Author's note: This is the last chapter of this story, although there will be a little epilogue. I loved working on it and I want to thank all of you who stuck with it and let me know what you thought. I loved reading your comments and PM's about how the story related to you or how it made you feel, it really was a great experience for me.
So thank you!
You're wondering how it's all going to wrap up?
You know I can't resist a little Deus Ex Machina...
She was lounging in the living room, reading a book, an occurrence only made possible by the fact that it was Saturday and Tristan had installed a porch swing on the front porch a couple of weeks prior.
It turned out to be heavens sent, the rhythmic swinging and soft creaking lulling Samuel to sleep even at his most inconsolable.
That was a tool she needed, especially with Tristan being back on missions. She noted that the missions were less frequent and shorter, perhaps something arranged by Tristan with her on his mind, or perhaps to give Jake a chance to ease back slowly into work, since he was now back with the rest of his crew. She didn't know and didn't really want to know. She was thankful and enjoyed the times Tristan was home and tried to steel herself for times he wasn't.
Her attention was pulled back to her book, even as she heard the soft coos and Tristan's occasional hushed murmur coming through the opened window. She was taken aback when she heard the porch deck creek and Tristan ask "Can I help you?" in a serious tone.
The answering voice made the blood freeze in her veins.
"Yeah, I'm looking for Rory Gilmore, I might not be in the right place."
She recognized that drawl, that distinct pronunciation, the words almost muffled, but still distinctly understandable.
She got up from the couch, the book landing unceremoniously on the floor as she walked to the front door.
She opened the door and stepped outside, barefoot and baffled and felt two sets of eyes land on her.
"Jess" she said, tasting the word like it was a long forgotten childhood memory.
He stood in her front yard, still as stone, his eyes a deep sea of brown as he regarded her and then glanced back at Tristan who was slowly making his way over to her, sleepy baby in his arms.
"Is everything okay?" he asked her, not taking his eyes off of the newcomer.
Rory could not find her voice, taking a deep breath as she nodded and forced a smile onto her face.
"Yeah… this is… Jess… Luke's nephew."
She felt Tristan look at her, worry evident on his face for only a second before he leaned in, gently kissing her temple and whispering into her ear.
"I'll take Sammy inside. Let me know if you need me."
She nodded, still unable to break her gaze away from Jess.
He looked the same and different, his frame fuller, his hair long, his face covered with a stubble, the years evident on his face, but with a calmness she didn't remember about him. The way she remembered him, there was always something restless and uncontrolled brewing under his skin. Now he looked grown up and composed in a way only those who've given up some battles can.
It was past and present, the planes of time crumpled up, so everything was touching and she was faced with her own memories, her own feelings and everything they unlocked, screaming and menacing inside her, like a reverberating echo.
She heard the front door close and she felt her legs weaken, letting herself slide down to the steps of the house she owned, the ghost from the past stepping a couple of steps closer to her.
"You have a baby" he said, almost as if to himself.
She nodded, her eyes filing with tears.
"Wow. Is it…? Is it a…?"
"A boy" she cut him off and he nodded with a sour smile, as if he had been expecting a different answer.
"Samuel" she added and his smile grew wider.
"And that's your… you're married?" he asked, glancing towards the house.
She nodded.
"How did you find me?" she asked, the words so soft she didn't think he'd heard them, but he looked away into the distance smirking.
"This might come as a shock… but Huntzberger told me" he said, pronouncing the name with a trace of disdain.
She blinked, the sentence making no sense to her.
She watched as he moved slowly, and sat down on the step below her, his back against the railing as he turned to face her, but did not look her in the eye, his gaze landing instead at her feet pulled up under her dress.
"I ran into him in New York and I asked" he said.
"I didn't think he knew…" she murmured, baffled.
"I get the sense he's keeping an eye on you" he said, clearing his throat, his eyes glancing up only momentarily.
She felt her mind reeling, replaying the last time she'd seen Logan, more than a year ago. But then she remembered his hand in her getting a job, his connections at Georgetown and she wondered if he really did keep tabs on her.
She furrowed her brows, shaking her head slowly.
"What else did he tell you?" she asked.
"That you seemed better" he said.
She nodded, the thought of that conversation making her feel a strange sort of unease.
