A/N: Hey everyone. Here's the newest installment. Don't ever forget to R and R.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own Dave. (Or anything else pertaining to Stars Hollow and the world of Gilmore and Lane, except for Dave's family, but you can take them if you want.)

Dave was considerably unsuccessful in talking to Lane. He finished practice and they had their usual moment, as Zach and Brian were replacing their instruments in their car. She had been silent for most of the rest of the practice, not angry, but determined. He was worried about her. "Listen, Lane I just wanna say I'm sorry for how they freaked out like that," he said, concernedly. Lane was somewhat sarcastic and wistful in her response.

"That's Rock'n'roll, babe." She said it in a grim tone. He wasn't sure how to respond. He felt a little worried. "It's fine, Dave, really. Or it will be. Once I grow a backbone."

"There's gotta be a way. I mean, you're such a master con-artist from everything you've told me… You've seen movies, eaten pizza, watched MTV, joined a band, had a jackass- I mean boyfriend…" she smiled, as he instinctively, held her shoulder, "you've worn those beautiful clothes, might I add, as opposed to the equally nice, church dresses and sweaters, that you just don't seem to enjoy as much as I do…" Yeah, he was rambling and thoroughly embarrassing himself, letting her know that he thought about her this much, "The point is, Lane, you're great person and you're smart and I have complete faith in your mother-evading capabilities… And I didn't mean for that to sound as computer-speaky as it came out."

"No… It was an excellent rant. Thanks Dave. And I hope you're right."

"I am."

"That's so nice." Dave lifted a little; he'd been called sweet and nice in the past few hours. It wouldn't have meant anything, if it had been some random chick, but it was so amazing coming from her. He blushed and she noticed.

"Hey Lane? Um, can I, um, tell you or… um, ask you something… If you promise…" She seemed intent to listen, "Well, um…"

"DAVE! We gotta go! Mom expects me to be home before dinner. It's 7:43, Dinners at 8!" Brian, why must you always pick the worst possible moment!

"What did you want to say?" She was looking at him expectantly.

"Well, I, uh, wanted to tell you… that… you're a great drummer. You hold us together and we wouldn't get anywhere without you. And everyone, especially me, loves you. You're amazing. Don't leave." What is with this sudden ranting thing? He never talked like this to anyone else.

"I won't. I mean, I can't now, can I?"

"You can't."

"Omigosh. Johnny Yune's on! Gotta run." He gazed after her. He was doing that a lot lately. He liked that she ran. He liked how her braids flew in the air as she did.

Those braids that made him lose the ability to speak and control his thoughts. Why couldn't he just say something? This was probably the last time he would see her, until he, again, worked magic and found them a killer, almost-free rehearsal space. And he hadn't told her one thing to make her remember him. Not even the fact that when she smiled at him, his stomach up-ended and would not go back up until he was safely at home listening to music. But the funny thing was that he liked it. He was calm… Well, he wasn't. But it was like, his anxieties about her and his wishing and hoping and freaking out about what she could be doing, what boys could be talking to her all day, was rooted in some intense calm. It was extremely odd. But he liked it.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Lane's hair was still wet when the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hi Dave!" She was in love and she knew it. She didn't mind being a little open about it.

"Hi Lane. So this practice space thing… Zach and I are going out to search for possible, affordable spaces." Wow, he has perfect grammar.

"Okay, cool."

"Well, I was wondering as we were searching if you had any criteria, I mean, I want you to like it." He's so sweet.

"Um, well, I'm fine with anything… I mean, good acoustics are a must, and well, just has to be a good atmosphere, because I honestly, can't play the drums if the place reminds me of my mother…" she paused. Dave heard a distinct change in tone, "I swear, that woman! I love her, but I just can't…" She sounded so hopeless, "I mean, I want to tell her so bad about you… guys and the band thing, because I know, that any other mother would be happy, like Lorelai, you know, Rory's mom, she was so happy when I told her, she just went on about Bono and stuff, but my mom, she'd send me to bible camp and pray for my soul. You know I dyed my hair because of her?" This struck Dave's attention.

"Really, what color is it?"

"Well, black." Dave was puzzled.

"What?"

"Well, I was about to tell her about us- we, the band, I mean, and she pulled out all these applications to college that I've never heard of; Amish schools, Christian schools, Nicaragua… I don't know, I just snapped. I ran into the store and decided no way would I go for pink, so then I just grabbed the purple and Rory did it. But I had to dye it back, because well, she'd die if she saw it." She was so cute. Only Lane could possibly do this. He just wanted to make her mother see.

"So, um, how'd it look?" He wanted to have a good picture in his mind, for his inevitable dream about her.

"I've got a picture," she said.

"I'd like to see it. Bring it to the next practice. You don't have to show it to the guys… but I'd love to see it."

"Sure, but it would have a better effect if you imagined me wearing different clothes than I am, in the picture, like, you know, if I was dressed like… um, Brody Dalle, well, not too much like her, but you get my gist…"

"Okay, I'm imagining you with purple hair, dressed like Brody Dalle," Dave said as he did. Hey, and it looked good, "Wow, Lane. I must see that picture!" Lane blushed as she heard him.

"Stop imagining." He didn't but he pressed on.

"So Lane, are any of those colleges close?"

"I don't know…" she seemed a bit worried, "Where are you going?"

"Well, I applied to Pennsylvania and Connecticut and to Berkeley… so it just depends where I get in…"

"Wait, Berkeley… California? Wow… That's really far away." Dave thought about leaving Connecticut. Damn. He couldn't have waited until after he'd fallen in love to fill out his applications?

"Well, I'm probably not going to get in. And maybe you can go to some Christian school close by. I'll look it up."

"Well, um, thanks," she said, uncertainly, "Well, my mom's going to be closing soon, so um, I've gotta go. Call me when you find some place."

Two weeks later and Dave was back in Quadrophenia. He just loved the operatic spin of it. It soothed him, but he couldn't get his mind away from her.

He'd called Lane to tell her that they couldn't find anything. No place to practice. It sucked. They'd had some usual chitchat about a dance marathon that she had to serve sandwiches for, per her mother's request. He could just imagine her in a 20s-style outfit, dancing with some Korean guy. This sucked. The slower it took to find a practice space, the more time until he could see her again.

Love! Reign O'er Me… Reign o'er me…

He was depressed. He hadn't seen her in two weeks. He missed her steady drummer's hands and her bounciness. