Disclaimer: I own nothing but a severe case of insomnia and a burning desire to write bad fanfic.

All this waiting was killing Lorelai. She had to do something productive. Sookie had let her off the hook at the Inn, hearing the pained tone in her voice, and when she couldn't live on the contents of her fridge any longer, she'd asked Babette to pick up something, citing a headache and Rory leaving on a trip with some Yale friends.

But something was gnawing at the back of her mind, aided by the early stages of caffeine withdrawl. Maybe, maybe sorting this out would take off some stress.

Maybe.

Lorelai took a deep breath and opened the door to the diner, smiling slightly as the familiar bells overhead announced her arrival. "Hi." She said timidly to the man behind the counter.

He kept his eyes on the rag, wiping it back and forth. Back and forth.

"Luke?" She tried again.

He still didn't look up or answer, just kept wiping back and forth over the same spot.

"Y'know, uh, you might wanna be careful there." She let out a nervous chuckle. "You don't wanna wear down that Formica. Actually, I have no idea what the counter's made out of or even if Formica can get worn down, but Formica seems to be the most common and economical choice nowadays, and I know how you try to save money. Which doesn't mean you're cheap or a miser or any of those bad connotations, because you're not, even if you did use Formica. And being a miser actually isn't that bad, really, 'cause I know I could afford to spend less on clothes. You could teach me something. But, um, not really, because as I said before, you're not..."

"What do you want?" Though Luke was careful to keep his voice relatively emotionless, there was still an edge of exasperation. Sure, it wasn't the biggest compliment in the world, but it was familiar ground. Lorelai felt a tiny spark of hope.

"I want..." You, she thought desperately. "Coffee." She said instead.

"We're closed. We open tomorrow at..."

"I know when you open."

"So come back tomorrow." Luke kept his gaze on the smooth countertop, trying to keep his mind off the woman standing in front of him by trying to figure the profits for the day.

"But I don't...I can't."

"Why not, may I ask?" He managed through gritted teeth. Babette got the blueberry pancakes, Kirk got scrambled eggs and whole-wheat toast...

"Because it took me a long time to work up the nerve to come in here and with this warm reception, I'm not inclined to do it again anytime this century. So I'm going to say what I'm gonna say, whether you like it or not." She crossed her arms stubbornly.

"I don't see anyone stopping you." He moved on to the far table, still keeping his back to her.

"You are." Lorelai accused weakly.

"I have nothing to do with this. You wanted coffee, I informed you that we were closed. Very standard procedure for someone who wanders in after nine." Patty got the grilled cheese and fries, Andrew got a cheeseburger with extra onions...

"So I'm just someone now, Luke, is that it?!" She raised her voice, her crossed arms falling to her sides angrily. "I can't believe you! I know I screwed up, but you know what happened, okay?! I'm trying to fix things here and you're not even giving me a chance!"

He finally whirled around to look her in the eye, his voice even louder. "To be frank with you, I'm being pretty damn nice right now because that's the kind of guy I am, okay? A stupid, idiotic guy. I shouldn't have even let you come inside because it's impossible to be in the same room with you without all these stupid emotions making me want to throw up."

As she stood in shocked silence, Luke took a deep breath and lowered his voice to a cold whisper. "You didn't want me to get hurt? Well, sorry, Lorelai, but you're a bit late for that. You told me you weren't with Jason anymore; I believed you. You left me high and dry at the Inn, I didn't get the hint. And when I follow you home like some goddamn puppy, you slam the door in my face with some stupid excuse. I'm through being your whipping boy, Lorelai. And answer your question, yes, you are and always will be someone. Someone who doesn't give a damn about me or my feelings." He spat, turning back the rag and starting to wipe the table once more.

The tears came quickly, shrinking her lungs and running down her face before dripping off her chin onto her tightly stretched T-shirt. "Luke, goddammit! I came here to apologize, okay? I'm the idiot here, right up with the guy who told David Hasselhoff to become a rapper and Jessica Simpson, in that order." She faltered for a moment, brushing away her tears quickly.

