Part Two
"Is that real? That can't be real. I must still be dreaming. Tell me I'm still dreaming."
Lorelai looked up from her paper as her daughter emerged from a long night's slumber. "Of Jeannie?"
"Of Bacon. And eggs. And waffles. And French toast. And coffee, a whole steaming, beautiful pot of Luke's coffee."
"I wasn't sure what you'd want, so I made everything," Luke told her, flipping a blueberry pancake.
"Wow, I feel special." Rory stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you. Merry Christmas."
Luke shrugged off her gesture in his usual gruff manner. "Yeah, well, I kinda owed it to you, since you won't be getting any gifts this year."
"Wow, I feel not so special," she pouted.
"We'd already shipped them off," Lorelai explained, giving her daughter a rib-cracking hug – the latest of many in the twelve hours Rory had been home. "We didn't realize you'd be back this year. They'll be waiting for you when you get home."
Home. This was home. She had an apartment in New York where she stayed on the rare occasions she was stateside, but, in the four years since she'd leased it, she had spent a grand total of sixty-seven nights there. Stars Hollow was home.
"It's all right." Rory offered her mother a weak smile.
"If it makes you feel any better, Santa left you this."
Rory took the old sock Lorelai held out to her. It was mostly empty, except for something lodged in the bottom. She had to turn the sock upside down before it fell into her hand.
A lump of coal.
"Apparently, you've been a bad, bad girl this year," Lorelai teased. "Good for you."
"Well, it's a credit to you I'm worthy of this. You taught me everything I know."
"Oh, no, you don't, little missy. Your flaws are entirely of your father's making. I gave you only what is pure and angelic in your blood." Lorelai fluttered her eyelashes playfully.
"Ah! Then it's him I have to thank for all the fun I've been having, and you get the blame for the guilt complex that goes with it."
"Hey! No fair! I want credit for the good things."
"Can't have it both ways." Rory shook her head in mock pity.
"Of course I can," Lorelai argued, drawing out her words as she searched for an appropriate comeback. "For I am…your mother and father both. Yes, that's right; I said it. It was a virgin birth. 'Round yon virgin'? In truth, all about you and me, kid."
"Wow." Rory stared at her mother in open-mouthed amazement.
"You believe that?"
"No, I'm starting to understand why Mrs. Kim never liked you. Blasphemy, thy name is Lorelai."
"Amen, sister friend."
"Since you've already said grace, eat your breakfast, the both of you," Luke grumped, placing two steaming, heaping platefuls of food before them.
"We love you," Lorelai purred up at him, as she took her first bite.
"You caught yourself a real nice man there, Mama," Rory agreed.
"And housebroke him, too."
"Job well done."
"I like to think so," Luke cut in, ruffling Lorelai's hair as he sat down with his own breakfast.
Rory caught the look they shared and dropped her eyes down to her plate. It was a lovers' look, something private in which she could have no share. Her mother wasn't solely hers anymore.
No sooner had she started to develop a nice feeling of self-pity, though, than their attention was on her.
"So, Rory, you said you were too tired to talk last night; how's this morning's schedule looking for explanations?"
Rory froze. She'd known this moment was coming; she'd simply hoped she could put it off a little longer. "Okay. What needs explaining?"
"That's a mean question. Now, if I say something like, 'Why you're here,' I sound like I don't want you here, and you know I'm never happier than when my other half is in the same living space."
"I need you not to freak out," Rory said abruptly.
Lorelai's look went from gentle and loving to panicked in as much time as it took Rory to set her fork on her plate. "Why would you say that? Why does anyone say that? Nothing makes someone freak out as much as being told not to freak out. What happened that would give me cause to freak out?"
"Easy," Luke warned, rubbing a spot low on Lorelai's back.
"I just need to remind you before I begin that I'm sitting here talking to you, safe and sound and all in one piece, as you can see," Rory said calmly.
"Why are these words coming out of your mouth? The last time I heard words like this from you, you'd been in a car crash. Were you in another car crash, Rory?"
