Gilmore in Chicago
Summary: Gary faces a new dilemma when a smart teen visiting Chicago stumbles onto his secret. This story is an EE/Gilmore Girls crossover.
Disclaimer: Early Edition, Roswell, and Gilmore Girls characters belong to whoever created them. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made.
Author's Notes: Gilmore Girls is the story of a mother and daughter, Lorelai and Rory Gilmore, who live in the small town of Stars Hollow, Connecticut. Single mom Lorelai manages The Independence Inn. Daughter Rory is a student at an exclusive private school called Chilton located in nearby Hartford, Connecticut. Lorelai was determined that Rory receive the best education possible even if that meant forging an unholy alliance with her own parents to make certain that happened. Emily and Richard Gilmore, Lorelai's parents, are upper crust denizens of Hartford society who never recovered from the fact that their then sixteen-year-old daughter ended up pregnant. Their shock was exacerbated when Lorelai refused to marry her long time boyfriend and Rory's father, Christopher, because she felt that they both weren't ready. Fast-forward sixteen years later, Lorelai is forced to swallow her pride and ask her parents for a loan in order to pay Rory's tuition. But Emily proposes a counteroffer. They will pay for their granddaughter's education if Lorelai and Rory agreed to have dinner with them every Friday night. Emily argued that she and Richard wanted to re-establish a relationship with Lorelai and Rory. Reluctantly, Lorelai agreed to the proposal.
At Chilton, Rory braved the elitist clique of spoiled and self-absorbed girls determined to make her feel like a social and intellectual outcast. In particular, snobbish Paris strutted around the school like a queen bee controlling a hive, took an instant dislike to Rory, and insisted on making Rory's life miserable. Still, Rory's intelligence, compassion, and generous personality in helping Paris several times has helped to thaw Paris' icy veneer somewhat. While she and Rory would probably never become friends, their relationship has improved considerably.
Lane, Rory's best friend, attends Stars Hollow High School. Lane is outgoing and trendy. Such attributes clash with the traditional teachings of her Asian parents. Lane's mother, a clever businesswoman running an antique store in Stars Hollow, wants her daughter to marry a Korean doctor someday.
Rory has been embroiled in a romantic triangle. Her boyfriend, Dean, is sensitive, caring, and loving. After some rough spots in their relationship, the whole town of Stars Hollow seemed to embrace Rory and Dean's romance. But then Jesse, the rebellious nephew of Stars Hollow diner owner Luke, breezed through the sleepy town like a tornado. Hailing from New York, Jesse was sent to Stars Hollow by his mother to get him away from the trouble-making crowd that he had been hanging around with. Resentful at being exiled, Jesse has already gotten into trouble in his new home and has most of the residents believing that he is a delinquent. Yet, Jesse has found a kindred spirit in Rory with both teens sharing an insatiable thirst for reading. Rory is able to see the sensitive side of Jesse that he conceals from everyone else under a tough guy persona. However, there is also an undeniable chemistry between the teens, an attraction that Rory continues to deny.
I dedicate this story to my twin sister Stacy who introduced me to Gilmore Girls.
Author: Tracy Diane Miller E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
Gilmore in Chicago
Chapter One
It is the home of Al Capone, a city that held a cherished place in folklore as the nucleus of nefarious gangsters of yesteryear. It is a city where tales of bootleggers, Prohibition, and flappers have been woven into the historic annals, an intriguing quilt of dangerous liaisons, mystery, and death. It is a city that was the birthplace of the Sears Tower. And most importantly for her, it is the home of the Sun-Times.
Chicago. The Windy City. But what secrets were trapped in its howling winds? She wondered. It is a city that beckoned with allure and mystique and perhaps offered her a chance to battle those persistent cobwebs as she plotted the next stage of her life. She wasn't running away, not really, but Rory couldn't deny that she felt as if she were smothering under the stifling influences in Stars Hollow. Not only did she have her mother and grandparents wrapping her in their cocoon of protection, but the whole town had "adopted" her and its residents hadn't been shy about rendering unsolicited opinions on every aspect of her life. Whether she liked it or not, Rory Gilmore was Stars Hollow's favorite daughter.
And then there was Dean. Things were happening so fast between her and Dean that she felt trapped in a dizzying undercurrent of emotion. She knew that she loved him, but somehow she found it difficult to utter those three simple words that she knew that he longed to hear. She had said them once; actually, those words had escaped from her reluctant lips during an intense "discussion" (okay, argument) that she and Dean were having at the time. No one was more surprised than Rory that she had uttered those words. Since that time, however, those three little words (I love you) had returned to their safe haven deep within the recesses of her body. They weren't ready to come out again.