Closing her eyes tightly in resignation, she barreled on. "I don't want to make excuses or, or blame this on someone else like I always do, but, these past few days I've been trying not to think, but Rory, she did something bad with Dean, draw your own conclusions, and she's gone, she left, and I can't go find her, and she could be dead or lying in a ditch or dead in a ditch, and then my parents are separated, it's all my fault, and the, the inn's opening and Jason's still trying to call and you, you've been nothing but amazing to me and I need you so badly I can't eat or sleep or see or drink coffee or hardly breathe, even..." --she took a long, shuddering breath, as if to prove her point--"what's another necessity for living again? Because I don't know how I'm doing it, I don't know how my brain or my heart or my endoplasmic reticulum or the weird dangly thing in the back of my mouth is working anymore because I'm not making them and I don't know if I want them to because don't tell me I don't give a damn about you, okay?" Her knees gave out and she leaned against the counter for support, hating herself for breaking down here, in front of Luke. Hating herself for playing the victim when Luke was the one who deserved to act hurt. Hating herself for showing her weakness and dependence on this man.

"Oh, jeez, Lorelai." Alarmed, Luke reached for her, his stiff posture and expression gone. "Don't do that, I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around her, letting them gently slide to a sitting position on the tiled floor.

Her sobs were hysterical now, her chest and hands shaking uncontrollably as she took unsteady, gasping breaths. "I do give a damn, I don't want to, I don't want to care but I do and it's killing me and I want to die because then I can't care but even then I think I'll still care because...because...I...I..." She hiccuped, tears still running down her cheeks. "Luke...."

"Shhhhhhh." He smoothed her hair. "Don't say anything."

"It's too...I'm not...don't want you to see..." Her resistance evaporating, Lorelai buried her head in the crook of his neck and inhaled, trying to let her brain remember the normal patterns of breathing in and out. It was easier, somehow, with strong arms holding her and the smell of coffee and donuts soaked into his clothes, his skin. She ached for his mouth, trying to remember if it tasted like coffee too. Three nights ago seemed a long, long time, even longer than the time she spent crying in Luke's arms. She cried and cried and cried and cried and cried, her wet, loud sobs muffled by his clothing and his occasional hum of sympathy.

"Luke?" She mumbled into his (now damp) flannel shirt as her heartbeats resumed their usual pace and the tears stopped.

"Lorelai, why didn't you tell me all this?" He asked, shifting so that he could look into her eyes.

"Because..." She took a deep breath and glanced away. "I thought I could do it by myself. I didn't want to, you know, dump this on you before our first date." Lorelai gave a weak laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Too late, right?"

They were walking on thin ice. "For what?" Luke asked carefully.

"I don't know?" Her voice was pleading, almost as if she wanted to know the answer from him.

"Too late for what, Lorelai?" He repeated, his voice starting to crack along with the ice. He was going to fall through any minute. One misstep...

"Everything."

Luke said nothing. He could already feel the cold water rushing over him, suffocating him with a freezing death grip on his heart.

"Fine." Lorelai sighed. "Um. Stopping Rory before she got in too deep. Saving my parents' marriage. Not involving you in my insanity and making a good impression and all the other important things you're supposed to do on the first date, before the first date that didn't happen because I was too late in doing all those other things and because you probably hate me now."

He shook his head slightly, trying to digest all this information at once. "I don't hate you." The words came out quietly, almost too soft to hear.

"You don't have to be nice to me." Lorelai tried to smile, failing miserably as her eyes filled again. "I'm pretty sure strong dislike and hate can be lumped together in the same category."

"I know." This was Luke. Always there, always neutral, always calm. Willing to take whatever she dumped in his lap. Lorelai hated herself for doing it and hated him for taking it. She hated her stomach floating up to her chest cavity whenever he spoke, hated needing him so much. She hated that he didn't hate her, because that was what she deserved.

Still, she was grateful.

"I'm sorry." Lorelai murmured.

"I know."

A real smile now, small but genuine. "You know a lot of things."

"It comes with the job." He replied absently, stroking her hair.

"Diner man, professional comforter, or Superman?"

"All three. Though I renegotiated the tights."