"Well, technically, yes, but I wasn't thinking of that."
Lorelai's jaw dropped. "Oh, so that's not the thing that's not supposed to freak me out?"
"That was last night, after I got home, and it wasn't a big deal. My car slipped on some black ice and went into a snowbank, and I was fine, because we have safety belt laws in this country, and I'm generally pretty good about obeying laws and such, so really, I didn't deserve that lump of coal, and Santa obviously got me confused with Lacey Richardson down the street, because she never would put on her bicycle helmet like I told her to."
"Not helping," Luke half-coughed in Rory's direction to stop the rambling.
"Oh, right. Mom, I'm fine. I'm a reporter, and things like this have to be expected."
"Things like what?" Lorelai's voice had risen no less than two octaves. She groped for Rory's hands, as if desperate for the physical assurance her daughter was sitting there before her.
Rory pressed her hands back willingly. "There was a shooting."
"My God. Where?"
"In Santo Domingo." She saw the blank looks on their faces and added, "The capital of the Dominican Republic."
"Thanks for the geography lesson, but can we please get to the part where I'm not panicking about the stuff I don't need to panic about?"
Rory decided simple and straightforward was the only way to appease her mother right now. "I had just finished my report. I'm glad I had, actually, so you didn't have to see it. That would have totally freaked you out, and I didn't have access to a phone for a long time afterwards."
"But you're okay, you're all right," Luke mumbled to comfort Lorelai.
"Yes, I'm fine. I wasn't hurt. My cameraman saved my life. He pushed me to the ground, until the violence stopped. It's fine, Mom. Fine."
Lorelai's panic had subsided enough for her to hear the strange note in her daughter's voice. "But something's wrong. You're not fine, or you wouldn't be telling me this."
Rory bit her lip, and her gaze shifted guiltily to Luke. She loved him almost like a real father, but there were some things she could never discuss with anyone but Lorelai.
Luke took the hint without taking offense. "Yeah, well, I've got some laundry to do. I'll see you around later." He gave Lorelai a quick kiss and planted a tender one on Rory's forehead before vacating the room.
"Laundry?" Rory commented as soon as he disappeared.
"I know," Lorelai giggled.
"You weren't kidding about the housebreaking."
"Well, one of us had to be the wife around here, and it wasn't going to be me."
"Obviously. You have no talent for it."
"Which he knew when he took me."
"He was given ample warning?"
"I did all I could to talk him out of him, but he was just determined…"
"Masochist."
"Probably."
"I want that," Rory said wistfully, unaware the words had left her mouth.
"Masochism?"
"That goofy smile you get whenever you talk about Luke."
"You know I love you, baby, but you can't have Luke."
"I never got that Barbi dream house I asked for either," Rory pouted.
The jesting reprieve from the heavy conversation was over. Lorelai's smile faded, replaced by a look of loving concern.
"What happened?"
"I froze," Rory admitted, not even trying to evade the subject longer. "There was all this shooting and screaming, and I just stood there. I couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't run. If Darryl hadn't pulled me to the ground, I'd be dead right now."
Lorelai's eyes closed in mingled horror and relief. Her baby could have died, and she wouldn't have known it until too late. "Remind me to send Darryl a fruit basket next Christmas."
"Mom."
"Does he not like fruit? I'm not sure what else to put in a basket. Lotions. Does he like lotions? Is he that kind of guy? Are there those kinds of guys?"
"Mom."
"Sorry. Continue."
"And when it was all over, I walked down the street to the American Embassy and took the next flight out of there. I didn't file a story. I didn't investigate, report, try to help – I didn't do anything. I couldn't even do my job, and now I'm sure I don't have a job to go back to, and I don't really care, because it was so awful, Mom."
"Oh, Rory."
"No! Listen. It was hideous. I'd dreamed my whole life of this, and everyone told me I could do it – except Jess, he said it would be too hard for me – and he was right, it was. I couldn't do it. I failed. I fail at everything, really; everything in life that really matters, I fail."