In many ways, Rory was just like her mother. The teen watched her wayward father Christopher return to Stars Hollow and even hoped that a spark would be rekindled between her parents. How wonderful it would be if Mom and Dad could find their way back together again and if they all could be a family. What kid from a fractured home doesn't harbor dreams of a traditional family with both a mother and a father? Rory sensed that her parents still loved each other; maybe they never stopped loving each other. Yet, Mom couldn't say those three little words, either. Months ago, Lorelai had refused Christopher's unexpected marriage proposal and had arguably driven him right into Sherri's waiting arms. Rory liked Sherri and was happy that Dad had found someone to make him happy. Still, she felt a twinge of sadness over the realization that her desire for her parents to get together would remain just a pipe dream.
The emerging feelings that she had for Jesse didn't exactly help matters, either. Rory tried telling herself that what she felt for Jesse was purely friendship.
Rory let out a heavy sigh as she gazed out the window of the airplane. The fluffy sorority of clouds appeared to wink at her before scurrying towards their flight of fancy across the sky. Chicago and the adventures that it held would be good for her she reminded herself. And working at the Sun- Times was a great honor, too. Only four high school students nationwide had been selected as recipients of the prestigious summer internship with the award-winning publication and she had been the only Chilton student ever to secure the coveted award. This internship with the Sun-Times would be another impressive credential to add to her resume as she continued along the ivy path towards Harvard.
However, what Rory didn't know at the time was that she was about to cross paths with a very special man hiding a very special secret. This was going to be a summer that neither one of them would ever forget.
Chapter Two
Heart pounding and out of breath, Gary hurried into McGinty's. He quickly made his way through the office. He climbed the stairs, opened the door to the loft, and rushed inside the room. He locked the door behind him. Thank God he was home! He'd be safe there. At least, he hoped that he'd be safe. He could barely hear himself think over the sound of his rapidly beating heart and the tortured shaking of his body. He remembered experiencing this feeling before, the sensation of being powerless. It was the same feeling that had served as his sole companion during his ordeal as a fugitive when he was falsely accused of Scanlon's murder. In a strange way, though, he almost wished that he were running from the law now. That would be an easier menace than the one he was trying to escape. Instead, he afraid because of something that had happened to him recently. Something that he didn't expect to happen. Something that he didn't understand. Something that even knowing the future couldn't protect him from.
Something that could kill him.
He would never forget that night, a night that had changed everything for him. It was a night when he had almost died. Ironically, it was supposed to be a simple and uncomplicated night, a luxury from the maddening days that he spent dispensing heroics. All he had planned to do was to go to the movies with Chuck for a late showing of "Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones." Despite an exhausting day of saving lives and the fact that he would have preferred to go to bed, he had promised Chuck that he'd go to the movies and he couldn't break his promise. Business had been slow that night so he decided to close the bar early. He had heard a knock on the front door and had opened it to an attractive and petite brunette. She told him that her name was Beth Curie. He remembered that he had saved her earlier that day from a hit and run. She told him that she had stopped by to say thank you and to return his wallet that he had dropped when he left the scene of the would be accident. Then she asked him if she could use the phone to call her husband to pick her up because her cell phone wasn't working. He honored her request and directed her to the office where she would have some privacy.
The events that followed next were surreal for him, like watching someone else's life unfold in a movie. Each moment appeared in slow motion with terrifying images and sounds bursting through his haze of disbelief and fear. They were the vivid stills of horror that would be burned forever on his brain. He had heard another knock on the front door and had grumbled to himself that the "closed" sign was being ignored. However, when he opened the door, the person who "greeted" him wasn't a confused patron seeking beer and merriment. And the visitor wasn't a stranded motorist requiring assistance. No, this stranger had another agenda. A deadly one. Soon, Gary found himself staring down the cold, unforgiving barrel of a gun. The robber forced his way into McGinty's. The harsh voice brandishing the instrument of death had roared out a sinister intent.
It was an explicit threat that left no room for interpretation. If Gary wanted to stay alive, he had to empty out the cash register and show the robber the safe where he kept his valuables. The hero had become the victim. Further, his early edition, usually a warning of impending disaster, had been eerily silent that this frightening event would occur.
Words became strangled in his throat under the heavy weight of intense fear so Gary instead nodded his compliance. However, before he had a chance to obey the intruder's edict, Beth had returned from the office. Her sudden appearance had startled the robber. The criminal motioned for the trigger of his gun and aimed it in her direction. Instinctively, Gary jumped in the way, took a bullet to the chest, and fell to the floor.
His chest felt as if it were on fire. And just like a volcanic eruption and oozing lava, a pool of blood forced its way through the puncture wound. Time ceased to matter as he hovered precariously between life and death. Yet, the pain was the greatest riddle, a friend and foe at the same time. His body hurt so much; however, this pain was the only touchstone he had to remind him that he was still alive. It was the pain along with the various faint voices he heard that tunneled through his semi-conscious state:
"Don't do this, Maxwell. You'll expose us. Is that what you want, for us to have to keep running?" The first voice said.
