Rory woke up to the smell of strawberries, vanilla, and coffee. Lorelai-smell. She didn't open her eyes, but she felt the distinct shape of her mother's body next to her. She scrunched her forehead, trying to remember what was going on. It all came back. She closed her eyes even tighter.



She slowly opened one eye, then the other. She saw Luke standing over her, a steaming cup in one hand. He reached out one hand and she took it, cautiously, like a small child. He led her out of the room, closing the door carefully behind him and the two of them walked in silence to the cafeteria. They sat and Luke handed Rory the coffee. She sipped it to be polite, but she didn't want any coffee.

Rory. . . Luke tried to start.

I think we both have a lot of explaining to do, Rory said.

Yes. We do.

I guess I'll go first. My story comes first, I think.

OK. Go ahead. Luke seemed relieved that he wouldn't have to speak first.

Rory suddenly realized that she needed the coffee that Luke had handed her: a comfort blanket, as it always had been. It felt like it connected Rory to her. She drank deeply and then she fingered her sunglasses. Slowly, cautiously, she pulled them off and set them ever so carefully down on the table. All through this, Luke did not make a sound, barely moved. He knew what she needed. He had always been good at reading people. He had always known what she needed.

You know about the fight, she began. She looked to Luke, and he nodded. And you remember, when I lived... she trailed off, unable to name the town for fear of exploding. It was an irrational fear, but she was quite sure that if she said the name, she would explode. You used to be the one to fix the fights. You would make us make up. You usually made it happen. Made us be rational. Well, I was there, she was here, and we didn't have to fix it, so we didn't.

I had planned to come back soon. As soon as I got settled in my job. Six months after that day, I would have been able to. The day my boss came in and told me about my new promotion, about the fact that I was basically free to do whatever I wanted and no one could touch me... I sat in my room for an hour trying to call. But... after a while... when you haven't called... it gets harder and harder to call... It had already been six months. Oh, who am I kidding? It had been much longer than that by then, hadn't it? It had started long before that. I guess that's why I'm back. To find out why. Rory was silent. She stared into the cup of black liquid as if it, like printer ink, would spell out the words she needed to know.

Why you drifted apart?

She shook her head slightly, but not to say no. Just to shake her head. Just to be able to move. Why I needed to leave her like she needed to leave Emily. That's the part that didn't make sense to me. I always understood why she left them. That made sense to me. There was me. There was the whole thing about her not belonging there. She always knew she would leave. It made sense. But me? I always belonged with her. I did belong with her? Right Luke? Rory sounded like she was going to cry.

I... I thought so.

So did I. I always thought so. There was never a doubt about that. So what happened? Rory could feel the tears coming, and she instinctively reached for her glasses, but Luke reached out, pinning her wrist to the table.

It's OK, Rory. I've seen you cry.