"You didn't fail, Rory, and I don't want to hear words like that from you again." Lorelai's tone was uncharacteristically sharp as she faced her daughter.
"Mom, listen to—"
"No, Rory, you listen to me." And to make it impossible to run away, Lorelai cupped her daughter's chin in her hand and forced her to meet her gaze. "Jess was never right about anything. If he was, he never could have treated you the way he did. You are not a failure, Rory. You were scared, and rightfully so. You were in danger, and you got yourself out of danger. That's not failure. That means you have enough sense to value your life more than your job. It doesn't make you a bad reporter, and it certainly doesn't make you a bad person."
Rory shook her head free. "I ran away, Mom. Just like I always do. A problem gets too big, I can't face it, and I run away."
"Rory, how long had you been on assignment without a break?"
"I don't know, but that doesn't have anything to—"
"Eight months and four days. I know. I keep a tally. Eight months and four days since you had a chance to come home and de-stress. All the while you've been running around the world, covering horrible event after horrible event. Anyone would need to run away from that. You did exactly what you were supposed to do; you came home."
"But I—"
"Nuh-uh."
"I should have—"
"Zip it."
"You can't—"
This time her mother spared herself words and pressed a forkful of eggs to Rory's mouth. "Shush. Eat."
Rory knew when to admit defeat. "Fank you," she said around her food.
"Anytime." Lorelai smiled and brushed her daughter's hair back.
Forgiveness came to Rory through her mother's words. And with it, peace.
"It's not a wonderful life, Jimmy, whatever they may tell you. It's a crappy, sucky life. Jump off the damn bridge already," Lorelai fumed.
"Way to get into the Christmas spirit there, honey."
"You have your ways, we have ours," Rory defended her mother with a smile.
They were halfway through their marathon of 'Movies for Those Who Mock Movies: The Christmas Edition,' and Rory was contentedly perched to one side of her mother on the couch, while Luke sulked on the other.
"We really should save this one for last," Lorelai mused. "So much to mock."
"I think you're forgetting a little wonder called 'Babes in Toyland,'" Rory reminded her.
"The one with Annette Funicello, sans Frankie?"
"The others all pale by comparison."
"That's because they don't have multiple, Technicolor, dancing Annettes in them."
"And stop-animation soldiers."
"Hard to see why they abandoned that for computers, really."
"I'm saying."
"I need another drink," Luke groaned.
"Ooh! Me, too." Lorelai held up her empty cup.
Luke looked askance at her. "What do you expect me to do with this?"
Lorelai didn't answer. She just used her best pout and waited until he caved. It was a strategy she'd successfully employed with everyone in her life since the day she was born. The woman had an irresistible pout.
Luke groaned, defeated again. "What do you want?"
"Margaritas sound great." All trace of unhappiness vanished in a brilliant, triumphant smile.
"It's three o'clock in the afternoon!"
"On Christmas Day," Rory added helpfully.
"Fine," Lorelai relented, before grinning. "Eggnog then."
Luke sighed the sigh of deepest suffering humanity and headed toward the kitchen.
"Only without the eggs," Lorelai called after him.
"Or the cream," Rory seconded.
"Basically just some rum would be nice."
"I'm outliving both of you," Luke returned from the kitchen.
Rory was still giggling when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," she called, suddenly remembering Dean's promise to stop by.
Too late.
Luke was halfway to the door before she'd managed to extricate herself from the couch cushions. He pulled it open, exactly as she careened around the corner.
"Luke…hi," Dean said awkwardly. And for the life of her, Rory couldn't withhold a laugh. He looked sixteen again before Luke's surprise and anger. Dean's eyes traveled to her, and a rueful smile showed he knew what she was thinking. "Hey, Rory."
Luke turned toward her, even as she heard her mother joining them from the living room. "Rory? Explain."