"I told him I doubt that" he said, his tone light and she looked up at him catching his eyes as he dropped his gaze again with a half smile. "You'd show up back home if you would be."
She furrowed her eyes, nausea passing through her. She'd been feeling it for a couple of days but this was sudden and vicious, so she knew not to blame it on anything but heartless and insurmountable grief, inflicted by his pointed remark.
There was a question nagging at her, but she couldn't quite find the words. He seemed to know anyway.
"I pass through every now and then. I gave the café to Caesar, but I kept the apartment" he said, his deep brown eyes shining.
His words were magical, her mind instantly transported, and she saw the old sign, heard the bell ding signaling the door opening.
She felt the nausea intensify and she closed her eyes, her arm snaking around the railing closer to her. When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her, his expression contemplative.
"Do you… do you still live in Philadelphia?" she asked, trying to focus on enunciating the words, trying to keep her mind from conjuring up images that left her defensless.
"Yeah… I do. Still trying to act all cool, though… I don't know how convincing it is at this point in my life" he chuckled.
"I think you're probably still able to fool most people" she played along, but her voice was unsteady, her hands shaking lightly.
"Well, we sold Truncheon. How is that for hip and cool? It got to a point where we had to face grown up stuff" he chuckled.
"I'm sorry" she said.
"Nah, it worked out good. I run an imprint of Penguin" he shrugged.
"Wow, that's… that's really incredible, Jess" she said, swallowing hard, the conversation only feeling a tad bit safer to her.
"Yeah, I gotta bring home the dough" he shrugged again, smirking.
She looked at him questioning and he cocked his head slightly.
"You're not the only one procreating" he said, reaching into his back pocket.
Rory watched as he took his wallet and opened it, revealing a picture of Jess with a curly haired woman and a smiling baby.
"That's Chrissie and Ben. He's four" he said.
Rory looked at him astonished and their eyes met, the uneasy feeling inside her returning as she watched his face grow serious.
"You look good. This place looks…" he was glancing up, "like a real home."
"I'm sorry" she said impulsively. "I know how it looks, but I can't do this" she gritted out.
"Rory" he tried to interject.
"No. I know what it looked like, me disappearing like that…" she went on, her words bordering on hysterical.
"Hey, if anyone knows about needing to fall off the face of the earth, it's me" he said, his tone back to the light joking one.
She stared at him, unmoving.
"And, if that's what you needed… to get to here" he gestured around, "and that" he pointed towards the house where Tristan disappeared with the baby, his voice almost breaking as a sad smile settled on his face.
There was a silence and she almost felt the nausea dissipate. Until he spoke again, jolting her heart into a gallop.
"But you know I still get calls from Lane. Which is fine, because I can muster a conversation with her. Sookie on the other hand… she's a lot."
Rory closed her eyes, his light tone not quite enough to make his words any less disobliging.
"Jess" she pleaded, closing her eyes.
"People still… They have wounds, you know?" she heard him go on, in that insistent way that was so characteristic of him.
"Please" she whispered.
"They all think that somehow I have the key" he said bemused. "Lane and Sookie and Liz and TJ… like I'm the one who is magically going to break trough" he said, his face now a grimacing smile, his whole body vibrating with a nervous energy, that made him stand up and slowly pace infront of her.
"I'm sorry. I can't do this" she said, her eyes following his panther like walk, as her hand still clutched the railing.
"Why?" he said stopping as he turned to her.
"You know why" she replied, her face contorting.
"I know why. I feel like you still have trouble saying it out loud though" he replied, his face cold as he looked her straight in the eye.
They stared at each other, her breaths stinging.
"They're dead, Rory. They died" he said slowly, his nostrils flaring as he spoke the words.
"Stop it" she gritted out, closing her eyes as the nausea returned.
"But that doesn't mean you get to erase them" he went on.
"Stop it" she said, louder, opening her eyes to look at him.
"And you can leave anyone who reminds you of them behind…" he continued, his words like a prophecy.
"Please" she said, almost yelling now.
"… but how do you think you're going to be a mother without facing it?" he said, the words hanging in the air, like knives, ready to puncture her skin.
"Please" she repeated, the word a broken sob.
"Without her?" he delivered the final blow.
"Please!" she shouted.
She heard the front door open and she saw Jess glance up.
