Disclaimer: I own nothing when it comes to Gilmore Girls. No profit will be made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: Thank you to all who have read and responded. It means a lot to me. This part of the story is not based on any spoilers, just my own musings coming from where this particular story has headed. I would love your comments on what you think!

As long as I live, I will never forget this night. Of all the people in the world I expected to see at my doorstep—I never in my wildest dreams imagined he would come. It was a stormy night—Richard was off meeting with a client, and I was going over some household accounts. The doorbell rang and as I knew Felisa was in the kitchen, I went to get it myself. I opened the door and there he was, standing there on my doorstep. It took me a moment to get over the shock.

"Luke...what are you doing here?" I asked.

He looked at me, and I could see in his eyes that he was hesitating—he looked like he was ready to turn around and walk the other way.

"Hello Mrs. Gilmore...I need to talk to you,"

Something inside of me bristled. If he was here to lecture me about staying out his and Lorelai's business or something like that...I was in no mood. I start to close the door,

"I'm sorry Luke, I am busy and if I'm not mistaken, this is enemy territory for you." I say but he reaches out and stops the door from shutting. His eyes are firm and resolute, "Seriously," he says, "We need to talk."

Suddenly a jolt of fear surges through me, "Lorelai..." I breathed, "Has something happened to her?" He shakes his head, "No, Lorelai is just fine. She doesn't know that I'm here. If she did I can guess I would be in the dog house tonight." I look at him, searching his face. Why was he here? He seemed to see I was sizing him up. He cleared his throat.

"Emily...I just want to talk." he says again. Without saying anything I motion for him to come in.

"Can I get you a drink?" I ask and he shakes his head no. I fix myself one, something to hold onto to hide my nervousness. It isn't working. I come and sit down, trying to look calm and collected.

"What can I do for you Luke?" I ask. Again he looks hesitant. Then he takes a deep breath and begins,

"What you and Lorelai are doing here is wrong," he says resolutely. It takes me completely by suprise.

"Excuse me?"

"Emily, what you and Lorelai are doing here is wrong," he repeats. "I'll be honest, I still don't like you very much. But to be totally honest, I don't really know you. I know you don't like me and I know you don't approve of me, and you know what, that's okay because I like the way I am and I am in love with your daughter and as long as she and I are together, I'm happy."

I opened my mouth to say something but he put up his hand,

"You know something? I would really like to get to know the mother of the woman I love. I would like to get to know the real Emily Gilmore and I hope that someday you want to know the real Luke Danes. But today, let me tell you what I came here to say. Whatever your differences, whatever it is you two have been fighting about since day one, it is time to put it behind you. It's time to forgive eachother and move on with your lives. Lorelai says she is happy. She says she doesn't need you in her life. I even told you she doesn't need you in her life. But that's not true. She does need you and you need her." I stare down at the floor and curse myself that the tears are starting to surface again. I look up at him, this man who I have demeaned, thought down upon and even ridiculed because of his social stature. What a fool I am. What a blind fool.

"So...what do I do?" I ask, not caring that I sound vulnerable, not caring that he is seeing my open display of emotion. He wants to know the real Emily Gilmore? So I will let him see her—a mother who knows she has failed her child and will do anything...anything to get her back. He sighed,

"I don't know. She is pretty hurt and I think she is embarrassed and feels guilty for the article as well. She never wanted it to go in the magazine Emily. She just started talking and got carried away, She tried everything to keep it out of the actual article. She felt terrible when it came out. I tried to talk to her, tried to get her to come over here again. But she is so stubborn—one of the things I love about her. I think we all know where that comes from." he says smiling. I smile back at him. He stands up to leave.

"Anyway...that's all I wanted to say. Take it or leave it. " He gets up to leave and I call after him.

"Luke?"

He turns back around,

"Yes?"

"Why are you doing this?" I ask.

"Because one day I came home from school and saw my dad home in the middle of the day. That had never happened before and he looked like he'd been crying. I asked him what was the matter and he said we'd wait for my sister to get home and then tell the two of us together. I waited for Liz to come home and then my dad sat us down together and told us that our mom was very sick—she had cancer and was in the hospital. One day my mom was there in our house and cooking us breakfast, correcting our homework—and the next day she was in the hospital. She died six months later." he pauses for a second and takes a deep breath. "See, I had a mom that tried to protect her children too. She did what she thought was best for them. She didn't tell us she was sick. She had known for a year that she had cancer and had known for a few months that she wasn't going to beat it. But she never told us. I of all people know that Lorelai is fooling herself if she thinks she can cut you out of her life completely. She needs you. Everyone needs their mom."

I swallow to try and keep from crying. He puts up his hand and gives a little wave goodbye.

"Luke?" I call again. He turns around.

"I've misjudged you and again I'm really sorry."

"It's okay" he says giving me a little smile.

"What was her name...your mother?"

"Alicia, Alicia Danes," he replies

"She would have been proud of you," I say.

He smiles,

"Goodnight Emily," he says as he walks out the door.

My mind is reeling. I walk toward the phone on the coffee table. I am so nervous—why am I so nervous? Because I want to tell her that I love her. I want to tell her that I'm sorry and tell her all of the things that have been in my heart for so long. But I have not been able to tell her what's on my heart since she was seven years old. We have grown so far apart—so different. Was it too late? I pick up the phone and dial the number. My hands are shaking, "Please," I pray, "Please please please let her talk to me."

The phone picks up and my heart starts beating wildly.

"Hello?" she says. I try to speak but the words won't come out.

"Hello?" she says again.

"Lorelai? It's me" I say. A disheartening click resounds in my ear and the next thing I hear is dial tone.

This isn't going to be easy.