Stories and Second Chances

Disclaimer: Same as always... see the previous two chapters if you're really that curious.

Rating: PG

A/N: Well, yet again, I took forever to update. I warned you! But I apologize none-the-less. Evil grad school applications and tests have taken over my life. Sigh. I apologize if any of my facts about Luke's mother and father are incorrect. I have yet to see seasons 2 and 3 (I'm waiting rather impatiently for the DVDs to come out someday), so I'm missing anything we learned between seasons 1 and 4. Anyways. I've edited this chapter about a million times, and I'm still not sure if I totally like it. I do hope you guys like it, though! If you like it, I'll probably like it more. If you hate it, I'll cry.

Chapter 3: A Good Pillow Makes All the Difference

He was eight years old again.

And terrified.

His mother was sitting next to him in a hard, blue plastic chair as people rushed around them; doctors and orderlies going about their business, all oblivious to the fact that Luke's world was crumbling before his eyes.

He wasn't brave enough to look, but he knew that his mother was crying.

She had shaken him awake early that morning, way before the sun had come up, and told him that they were going to the hospital—that dad was sick again.

And Luke had known, when he saw the look in her eyes, that this was the day he had been dreading.

His father was dying.

A tall doctor approached, peering down at them silently. Luke looked up at him, but the doctor avoided his eyes, instead turning to address his mother.

"You can go in and see him now," the doctor said, his voice low, sad.

Luke's mother rose from her seat, gripping her son's hand tightly within her own. She offered a small nod to the doctor before walking into the hospital room.

The moment Luke stepped into the room, he knew that it was over. There was no greeting from his father—no talk of fishing or the hardware store or the town baseball game. His father had always used small talk to reassure his son and wife, when the hospital visits had been at their worst. To talk about the everyday events of Stars Hollow was to help them believe that everything would be okay. But not this time. This time there was silence, broken only by the slow, intermittent beeping of a heart monitor in the corner. The room was dim, but Luke's eyes still came to rest on his father's motionless form.

He had to be strong.

Luke approached the bed silently, and his father, eyes half open, reached out for his son's hand.

"Lucas..." he said, his voice hoarse, barely a whisper. "Take care of your mother for me, okay?" Luke nodded, the tears welling in his eyes as the last bit of hope for his father disappeared.

"I love you..."

Luke awoke with a jolt, breathing heavily. His heart was beating rapidly as he scanned the room, trying to remember where he was. It wasn't until he felt a slight movement next to him that he remembered.

Movie night.

He had fallen asleep on Lorelai's couch. He glanced down. Lorelai was still curled up beside him, her hand resting on his chest. She was sleeping peacefully, her breath coming softly and evenly.

Slowly, Luke's heartbeat returned to normal, and he took a deep breath. He'd had the dream again. The same dream he'd had on and off since he was eight years old.

Since the night his father had...

Luke sighed, pushing the memory out of his mind. Slowly, being careful not to wake Lorelai, he ran a hand over his face. He pulled his hand away, though, when he felt the wetness on his cheeks.

He had been crying in his sleep.

He ran the back of his hands over his cheeks, wiping away the damp trails that his tears had left behind. Over twenty-five years, and the damned dream still got to him. He muttered under his breath, cursing the unfortunate timing of the dream. Of all the nights to wake up crying, it would have to be tonight. He had never been a fan of showing his emotions, but to wake up crying, with Lorelai lying right next to him no less, was just plain embarrassing.

"Luke?"

Lorelai's voice startled him, and he jumped, jerking his head towards her. Her eyes were sleepy as she squinted up at him through the darkness of the room.

Luke cleared his throat. "Hey. I didn't mean to wake you," he said, turning his face away from her.

"You didn't. I got hungry." She yawned, but continued to watch him curiously as she pushed herself up on the couch. "Are you okay?" She asked.

Luke nodded silently, still unable to look at her.

"You sure?" She turned to face him, and Luke could see the concern in her eyes.

Damn. Why'd she have to be so perceptive?

"I'm fine," Luke said testily, hoping that she would drop the issue.

"Okay..." Lorelai said, pausing a moment before reaching up to run a finger along his still-damp cheek. Luke leaned away from her hand, embarrassed. She'd caught him.

"It was just a dream," he said grumpily, feeling like he should explain the tears. "It's no big deal."

"I've never seen you cry," Lorelai said softly.

"I wasn't crying..." Luke muttered.

"Riiight," Lorelai said skeptically, drawing out the word.

"I wasn't—" he continued, defensively.

"Luke." Lorelai interrupted his protest. "Come on. I may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but you're pretty obvious..." She trailed off with a sympathetic smile, and Luke turned to meet her eyes, half expecting her to start teasing him. But her eyes were serious, and she was looking at him with so much compassion, with so much love, that, for a moment, he couldn't breathe. "You can tell me," she said after several moments of silence.

Luke hesitated, before looking away again. He had never told anyone about the dreams—about how much his father's death had affected him. He had always considered the feelings too personal.

But he wanted to tell Lorelai.

No... he didn't want to tell her...

He needed to tell her.

He took a deep breath before turning back to her.

"It was about my father," he said finally. Lorelai nodded, moving closer to him on the couch. He didn't need to say any more. She knew what the dream had been about.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, placing her hand on his arm.

