megaphone? We need to get a message to Lorelai," he rambled, knowing she would be panicked beyond belief. "Rory, I'm taking you home right now."
"No!" Rory cried, her eyes suddenly as wide as saucers. "I can't go home yet! I need to talk to you first. I haven't seen you in forever and Mom won't let me come back here after this. I'm not going anywhere!" she declared, folding her arms stubbornly as she prepared to hold her ground.
The scene would have almost been comical to him if it weren't for the entire town being fraught with concern. He half expected her to tack on a polite, "please" at the end of her statement, knowing her typically mild temperament and how diligent Rory was with her manners. The 11-year-old's eyes flashed with determination, and it occurred to Luke that she had never resembled her mother more than in this very moment. Unlike Lorelai, she lacked that innate fearlessness, and she immediately began chewing on her lip nervously, a pint-sized package of sweetness and innocence.
Her blue orbs darting between the two adults, Rory reasoned, "I'll go home, just not yet. Please don't make me leave without seeing you, Luke. I miss you."
"Ah geez," he breathed, putty in her hands as usual. "Rory, I don't think your mom's gonna be okay with…" he began, unsure of how to get his point across.
"I'll call Lorelai," Mia said quietly, resting her hand on Luke's arm reassuringly. "You two talk and I'll let her know. I'll tell her Rory needs a few minutes. She'll be desperate to charge over here, but she'll listen to me. I know she will."
Luke swallowed and nodded appreciatively, offering Mia a weak smile as he handed over his key to the diner so she could make the call. As soon as the woman rounded the corner, he turned his gaze to Rory and unfastened the tailgate so he could hoist himself up onto the truck bed beside her. She mirrored his position, allowing her legs to dangle over the edge of the tray.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Rory immediately cut him off, her subject choice suggesting she wasn't quite ready to address more serious topics just yet.
"I finished reading Emma," she began tentatively, her eyes darting up to meet his.
Luke immediately felt his chest tighten, hating that he hadn't been there to continue with their bedtime reading.
"Yeah? She didn't end up with that putz Mr. Elton did she?" he asked gravelly.
"No, remember Mr. Elton ran off to Bath and married that horrible Augusta Hawkins? The one who always rambled on about how wealthy she was?"
"How could I forget?" he grimaced. Recognizing she needed him to play along, he added, "So that Churchill guy?"
"Frank? He was secretly engaged to Jane Fairfax."
"He what?"
"Yeah," she confirmed, her face scrunching up in distaste. "Everything came out in the open when his aunt died."
Luke sighed softly, forcing himself to keep up a stoic facade for Rory's sake. While he didn't give a rat's ass about Jane Austen's imaginary world, he cared deeply for Rory and figured she was craving the normality of one of their everyday exchanges. The kind they would have had before the break up. He had to admit it was unbelievably comforting to hear her voice and have her in his presence again.
"So what happened to Emma?" Luke asked, indulging her.
"She married Mr. Knightley, of course," Rory shrugged.
Luke raised his eyebrows. "Huh. But she always used to flirt with Frank. And tease Mr. Knightley about walking everywhere, and get annoyed when he called her out for being a brat."
"She liked to bait him, sure, but she always knew he was a good guy," Rory explained. "That's why they're so good together. He keeps her in line and she keeps him on his toes."
"Kinda creepy that he's almost 20 years older than her," Luke groused, and Rory couldn't help laughing and rolling her eyes despite the somewhat somber circumstances. Nudging her with his shoulder, he added, "So what else is new with you? Almost summer vacation, huh? Have you and Lane still been acing it as lab partners these last few months?"
She nodded. "Yeah, everything's good at school. I got an A-plus on my final spelling test today."
"No kidding; way to go Squirt," he praised.
"Well, I kind of got 'courier' and 'career' mixed up but Mrs. Fletcher said she didn't give us the word in a sentence, so it made sense that some of us weren't sure which one she was saying."
"Seems fair," Luke agreed.
"Luke?" Rory added softly.
"Yeah?"
"I miss you." The words cut him like a knife and he wanted nothing more than to hold her to him and never let go.
