"My God, Lorelai, where have you come from at this hour?"

"Starbucks, Dad." Lorelai told him and shook her empty cup at him in frustration.

"And that has upset you?" he quizzed in confusion.

"Dad, may I come in?"

"Oh certainly... sorry," he mumbled and stood aside for her entrance.

Lorelai marched into the living room, threw her handbag on the settle and paced back and forth in distraction before the fireplace.

Richard followed her in and sat down on a chair.

"If you have heard something from Emily or Rory, I want you to tell me now," he told her in deadly earnest.

Lorelai stopped and looked at him, her empty paper cup still clasped in her hands, "Oh Dad, no... I'm sorry. I did talk to Rory earlier but as far as I know, they are fine," she assured him.

Richard expelled an audible breath of relief and leaned back into his chair.

"Then perhaps you could kindly fill me in on what your current drama is then?" he asked wearily.

"I need your help," she said quietly and looked down into the fireplace.

"So you said," he nodded, "How much is it you require?" he asked as he arose to cross to the writing desk and checkbook in the corner."

Lorelai turned to look at him directly. She raised her chin, "I don't need any money, Dad," she told him.

Richard stopped mid-stride to turn and look at her in surprise, "Oh? Well, what is it then?"

"Dad, this is hard... I've just been to the doctor..." she began.

"Oh my God, Lorelai, you're not pregnant again?!" he asked and began to pace himself this time. "I'm assuming that Luke is the father? Well, I guess this isn't really the tragedy that it was before..."

"Dad..."

"I mean, I hope you'll marry him. He seems the upright do-the-right-thing sort... But if not..."

"Dad!" Lorelai shouted at him in near hysteria.

"What Lorelai? You don't need to shout," Richard told her as he stopped pacing.

"Dad, I'm not pregnant."

"Oh, I see. Well, what then? You said you went to the doctor? Why would you tell me about that? It doesn't make...." he paused here and looked at her a moment as realization dawned. The color began to drain from his face.

"Dad..." she implored softly.

"Oh, I see, "he said and looked away.

"I need you to help me find a cardiologist. I need to get some tests done. I mean, there is nothing to freak about now. I just... had some symptoms... And now they want to do some tests. It's no big deal. But I know you know the doctors in the area...." Lorelai allowed her thought to trail off.

Richard walked slowly back to his chair without meeting her eyes, and sat down heavily.

Lorelai gulped a little: When did he start looking so old? she wondered.

"You're too young to see a cardiologist," he finally said, looking up at her.

"Apparently not," she quipped.

"All right..." he said and paused, staring off into space.

Lorelai allowed him his silence and crossed over and flopped on the settle and closed her eyes.

When she finally opened them she glanced down at the coffee table before her and noticed a travel folder.

"You're going to go to Paris," she stated rather than asked.

Her voice startled him out of his deep quiet. "Yes." he said.

"Well, I think that's great, Dad," she told him.

"I will go make some calls now," said Richard snapping out of it. He stood and began a brisk walk to his office. He stopped at the entryway to the living room first though to turn back to her. "Lorelai?"

"Yes, Dad?" she asked looking up at him.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel fine, Dad. Just tired," she sighed.

"Well, good," he nodded and turned again to walk into his office.

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Back home the next morning, Lorelai groaned as she looked up at the kitchen clock: It was late.

"Damn," she swore under her breath as she dragged an enormous bag of trash out to the can, plopped it in, then proceeded to drag the can to the end of the drive. She hurried back then to hop into the jeep and get to The Dragonfly.

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"Sorry, sorry, sorry..." she snapped irritably to Michel as she hurried past him.

"You are late," he stated after she had deposited her purse and hurried back to his side.

"Yes, I am," she sighed.

"We were scheduled to go over the invoices half an hour ago."

"Michel," she looked into his eyes and placed a hand on his arm, "I am so sorry. Something's kind of happened... and I was just late... I really didn't mean to inconvenience you," she added sincerely.

Michel stared into her eyes searchingly for a moment, "Oh my God, you have terminal cancer!" he exclaimed.

"What?! Michel..."

"And you were such a strong woman... It is very sad..." he continued dramatically, "Because, no wig, whatever the amount of donated hair or however expensive, could ever cover your stick-out-ears in a realistically convincing way. Oh Lorelai, what shall I do?" He stood and hugged her close.

Lorelai squirmed away from him and looked furtively over her shoulder. She then grabbed him by his hand and dragged him into her office, pushed him down into a chair and shut the door behind them.

"Would you shut up?!" she hissed as she propped herself on the edge of the desk before him.

Michel regarded her quietly a moment, "Okay, I was only kidding... but now you have freaked me out."

Lorelai looked away in consternation.

"You are sick, aren't you?" he finally said.

"No... Well, maybe... but it's no big deal," she stammered unable to look him in the eye.

"Please explain 'no big deal'."

Lorelai sighed, "I just have to have some tests done," she stated.

"Because you've been clumsier than usual lately?"

"Well... yes," she looked at him.