She didn't have to turn around to know Tristan was standing above her, she knew the expression he must have had on his face as he stared at Jess, his body no doubt ready to strike if necessary.
Jess nodded reflexively, his hand raising slightly in a reposing gesture, before he glanced back at her.
"You'll have to learn to accept it, Rory. Because it's not just you anymore. You're building a life, you can't do it without facing what you've lost."
He finished his speech, already backing away from the house as she saw Tristan move down the steps and in front of her, blocking her view of Jess.
"That's enough. You've gotta go" he said, his words quiet but categorical and she felt her eyes close as the nausea overwhelmed her.
"I'm right" she heard Jess say, his tone almost bargaining.
"You've gotta go" Tristan replied, she noted without contradiction.
She sat there clutching the railing, her eyes squeezed shut for what felt like minutes, until she felt Tristan gently nudge her. She took a breath, getting up and walking back into the house and up the stairs to the nursery.
She stood there, watching Samuel sleep when she felt his worried eyes on her.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine" she said, the hoarseness of her voice surprising herself.
"Rory. Don't let him upset you. He doesn't know what he's talking about" he said, his voice pleading.
She wondered how much he'd heard. How much he knew.
"He'd always had this ability. Assess my life based on little actual knowledge" she said, her voice bitter.
"I don't know how accurate his assessment is" he replied, coming to stand next to her but careful not to touch her.
"He has that ability. I guess he's the voice of reason or something to that effect in my life" she said, her voice slightly delirious.
"He might have been before. He hasn't known you for a long time" he said, his voice calm.
"But you do" she said, turning to him and he looked at her furrowing his brows.
"You agree with him, don't you?" she asked.
He stood silent, his expression worried.
"I saw how you looked at me when I was pregnant, like you were waiting for me to fall apart" she said, her voice slightly accusing.
"I think we were both looking at each other like that. This is not something we planned" he said cautiously.
"But I look at you and it makes sense to me. All this time, I thought you were damaged, I thought you were looking for a way to not get invested emotionally, but that's not true, is it?" she said, feeling her voice shake with the emotion that was rising inside of her.
"You did have a family. You had Danny and Charlotte and all the guys from your crew that you lost. You found them, you chose them. A family not made by blood, but a family nevertheless" she said, closing her eyes as she recalled the phrase from the doctor in Heidelberg.
"And you had your crash, like I had mine and we both survived but we weren't the same" she went on, her eyes still closed. She felt his hand reach out to her.
"Rory" he said and it stopped her rant momentarily. She opened her eyes to look at him, his face so worried it made her chest ache.
"You fought for your life. And you mourned them and you faced your loss and then you went back to find your new family and you worked for it, you fought so hard for it, and you are still fighting, for every one of them" she said, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Rory, please" he pleaded, both his hand now caressing her arms.
"And when this happened..." she went on, unphased, gesturing toward the crib, "you were scared but not for the same reason I was. I can tell because I see how you are with him. I see how you are with me. You are happy" she said, the last word said in a sort of wonder.
"When you were scared, you were scared that I wouldn't be able to accept it, not without facing what I'd lost before" she continued, pausing before finishing her speech. "You think I'm broken" she said softly and she saw his nostrils flare, but he didn't contradict her.
"You don't disagree with him, you just disapprove his method of throwing it in my face" she said.
He took a deep breath, his hold on her arms strengthening as he pulled her closer.
"Rory. You are not broken. I've seen what you are doing, Rory. I see you. You are fighting like I did. You are fighting to heal yourself. For me it took getting off a ventilator and getting out of a bed, for you it's something more painstaking and longer, but you are doing it. You made room for me in your life, you sat by your grandmother when she left, you bought a house, you married me, you carried our child. He doesn't see that because you haven't gotten to him yet. But you are on your way" he said.
She nodded, even though the words seemed too good to be true. She disentangled her arms from his hold and he let her, watching her with quiet worry and incredible restrain. She turned back to her original position, watching the baby in the crib, her eyes welling with tears.
The nausea stayed with her and she could tell it was not morning sickness, but rather anxiety, tried and true, wrecking a havoc inside her.
She was back dueling with her mind every night, her nightmares exhausting and endlessly thorough. She had been delirious, the fact made worse by the baby having had a horrible couple of weeks. She didn't know if it was him teething or being colicky but he hadn't slept through a night in ages and the rare times she managed to drift into restless sleep, she was awoken by his incessant crying every hour or so. The only thing that would lull him back to sleep was constant, monotonous humming and she took up the habit of taking him for a drive in the car at all hours of the night.