"Oh kid, you've got no idea," he sighed, stretching one arm around her shoulders and pulling her petite frame against his side.
"Mom misses you too. I know she does. Sometimes I hear her crying in her bedroom or in the shower when she thinks I'm downstairs. You've got to come back, Luke. I don't know what your fight was about but we need you back with us. This break up has gone on for too long."
Hot tears pricked at his eyes and he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent.
"I wish it was that easy, Squirt," he ground out, his throat constricting with every word.
"It is that easy!" Rory declared, her chin lifting defiantly.
He closed his eyes, willing himself to find the strength to continue. "Rory, I don't expect you to understand this until you're much older, but sometimes…sometimes, no matter how much you want something, it doesn't always work out the way you plan. Sometimes the hardest choice is what's best for everyone in the long-run. Your mom and I, we…well, we weren't meant to be," he sighed.
"I don't believe you!" Rory bit back. "We're a family. We're meant to be together. You said you loved me. You said you thought of me like your daughter. Don't you remember, Luke?" Her tone had taken on a sense of pleading and urgency and he hated being the cause of her distress.
"I remember Rory," he said quietly, and he gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "It's true. I do love you like you're my kid, and that won't ever change. But I hurt your Mom pretty badly kiddo, and right now, no matter how much I want you in my life, she thinks it's best if we don't see each other. I don't have much say in that, and I don't deserve to after what I did to her. None of this is her fault; she's just trying to protect you both. I'm so sorry that I've hurt you; that's the last thing I wanted to do. But if there's one thing I know, it's that you inherited your mom's resilience, and if anybody can be brave right now, it's you. So I need you to keep your chin up okay? Because it sounds like your mom needs some support and I don't know anyone better suited to the job. That's what you've always done, right? You've looked out for your mom even though she's Superwoman."
"We've always done that. Me and you," she stressed. "I'm not tall enough to reach the porch light now it's blown. And who's going to change the bottle in the water cooler? Or fix the front step when it comes loose?"
He left his eyes downcast, knowing he'd be powerless against her imploring blue orbs. Swallowing thickly, he focused on keeping his voice from wavering.
"You can let me know. If you get into any trouble or the porch rail comes loose again…whatever happens, I will always look out for you and your mom. You just tell Mia, okay? You let her know and I'll make sure it's taken care of. But whatever you do, I need you to promise me that you'll never sneak out again, alright? It's not safe for you to be wandering around alone, especially at night."
"It's Stars Hollow Luke; not Murder, She Wrote," Rory huffed, sounding every bit the carbon copy of her mother.
"Yeah well, regardless, you risk running into Kirk practicing his unicycle skills, and I can vouch his lycra outfit is nothing short of terrifying, no matter what time of day." He offered a small smile at that, hoping to lighten the mood despite the fierce ache in his stomach. "Promise?" he pressed, holding out his pinky in the way she always did to him.
"Alright," Rory conceded, begrudgingly shaking on it.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and it wasn't until he heard the quietest of sniffles from her that Luke realized Rory had begun to weep.
"Hey, what's this?" he asked gently, rubbing her back in gentle circles. She sniffed again, overwhelmed with sadness.
"I hate that I don't get to see you anymore. I hate that you and Mom aren't together. I hate that you're not there to tuck me into bed at night or test me on my spelling words or try to make me wear 300 layers of clothing because you worry I'm not warm enough."
"Are you warm enough?" he blurted before he could stop himself.
The words just made her cry harder.
"I'm sorry," he whispered sincerely, feeling himself choke up. "I hate it too."
She buried her head against his chest, the fabric of his t-shirt soaking up her tears as they clung to one another.
Desperate to console her, Luke racked his brain for anything he could say to ease her misery. He stroked her hair and squeezed her tight, willing something to come to him. Finally, he cleared his throat and said softly, "I think I've got an idea."
Her tear-filled gaze meeting his, Luke explained, "Ever since your mom and I got together, reading before bedtime has been our thing, right? Yours and mine. No matter what happens during the day, that's always been our special time together."