"And feeling cold and tired all the time?"

"Uh... yeah." Her eyes were wider now.

"And have had occasional dizzy spells?"

"Okay, stop that! You are freaking me out!" She moved away from him quickly then to sit on the desk chair opposite him. "How did you know all that?" she finally asked, "'Cause I didn't really even realize all that myself until very recently."

Michel shrugged indifferently, "I am highly sensitive and attuned to the well-being of those around me," he explained nonchalantly.

Lorelai could only stare at him on that. She chose to ignore it.

"It's just that I know how people are... they only see things in terms of black and white or 'One Life to Live'." she told him.

"Yes, most people are peasants. Soap operas are for peasants because peasants lack imagination," nodded Michel.

"I don't need this getting around until I know some things... until I understand it. I don't need the whole frickin' town at the door with casseroles because they think I'm some sort of terminal case."

"That would be odious," Michel agreed.

"So, I am going to need you to not talk about this, Michel, please."

"Of course. I am well known for my discretion, "he stood up.

"Thank you, Michel," Lorelai smiled at him.

He turned to go then, but stopped at the door to look back, "Do you need me to do anything for you?"

She smiled at him, "No Michel, just don't assume it's the last days of Linda McCartney here."

"I have already explained about your ears and wigs," he reminded her drily.

"Yes, you did," she nodded. "Besides, it's a cardiologist they want me to see."

"All right. I will, of course, treat you completely normally."

"I appreciate that, Michel."

He nodded his acknowledgment.

"I want the afternoon off," he demanded then.

"What? No!"

"I came in early to go over invoices with you and you did not show up. I want the afternoon off to make up the quality time I have lost with Paw Paw and Chin Chin."

"Michel, get your ass out there and bring in those invoices," Lorelai told him in no uncertain terms.

"Slavedriver with stick-out-ears..." he mumbled as he went out the door.

She had to smile at that.

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She was still frowning over invoices a couple of hours later, ignored sandwich and coffee at her elbow, when the phone rang through to her office.

"Hey," she heard.

"Hey," she smiled, and then, "What are you wearing?"

"Jeez, Lorelai, I'm in the diner."

Lorelai laughed, "You know I think I actually just heard you blush over the phone. So I'm guessing you're wearing more than just those yummy boxer- brief things?"

Luke cleared his throat, "Of course I am."

"If only Stars' Hollow knew what I know about the Flannel Diner Man." she teased suggestively.

"Well, thank God they don't."

"The stamina, the technique, the eager use of alternative positions..." she went on.

"Lorelai..."

"Luke..."

He lowered his voice then, "Personally I recall the strategic placing of a certain mole... anyone you'd like me to share that information with?"

Lorelai laughed at that, "Um no, I guess not. It is for your eyes only now." she twisted her hair around her finger.

They both smiled at that.

"Are you coming in for lunch?"

"Can't," she told him.

"I feel like I'm seeing you less since we started this," he complained.

"I know," sighed Lorelai.

"How was your Dad?"

"Doing better," Lorelai admitted, "He has a ticket to Paris, though."

"Well, good for him. Maybe it'll work out."

"I don't know, Luke," she doubted.

"Yeah, I know," he agreed, "just hoping."

"Luke...I need to tell you..." she began tentatively.

"What?... Oh Jeez... hold on a minute.." she listened as his voice changed, "Kirk, just sit down and eat!... No, I do not have a handkerchief, I told you that this morning... No! I'm not making meatloaf until Wednesday... No! I do not 'take meetings', Kirk... We'll talk about that with the lawyer tomorrow." She heard him turn back then, "Lorelai, I have to go. I will come see you later."

"But Luke..." she started, but he was gone.

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Lorelai answered her door at six that evening.

"Hi," she smiled brightly at Luke who stood before her, diner bag in hand.

He stepped through the door, shut it behind him and dropped the bag on the floor. He slid his arms powerfully around her waist without a word and drew her in to him, locking her to his groin, his hands pressing on her lower back. He kissed her urgently then. And moaned as she deepened it. She ran her hands up and down his back and answered his moan with one of her own. He cupped and squeezed her ass then. She felt the responding flood of desire, then pulling away roughly, regarded him a moment: The hunger between them was palpable.

"Come on," she said huskily and pulled him up the stairs to her room.

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She lay flat on him at last, her energy spent, and felt the warmth of their bodies meld them together, skin to skin.

Luke kissed her forehead tenderly and wrapped his arms around her back.

They lay in contented silence, their breathing still slightly ragged.

When she lifted her head, she laughed, "We didn't even take off your hat!"

He smiled too, "Well, it wasn't exactly necessary to do so, now was it?"

"No, I guess it wasn't," she agreed, "Emily would say you weren't being a gentleman though."

"Do you have to mention her right now?" he winced.

"I guess it is kind of a mood killer," she acknowledged, and rolled off him to snuggle at his side.

He wrapped his arms around her as she adjusted her position and kissed her again. "I love you," he sighed.

Lorelai sighed as well when he began gentle stroking down her back.