"Ah, well, see, I was going to mention this earlier, when I was rambling, but you stopped my rambling before I got to the part I knew you wouldn't like so much, even though there's no real reason for you not to like it, as it's completely innocent and accidental, and…I can see I'm winning no friends here on any side, so to come to the point: after my accident, I tried calling here, but got no answer, since you and Mom were out with Grandma, Grandpa, and the Boringtons."
"And I was driving to my parents when I spotted her car and stopped," Dean added, trying to save her the retelling.
"He didn't even know it was me," Rory put in hastily. "He just stopped, because he's nice and helpful like that, and he gave me a ride home."
"And promised I'd get her car to her tomorrow, which is now, today, and her car is outside, and here are your keys, Rory." Dean took exactly one step into the house to reach Rory with the car keys, carefully skirting wide of Luke. Rory meekly stretched out her hand to receive them. "And now I'm going. Bye."
He stepped back outside and headed quickly down the steps. Luke was still holding the door open, too stunned to move, while Lorelai stared at her daughter with an all-too-knowing look.
Slowly, Lorelai tore her gaze away from Rory and followed Dean outside. "Hey, Narcolepsy Boy, get back here."
Dean was halfway down the driveway. He paused, standing with his back to them, and for a moment Rory thought he was going to keep walking. It would certainly be the smart thing to do after all their history, she thought, ignoring the part of her that wanted to beg him to stay.
As it turned out, she didn't need to. He turned, ran a hand over his face as though he couldn't believe he was doing this, either, and then walked back to the porch. "What?"
"Any big plans for the day?" Lorelai asked. She seemed to realize Rory couldn't have this conversation herself.
"Not really. My family does all the Christmas stuff in the morning. I was just going to hang around town now. Why?"
"We're having a movie day. Luke needs company to commiserate."
Dean's gaze shifted nervously to Luke. "Yeah?"
Luke had no problem reading the pleading looks on both the Gilmore girls' faces. He knew what was required of him. "Come on in, Dean," he relented grudgingly, stepping back from the door.
He needed more assurance than either of the parental figures could give him. "Rory?" he asked softly.
Once again, words were her enemy. But she looked him straight in the eye as she nodded and risked a smile.
Dean smiled back, dimples and all. "Okay, then. Sure."
"Great," piped up Lorelai, needing no instructions to take the lead in this – or any – conversation. "This calls for a special celebration!"
Rory beamed. "You mean…?"
"Yups. No more waiting. It's time for the granddaddy: 'Santa Claus Conquers the Martians.'"
"Hooray! Somebody loves me!" Rory enthused, throwing her arms round her mother, as they hopped back to the couch.
From somewhere behind them, Rory thought she heard two identical groans.
Rory had gone to the kitchen for another bag of popcorn, when she heard her mother's footsteps following her. It didn't surprise her. She set the timer and let the microwave start before turning to meet her gaze.
"We have three minutes before the bag stops popping, and they hear whatever we say, so say it quick."
"Why didn't you tell me about Dean?" her mother said in a breath.
"I honestly forgot. I was going to. I swear."
"I believe you. So what happened?"
"Exactly what we said happened."
"No, I mean, what happened?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Lorelai's expression revealed her incredulity.
"We talked. He held my hand."
"He held your hand?"
"Are you going to keep repeating me? Because that seems like a waste of words right now."
"Sorry. So…? What else?"
"He's been avoiding me for the past seven years."
Lorelai winced. "Ouch."
"Yeah…and no. He's been avoiding me by watching my reports on CNN."
"Ooh! 'She's gone, I can't have her, but it's enough merely to see her,' avoidance."
"Exactly…I think…I don't know. Maybe it's more of a, 'she's gone, out of my life, and now I should associate her with bubonic plague and civil war,' kind of thing."
"I doubt that, honey."
"Why? It's no less than I deserve, after the way I've treated him."
"He's treated you pretty awfully on an occasion or two, I seem to recall."
"You think I'm stupid to be thinking about him again?"
Lorelai watched her for a moment, pondering. Rory waited patiently; she knew somehow whatever future she might or might not have with Dean would end if her mother refused her blessing a second time.