Luke sighed, frustrated with himself. "It's dumb," he said finally. "It's been years."

Lorelai shook her head, smiling up at him. "It's not dumb. He was your father."

And with those simple words, Luke fell in love with her all over again.

They sat in silence for several minutes before Lorelai reached out, gently wrapping his hand in hers.

"You never talk about it..." she said hesitantly. "About the day he died."

Luke paused, interlacing his fingers with hers. "I can't." He said finally. "It still hurts."

His words were so honest, so raw with emotion, that Lorelai felt tears spring to her eyes. She reached out, wrapping her arms around him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. And soon, she felt his arms wrap around her waist, returning the embrace.

And when they finally separated, Luke told her everything.

"Are you still hungry?" Luke asked, much later.

They had spent over an hour talking. About Luke's mother and father. About his childhood. About everything he had kept bottled up inside for so long. And now, they were sitting on the couch, Lorelai's head resting on Luke's chest, and Luke's hand lightly tracing patterns along her forearm.

"Mmm...no." Lorelai mumbled sleepily. "Too tired to eat."

Luke chuckled. "Wow. I never thought I'd see the day when Lorelai Gilmore refused food."

"I'm not refusing," Lorelai said, pushing herself up to face him. "I'm just postponing." She grinned broadly, before collapsing back against his chest. "What time is it, anyways?" She asked.

Luke held up his watch for her, but she just moaned, closing her eyes tightly and snuggling closer to him. "Too tired to read," she mumbled into his chest.

Luke rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the feel of her body pressed up against him. "It's a little past two." He raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by how late it had gotten. "Wow. I'd better get going. I have to open up in four hours."

Lorelai moaned again. "Can't you stay?" She pouted. "You make a good pillow."

He chuckled again, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her up with him as he stood. "Not tonight," he said, though in the back of his mind, he knew he wanted nothing more than to stay with her.

Forever.

"Fine," Lorelai whined, trailing behind him as he headed to the front door. "You know, a good pillow makes all the difference. But, since you won't stay, I guess I'll just have to make due Ralph."

"Ralph?" Luke asked, confused.

"My second-rate, non-Luke pillow," Lorelai said with a frown.

"Ralph is your pillow?" Luke asked. Lorelai nodded. "You named your pillow?" Lorelai continued to nod enthusiastically. "You're insane," Luke said. But he was unable to hold back a smile.

"True," Lorelai grinned. "But in a good way."

"Can't argue with that," Luke conceded. He placed a hand on her waist, slowly pulling her towards him. Her grin disappeared as his lips met hers, and she moaned softly, wrapping her arms around his neck as his hand fell to the small of her back.

Eventually, Lorelai pulled away, her eyes meeting his. "You're pretty good at that," she said with a grin.

Luke returned her smile. "You're not so bad yourself."

I had a good time tonight," Lorelai said softly.

Luke's smile faded. "Except for my emotional breakdown," he said dryly.

"In spite of your emotional breakdown," Lorelai said quickly. "In fact, I'm a little relieved. Usually, I'm the one bawling," she teased.

"I wasn't bawling," Luke grumbled.

"Don't worry," Lorelai continued. "Your secret's safe with me. I won't tell anyone that you're really just a big, sensitive, flannel-covered teddy bear."

"I am not a teddy bear," Luke muttered.

"Yes you are," Lorelai grinned. "I love you... you big teddy bear."

"I love you, too," he said quietly. "And just so you know, I'm only a big teddy bear with you."

"Hah!" Lorelai laughed triumphantly. "So you admit it! You are a teddy bear!"

Luke sighed, pulling her to him for another quick kiss. "Be quiet," he said, pulling away, his voice low. He paused, thinking for a moment as he toyed absently with the ends of her hair. "You know," he said quietly. "I'm glad you were there. For the dream. I'm usually alone—"

Lorelai smiled. "I know. I'm glad I was here, too." She hesitated. "And I always am. Here, I mean."

"Thanks," Luke said, his voice sincere.

Lorelai leaned her head against his chest for several moments, before yawning loudly.

Luke rubbed her back, chuckling. "Are you going to make it upstairs without collapsing, or do I have to carry you to your bedroom?"

Lorelai looked up at him, raising her eyebrow suggestively. "You?" She said, her voice incredulous. "Carry me up to bed? Dirty!"

Luke shook his head. "That was weak."

Lorelai nodded, ashamed. "I know. But at least I tried."

She paused, moving closer to him as she ran her hand along the front of his t-shirt. "I will take a rain check, though. On the whole bedroom thing..." she said.

Luke's eyes widened as her words sank in. He swallowed hard, opening his mouth to respond, but Lorelai had already backed away, retreating to the staircase.

"Night, Diner Man," she said, before stifling another yawn and climbing the stairs.

Luke watched her disappear, before stepping outside and closing the door behind him.

"Night, Crazy Lady," he said to himself, smiling as he walked back to the diner.
A/N: Well, everyone... I hope you guys liked the chapter. It may have been too dramatic... or too fluffy... or something. But I tried, and I wanted to post something so you guys wouldn't yell at me for being so slow with the updates. Anyways...if you have ANY ideas for where I should go with this story, please, please let me know (my email is adele1013email.com). I feel some major writer's block coming on, and any ideas would be helpful.