"I can't let him die, Michael. I have no choice." Another voice replied.
Gary tried blinking hard to bring the faces into focus, but his eyes failed to cooperate. The pain increased and his body seemed ready to surrender to death as a means of release from the agony.
But then he felt a warm hand touch his chest and "something", he couldn't explain what, jolted him. Even the blood seemed bewildered as the previously steady flow abated. His pain had also retreated. He felt lucid as he began to fully embrace consciousness.
With mud green eyes registering a mixture of shock, confusion, and gratitude, Gary stared intently into the face of the man who had saved his life.
"This is just swell, Maxwell. You've just exposed all of us. And it looks like we'll have a new alien joining our ranks." A voice quipped.
Alien? Gary's pain had been replaced by confusion and disbelief.
Gary remembered being helped from the floor and led to a chair. Beth went into the kitchen and emerged a moment later with a glass of water for him. He gratefully accepted the water and took a few sips. But what he was really thirsty for were answers.
"Who...what are you?" He had asked the man who had just saved his life. But nothing could have been prepared him for the answer that he received.
"I'm about to tell you something that's going to sound strange, but it's the truth. And I'm going to ask you to keep what I tell you a secret. Our lives depend on it." The man who saved him had responded.
Gary nodded.
"My name is Max Evans and I'm an alien."
For the next hour, Max had offered a seemingly incredulous yet true tale of how he, his wife (the young woman who Gary knew as Beth but whose real name was Liz), Max's friend Michael (the other male in the room), and Max' sister Isabel were aliens who had fled Roswell, New Mexico. The teens had assumed new identities to escape pursuers who had discovered their alien heritage and were determined to kill them. He had learned in the course of the explanation that Liz had also been a gunshot victim several years ago, had been healed by Max, and had recently begun exhibiting alien powers. Neither she nor Michael had gone through a demonstration for him of their "other world" abilities, but after being a recipient of Max's "gift", Gary didn't need any further "show and tell" to confirm the teens' veracity.
A guy who got tomorrow's newspaper today had been asked once again to suspend believability and to endorse the fantastical. Aliens didn't exist. Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster were myths, too. Right? All of these things were just inventions arising from fertile imaginations born to whet the public's fascination and curiosity. An eager and curious public more readily purchased books or saw movies that catered to such illusions. Alien folklore had existed for years. Little green men with huge heads that weren't in proportion with their bodies and large, dark eyes protruding from small socket that seemed too overburdened to accommodate these "seeing jewels."
Aliens were supposed to look like ET not Max Evans.
Gary didn't ask any questions. His shock over hearing the revelation that he was in the company of aliens had stunned him into silence. Max reminded him that he had to keep what he had learned a secret from everyone. If anyone came around asking about them, Gary was supposed to deny any knowledge. Michael added that his vow of secrecy wasn't just for their sakes, but for his own.
"Whether you like it or not, you're one of us now." Michael had remarked.
One of them now. Oh Boy. An alien? No, he was still human. But he was a human who could develop alien powers at any time and without warning. Such a realization sent a chill throughout his body.
A week had past since that fateful day. It had been a week filled with not only his focus on The Paper, but also a concern that the teens' prophecy for him would come true. He hadn't noticed any changes in his body. What he had noticed a few days ago, though, was the fact that he was being followed. At first, he figured that he was just being paranoid. But he had seen the same man twice already at two different locations. That had to be more than a coincidence. Then today on Lake Shore Drive, he had caught the mysterious and unpleasant looking man staring at him from across the street before the man motioned for another man. The two men fixed their stares on him before they crossed the street and proceeded towards him. He wasn't about to wait to find out what they wanted from him. Fortunately, he had been able to elude them without being followed.
But what would happen tomorrow? He had to handle The Paper. He couldn't hide in the loft forever. He didn't want to live his life in fear.
Gary rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Why hadn't he considered this before? It all made perfect sense.
Chapter Three
Now she knew that she wasn't in Stars Hollow anymore. And it didn't take a cyclone or a trip over the rainbow to spark this realization. All that she had to do was to gaze out of the window of her cab, the vehicle held hostage in traffic congestion, at the large edifices that appeared to kiss the sky.
Chicago wasn't Oz and she wasn't a naive farm girl, but Rory Gilmore had entered a world unlike anything she had ever known. Looking out of the window, Rory
fantasized about the colorful lives led by the people of this sophisticated metropolis. There were stories just waiting to be told, she could feel it. Political
intrigue, perhaps; no, corporate machinations. Financial moguls courting business takeovers circling each other like hungry sharks smelling the blood of weakness. Or, maybe this city with its legacy of gangsters had served to educate a new generation of
criminal parasites poised to take control. Mobsters? Maybe. Surely, there was no glamour in crime, organized or otherwise. The glamour was in the words used by
journalists to describe the events of the day. The power of the written word to seduce, to lure the reader into the story without knowing that a seduction had occurred.
