So began the pattern. For the next three days, Rory worked a few hours a day at the Dragonfly, returned home, then barricaded herself in her room (or occasionally on the couch beneath a thick book and a pile of blankets), speaking only when necessary to procure food or prevent an outburst from Lorelai.

Lorelai carried on as usual, working long hours at the Dragonfly and carrying on long one-sided conversations and making strings of bad jokes when she returned home. Any attempt to actually talk to Rory, rather than just at her, led to bitter, bitten-off sentences with the promise of more harsh words to follow. Lorelai found herself reiterating her concern for Rory, making occasional references to phone calls and conversations and maybe even leaving the house, but every attempt was rebuffed with a flat, expressionless "I'm fine" and occasionally a slamming door.

And so it went.

"So, I'm thinking of adding a disco to the Dragonfly. We're going to get Kirk to DJ."

"Very funny."

"Hey, this is serious. I've already ordered the mirror ball and a white suit for Michel."

"Ha-ha."

"Okay, I know this is like asking Cher to step away from the sequins, but you're going to have to put that book down, because this whole sitting around the house and not talking thing is getting a little old. I think we said more to each other when you were in Boston."

Rory shut the book, keeping one finger in the middle to hold her place. "I just don't feel like talking."

"Ever again? Because for a day, that's fine, a weekend maybe, but you're entering week three of this little self-imposed silence thing and it's starting to freak me out."

"Well, I'm sorry you're freaked but I just don't feel like talking."

"Rory, this is me."

"Yes, I know it's you, the Cher reference was kind of a giveaway."

"And no matter what's happened, we've always been able to talk about things. That's how this whole thing works between us, remember?"

Rory's voice gained a hard edge. "Well, maybe it doesn't work that way anymore."

Lorelai gripped the arm of the sofa. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I am not going to be sixteen forever. Maybe, sometime, someday, there's going to be something that I need to deal with on my own and things I need to figure out on my own and maybe I might not talk to you about them."

"Rory, not this."

"And why not this? Why is this the one thing that we absolutely must talk about, whether I want to or not?"

"Well, offhand, because it's pretty major event in your life and it's possible, just possible, it might affect some other people, and your future, and so I thought maybe at some point we might have a conversation about it. Crazy me! I was wrong."

"Why can't you leave me alone about this?"

"Because I'm worried about you, and I love you, and I want to help you get through this."

"There's nothing to get through. I made a mistake, it's done, it's over, and I'm going on with my life. Will you just let me do that?"

"Yes, I will let you do that, but you know it's not that simple. We both know it's not that simple. Jessica Simpson knows it's not that simple."

"Thank you for comparing me to Jessica Simpson."

"I'm not comparing you, you're a brilliant, caring, amazing person, which means you know enough to know that you can't just ignore this and you can't just pretend this didn't happen. You need to deal with this, Rory, and I want to help you do that."

Rory sat up straight, throwing back her blanket. "I don't want your help, I don't want you here fawning over me and asking me how I am and telling me what I'm supposed to feel. I made this decision and I will figure out how to deal with it. Me. I will do this. Can you just accept for once that this is not about you?"

"I don't think it's about—"

"Then let me handle this! I'm an adult, I'm in college, I have moved away from here and lived on my own and I don't need you to follow me around everywhere telling me how to handle every situation."

"That's not what I'm doing."

They were silent for a moment, stewing. Lorelai took a deep breath, continued, her voice more controlled. "I understand the independence thing. I think I know where you got that. But you are not me, you are better than me and I raised you to be better than me. Don't shut everyone out."

"You always told me it was great, how independent you were, how you had to go out and make your own life and your own decisions."

"And I did, and it was, but it was hard, Rory, you know that. It wasn't perfect and it wasn't ideal. I wish I could have given you a loving family and a father who wasn't a flake and home that wasn't a storage shed. We did our best, and it was great, but it doesn't mean that that's what's best for you. You had Chilton and you've got Yale and you've got the whole world out in front of you, the world I didn't get when I was nineteen working double shifts carrying around a three-year-old. That's what I want for you. I want you to have everything. I want you to have independence, too, but I want you to be able to turn to the people who love you when you need it."

"Well, I don't need it." Her voice was bitter, full of quiet finality.

Lorelai stared for a moment, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I don't need it." She repeated, looking down at her blanket and discarded book. "I need to be alone."

Lorelai looked down, trying to compose herself, then slowly rose off the couch, steadying herself on the end table. She walked out of the house and out the front door, staring at the ground the entire time.

The Dragonfly was full of sleeping guests. Sookie was at home getting some precious sleep, now that Davey was finally sleeping regular hours. Luke's was far too awkward.

She made it halfway to town square before realizing she had no place to go.

Stars Hollow is, as much as anything, the place where she ran out of options. She'd dipped into her tiny bank account, the place where she kept birthday and Christmas money and what little she could call hers, and bought a bus ticket. She'd rationed it carefully: enough for her and Rory to live on for two weeks, until she got a paycheck. Then enough for a bus ticket, as far as she could go.

Which turned out to be a place called Stars Hollow. She stepped out of the bus and into town square, carrying only Rory and two small bags, and walked to the nearest pay phone. She leaned against the brick wall outside the market and flipped through the wafer-thin yellow pages, looking for the biggest business in town. The Independence Inn had a full-page ad, making it her best bet. So Lorelai put Rory on her hip, walked five blocks to the Inn, and demanded a job.

It has been her home, her only home: the place she went when she ran out of options.

She turned slowly in town square, looking at the empty gazebo, at the dark windows of the diner. She turned slowly and walked toward the Dragonfly.