Tristan, if home, would join her as he didn't feel comfortable letting her out alone in her exhausted state. He was always on his feet quicker than she was when Sam started crying and she wondered how he managed to seem so awake and in full control of his faculties without so little sleep. He would either offer to drive or sit in the back humming softly to the baby.
Tonight he was in the back and she could tell he was exhausted too, because she saw him sleeping, his arm over the child seat as she glanced in the rear view mirror. The night was quiet and humid and she had the window cracked, the rush of air adding to the monotonous hum of the engine. The steady murmur certainly helped the baby, but she realized it calmed her mind too, finally able to relax. She realized she had been driving for over an hour and when she looked around, she saw a sign informing her she was almost outside of Philadelphia.
It was as if she had been awoken from a dream and she glanced around disoriented, her sight landing on the two sleeping forms in the rear view mirror. She wondered if she should turn back, but she felt an indescribable urge to keep driving, the piece and quiet calming her senses.
She relaxed into the chair and drove for hours.
By the time she pulled the car over, dawn was creeping all around them.
She saw Tristan stir in the rear view mirror and he looked around confused as he blinked himself to alertness.
"Where are we?" he asked, his voice groggy.
Rory ignored him, unfastening her seat belt and opening her door.
She got out, taking out the baby from his seat from the back.
She took a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the sight infront of her, the recognition hitting her so hard she thought she might faint.
She studied the line of trees, tall and close together, obstructing what she knew to be just beyond them. She closed her eyes, exhaling softly as she started walking, carefully maneuvering around the trees and reaching the old iron gates beneath them.
She heard Tristan follow them silently, his feet heavy on the soft grass.
She opened the gates, walking through to the small cemetery.
She followed the path leading up towards a secluded part of the grounds, taking in the green trees offering a solemn shade over the graves and she felt her body break out in goosebumps.
The little bundle stirred against her chest and she rocked him gently, lulling him back to sleep, feeling her own racing heartbeat rival that of his in her arms.
She walked towards where she knew she would find them, even though she'd never seen the stones in life, despite having picked them out.
She gasped as she saw the two slabs of granite, a wild disarray of flowers growing on the graves. She saw the coffee mug someone had left by hers, and the baseball hat resting on top of his and she had to remind herself to breathe.
She knew what the lines, carved in stark stones, read by heart, even as she couldn't quite make them out now, her sight blurred by the tears flowing from her eyes with soundless sobs.
She walked towards the gray monuments, her one hand supporting the still sleeping form in her arm, while the other one reached out to trace letters.
'... mother and friend'
"Mom" she heard herself say, her voice a breaking hiccup.
"This is Samuel" she went on, her voice high and trembling. "He was born this winter. And I thought of you so much. You would have loved him, he's such a good baby."
There was a gust of wind, the leaves rustling in the canopy and she closed her eyes, taking a second to compose herself.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for not coming sooner. I'm sorry for not being stronger. I'm sorry for falling apart and not living up to what you would have wanted of me" she said, sinking to her knees. The ground was cool and slightly damp and she welcomed the feeling of it, a distraction that was a certainty.
"I'm sorry about Grandpa... and Grandma..." she cried, a horrifying sob breaking from her chest. The tears were flowing freely now, their sting dulling into pressure.
"When you left... I thought I couldn't go on... I thought I was that tree, broken and destroyed by the side of that road. I thought I was destroyed that night too. I felt like I was dried out and dead, but it turns out... life finds a way even when you don't see one. And it found a way in me. It's finding a way in me again. And I thought I could just do it alone, that I'd have to do it alone. But the truth is, you are inside me. I see it in the way I care for him. And Grandma is inside me too, the same way she was inside you. And I have learnt to lean, because I can now" she said, the words rushing out of her uncontrollably.
"This is Tristan... you remember him... Bible Boy..." she went on, her voice faltering with the sad chuckle she released, "except he's nothing like he was back then. He's so strong and so patient. And he waited for years for me to heal. I think you'd like him a lot because... he's very good for me. He taught me how to trust and how to hope again, because I know now, what you always knew, that you can't live your life dreading what might come and you can't stop yourself from having things just so you'll never lose them" she sobbed.