"Good." Lorelai shifted, glancing down and picking at her manicure. After a moment's silence, she looked up again. "Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we okay?" She hoped that the desperation in her voice was imagined.

"I think so." Luke smiled reassuringly.

"Are we..." She chose her words carefully. "More than okay?"

"I don't know." He told her honestly, his smile fading. Though most of him ached for her as her face fell, a tiny, selfish part of him got some sort of pleasure from the obvious fact that she was in pain because of him.

"Oh. Okay." Lorelai disentangled herself from him, scooting back and beginning to stand up. "Well, um, thanks for, y'know, everything. I'll see you...sometime. You know. Because of..."

"Lorelai, wait." He scrambled up, his head narrowly missing the counter overhang. "I didn't mean..."

"I understand. It's fine." She told him in an unusually high-pitched, uneven voice as she grabbed her purse and coat and made for the door as quickly as her brightly patterned Via Spigas would allow. "I really shouldn't be surprised, I mean, after all I've unloaded on you..."

Luke sighed heavily, grabbing her hand and pulling her to him. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" Lorelai demanded, avoiding his eyes and trying to conceal the fact that there were fresh tears in her own. That makes the crying-while-talking-to-Luke count at three. Or four. What's the record? She wondered idly. She caught a glimpse of herself in the diner window, reflective with the darkened sky. Shit, I'm a mess.

"Don't run away." His free hand drifted up to her face, pressing his index finger against her lips as they began to open in protest. "I...I want things to be more than okay. But I don't know if now..." He paused, searching for words as his thumb rubbed gently over the soft underside of her wrist.

She said nothing.

Luke exhaled and glanced downward, dropping her hand. He'd never noticed that crack in the tile before. "I need to be here for you as a friend. And I don't think it would be good for either of us if I was here for...more than that. Now. You don't need more stuff to figure out." He raised his eyes to meet hers. "I...I want this more than anything, Lorelai. Anything. But you...I think you should be looking for Rory right now. Why don't you tell someone? Babette, Patty...you know how much we would do for her. We could bring her home."

"She doesn't want me to find her." A single tear slid down her already-wet face.

"What?!"

"Rory told me in her note not to go looking for her." Lorelai swallowed. "I love her, I worry about her, I think I'd mow down a reincarnated Audrey Hepburn if she was blocking the line that runs between me and my daughter, but then I think about what I wrote in my letter to my mom." She smiled ruefully. "I have a lot more sympathy for Emily Gilmore now."

"But you can't...this is Rory!" Luke sputtered. "She..."

"It's Rory. And I love her more than myself and Circus Peanuts and anything else in the world, and I trust her and god, I wish I could pull a Jim Carrey and drag her back here, but that's not what she wants. It's not what she needs right now."

"Oh, come on, Lorelai! You don't believe a word you're saying. She needs to come home. Avoiding the problem isn't going to do anything! She could be in trouble right now, bigger trouble, and you have no idea!"

"Don't tell me what to do, Luke!" She snapped. "Don't you think I know this? Don't you think I want to have her safe with me? But she messed up, and now she's trying to deal with it as best she can."

"By running away?" Luke returned. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that's gonna help her at all. Find her and bring her back. What if she's hurt? I love that kid, Stars Hollow loves that kid..."

"I love her more." Lorelai interrupted. "And I trust her. She's too smart to do what I did. I have to believe that." Her voice wavered. "Otherwise, I'll go crazy."

Luke exhaled loudly and said nothing, but met her eyes in a look that said, clearly, I don't like it, but it's up to you.

After a few moments, Lorelai stood up. "I, uh, should go home." She gave him a careful smile. "Thanks. And sorry. For...well, you know...and for letting me..."

Luke half-smiled and leaned over, pressing his lips aginst hers, intended as a goodnight. The kiss quickly lengthened, became more demanding, more intimate, until they broke apart, gasping for air.

"What was that? What...what happened to being friends?" She demanded, her body buzzing with electricity.

"You drive me crazy." He returned, avoiding the question.

Lorelai gave him a dazzling smile as she opened the door of the diner and stepped out into the night. "You have got to stop watching Dawson's Creek."