"No. I think, whatever his faults, he's always loved you, and there's nothing more appealing to a girl than that kind of devotion."
"I know," Rory said hopelessly, sinking to the table.
Lorelai sat across from her. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"It occurs to me this is a perfect example of three strikes, you're out. You and Dean have screwed things up twice. I'm betting even he won't last another round."
"You do realize you just used two sports metaphors in three sentences."
"I did, didn't I? Did I use them correctly?"
"I'm pretty sure."
"Sorry. It will never happen again. Could we get back on topic now?"
"Sure. So what you're saying is, if I don't love him, if this is a rebound thing, or me looking for a place to run, I shouldn't pursue this."
"Hee. 'Rebound thing.' You used one too." Without segue, Lorelai resumed their more serious conversation. "It only seems fair. Do you love him, Rory?"
The microwave timer dinged.
It was late that evening before Rory walked out to the porch with Dean. She had half a feeling Luke and Lorelai would spy on them from the window, but there wasn't the slightest movement behind the curtains.
"I'm glad you came today," she began softly, as she sat down on the icy front stoop.
"Yeah, me too." Dean sounded almost surprised as he joined her.
"You thought maybe Luke was going to attack you before the end of it?"
"Maybe." He smiled. "Yeah, probably. A bit."
"You think too ill of him."
"I think it was nice of Lorelai to keep his glass full all night."
Rory grinned. Luke had been nearly unable to stand by the end of the evening. Come to think of it, that was probably the only reason the window remained clear. "Well, she's a very thoughtful mother."
"No one's ever denied that."
Comfortable silence fell around them. Rory looked up at the stars; the night was clear after yesterday's storm. The world was at peace, and so was her heart. Sitting on the steps with Dean beside her, she might well have been sixteen again.
"Do you ever wish we could go back?" she asked suddenly.
Dean looked at her askance. "Back to what?"
"Childhood. Innocence. You and me…before we wrecked everything."
Dean's back stiffened, and Rory knew she'd somehow gone too far. She'd reminded him of everything which had happened after sixteen, and that was danger territory.
"What's the point of wishing, Rory? We made our choices; now we have to live with them." He started to rise, but she pulled him back.
"You're right; I'm sorry. It was just a thought. I…I'd like a chance to get to know the you, you are now, if I could. I mean, I'd understand if you didn't want to after all I've put you through, but you're here, and so am I, and, crazy as it sounds, I can't think it's all chance."
"You think destiny's bringing us together?"
Rory searched but couldn't find derision in his tone. "I don't know. I didn't think I believed in destiny. But last night…and here, now, and it's Christmas…and I can't help but wonder, if maybe…I don't know." She silently cursed her own lameness.
"Yeah. Okay. All right," was Dean's equally eloquent response.
Rory looked up and saw the expression on his face as he looked down at her: the same mix of puzzlement, awe, and tenderness she'd fallen for when she was sixteen. Even with all the years that had passed, they weren't really so different, she thought. It gave her hope.
"So who are you now, Mr. Forester?"
Dean chuckled. "You don't start small, do you?"
"Well, you have a head start. At least you've seen me on T.V. I have no idea what happened to you after you left Stars Hollow. Where'd you go?"
"College," Dean answered promptly.
"Really?" Rory's face revealed her joy and pride.
Dean nodded. "That last night…seeing you surrounded by all those guys, that whole world I couldn't give you, I couldn't take it. I'd never felt smaller my whole life. Not even the day Lindsay found out about us. I had to get away, start over, start right."
He couldn't have hit her harder if he'd tried. Bringing up Lindsay and their last breakup all in a few short, matter-of-fact sentences. "I'm so sorry, Dean."
Dean shrugged his shoulders, a tense gesture. "It wasn't all your fault. I was the louse who cheated on my wife."
"You wouldn't have cheated if I hadn't kept purposely entering your life. I hated that you were with her; I…I wanted your marriage to fail," Rory admitted.
"So did I."
Rory did a double take. "You did?"