It was a symbiotic relationship, that of the journalist and public. The journalist needed to tell the story and the public longed to devour it. Each fed on the other without apology. But, how often had the press prostituted itself by pandering to the prurient interests of a greedy populace? How often had the insatiable desire of a reporter to tell a story
contravened the privacy of the individual who was at the heart of the story? Could a balance ever be struck between such conflicting interests where no casualties would result? That was a question without an easy answer.
Chicago offered a smorgasbord of untapped potential, a venerable feast just waiting for fresh, hungry and young talent like Rory.
It seemed like an eternity, but finally the army of cars caught in traffic congestion, a peculiar snake-like configuration that had coiled around several blocks, slowly acquiesced to movement. This was it. There was no turning back now. She was on the first leg of what promised to be a memorable summer. Still, the precocious teen wrestled with conflicting emotions; excitement and terror performing their own pirouettes in her body twisting her stomach into knots.
Not that she would turn back. She was tenacious, a fighter. She was Lorelai Gilmore's daughter. She had inherited those stubborn genes to successfully conquer obstacles from her mother. Lorelai may have been to the manor born, but a restless spirit percolated
underneath the surface that belied the often stodgy upper-crust mentality. The young Lorelai cringed at the notion of tea and water crest sandwiches and of debutante balls that could be likened to horse auctions where young girls were introduced to "proper"
society and paraded before eligible suitors. Lorelai didn't want to stifle her spirit under the weight of convention. She craved individuality and independence. She had a path that she wanted her life to take. Becoming pregnant at sixteen wasn't the road that she had intended to travel. But Lorelai would be the first to tell anyone that despite her struggles in raising Rory alone, making the decision to keep her baby when there were other options available to her, wasn't a mistake. The road she had traveled, her path, turned out to be a marvelous blessing.
Rory was Lorelai's greatest accomplishment.
Lorelai was so proud when Rory won this internship. She became Stars Hollow modern day equivalent of Paul Revere sharing the news with anyone within earshot. Mother and daughter had always been each other's mutual admiration society. They were best friends as much as parent and child. Sometimes the roles got confused and it was hard to tell which one was mother and which one was child. Rory could be surprisingly
mature and methodical for her age; however, Lorelai, at times, was flighty, a trait that was both lovable and exasperating to those who knew her. Last night, they had stayed up all night talking. It was like a slumber party, the last opportunity that they would have to spend time together this summer. They pigged out. They laughed. But mostly, they talked. About everything. About nothing. It was a rite of passage of sorts for both women.
Lorelai was scared, too. She didn't say it in so many words, but Rory knew it. This was the first time that Rory was going so far away from home. And it was a dress rehearsal for when she would be going away to college. Harvard had been both of their dreams for as long as she could remember. Still, in a way, neither one of them wanted to think of the day when Rory would leave the nest for good.
The sound of the cab driver's voice shook Rory from her musings. She had arrived at her destination. She paid the fare and exited the cab. She gazed at The Chicago Sun-Times Building. This building was her Emerald City, daunting but magnificent. Before entering the building, Rory took a deep breath that she hoped would quiet the uncertainty swirling in her stomach.
The other internship recipients were already in the lobby. The students' names and schools were identified by those mundane white with red bordered labels with the
familiar "Hello" message embossed on them. They chatted in hushed yet arguably annoying tones, their sounds mimicking animated bees. The voices stopped when the small town teen approached the fold. They looked at her with unfriendly expressions. For
Rory, it seemed like the first day at Chilton all over again.
A few moments later, a tall, middle-aged woman, with salt and pepper hair shoulder length hair joined the group. She introduced herself as Ms. Vieth and explained that she
was a Sun-Times editor who had been assigned to supervise their internships. The would-be young journalists listened to Ms. Vieth's instructions regarding how the program would proceed this summer. Next, they were given a tour of the printing room and
taken to the news room where they would be meet their mentors.
Rory soaked in every word; the sights and smells of creating a prize- winning newspaper tantalized her senses. Entering the news room, she was immediately awestruck by the intensity. Computers hummed, phones rang off the hook. Reporters creating stories. The air sizzled with a throbbing energy.
"Ms. Gilmore, follow me." Ms. Vieth commanded as she took Rory to meet her mentor.
The man's back was towards her as he gazed at his computer focused on his story. Even the approaching footsteps failed to interfere with his concentration.
"Ms. Gilmore, I'd like you to meet your mentor this summer."
The man turned around. He stared intently at Rory.
He remembered how it felt just starting out in this business.
"Ms. Gilmore, this is Mr. Miguel Diaz."
