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A/N: Thank you guys for your reviews, I really appreciate them. I'm sorry for the slight delay in updates, I meant to update earlier, but somehow life interfered with that...
Not Meant To Be – Chapter 3
She sees her grandfather's face fall and from then on, everything's a blur.
Only fragments of sentences like "umbilical cord" and "wrapped around his neck" and "tried to resuscitate" make it through the curtain of disbelief that has fallen around her. A burning sensation behind her eyeballs reminds her that she's not dreaming.
"When?" A distraught grandmother asks in a voice that is unusually thin and low.
"About two hours ago." Luke looks as if he hasn't slept in days. Hours can feel like days sometimes, she knows that.
Needing to sit down, she simply follows the impulse and plops to the ground right where she's standing. The Grandparents sit down in the chairs, their faces as white as the wall they rest their heads against. Her gaze falls onto the bags and flowers next to her grandfather. She thinks she's going to be sick.
Luke remains standing there, in the middle of the hallway, staring into space, his hands cramped in fists, knuckles turned white.
"Can I go in and see Mom?" Her own shrill voice asks.
"Sure", he sounds very different from when she talked to him on the phone this morning, when he told her it wouldn't be long any more. And in a way he was right, she thinks, disgusted at herself for having made that connection.
After a brief struggle to regain her balance, she gets up from the floor and goes over to the door Luke so quickly closed behind him when he came out to talk to them.
When she steps into the room, at first it's so bright compared to the windowless hallway that she can't see a thing.
But then her eyes get accustomed to the brightness. Her mother, Lorelai Gilmore, the indestructible, is lying in bed, facing away from her. Apparently looking out of the window. The sunny day outside is cruelly oblivious to the tragedy that has just stricken.
Her stomach looks strangely flat beneath the covers. And there is nothing in the room to make up for that. No bassinette, no tiny newborn. The picture is not at all what she always imagined it to be.
"Mom." At that, Lorelai turns her head.
Rory is slightly taken aback by the unusual fragility displayed in her mother's looks: Eyes all red and puffy, her skin seeming to be almost see-through, and yet there are those tangled dark curls, falling over her shoulders beautifully - and beauty is so out of place right now.
Seeing her daughter in the room, Lorelai sits up a little in bed and once again tries to smile. And once again she fails, this time not bothering to cover her face with her hands. A pained expression takes reign over her features, causing something in Rory's chest to twitch painfully.
She puts her hand into the one her mother extends to her and sits down on her bedside. Carefully though, not wanting to cause her any discomfort.
"Look what night gown they made me put on." Lorelai half-cries, tugging at the buttoned front with her free hand. "Don't these people think?" The bitterness in her voice makes Rory cringe inwardly.
"I'm so sorry, Mom." In order to not let her see the quivering of her bottom lip, she takes her mother into her arms.
"I'm the one who should be sorry", Lorelai sniffles, "I failed him. They wanted me to push. And I couldn't do it fast enough. When he came out he was blue, and they - "
"It's not your fault. It's no one's fault." She tightens the embrace, so as if to aggravate her words.
"I know. But that doesn't make it hurt any less."
"I know."
They sit silently for a while, just holding each other and she feels her mother's hot tears soaking the shoulder part of her blouse.
"Where's Luke?" Lorelai pulls away from her.
"He's outside with Grandma and Grandpa."
"I don't want them to see me like this." With trembling fingers she wipes at her swollen eyes, not really bettering anything.
"Do you want Luke to be with you?"
"Yeah", comes a hoarse whisper.
Before Rory can say anything else, her mother suddenly starts rummaging through the contents of the top drawer in the nightstand. She produces something small and shiny and hands it to her.
"He took it off because he was afraid I might crush his hand when I was -", she swallows audibly, "could you give it to him?"
It's Luke's wedding band. A golden ring the diameter of which suggests it'd be possible for her pinky to play hula-hoop with it.
"I love you, Mom." She bends down and pecks her mother on her pale cheek.
"Go home, Rory. You don't need to see me like this, either."
She says nothing and slides off the bed, heading for the door, when she hears Lorelai's voice behind her.
"We haven't even agreed on a name yet, you know? We thought it'd be easier to see what he looks like and then -", she doesn't finish the sentence.
Rory's grip on the door handle tightens as she remembers the list of names that's folded up in her handbag. Just in case, she recalls her thought of this morning, just in case they don't know yet what to write onto that little wristband they get at the hospital.
She still finds it hard to believe that whatever name her brother is given will now be chiseled in stone instead.
Out in the hallway, she wordlessly hands Luke his wedding band and then watches him slide it over his finger in what seems like slow-motion.
Once he has slipped into the room out of which for the brief time span that the door is opened soft sobbing can be heard, she sits down next to her grandmother. She has no idea where her grandfather might have gone to, but notices that the flowers along with the stupid bags full of presents aren't there any more.
At the sound of Lorelai crying, Emily briefly stirs in her chair. Rory is glad that, seeming to understand the grieving couple's need for privacy, her grandmother refrains from getting up.
After a while, Richard returns from wherever he's been and motions for them to get up.
"We'll go to our place. There's nothing we can do around here", he orders and they follow him down the hallways, too exhausted to even try and protest.