He nodded. "I called you the first time, remember? I shouldn't have married her; it was a mistake from the beginning. You tried to tell me so."
"I only said what I did because I was jealous," she confessed for the first time – to herself as well as Dean.
"Doesn't mean you weren't right. I think I married her half out of spite, yet more proof of my louse-like status."
"You wouldn't have been spiteful if I had treated you the way I should have."
"You were in love with Jess. What else could you have done?"
"I could have been honest with you from the beginning, instead of lying to you and using you. I think that was the cruelest I've ever been to another human being in my life, and that's saying something."
"You're not cruel, Rory."
"Oh, please. We're playing True Confessions here, remember? I've been cruel and selfish and self-absorbed since I was born. I was raised in a small town and loved by everyone around me, and somehow it gave me the warped and twisted idea the world revolved around me and what I was feeling at any given moment."
"And what prompted this sudden revelation?"
"Actually seeing some of the world outside myself," Rory continued without hesitation. "Going all over the world, seeing the pain that's out there…the world is much bigger than my own petty problems."
"You have an empathy you don't even comprehend."
Rory jerked her head at the quiet, firmly spoken statement. "What do you mean?"
"I watch your reports. The pain you feel for others comes through in every word you speak."
"You mean that?"
"I don't lie to you, Rory."
She smiled softly. "I know. I like that."
He gave her a nervous, sheepish smile in return and looked away.
She tried to remember where the conversation had begun. "So you left for college. Where?"
"Chicago. My grandmother still lives there, so I was able to stay with her, work part-time, and go back to school."
"Did you ever graduate?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "No, I'm on the ten-year plan. Yes, I graduated. With a degree in mechanical engineering."
"Good for you. And the suits? When did they come in?" She tugged gently at the navy blue collar around his neck.
"I'm in automobile design. I've been working in Detroit."
"Michigan, home of…cars."
Dean laughed. "Basically."
"Why did you say you 'have been'? Are you leaving?"
"I've been offered another position," he said vaguely.
"Not sure if you'll take it?"
"It's a foreign company. It would mean moving to Italy, leaving the States behind, my family, friends…"
"Girlfriend?" Rory pried.
"Subtle. No girlfriend."
"None? At all? In seven years?"
"It would give your ego a tremendous boost if I said yes, wouldn't it?"
"'Pining Ex-Boyfriend Refuses Love of All Others' makes for a very good headline in the scrapbook of life, yes."
Dean laughed. "Sorry to cause such a blow, but I meant currently. I've had girlfriends."
"Oh." Rory tried not to sound disappointed. "Anyone special?"
"Erica and I were together for a while."
"Define 'a while.'"
"Uh, a year or so, I guess. Maybe a little longer."
"What happened?"
Dean's mouth turned in a wry, twisted smile. "She got sick of my CNN obsession."
"Oh," Rory said, then blushed, and said again, "Oh."
"What about you? Seeing anyone?"
Rory's blush of pleasure, turned into a flush of shame, as she mumbled, "Not exactly."
"Meaning, sort of," Dean interpreted.
"You're one of those glass half-full people, aren't you?"
"Rory."
"All right. Another reporter and I have an…arrangement of sorts."
"I'm going to need more information than that to draw conclusions, Rory."
"Oh, I think the ones you're drawing are pretty accurate, Dean," she returned icily.
"So it's a sex thing."
Rory's cheeks flushed deeper scarlet. "When you're traveling around the world and back every few days, there's not really enough time to develop a relationship," she attempted, in weak defense. "This is…easier."
"I'm guessing they don't know." Dean jerked his head to the house.
"No."
"They wouldn't have invited me in if they had."
"No."
"Rory?"
She dreaded the question she knew was coming. "What?"
"What am I doing here?"
He'd asked her the same question years ago, on a beautiful night like this one, and she hadn't given him the reason that would keep him in her life. He deserved that answer now, if she had it to give.
"You're saving me," she whispered, facing his probing eyes squarely.
"From what?"
"Myself."