Summary: Gary faces a new dilemma when a smart teen visiting Chicago stumbles onto his secret. This story is an EE/Gilmore Girls crossover.
Disclaimer: Early Edition, Roswell, and Gilmore Girls characters belong to whoever created them. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made.
Author's Notes: Gilmore Girls is the story of a mother and daughter, Lorelai and Rory Gilmore, who live in the small town of Stars Hollow, Connecticut. Single mom Lorelai manages The Independence Inn. Daughter Rory is a student at an exclusive private school called Chilton located in nearby Hartford, Connecticut. Lorelai was determined that Rory receive the best education possible even if that meant forging an unholy alliance with her own parents to make certain that happened. Emily and Richard Gilmore, Lorelai's parents, are upper crust denizens of Hartford society who never recovered from the fact that their then sixteen-year-old daughter ended up pregnant. Their shock was exacerbated when Lorelai refused to marry her long time boyfriend and Rory's father, Christopher, because she felt that they both weren't ready. Fast-forward sixteen years later, Lorelai is forced to swallow her pride and ask her parents for a loan in order to pay Rory's tuition. But Emily proposes a counteroffer. They will pay for their granddaughter's education if Lorelai and Rory agreed to have dinner with them every Friday night. Emily argued that she and Richard wanted to re-establish a relationship with Lorelai and Rory. Reluctantly, Lorelai agreed to the proposal.
At Chilton, Rory braved the elitist clique of spoiled and self-absorbed girls determined to make her feel like a social and intellectual outcast. In particular, snobbish Paris strutted around the school like a queen bee controlling a hive, took an instant dislike to Rory, and insisted on making Rory's life miserable. Still, Rory's intelligence, compassion, and generous personality in helping Paris several times has helped to thaw Paris' icy veneer somewhat. While she and Rory would probably never become friends, their relationship has improved considerably.
Lane, Rory's best friend, attends Stars Hollow High School. Lane is outgoing and trendy. Such attributes clash with the traditional teachings of her Asian parents. Lane's mother, a clever businesswoman running an antique store in Stars Hollow, wants her daughter to marry a Korean doctor someday.
Rory has been embroiled in a romantic triangle. Her boyfriend, Dean, is sensitive, caring, and loving. After some rough spots in their relationship, the whole town of Stars Hollow seemed to embrace Rory and Dean's romance. But then Jesse, the rebellious nephew of Stars Hollow diner owner Luke, breezed through the sleepy town like a tornado. Hailing from New York, Jesse was sent to Stars Hollow by his mother to get him away from the trouble-making crowd that he had been hanging around with. Resentful at being exiled, Jesse has already gotten into trouble in his new home and has most of the residents believing that he is a delinquent. Yet, Jesse has found a kindred spirit in Rory with both teens sharing an insatiable thirst for reading. Rory is able to see the sensitive side of Jesse that he conceals from everyone else under a tough guy persona. However, there is also an undeniable chemistry between the teens, an attraction that Rory continues to deny.
I dedicate this story to my twin sister Stacy who introduced me to Gilmore Girls.
Author: Tracy Diane Miller E-mail address: tdmiller82@hotmail.com
Gilmore in Chicago
Chapter One
It is the home of Al Capone, a city that held a cherished place in folklore as the nucleus of nefarious gangsters of yesteryear. It is a city where tales of bootleggers, Prohibition, and flappers have been woven into the historic annals, an intriguing quilt of dangerous liaisons, mystery, and death. It is a city that was the birthplace of the Sears Tower. And most importantly for her, it is the home of the Sun-Times.
Chicago. The Windy City. But what secrets were trapped in its howling winds? She wondered. It is a city that beckoned with allure and mystique and perhaps offered her a chance to battle those persistent cobwebs as she plotted the next stage of her life. She wasn't running away, not really, but Rory couldn't deny that she felt as if she were smothering under the stifling influences in Stars Hollow. Not only did she have her mother and grandparents wrapping her in their cocoon of protection, but the whole town had "adopted" her and its residents hadn't been shy about rendering unsolicited opinions on every aspect of her life. Whether she liked it or not, Rory Gilmore was Stars Hollow's favorite daughter.
And then there was Dean. Things were happening so fast between her and Dean that she felt trapped in a dizzying undercurrent of emotion. She knew that she loved him, but somehow she found it difficult to utter those three simple words that she knew that he longed to hear. She had said them once; actually, those words had escaped from her reluctant lips during an intense "discussion" (okay, argument) that she and Dean were having at the time. No one was more surprised than Rory that she had uttered those words. Since that time, however, those three little words (I love you) had returned to their safe haven deep within the recesses of her body. They weren't ready to come out again.
