July, 2004

"Why is the Renn Faire English?" She wonders out of sheer boredom and because she's not ready to hang up the phone yet.

"What should it be?"

"Italian. Isn't that where the Renaissance originated?"

"They still had it in England, though."

"But Petrarch started it. Humanism."

"You frighten me sometimes."

"I have a genius for a kid, what can I say?"

"You're no slouch yourself. I bet you did great at whatever overpriced school your parents sent you when you were still at home."

"I good good marks." She says coyly.

"How good?"

"Oh you know me, I don't like to talk about myself endlessly."

That earns her a long, hearty laugh and she shares it with him.

"I like you so much I'm not even going to take offense at your implication, Burger Boy. Besides, that school was dull. We had nuns in their habits."

"Somebody had to shake things up?"

"Stir it up, little darling, stiiiiir it up." She sing-songs and he smiles, loving the silliness flowing freely between them. It helps that they're talking once, twice a day, and sometimes a quickie at lunch time. It's been a long summer, she's missed him, she's missed Rory, and she realizes that she's not that good at entertaining herself.

"Sing that again when I get back?"

"Yeah?" She asks, happy that he is indulging her.

"Yes, please." He imagines her outside, at one of those town events that concludes in a fireworks show and she's singing just to him, on their own blanket and he wants nothing more than to get in his truck and drive out of Maine like a bat out of hell.

"Well, since you asked so nicely…I'll do it!"

"Atta girl."

"I'm not a horse." She pretends to pout.

"No way."

"But if I were…"

"You'd be the finest thoroughbred."

"The racing kind?"

"Sure."

"With a shiny black mane?"

"If you'd like."

"And a skinny jockey who wouldn't curve my back with his extra weight?"

"A midget, even."

"They're called little people, Luke."

He frowns. "What happened to dwarfs?"

"That's different than a midget."

"How so?" He challenges her.

"They just are. I read it somewhere, or Rory told me. One's like a medical condition and the other is just short."

"Are you serious?"

"Strange, but true. Like Jon Stewart on Crossfire."

"Liz loves him."

"He's very lovable." Lorelai adds knowledgeably, dreamily.

"Should I be jealous?" Luke tries to figure out what Jon Stewart had that he didn't. A sunny disposition? No, he was pretty cynical also. More hair? Okay, he'd give him that, but it was gray, so that should even things out. A ton of money, fame and the adoration of intellectual women all over the country? Bingo.

"I don't know, I'm pretty pleased with the relationship I'm currently trying to establish, but if the relationshipee I'm involved with doesn't get his ass here and to me in the next week or so, my hand may be forced. I might have to look elsewhere. Expand my horizons, outside Stars Hollow, in Hartford, maybe even Boston and if it's a dry spell there, on to the Big Apple."

"And Jon." He guesses dryly.

"That's where he lives!"

"Wonderful."

"Come home? Please?"

"I'm trying."

"Tomorrow?"

"The day after that? Does that work for you?"

"Just get back here already." She whines sweetly and makes him smile.

May, 2005

"It's none of your business, Patti." Luke tells her impatiently as he tapes up the packed boxes. He can't believe she's even climbed all the way up to his apartment, first because she's a slow mover and second because it's such an invasion of his privacy.

"Luke, I knew your father and I know he would tell you the same thing."

"Do not bring him into this."

"And why not? Bill would want the best for you too. This town has a responsibility to look after you. Do you know I promised your mother we would before she died?"

"Because I was nine years old then! I'm almost 40."

"All the more reason."

"Goodbye, Patti." He says pointedly and motions at the door.

"Young man, you're going to listen to me if I have to sing it out for you and get Kirk to tap dance along to the beat."

"Patti…" He threatens.

"She's a lovely girl, Luke. She is beautiful and let me tell you if I had her body, I'd have a business lined up outside my dance studio that would not involve 8 year olds in tutus."

"Oh, God."

"And she's successful, and she's done it all on her own and we've watched her and you, you've been in love with her forever! We all saw how you looked at her, like she was a ripe strawberry with whipped cream just waiting to be dipped."

"Patti!"

"And then you finally get the balls to be with her and the two of you, cute as a button on a corduroy jacket! Just adorable! I had your kids names picked out and one day I even said that to Lorelai and you know what? She told me in secret that she'd done that too."

"And I'm sure she'd appreciate you sharing her secrets with the world." He says flatly.

"Not the world, just the man she loves."

"We're not having this conversation. This is between me and her, and not you and not Taylor and most certainly not the town reverend who came here in hope of salvaging whatever was left of my soul."

Patti sighs and regards him pitifully.

"Why do you think a marriage would be the worst thing in the world?"

"What??"

"I know men are afraid of commitment, but Luke, you're being dense."