"I love you, too." and then, "How's it going with The Billionaire Boys Club?"

"We have to get her house cleaned out. We're going to call one of those estate sale services."

"Good idea," she nodded, "Is there a lot of stuff?"

"Well, Kirk's bomb shelter room is pretty spare. But upstairs the old lady was quite the pack rat," he grumped.

Lorelai lifted her head then, "Luke, where is Kirk going to live now?"

He looked down at her at that, "Jeez, I don't know. I hadn't even thought about that yet. He could afford to buy his own place once the probate is all sorted out."

"But he's lived his entire life in that house," she reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. I don't know, maybe he and Lulu will..." he offered.

"Are they at that point in their relationship?" she asked him pointedly.

"He told me he loves her," he responded with meaning, "I mean, do you think they need to know anything else? Neither one is getting any younger, after all."

"Nope, neither one is, that's for sure," she agreed.

"I mean I don't know if they reached that point of sureness, you know that realization..." he went on.

"That realization?"

"You know how you're with someone and you are constantly wondering 'Is this right?' or 'Are they the one?' "

"Yeah..." she answered, feeling her tummy flip.

"And how when you finally get that feeling, you identify it right away..."

'And wonder how you could have been so dumb as to question whether or not you could even recognize it when it came along..."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"But have they been together long enough to consider..." she gulped.

"Well, Kirk and Lulu aren't like us," he acknowledged and focused on a distant point on the ceiling.

She rolled over onto her back to observe the same point then.

"No, they aren't like us," she agreed.

"I mean you and I have known each other for years..."

"True."

"We already know everything about each other..." he reflected.

"It's really only this part that's new," she added.

"And the recognition of the feelings.."

"Yeah, we were pretty slow uptaking that recognition thing..."

They both lay quietly thinking about that a moment.

"Luke...—?"

"Lorelai...—?"

They started at once.

"Go ahead," he insisted.

"Is there anything else about me you need to know?" she asked him softly.

"Well, now that I've got the location of that mole memorized, I feel pretty set," he smirked. "Why, is there something else you want me to know?" he asked, looking at her.

Lorelai paused a moment.

"Yes, there is..." she began nervously.

"Wait, what was that?" he asked.

"What?"

"That." he repeated when he heard it again.

"The frickin' doorbell," groused Lorelai as she got out of bed and grabbed a robe. "I'll be right back."

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She opened the door grumpily. "Michel? What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

"I have brought you something," he responded and walked past her into the living room.

"How un-..Michel of you," she commented.

He pulled a jar out of the leather tote he was sporting and handed it to her.

Lorelai looked at it in confusion.

"You brought me a jar of dirt?"

"No, you Amazonian idiot," he snapped, "it is tea."

"You brought me tea?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Michel, I don't drink tea."

"I know that," he told her irritably, "but this is special tea."

"Special? As in 'funny' special? Because I don't do illegal..."

"No, it is special tea made by my mother."

"Your mother makes tea?"

"She makes this special blend for me and now I am giving it to you," he said with an oily smile.

"Well, that's very nice of you..." she fumbled.

"It is Maman's special blend of organic healing herbs," he went on, "it promotes circulation and good health. It will also stimulate the prostate."

"Oh wow, really? Well that's... good to know. This is really thoughtful of you, Michel..." she began. "Damn, who is it now?" she grumped when she heard the door bell ring again.

She had no time to cross to open it, when Sookie burst into the room, carrying a large pot with oven-mitted hands, "Lorelai! I've brought you some soup!" she called and went into the kitchen to set it on the stove. She came striding back in, "Did you know that there's a diner bag on the floor by the front door?"

"Uh..." stammered Lorelai.

"Oh honey, why didn't you tell me? I came over as soon as I could... And why are you holding a jar of dirt?" she asked.

"It is not dirt! It is a special healing tea. My mother's own blend," said Michel angrily.

"It'll stimulate my prostate," said Lorelai to no one in particular.

"Well, it can't possibly help more than my soup," returned Sookie vehemently.

"Stop! Both of you," yelled Lorelai. They both silenced immediately and turned to look at her expectantly. "Good. Now, Michel, I asked you specifically not to say anything to anyone," she reprimanded.

"I did not," he asserted.

"You didn't?"

"No."

"Sookie...?"

"He didn't say anything, Lorelai," Sookie agreed and went on, "I took a call after you left. Doctor Steiner wants to confirm you for testing at the hospital in Hartford..." she fumbled in her pocket a moment for a piece of paper. "Well, here, I wrote it all down," she handed it over. "Lorelai, why didn't you tell me something was going on? Honey, is it serious?" Sookie began to tear up.

"No... Sookie, I just didn't want to ...." began Lorelai.

"Oh hello, Luke," she heard out of Michel then.

She turned her head then to see Luke standing in jeans and t-shirt at the foot of the stairs, his expression unreadable.

Lorelai groaned and put her hands over her eyes. "Tell me you didn't just hear every word Lucy and Ethel here have been saying...?" she implored.