In many ways, Rory was just like her mother. The teen watched her wayward father Christopher return to Stars Hollow and even hoped that a spark would be rekindled between her parents. How wonderful it would be if Mom and Dad could find their way back together again and if they all could be a family. What kid from a fractured home doesn't harbor dreams of a traditional family with both a mother and a father? Rory sensed that her parents still loved each other; maybe they never stopped loving each other. Yet, Mom couldn't say those three little words, either. Months ago, Lorelai had refused Christopher's unexpected marriage proposal and had arguably driven him right into Sherri's waiting arms. Rory liked Sherri and was happy that Dad had found someone to make him happy. Still, she felt a twinge of sadness over the realization that her desire for her parents to get together would remain just a pipe dream.
The emerging feelings that she had for Jesse didn't exactly help matters, either. Rory tried telling herself that what she felt for Jesse was purely friendship.
Rory let out a heavy sigh as she gazed out the window of the airplane. The fluffy sorority of clouds appeared to wink at her before scurrying towards their flight of fancy across the sky. Chicago and the adventures that it held would be good for her she reminded herself. And working at the Sun- Times was a great honor, too. Only four high school students nationwide had been selected as recipients of the prestigious summer internship with the award-winning publication and she had been the only Chilton student ever to secure the coveted award. This internship with the Sun-Times would be another impressive credential to add to her resume as she continued along the ivy path towards Harvard.
However, what Rory didn't know at the time was that she was about to cross paths with a very special man hiding a very special secret. This was going to be a summer that neither one of them would ever forget.
Chapter Two
Heart pounding and out of breath, Gary hurried into McGinty's. He quickly made his way through the office. He climbed the stairs, opened the door to the loft, and rushed inside the room. He locked the door behind him. Thank God he was home! He'd be safe there. At least, he hoped that he'd be safe. He could barely hear himself think over the sound of his rapidly beating heart and the tortured shaking of his body. He remembered experiencing this feeling before, the sensation of being powerless. It was the same feeling that had served as his sole companion during his ordeal as a fugitive when he was falsely accused of Scanlon's murder. In a strange way, though, he almost wished that he were running from the law now. That would be an easier menace than the one he was trying to escape. Instead, he afraid because of something that had happened to him recently. Something that he didn't expect to happen. Something that he didn't understand. Something that even knowing the future couldn't protect him from.
Something that could kill him.
He would never forget that night, a night that had changed everything for him. It was a night when he had almost died. Ironically, it was supposed to be a simple and uncomplicated night, a luxury from the maddening days that he spent dispensing heroics. All he had planned to do was to go to the movies with Chuck for a late showing of "Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones." Despite an exhausting day of saving lives and the fact that he would have preferred to go to bed, he had promised Chuck that he'd go to the movies and he couldn't break his promise. Business had been slow that night so he decided to close the bar early. He had heard a knock on the front door and had opened it to an attractive and petite brunette. She told him that her name was Beth Curie. He remembered that he had saved her earlier that day from a hit and run. She told him that she had stopped by to say thank you and to return his wallet that he had dropped when he left the scene of the would be accident. Then she asked him if she could use the phone to call her husband to pick her up because her cell phone wasn't working. He honored her request and directed her to the office where she would have some privacy.
The events that followed next were surreal for him, like watching someone else's life unfold in a movie. Each moment appeared in slow motion with terrifying images and sounds bursting through his haze of disbelief and fear. They were the vivid stills of horror that would be burned forever on his brain. He had heard another knock on the front door and had grumbled to himself that the "closed" sign was being ignored. However, when he opened the door, the person who "greeted" him wasn't a confused patron seeking beer and merriment. And the visitor wasn't a stranded motorist requiring assistance. No, this stranger had another agenda. A deadly one. Soon, Gary found himself staring down the cold, unforgiving barrel of a gun. The robber forced his way into McGinty's. The harsh voice brandishing the instrument of death had roared out a sinister intent.
It was an explicit threat that left no room for interpretation. If Gary wanted to stay alive, he had to empty out the cash register and show the robber the safe where he kept his valuables. The hero had become the victim. Further, his early edition, usually a warning of impending disaster, had been eerily silent that this frightening event would occur.
Words became strangled in his throat under the heavy weight of intense fear so Gary instead nodded his compliance. However, before he had a chance to obey the intruder's edict, Beth had returned from the office. Her sudden appearance had startled the robber. The criminal motioned for the trigger of his gun and aimed it in her direction. Instinctively, Gary jumped in the way, took a bullet to the chest, and fell to the floor.
His chest felt as if it were on fire. And just like a volcanic eruption and oozing lava, a pool of blood forced its way through the puncture wound. Time ceased to matter as he hovered precariously between life and death. Yet, the pain was the greatest riddle, a friend and foe at the same time. His body hurt so much; however, this pain was the only touchstone he had to remind him that he was still alive. It was the pain along with the various faint voices he heard that tunneled through his semi-conscious state:
"Don't do this, Maxwell. You'll expose us. Is that what you want, for us to have to keep running?" The first voice said.