"This has nothing to do with you, Patti."

"You broke her heart."

He imagines he's got steam coming out of his ears, and he says nothing to her about the real reason behind the break up. He doesn't mention Chris or how gutted Luke felt when Lorelai told him what happened or how she took his heart and stomped all over him. He loves her as much as he did 8 years ago, and this is the last thing he feels he can give her. Privacy.

"Then feel free to hate me." He shoots back as he leaves his apartment, jogs down the stairs and away from the diner.

June, 2005

"We're here with Double Chocolate Chunk brownies and exclusive bootleg DVDs of Chippendale's dancers. Throw your cares away, honey!"

Miss Patti and Babette edge their way past her in her own house and immediately set up shop in the living room. The two women also have something that looks suspiciously like a pile of cheesy Harlequin romance novels with them. She asks them if they're starting a book club, and they just laugh good naturedly.

"No, this is for us to read and laugh at." Miss Patti says.

"Yeah, imagine all those women who think this stuff comes true." Babette supplies.

"Okay, I appreciate what you two are doing here, I really do, but I'm okay. I'm not falling apart and I'm not buying feminist books just yet. Maybe next week?"

"You just let us know, dear."

Lorelai nods from where she's standing as Babette plays around with the DVD player.

"You know, I did tell Luke what a shortsighted fool he was being." Patti confides. "To throw something like this away, it should be a crime."

"Patti, don't be so hard on him." Lorelai says and feels sick to her stomach about how unfair this has all become. He's taken the blame and left town and they're here to comfort her.

"Oh, she still loves him, Babette, do you hear that?"

"It's so sad." The other woman says with a sob.

Miss Patti beckons her over to the couch.

"We know you will be fine. You can survive anything. But let's face it, most men aren't worth a woman like you, and you've been cooped up in this house for weeks now and it's got to stop. No more moping around."

"I'm not moping." She protests.

"You won't be after today." They say knowingly.

July, 2004

It's been a long day, he thinks, exhausted and miserable to be where he is, missing home terribly and the woman he calls his friend. Luke's been in the service business for the longest time, but now he's in merchandise, selling trinkets when Liz and TJ take their afternoon breaks at Renn Faire. He's sick to death of the women trying to bargain him down to nothing, the ones who want custom made rocks as if it didn't take God's creation and a thousand years to make the rocks that are already in the earrings now, and especially the ones who flirtatiously comment on his artistry even after he tells them he can't tell a necklace from a bracelet. They collectively drive him insane and he marvels at how the cell phone has been his greatest comfort this summer.

"I'm going to grab dinner now!" He hollers at TJ who is still cradling that portable TV in his lap.

The smell of charred corn on the cob hangs heavy in the air, but he passes by it, right over to his truck where he hops inside, rolls both of the windows down and leans his neck against the hard, unforgiving headrest. He fishes out his Nokia and hits the speed dial, breathing in the evening air while he waits for her to pick up. Sometimes it takes her a while to get to the phone but this is their regular dinner time talk and he knows she will be home. She gets some food on her way home, or orders in and waits for his call. That way it's maintaining their routine, almost like she's at the diner and he's behind the counter. Once he asked her what she was wearing, because he had seen most of her wardrobe and it was easier to imagine her when he knew what jeans she had on that day. She now tells him every day about her outfit, sometimes in great detail and he loves her enthusiasm and he loves how happy she is to talk about the smallest things and he loves how she always asks him to describe his current choice of flannel – is it green or blue, are the stripes thick or barely outlined, is it thick or light and breathable for the summer? It's the same conversation every day and he'd be perfectly fine with having it not change for the next 50 years.

"Luke! You're late. I already ate half of my egg rolls. The dipping sauce is long gone."

"They didn't give you enough?"

"Not nearly!"

"Were you dipping your finger in it and depleting the supply?"

"Are you being dirty?"

"I don't think they'll outsource that job away from you, no."

"Funny flannel man. So what if I was?"

He shrugs. "Nothing wrong with that."

"Nothing at all." She agrees. "So, how goes it? Itchy from the scratchy flannel yet?"

"Nope. Just a t-shirt today." He says and glances down as if to check what he's wearing in case he'd forgotten since this morning.

"Tight across the chest I hope…"

"It's what Grog Annie tells me she likes in a man."

"The brazen hussy! Can I take her? Is she bigger than me?" Lorelai demands.

"Ummm..."

"She has bigger boobs, doesn't she?"

"Um…how's your dim sum?"

"Good one, Romeo." She laughs. "I forgive you."

"Great."

She pulls her legs up on the couch, lies back, with the cardboard container of Chinese resting on her flat stomach. The rice is clumping in messy little balls and she scoops them up with her fork, chewing thoughtfully.