"I hope you know that I never stopped thinking of you. Even when it killed me, even when I was running, even when I was that dried out tree... I never stopped loving you. And I never will."
She let her cries break unrestrained from her chest, her tears falling free.
She closed her eyes, feeling the wet grass, the soothing gust of wind, the calming rustle of the leaves.
She didn't know how long she sat there, but when she got up, clutching the bundle sleeping quietly in her arms, she turned to find Tristan, his face wet with tears as he watched her with a broken expression.
She walked towards him, handing him the baby and collapsing into his arms.
She could sense the heaviness of the dream, her limbs moving like it took them a long time to obey her commands.
Everything felt familiar, but new somehow. Shinier, softer, calmer.
She walked passed the trees, the sunshine making her squint. She saw her sitting on a small mound, her legs pulled up and her arms loosely around them.
She walked up next to her, seeing the pitch dark hair billow in the gentle breeze. She sat down next to her, arranging her limbs to mirror her position.
"Hey kiddo" the form said and she turned to her.
She had forgotten how it felt to look at her, deliberately not thinking of her face for years and now, when she saw it, the mischievous glint in those astonishingly blue eyes, her eyes, she let the warm feeling wash over her, surround her.
"Hey mom" she said, feeling the warmth spread to her limbs.
"Took you a while to get here" Lorelai said, her hand reaching out to caress her face and she smiled, nodding.
"I know."
"Good thing the view is alright from here" Lorelai remarked, looking in the direction she had been staring at.
Rory followed her line of sight, her eyes coming to rest on the clearing, slightly below them. She saw three figures there, a tall familiar figure and two small ones racing in front of him, their movements clumsy, still unsteady.
She felt her heart fill with joy as she watched Tristan, and she recognized the features of Samuel on the little boy. She studied the third figure, a little girl, barely old enough to walk, Tristan reaching out every now and then to keep her from stumbling.
"That one is going to be a handful, I can tell" Lorelai chuckled and Rory looked back at her, drinking in her mother's sight as her hands went to her belly, feeling the small swelling there.
"Good thing that husband of yours has nerves of steel" she went on, her eyes trained on the figures playing in the grass. "Bible boy… who would have thought?" she said, snorting.
Rory chuckled.
"Certainly not me" she said.
"Had we known he would grow up to be Private Fertile, we could have skipped a couple of those losers you used to date."
"Mom" she said, her tone scolding.
"What, you don't like that nickname? What about Knight Rider?" she said with a devilish grin.
"Mom" she rolled her eyes.
"You're right, that's more your name" Lorelai chuckled.
"Mom" she protested.
"Sir Screw-a-lot?" her mother went on, showing no sign of wanting to end her torture.
"Please stop!" she groaned.
"Sergeant Yesplease?" came the next retort.
"Mom!" she was yelling now.
"G.I. Joe-nsing for you?" Lorelai went on unbothered.
"Stop it" she was laughing now.
"General Come-take-me?" her mother continued.
"Good lord" she groaned.
"I miss you, kid" Lorelai said, her voice becoming soft as she turned to her and Rory felt tears well in her eyes as she looked at her.
"I miss you too, mom" she said, the tears spilling and Lorelai hugged her into a tight embrace.
"I wish you could be here, you would love it" she said, feeling her voice falter as she held onto her mother, the feeling so real even as she felt the dream slowly fade.
"I am here, Ror" her mother replied, her voice fading as Rory slowly opened her eyes.
Her second child was a girl, born with blue eyes and blonde hair that slowly turned darker as the months passed. She watched the transition as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
It was as if she had expected it, since the first time she had laid her eyes on her and she had been reminded of the pictures she used to see on the mantle of her grandfather's study. They were her mother's features.
Which is why it was obvious to her that her name would become Lorelai Laura DuGray, instead of what they had picked out before.
It was Stella by her side, when she gave birth, what with her daughter having a mind of her own and ignoring mission plans and due dates.
By the time Tristan was home, she had been released from the hospital and home with two children crying in an alternating schedule.
He took the stairs by two and burst into the room as she sat on the bed, feeding Lola.
He was smitten with her from the start.
When she introduced her, telling him her name, he looked at her with an expression of unadulterated joy and hope.