June 2009

Rory and Paris sat in a very posh dining room on the Upper East side of Manhattan having lunch.

"I love Manhattan in the summer," Rory opined.

Paris shoveled lettuce from her Cobb salad into her mouth. "What's so good about it? It's hotter, dirtier, and smellier."

Rory held up her glass of rosé. "The list of acceptable things to drink."

Paris wolfed down her salad.

"Geez, Dyson, slow your roll," Rory warned, taking a bite of her fish and chips entrée.

Paris swallowed. "Sorry. They said if we were back by one we could watch a rare facial transplant. Like hell I'm missing that."

Rory took a sip of her water. "Well thanks for making time for me, I guess. How do you even watch that stuff after eating?"

Paris shrugged, snagging one of Rory's french fries. "Honestly, it's better at Harvard. At NYU you'll find some of the students eating lunch over the cadavers."

Rory gagged. "Anddd that's enough medical discussion for the rest of my life."

Paris kept eating.

"So, any updates on the Swedish cancer research?" Unfortunately, there was an ulterior motive to their lunch. Paris was in the city doing a rotation with some students from NYU so students at both medical schools could get to see different cases and learn from different professors for two weeks over the summer. Rory had planned to meet her for lunch regardless, but Hannah wanted an update on the story Rory first covered with Harvard med.

"They haven't really kept the students informed, we were more media props than integral to the research, but I could get you the leading professor's email for follow up if you want."

"Thanks, I have it. He was a dead end, too. I told my editor there wouldn't be anything else with this and it'd be more interesting to do a follow-up in ten years or so, but no dice."

Paris shook her head. "Don't they know to listen to Rory Gilmore's gut instinct by now? Always worked for me when I was your editor. Twice."

Rory rolled her eyes. "And I was your editor once. And so was your husband. How's Doyle?"

Paris sighed. "Trying to become a connoisseur of life. I kid you not, he is trying to get some newspaper to let him write a column once a week where he opines on whatever the hell he wants for six hundred words."

Rory laughed. "I mean, I could ask Logan if he's short on content—"

"Don't encourage him," Paris warned. "Let's focus on you. If you're not bringing your editor back a Harvard story, there's got to be something else to write about."

Rory put her fork down. "The most action I've seen was my reporting from Australia. The rest has been rewarding but dry. Logan keeps a portfolio of the print versions of my pieces. It reads like a phone book."

"Hey, his girl Friday, you're the reporter who made a parking lot sound interesting."

"Paradise has been paved. I keep asking Hannah for juicier assignments, but so far nothing."

Paris pointed her fork menacingly at Rory. "Then you need to show her you deserve to write those pieces."

Rory lifted her glass to her lips to take a sip of water, but she nearly spit it out just as fast when she got a glimpse of some other diners across the restaurant over Paris's shoulder. "Paris…" she said in a low but urgent tone.

Paris threw her utensils down. "Are you choking? Do you need me to perform the Heimlich? Do the choking sign if you can't breathe."

"Paris, shut up, I'm not choking."

"Well I know that now that you're talking."

Rory leaned in. "I want you to turn your head very nonchalantly to your five o'clock and tell me if that's who I think it is having lunch with who I think that is."

Paris turned her head while Rory pretended to look away and be interested in anything else. Paris turned back. "Holy shit. What is the head of the Federal Reserve doing talking to the South American Finance Minister?"

"That is them, right?"

"Definitely is. We just finished the ophthalmology unit too, and we all had free eye exams, so it's not just your eyes."

"How reassuring. I wonder…you don't think this has anything to do with the 2008 fallout, do you?"

Paris thought. "You mean the economic crash? The Fed is in talks to adjust interest rates but they might not do it until after the U.N. meets next month."

"That's what I was thinking. But then why meet ahead of time with world leaders? Unless something fishy is going on…" Rory trailed off lost in thought.

"Rory! Earth to Rory!" Paris snapped her fingers in Rory's face.

Rory refocused her gaze on Paris.

"You had your writing face on. You know the one where you stare off into the distance and it looks like you're possessed?"

Rory started gathering her things. "I have to get back to the office, I have a lot of research to do."

Paris threw a few bills down on the table to cover the tip as she made to leave as well. "That's the reporter girl I know and love. I'll call you later and tell you how the facial transplant went."

"You know what, don't. But I'll call you if anything comes of this hunch I have."

"Stop fidgeting," Luke warned Lorelai. They were in his truck and had just pulled into the parking lot of a doctor's office in Hartford.

"I can't help it. I'm nervous." Lorelai started chewing her nail.

Luke pulled her hand away from her mouth and clasped it in his own. "I'm nervous, too. I hate doctors, I hate hospitals, I hate pretty much anything to do with the medical profession. But if we're gonna do this, if we're gonna have the family we want, then I'm willing to suck it up."

"But we only tried for a few months, maybe we should give it more time before resorting to this option?" Lorelai wondered.

Luke sighed. "We could if that's what you really want. But you keep saying that every day that passes makes it more unlikely this is going to happen naturally."