"Hey, Luke? Tell me something about little Luke."

"Hello!" He yells out and a blush spreads over his face.

"Oh my God!" She laughs. "I should have realized how that would sound. No, I meant when you were a little kid, or in high school. Something back then that everyone in Stars Hollow knows and I have no idea about. I should know, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess." He says carefully.

"We are, something now, right?"

"Yes, sure, we are. Of course."

"So, tell me?"

He sighs and shrugs again. "Okay, like what?"

"What did you do in high school, Butch?"

He chuckles at his old nickname and all the memories it brings. "I ran. I worked in my dad's store after school. And I ran a lot. And I played baseball most summers. Stars Hollow wasn't that exciting, you know that."

"How good were you? At the running thing?"

"Good enough for what I needed. I could have run in college, but maybe not Division I. Or maybe I could, I didn't think about it too much."

"Wow, that's really good."

"It's okay." He says, embarrassed about the accolades. He'd always been shy, the kid who sat at the back of the class not so he could fool around, but so that he'd go unnoticed and more importantly, unbothered.

"You should run the Boston Marathon." She declares with absolute certainty and he laughs at the absurdity of the suggestion, but noneless loves that she believes he's good enough for it.

"I never ran the Marathon. Didn't have the stamina for it."

"Luke…"

"Yeah, let's both pretend I never said that."

"Never said what?" She plays along immediately and the corners of his mouth lift.

"I ran the mid distances. The mile, mostly, but 5K also."

She imagines him burning a path down an old dirt road and wonders why she sees him as a character in a Faulkner novel rather than a modern runner in a pair of Nikes at a track.

"Do you miss it?"

"No, but I still run."

She sits up in surprise, almost dropping her fork. "You do?"

"Sure, every morning."

"You do?" She repeats again.

"Just a habit." He says defensively when he suspects she finds it weird.

"Oh wow, why didn't I know that?"

"You're never up at 5:30?"

"Jesus, that's early."

"That is early." He agrees.

"Insanely early. Some commitment, huh?"

"Not really. I have to get up early for the diner, and all the run adds is me getting up half an hour earlier than necessary. It isn't a big deal."

"Well, how far do you run?"

"Two to three miles, that's it."

"Do you have a cute running outfit?" She can't resist asking.

"Most certainly not."

"Can I buy one for you?"

"Define cute."

"Nothing weird, just the nice Nike running stuff that I see on TV and momentarily think about taking it up, just for the clothes. Kind of like Yoga."

"Ah, the fashionista in you rears its beautiful head."

She shakes that beautiful head and rolls her eyes warmly. "Smooth. So, can I buy? Please, let me buy, I haven't shopped in forever. It's not the same without Rory."

He knows this is about more than just the clothes.

"If you want, you have my blessing."

"I want." She assures him.

They sit in a companionable silence for a moment until she interrupts it, as she is apt to do.

"Hey, Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever run by my house? In the morning?"

He cocks his head to the side and considers his options. Truth behind door #1 sounds like the best of the lot.

"Sometimes." He finally hedges.

"Do you stop or just run past?" She asks softly. She knows she's pushing, but she adores him and she isn't afraid of these conversations anymore.

"Sometimes." He says again.

"Okay."

"The day I made the chuppah for you, I stopped." He adds impulsively and it warms her heart that he's a willing participant in opening up.

"And?"

"Just looked up at your front door and wondered how much things would change. If I would be able to let go finally."

"Oh, Luke." She says, because he breaks her heart, albeit not maliciously.

"You weren't tormenting me, Lorelai. It's fine. I just wondered if somehow, magically you'd get married and I'd wake up and it would be gone after all those years."

"And then I called it off."

"And I didn't stop outside your door as much anymore in the morning." He admits.

"Good or bad?"

"Probably good, although sometimes I still wondered what would have happened if you'd gone through with it."

"I'm glad you didn't find out." She tells him from the bottom of her heart.

"I'm just as glad."

"When are you coming home?"

October, 2009

The breakfast crowd is clearing out of the Inn's dining room, and Lorelai greets them all by name on her way to the kitchen. She likes the families who come up for a few days, because it gives her a chance to get to know them and in return they give her great feedback on the activities she'd suggested. Lorelai has always been a people person and she feels like being around large crowds energizes her and gives her a new sense of purpose.

Sookie kept herself mostly in the kitchen or alternately hovering in the back of the dining room, studying people's expressions when they bit into that perfect peach crumble she worked on so hard.

"It's been a crazy day! My goodness, people love to eat!"

"When you cook for them, absolutely." Lorelai praises her easily.

"Did you try my new waffles? Oh, you should. The vanilla bean is divine."

"Have any batter left over?"

"I knew you'd ask." Sookie winks and pulls a batch out of one of their large fridges.