"I can't let him die, Michael. I have no choice." Another voice replied.
Gary tried blinking hard to bring the faces into focus, but his eyes failed to cooperate. The pain increased and his body seemed ready to surrender to death as a means of release from the agony.
But then he felt a warm hand touch his chest and "something", he couldn't explain what, jolted him. Even the blood seemed bewildered as the previously steady flow abated. His pain had also retreated. He felt lucid as he began to fully embrace consciousness.
With mud green eyes registering a mixture of shock, confusion, and gratitude, Gary stared intently into the face of the man who had saved his life.
"This is just swell, Maxwell. You've just exposed all of us. And it looks like we'll have a new alien joining our ranks." A voice quipped.
Alien? Gary's pain had been replaced by confusion and disbelief.
Gary remembered being helped from the floor and led to a chair. Beth went into the kitchen and emerged a moment later with a glass of water for him. He gratefully accepted the water and took a few sips. But what he was really thirsty for were answers.
"Who...what are you?" He had asked the man who had just saved his life. But nothing could have been prepared him for the answer that he received.
"I'm about to tell you something that's going to sound strange, but it's the truth. And I'm going to ask you to keep what I tell you a secret. Our lives depend on it." The man who saved him had responded.
Gary nodded.
"My name is Max Evans and I'm an alien."
For the next hour, Max had offered a seemingly incredulous yet true tale of how he, his wife (the young woman who Gary knew as Beth but whose real name was Liz), Max's friend Michael (the other male in the room), and Max' sister Isabel were aliens who had fled Roswell, New Mexico. The teens had assumed new identities to escape pursuers who had discovered their alien heritage and were determined to kill them. He had learned in the course of the explanation that Liz had also been a gunshot victim several years ago, had been healed by Max, and had recently begun exhibiting alien powers. Neither she nor Michael had gone through a demonstration for him of their "other world" abilities, but after being a recipient of Max's "gift", Gary didn't need any further "show and tell" to confirm the teens' veracity.
A guy who got tomorrow's newspaper today had been asked once again to suspend believability and to endorse the fantastical. Aliens didn't exist. Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster were myths, too. Right? All of these things were just inventions arising from fertile imaginations born to whet the public's fascination and curiosity. An eager and curious public more readily purchased books or saw movies that catered to such illusions. Alien folklore had existed for years. Little green men with huge heads that weren't in proportion with their bodies and large, dark eyes protruding from small socket that seemed too overburdened to accommodate these "seeing jewels."
Aliens were supposed to look like ET not Max Evans.
Gary didn't ask any questions. His shock over hearing the revelation that he was in the company of aliens had stunned him into silence. Max reminded him that he had to keep what he had learned a secret from everyone. If anyone came around asking about them, Gary was supposed to deny any knowledge. Michael added that his vow of secrecy wasn't just for their sakes, but for his own.
"Whether you like it or not, you're one of us now." Michael had remarked.
One of them now. Oh Boy. An alien? No, he was still human. But he was a human who could develop alien powers at any time and without warning. Such a realization sent a chill throughout his body.
A week had past since that fateful day. It had been a week filled with not only his focus on The Paper, but also a concern that the teens' prophecy for him would come true. He hadn't noticed any changes in his body. What he had noticed a few days ago, though, was the fact that he was being followed. At first, he figured that he was just being paranoid. But he had seen the same man twice already at two different locations. That had to be more than a coincidence. Then today on Lake Shore Drive, he had caught the mysterious and unpleasant looking man staring at him from across the street before the man motioned for another man. The two men fixed their stares on him before they crossed the street and proceeded towards him. He wasn't about to wait to find out what they wanted from him. Fortunately, he had been able to elude them without being followed.
But what would happen tomorrow? He had to handle The Paper. He couldn't hide in the loft forever. He didn't want to live his life in fear.
Gary rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Why hadn't he considered this before? It all made perfect sense.
Chapter Three
Now she knew that she wasn't in Stars Hollow anymore. And it didn't take a cyclone or a trip over the rainbow to spark this realization. All that she had to do was to gaze out of the window of her cab, the vehicle held hostage in traffic congestion, at the large edifices that appeared to kiss the sky.
Chicago wasn't Oz and she wasn't a naive farm girl, but Rory Gilmore had entered a world unlike anything she had ever known. Looking out of the window, Rory
fantasized about the colorful lives led by the people of this sophisticated metropolis. There were stories just waiting to be told, she could feel it. Political
intrigue, perhaps; no, corporate machinations. Financial moguls courting business takeovers circling each other like hungry sharks smelling the blood of weakness. Or, maybe this city with its legacy of gangsters had served to educate a new generation of
criminal parasites poised to take control. Mobsters? Maybe. Surely, there was no glamour in crime, organized or otherwise. The glamour was in the words used by
journalists to describe the events of the day. The power of the written word to seduce, to lure the reader into the story without knowing that a seduction had occurred.
