Disclaimer:  I don't own anything but the story idea.

A/N:  Okay, first, I just want to warn everyone that this is a little dark, but hey, whoever said that breaking up is hard to do was right.  As I said before, my goal is to wrap this up by Chapter Fifty, if not before.  I've got the ending in my head and I think it will be a happy one, but first, a healthy dose of angst is on the way.

My girl, Jade-Tessier, has once again done a superb job in editing and I hope you like this.  I considered upping the rating because of some language, but we agree that PG-13 movies offer up a lot worse than this.  So, without further adieu, I give you this next chapter in all its glory.  If you like it, please review.  If you hate it, please don't tell me.  ;-)

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Sookie met Lorelai on the front porch and said, "Honey, really, this might not be good idea.  He seems really…" Sookie groped for the right word, "fragile right now."

Gulping, Lorelai asserted shakily, "I just…I have to see him and make sure he's okay."

Nodding her acquiescence, Sookie said, "He's downstairs in the den."

Sookie and Jackson had turned their basement into a den with a pullout couch and TV, so that it doubled as a guestroom when the need arose.  Creeping slowly down the stairs, Lorelai still had no idea what she'd say to Luke when she finally saw him.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Lorelai spotted him sitting in an easy chair, faced away from her, drink in hand, staring at the blank TV screen.  She wanted to turn around and charge right back up the steps, but instead, she took a deep, wobbly breath and moved into the room.

At the top of the stairs, Sookie strained to hear what would be said.

As Lorelai took in the dim room and walked nearer to Luke, her legs trembled and she was afraid she might fall down.  All she could do was pray that he didn't hate her.

"Luke," she whispered.

Instead of answering, he continued to stare straight ahead.  Jackson had not stopped at the liquor store on their way over, but Luke hadn't minded as Jackson kept a stocked bar in the den.  He lifted the glass to his lips and took a deep swallow.  He couldn't believe she'd tracked him down.  Well, actually, considering that he was hiding out at her best friend's house, he could believe she'd tracked him down, he just couldn't believe she'd had the balls to track him down. 

"Luke," she whispered again, thinking perhaps he hadn't heard her the first time.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, shaking his head in defeat and hating how vulnerable and weak his voice sounded.

"I want to talk to you," she replied as she sat on the coffee table in front of him.

"I don't want to talk to you," he answered, his voice breaking in despair.

"Please," she begged, trying to touch his hand with her fingertips.  "Please, you have to know that I would never hurt you."

Pulling sharply back from her touch, he rolled his eyes back into his head as he downed the last of his drink, burning his throat as it traveled to his belly.  "Go home.  I have nothing to say to you," he told her quietly.

"Luke, I'm so sorry," she gasped as her tears fell to the floor.  She tried to meet his gaze but he wouldn't look at her.

"Good," he answered, an edge coming into his voice.  "I don't know who should be sorrier.  Me, for thinking that this could ever work out, or you, for making me think it in the first place.  Go home.  I don't want to talk to you and I don't want to see you."  Luke's words were coming slowly and deliberately as if he were concentrating very hard on holding his temper in.

"But, Luke, I'm sorry," she repeated.  "Can't we just start over?  Can't we talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about?" he asked callously.  "I want to marry you.  I want to spend the rest of my life with you.  I want to live every day until I die knowing that I'll be waking up next to you in the morning.  You…." He paused, and then finished his thought, "you just want a good time.  A diversion.  Something fun to do for a while until the next diversion comes along."

"That's not true," she answered, stung and feeling as though she'd been punched in the stomach. 

He stared at her finally and she was startled into silence by the ferocity of his gaze.  "Bullshit," he whispered.  Then, he stood and almost staggered to the bar where he poured another drink from an open bottle.

"It's not!" she declared loudly, with growing desperation.

"Really?" he countered, his voice leaden with sarcasm as he turned from the bar and faced her from the opposite side of the room.  "Then tell me, Lorelai.  What were you looking to get out of this relationship?"

Lorelai's train of thought faltered as she remember Emily's words, "Do you know what you want?"  At her silence Luke turned back to the bar and muttered, "Exactly."

Refusing to give in so easily, even if she wasn't sure what she wanted, Lorelai made her way to the bar and forced him to look at her.  His eyes were half-closed under heavy lids, and his pupils were dilated.  All he wanted right now was to hurt her the way she'd hurt him.  He wanted to verbally rip open her chest and stomp on her heart the way she'd stomped on his. With her next words, she provided him with the perfect ammunition.

"Luke, please," she pleaded, trying to steady her voice.  "The reason I couldn't say yes to you was because I think we still have some things to work out.  We've only dated for a short time.  And I know this is something that's way in the future, but I've been thinking about it and I'm not sure I don't want to have more kids."

"Oh, yeah?" he retorted with a cold streak in his voice.  "Well, good luck with that.  And good luck finding someone who'll want to put up with your all fucking shit while you sit around trying to figure out what it is that you want out of life."

Lorelai felt as if she'd be slapped across the face and she took a step backward, gasping in pain.  "How can you say that to me?  We've known each other for years, how can you just…."

"Just what?" he asked bitterly.  "Call you on your shit?  It's easy when you've got nothing left to lose.  Now go home."

He turned his back to her once again and nursed his drink.  He felt like he'd been hit by a Mack truck and he knew he'd feel worse in the morning.  Right now, though, he needed to get rid of this awful ache in his chest.  He needed her to leave.  He needed to drink himself blind.  He needed to just get away.

Reeling backwards, Lorelai wept openly as she ascended the stairs to where Sookie was.

Back at home, Lorelai ignored the messages on her own answering machine, turned the ringer off on her phone, and went to bed hugging the plaid shirt from the pile of laundry on her floor.  His words had cut deeply.  How was it possible that she had created such a God-awful mess?