"You'll love it! The late fall berries really bring out the vanilla flavor nicely."

Lorelai smiles then crosses her arms and leans back against a cupboard. It's been only six weeks since her world was turned upside down once again. She remembers standing at the bottom of her stairs, watching him put his shoes on, and the long time it took to lace them all the way up. The smell of him on her pillows still lingers, or she's got an overactive imagination. And most of all she considers the terrible gaping hole inside her, a Luke shaped hole that's expanding every moment when she's thinking of him, which these days is quite a lot.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Oh, you know, I'm just contemplating the universe."

"That's very ambitious of you."

"Well, I have a kid who graduated from Yale, I've got to work hard to keep up with her. She'll be Dr. Rory in no time."

"All her brains are from you." Sookie says and they giggle at the mental picture.

"I've been thinking about some things." Lorelai finally confides as Sookie pours some batter into the Belgian waffle maker.

"Like what?"

"People, I guess. Not things. Much more complicated, huh?"

Sookie crosses the length of the kitchen and pulls Lorelai down into a hug.

"It's okay to miss your father."

It's been three months and after the shock and the initial desperate sadness, she was slowly able to start thinking ahead. She now thinks she is even a little bit grateful, that he went quickly and suddenly and she didn't have to watch him lose his livelihood and his spirit lying motionless in a bed connected to tubes. One moment, asleep, the next moment, gone. She even figures we should all hope for something like that.

"I know. Fridays are just worse than other days, you know?"

Sookie nods.

"Of course. You don't have to explain it or apologize."

Lorelai offers a tiny smile.

"Do you know what I keep remembering? How Luke had his dark day, and he knew that he was not himself, but even decades later, he still had to take off and sit in the woods, away from everything."

"Time heals old wounds, but they don't go away entirely." Sookie says sagely.

"No, they don't."

"Do you want to take the rest of the day? We can manage without you. Laura runs the front with Michel just fine by herself."

"She does. And yeah, maybe I'll take off early." Lorelai adds thoughtfully before Sookie removes the waffle and packs it up for her in a takeout container.

"I want to say something else to you." Lorelai tells her.

"You've been a wonderful friend, Sookie."

"Thank you. You know I love you, hun, always."

"I do." Lorelai holds her hand to her heart. "Which is what makes this really, really hard for me."

"Okay…Is something wrong? Did I do something?"

"No, absolutely nothing. I wouldn't be here without you, and I wouldn't be who I am. Especially over the last four years. You saved my life, Sookie. You sat with me and fed me ice cream and kept my mind on happy things and made me okay with Rory being away and Luke being away and my father passing on. You save me."

Both of them get a little bit weepy, thinking back to the day they met, when they were just kids making their way in the world, and to all the days that followed it. This is what best friends are like, both think.

"What if you bought me out?" Lorelai asks through her tears.

"What? Your part in the Inn?"

"Yes."

"Honey, why?"

Lorelai raises herself up on one of the stools and buries her face in her hands, crying earnestly now. Sookie carefully pats her back, and waves away a member of the kitchen staff when he walks in on the scene unawares.

"I miss him. I miss him so much and I cried over him for four years and blamed myself and I was so, so sad. All the time, Sookie. And I love you for watching all those movies with me and I love Miss Patti for telling me that men are just playthings for us anyway and I love Rory for buying me that Wonder Woman Halloween costume, but underneath it all, I missed him terribly and all I wanted was my doorbell to ring unexpectedly one morning and I'd run downstairs and open the door and he'd be standing there and we'd say nothing to each other, because we'd get it."

"Oh, Lorelai, I'm sorry. He's coming back to see you, at Thanksgiving, isn't he? He promised!" Sookie insists.

"Yeah, he's coming back."

"That's good, isn't it? It's what you've wanted?"

Lorelai wipes her face and grabs a tissue from a box on the counter, blowing her nose in it.

"My father died and I looked at my Mother and she was so lost and I looked at myself and I was so lost and I looked at Rory and she was crying, but she was alright. Because she knew that my Dad knew she loved him and so things were okay for her. And I never wanted to feel that lost again."

"You're not. Luke knows how you feel about him. And he loves you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes. I know."

"Good."

"I want him with me. I want to be with him. It's all so simple, and it took me four years and I don't want it to take me until Thanksgiving."

"Lorelai…"

"You've been my lifeline, Sookie."

"I can't imagine this place without you." Sookie tells her and her voice cracks obviously. "What if you were a silent partner? Nothing has to be final."

"Would that be okay with you?"

"We can work something out. I want you to go and be happy."

"I want to be happy."

"Then go. Love him. Bring him back so the town can get their fairy tale ending." Sookie smiles and it's all the encouragement Lorelai needs.