Title: The Green-Eyed Monster Bites Back
Disclaimer: If I controlled the universe, I would not stop at owning the show. I would have a button on my remote that could pop Luke out of the TV and into my living room.
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Luke's dreams are more vivid than usual tonight. They are more vivid than any he can remember, barring, of course, the recurring nightmare he'd had as a direct result of watching 'Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory' on an empty stomach in 9th grade. Chanting Oompa Loompas had woken him up in the middle of the night for months afterward. Damned green-wigged freaks… But Luke is not fanaticizing poetic achondroplasiacs tonight.
Luke is seated on the rim of a gigantic cup of French roast, fishing rod in hand. Thus far, he has found no sign that any fish lie hidden beneath the glistening, black surface. The wind rushes by, lifting the aroma up to him, a small figure perched on white porcelain. It circles him, surrounds him, draws him in. He leans just far enough to catch sight of his reflection. Instead of his own face, Luke sees two others, one auburn, one brunette. A feminine voice echoes in his mind, "Let me know…"
Setting the fishing rod down, Luke removes his cap to run fingers through his hair. Confused, a little frightened, and suddenly desperately thirsty, he fails to notice the wind pick up again. He leans forward for a second glimpse of the two distinct images, and the wind whisks his hat away. Luke watches the royal blue cap float lazily down to the still surface.
Grabbing his rod, Luke reels the line in and removes the bait – a chocolate bar? He decides to ponder that particular bit later. Luke raises his arms and casts in the direction of the baseball cap. The first cast lands a foot to the left; the second goes right. The third time around, the hook falls just short of the bill. Cursing his luck, it takes Luke a moment to notice the change in surface tension.
The liquid is moving, gradually picking up speed until it is a whirlpool emptying out the bottom of the oversize mug. Luke watches in fascination as his hat circles the inside again and again until it is near the bottom of the vortex. Abandoning all thought and caution, he dives in after it.
Luke wakes in a nervous sweat worse than those he used to get before big track meets. It takes a moment before he is able to reorient himself. Jess, per usual, is sleeping soundly, headphones apparently glued to the sides of his head.
Luke climbs out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom. Not quite ready for a cold shower, he sticks his head under the bathroom faucet. Finally calm enough to think, Luke heads to the refrigerator and pulls out a beer. It takes him a minute before he realizes it's a twist top. He drinks slowly, staring out the window at the crazy, sleepy town. Twinkle lights frame each store front, and light from the nostalgic streetlamps catches every reflective particle in the pavement. Luke is the last to admit that the town is beautiful with all the embellishments, but he cannot imagine living anywhere else. His gaze wanders to Jess, and his thoughts to his sister in New York. She never understood Stars Hollow. Luke isn't sure he does either, but that doesn't matter so much. The town understands him.
***
Jess' rest is more peaceful than his uncle's. In a landscape of bright, pulsating colors, he navigates his skateboard around the steady rhythm of the music in his head. Tonight the pace is a little above average. Still, it's a comfortable dream; he recognizes some of the obstacles and smiles a little in his sleep at their familiarity.
***
His bottle empty, Luke resigns himself to another attempt at sleep. He lies down and pulls the thin sheet up to his waist. Hands behind his head, he shuts his eyes hoping for oblivion.
The next coherent thought Luke has, as he walks barefoot along a dark brown beach, is that the weather is a little too warm for early March. He pauses for a moment, gazing at the horizon and curls his toes. The coffee grounds are softer than ordinary sand, inviting his touch. They hold shape as he draws a line with his right foot, then another with his left. Luke works quickly and the design begins to take shape. It is a woman on a hospital gurney, being wheeled down a long hallway. A young boy stands in the forefront reaching after her.
A cold wave crashes on the shore, covering the image. Water rushes around Luke's ankles, chilling him. When it recedes, the image has changed. The gurney has been replaced by a young woman with a winning smile. She is holding a coffee mug out to the child next to her, gender indistinguishable. The waves crash again, this time leaving the portrait of a serene woman, older than the last, with short hair and a questioning expression. They crash again and it is gone. Luke is left alone on the beach, staring at the horizon.
When the alarm clock rings at its usual time, Luke drags himself out of bed without complaint. Dreams or no dreams, the diner opens the same time every morning. For the first time in a year, he wishes Rachel was still around. She used to analyze their dreams over her first cup of coffee. The habit aggravated him to no end – he doesn't believe in any of that nonsense. Besides, he rarely remembered enough of his dreams for Rachel to make anything of them.
By the time the stove is warming up and the counters are clean, everything is a blur. The first two customers come, eat, and leave. Luke leans against the counter and tries to remember the specific details of his night's adventures, but comes up with a blank. He goes through the motions of serving his customers for the next few hours. A little later than usual, Jess pounds down the stairs and out the door, pausing only long enough to grab a donut. As much as Luke would like to comment on the rude behavior, he holds back this time. At least the kid is going to school this year. That should count for something.
A few minutes after Jess' noisy departure Luke realizes Lorelai and Rory haven't stopped in. The bus has come and gone, but Luke was too busy to see if Rory was waiting for it. He hopes that she ate something other than a pop tart before her trek to Hartford this morning, but knows it isn't likely.
Luke glances out the window and sees a familiar Jeep drive by. It doesn't stop, and there is a momentary pang of disappointment that barely registers. The aroma of coffee in the diner air is especially potent this morning.
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A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I wanted to end it here. I'm not sure whether this is a result of my imagination or the quarter-bottle of Robitussin I swigged last night, but either way I would really like to know what everyone thinks.