It was a symbiotic relationship, that of the journalist and public. The journalist needed to tell the story and the public longed to devour it. Each fed on the other without apology. But, how often had the press prostituted itself by pandering to the prurient interests of a greedy populace? How often had the insatiable desire of a reporter to tell a story
contravened the privacy of the individual who was at the heart of the story? Could a balance ever be struck between such conflicting interests where no casualties would result? That was a question without an easy answer.
Chicago offered a smorgasbord of untapped potential, a venerable feast just waiting for fresh, hungry and young talent like Rory.
It seemed like an eternity, but finally the army of cars caught in traffic congestion, a peculiar snake-like configuration that had coiled around several blocks, slowly acquiesced to movement. This was it. There was no turning back now. She was on the first leg of what promised to be a memorable summer. Still, the precocious teen wrestled with conflicting emotions; excitement and terror performing their own pirouettes in her body twisting her stomach into knots.
Not that she would turn back. She was tenacious, a fighter. She was Lorelai Gilmore's daughter. She had inherited those stubborn genes to successfully conquer obstacles from her mother. Lorelai may have been to the manor born, but a restless spirit percolated
underneath the surface that belied the often stodgy upper-crust mentality. The young Lorelai cringed at the notion of tea and water crest sandwiches and of debutante balls that could be likened to horse auctions where young girls were introduced to "proper"
society and paraded before eligible suitors. Lorelai didn't want to stifle her spirit under the weight of convention. She craved individuality and independence. She had a path that she wanted her life to take. Becoming pregnant at sixteen wasn't the road that she had intended to travel. But Lorelai would be the first to tell anyone that despite her struggles in raising Rory alone, making the decision to keep her baby when there were other options available to her, wasn't a mistake. The road she had traveled, her path, turned out to be a marvelous blessing.
Rory was Lorelai's greatest accomplishment.
Lorelai was so proud when Rory won this internship. She became Stars Hollow modern day equivalent of Paul Revere sharing the news with anyone within earshot. Mother and daughter had always been each other's mutual admiration society. They were best friends as much as parent and child. Sometimes the roles got confused and it was hard to tell which one was mother and which one was child. Rory could be surprisingly
mature and methodical for her age; however, Lorelai, at times, was flighty, a trait that was both lovable and exasperating to those who knew her. Last night, they had stayed up all night talking. It was like a slumber party, the last opportunity that they would have to spend time together this summer. They pigged out. They laughed. But mostly, they talked. About everything. About nothing. It was a rite of passage of sorts for both women.
Lorelai was scared, too. She didn't say it in so many words, but Rory knew it. This was the first time that Rory was going so far away from home. And it was a dress rehearsal for when she would be going away to college. Harvard had been both of their dreams for as long as she could remember. Still, in a way, neither one of them wanted to think of the day when Rory would leave the nest for good.
The sound of the cab driver's voice shook Rory from her musings. She had arrived at her destination. She paid the fare and exited the cab. She gazed at The Chicago Sun-Times Building. This building was her Emerald City, daunting but magnificent. Before entering the building, Rory took a deep breath that she hoped would quiet the uncertainty swirling in her stomach.
The other internship recipients were already in the lobby. The students' names and schools were identified by those mundane white with red bordered labels with the
familiar "Hello" message embossed on them. They chatted in hushed yet arguably annoying tones, their sounds mimicking animated bees. The voices stopped when the small town teen approached the fold. They looked at her with unfriendly expressions. For
Rory, it seemed like the first day at Chilton all over again.
A few moments later, a tall, middle-aged woman, with salt and pepper hair shoulder length hair joined the group. She introduced herself as Ms. Vieth and explained that she
was a Sun-Times editor who had been assigned to supervise their internships. The would-be young journalists listened to Ms. Vieth's instructions regarding how the program would proceed this summer. Next, they were given a tour of the printing room and
taken to the news room where they would be meet their mentors.
Rory soaked in every word; the sights and smells of creating a prize- winning newspaper tantalized her senses. Entering the news room, she was immediately awestruck by the intensity. Computers hummed, phones rang off the hook. Reporters creating stories. The air sizzled with a throbbing energy.
"Ms. Gilmore, follow me." Ms. Vieth commanded as she took Rory to meet her mentor.
The man's back was towards her as he gazed at his computer focused on his story. Even the approaching footsteps failed to interfere with his concentration.
"Ms. Gilmore, I'd like you to meet your mentor this summer."
The man turned around. He stared intently at Rory.
He remembered how it felt just starting out in this business.
"Ms. Gilmore, this is Mr. Miguel Diaz."