It was three weeks later when she called him for help. He said he'd come over immediately, even though she'd been completely incoherent on the phone and he couldn't have any idea what was wrong.

Lorelai couldn't spare the time for thankfulness: she was too busy staring at Rory's closed bedroom door.

When the knock came, she bolted to answer it, aching for relief. Chris was holding a little ball of fluffy purple cloth to his chest. There was a bag slung over his shoulder, and she reached for it automatically as he swept past her.

"Where is she? What's the matter?"

"Nothing's— She's fine. She's in her bedroom."

"What's going on?"

"I didn't know you had Gwen."

"I couldn't think of anybody to leave her with at such short notice. What's happening, Lorelai?"

"She says she's gay."

He stopped. Stared. "And that's a disaster?"

"No! No. I just didn't know what to do. I couldn't think what— And now she won't come out and she won't let me in, and I don't know what to do."

"Hold on. Here." Lorelai dropped the bag and her arms came up, instinctively forming a cradle for the baby. She hadn't done it in years, but it wasn't something you forgot.

"You look after her and I'll go and see if I can get Rory to come out."

Lorelai wanted to protest at being left holding the baby, but Chris was hurrying away and she didn't want to keep him from Rory. She watched him disappear and turned her attention to her bundle.

She thought: This is another woman's child. But she felt it to be Chris'. And Sherry had been willing to do this with Rory, but Sherry was something Lorelai wasn't.

As she stared at the baby's face, old enough now to display personality, she could sense that certainty slipping through her fingers, with not a thing to mark its passing; just Gwen's steady gurgle, like water bubbling over rock, and soon she'd be babbling like that too. That was soon, now. Lorelai was old enough for that to be soon.

She settled down on the couch to wait for Chris to return; and she was old enough to have accepted the elasticity of time: she knew she'd be waiting forever.

She flicked on the television for show, too distracted to pay it any attention. Gwen wasn't hers, had nothing to do with her, and she half resented Chris bringing her here, forcing her on Lorelai. Couldn't quite.

Lorelai had heard stories about fathers and grandparents who'd had unplanned pregnancies thrust upon them, and hadn't taken the news well. When the baby came, legend said, it only took one trip to the hospital. Then they fell in love, and never looked back. Lorelai sometimes wondered how her parents would have reacted if she'd stuck around, forced them to take that trip to the hospital. She wondered if things would have been better. She didn't think they could love Rory more, but she wondered if they would have loved her, forgiven her.

But Lorelai wasn't sure if these stories were true, because all things being equal, she should be tumbling head over heels right now, and she wasn't, not really. It was just that Gwen was Chris', and she'd always loved everything about Chris.

Forever hadn't passed when he came back, but it was close enough. He was alone.

"She's asleep."

Lorelai stood, handing Gwen over quickly before realising that if Rory was asleep there was nothing she could do. She stopped, waited, twisting her hands anxiously. "What did she say?"

"She's upset." He busied himself with Gwen, doing daddy things. Lorelai had always thought of them as mommy things. "She thinks you're angry with her."

"I'm not— I'm not angry. I— She should know better than that. I just panicked."

"I know. That's what I told her. Still, she was attempting to cry herself to sleep when I got here. You should probably set her straight on that in the morning."

Lorelai wanted to tell him that he wasn't qualified to give parenting advice, wanted to tell him she didn't need any, but tonight had proved her wrong on at least one count. She kept her mouth shut.

After a few moments of silence, Chris held out Gwen. "Here."

Lorelai shied away. "No," she murmured. The adrenaline had faded.

Chris sighed. "Will you hand me a bottle then?" Left pocket."

She found it easily and settled back to watch. He wasn't quite expert, but he was getting there.

"So that's unexpected, huh? Even for you, I mean. It's not just me not having a clue what's going on in Rory's life."

"It's not just you." Lorelai was drowsy, her heavy head melting into the cushion it was resting on.

"That's something. I'd never even heard of this girl, I don't think."

"Paris? Oh, I'm sure you had. Had to've. It was really just her and Lane."

"That's another thing. Why doesn't Rory have more friends?"

"She has friends. She just takes friendship very seriously. Too seriously, apparently. She's had two boyfriends. Perfectly—"

"What?"

"Normal. Perfectly healthy."

She was on the verge of a freak-out, too many things she couldn't deal with under one roof, but despite her sadness and even after that whole scene, things were so not-awkward that she couldn't help herself. Chris was so easy, so fresh and capable, and Lorelai had to be capable beneath the bewilderment and fear. With a little support she could cope with this, and she had to be able to cope. So she couldn't help herself.

Her mouth was open and words were pouring out, and she couldn't stop them, even though she wanted to. God, she wanted to. "I don't understand. I mean, I want her to be happy. I do. But I don't understand it. I don't understand her at all." And she couldn't look at Chris, so she lay down on the couch and turned her face into the cushion and wished that crying herself to sleep was an option.

"Well. You don't have to understand. I suppose— I can see how that would be hard. You just have to accept."

Lorelai was good at accepting difficult things. She just hadn't expected Rory to be difficult. "I can do that. I just, I need you to do it first and I need you to show me how because I don't know. I don't know what to do."

"You'll do okay. Fast learner. It'll be fine."

"Mmm." Lorelai was drifting into sleep, struggling to finish the conversation but not willing to stay awake, wanting to blank it out for a few hours. "But you have to stay and show me, otherwise…" When her eyes blinked open again, Chris had moved. "I can't do it again. I can't do tonight."

When she woke up, the sun was sliding under the door. She felt groggy and disoriented, and she was sure there were red marks on her face. She stumbled to the shower, and out of it when it was done, hoping it had made some difference to body if not to mind.

And when she reached her bedroom, Gwen was asleep in a car-seat on the floor, and Chris was asleep in her bed.