"I really need to stop reading WebMD at two in the morning."

"I've tried to stop you from reading WebMD at two in the morning but you get very…violent."

Lorelai laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. "I love you."

Luke smiled, rubbing his thumb over her hand reassuringly. "Let's go. Besides, we can't be late, we have the town meeting later."

Lorelai unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. "Since when are you eager to go to a town meeting?"

Luke locked the car. "I'm not, I'm eager to stick it to Taylor's smug little face."

Lorelai hooked her arm through Luke's as they approached the front door. "That's more like my husband."

She stopped walking suddenly.

"What, what's wrong?" Luke asked, alarmed.

Lorelai looked up at him. "What if my mother is in there?"

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Why would your mother be at a fertility clinic?"

"I don't know, Luke, why would my mother be at Chilton on Rory's first day there? Or at my business school graduation with a film crew? Or at a restaurant once, when I was on a date? She has a bizarre tenth sense about these things, I wouldn't put it past her to know we were trying."

"Tenth sense?" he questioned, crossing his arms.

"Yeah after sense number six, Lorelai isn't telling me something, sense number seven, eyes in the back of her head, and two others I can't remember. But she has them."

Luke took a breath. "You haven't even told Rory, there is no way your mother knows. And this is the best fertility doctor in a three-town radius of Stars Hollow, what do you suggest?"

"Okay, you're right," Lorelai sulked. She took his arm again and they walked inside.

Lorelai and Luke both underwent physical exams and bloodwork, waited for about half an hour while the in-house lab generated their results, and were now seated in front of Dr. Montel.

The doctor read through some paperwork on a clipboard before sitting at his desk opposite Luke and Lorelai. "So, what brings the Danes here today, apart from the obvious?"

"Well," Lorelai started, "we're both a little older. The last time I had a kid, I was more than in my prime childbearing years, so we just wanted to preempt the possibility of any frustrations and see what you recommend."

"Seems reasonable. I took a look through your charts—do I have your permission to discuss both your medical histories in front of each other?"

Luke and Lorelai both agreed.

"Good. Luke, you're still very healthy. Slightly elevated blood pressure, mildly decreased testosterone levels, but I don't anticipate that being a significant problem if you're trying to conceive."

Lorelai laughed nervously. "We probably could have guessed on the blood pressure."

Luke shot her a look. She was nervous, she hardly knew what she was saying.

"But Lorelai," Dr. Montel started again. "You might be a bit more of a barrier to a healthy pregnancy."

Luke immediately took her hand in his. He had pled with God before coming here today that if there was a problem, it should be his. He couldn't bear having her fears confirmed, that she would be the biggest threat to them not having the family they wanted. She'd already guessed as much when they started discussing the topic. But Luke knew his wife would bear this burden particularly hard.

Lorelai drew in a breath. "Just tell us if there's…any chance. Any chance at all that we might be able to have kids."

"There's a chance. Your immune system seems a little weak, higher white blood cell count than we like to see in otherwise healthy females, and of course you're a bit older, and so are your eggs. All that combined with the history of fertility difficulties on both sides of your family definitely make this an uphill battle. Now, there are things we can do to help that along. The immune system, well, that's really up to you. Washing your hands more, eating better."

Luke gave Lorelai a sideways glance.

"And to help with the age factor, I'm inclined to recommend IVF treatment," Dr. Montel continued. "Nothing we can do about genetics, I'm afraid."

"IV what?" Luke said.

"In vitro fertilization. It involves a series of hormone injections that stimulate the female reproductive system to optimize it for pregnancy, and creating embryos with your sperm and eggs essentially in a petri dish that we then implant into the uterus. We usually implant several embryos, with the understanding that only one or two will take to maximize your chances."

Lorelai cracked a tearful smile. She thought it might come to this. She didn't know if she was relieved to finally have her worst fears confirmed or scared at the prospect of it all. Probably both. "It's funny. When you don't really want to have a baby they come so easily and when you do…"

"Is it painful?" Luke asked.

"It's not the most comfortable thing. Some women get adept at giving the shots to themselves. You also have the option of coming to the clinic to have them done, or often the significant other gives them. Lorelai would be sedated when we implant the embryos."

Luke paled as invisibly as possible. Handling needles. Injecting them into Lorelai. But she'd be bearing most of the pain. Again.

"It's also not inexpensive." Dr. Montel got up from his desk and looked through a stack of papers. He pulled out two folders filled with scores of information. He handed one to Lorelai and Luke each. "Take some time to read this all over. It explains everything about the procedure, what insurance will cover, and answers most of your basic questions."

They took the packets, a bit shell-shocked.

Dr. Montel perched on the edge of his desk. "I know it's a lot. Try not to be overwhelmed, and I'm always here to answer any questions. Give me a call any time and let me know what you decide."

A/N: A lot of Counting Crows references in this chapter (yes I know they were not the originators of the song but there's actually another reference in here from one of their other songs as well). Points if you caught them all.