Rory nodded, unsure of the direction the conversation was headed.
"So nothing changes. That time is still our time. Every night you open your book, imagine I'm right there with you, reading you the words. And I'll read too, every night, even if we can't be together. As long as you have a book, you'll know I'm always thinking of you, okay? You'll know I love you no matter what."
Rory teared up once again at his words, but nodded nonetheless, her lower lip quivering.
"There's my brave girl," he whispered lovingly, tucking one wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "Now I think it's about time we get you back home safe. What do you say? Your Mom's going to be beside herself with worry."
-o-
Lorelai was nothing short of frantic when Luke and Rory appeared in the front drive. The 11-year-old had insisted they walk to the Crap Shack rather than take Luke's truck, buying her precious time with the man she missed so much.
He'd held her hand for the duration of the trip, shouldering her backpack like he'd done whenever he'd collected her from school. Unlike her solo journey earlier in the evening, Rory hadn't felt the slightest bit frightened. The shadows and night noises had proved much less threatening with Luke by her side and she'd reveled in his presence.
Their quiet conversation was regularly interrupted by Taylor's announcements over the megaphone that she had been found, and Rory couldn't help but cringe each time the news echoed across the town.
With the Crap Shack's outdoor light having blown, Lorelai paced the front porch, scanning the darkness for any sign of her daughter. The moment she heard the crunch of footsteps on the drive she charged down the steps, opening her arms wide and enveloping Rory in a vice grip.
"Rory! Rory. Oh, Rory," she half called, half sobbed, clutching the 11-year-old to her. "My baby. You're okay, thank God you're okay," she murmured, smoothing her hand over Rory's hair.
"Mom," Rory whispered, returning the hug.
"What were you thinking heading out alone at night? I was so worried!"
Rory's lower lip began to quiver and a solitary tear slipped from her eye. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to see Luke."
Lorelai stiffened at the mention of his name, pulling back to look at Rory as she clarified, "That's why you snuck out?"
Rory's eyes fell to the ground and she nodded, letting out a quiet sniffle.
"Oh, kid," Lorelai sighed, feeling a hot ball form in her throat and tears fill her eyes.
Hovering beside them awkwardly, Luke took in the array of townsfolk spread across the porch. Babette – dressed in a fluffy pink robe with matching slippers – watched on with concern and Morey, Miss Patty, Gypsy and Sookie all looked nothing short of relieved.
Determining it was time he took his leave, Luke cleared his throat uncomfortably, holding Rory's backpack out toward the two Gilmores.
"I should…er…I should get going. Get out of your hair," he murmured.
Having been so overcome with relief over her daughter's safe return, it was only then that Lorelai seemed to properly register his presence, her eyes darting up to meet his. They locked gazes for several long moments, and Luke felt his heart twinge at the raw emotion he saw before finally finding the strength to look away. It was the first time they'd crossed paths since the break-up and he felt his stomach twist excruciatingly. She hadn't moved on yet, that much was clear.
"Be good for your mom, Squirt," he rumbled, turning his attention to Rory. He patted her shoulder gently then flicked his head toward the book lodged in the side pocket of her backpack, reminding her of their agreement.
She nodded, sniffling once more as he handed over her backpack, pressed a kiss into her hair and turned to leave.
Sookie wasn't the only onlooker whose face fell with disappointment as Luke's outline began to slip away into the night. However, her heart leapt with hope when she heard Lorelai croak his name.
He turned on his heel, grateful for the darkness that blanketed them, largely masking his expression. At least that way, no one would see the love he still held for her etched into every line of his face.
"Thank you," Lorelai whispered, her voice sounding choked but nonetheless sincere as a tear slipped down her cheek. "For bringing her home."
He simply nodded, then realizing she may not be able to see the movement in the dark, murmured, "Don't mention it," before continuing on his way.
-o-
The next night, the Gilmores arrived home to find the porch light burning brightly.
-o-
Copper. Boom.
I don't know what to say lovely readers, other than I'm sorry. Go on: brandish your pitchforks. I can take it...I think *gulp*.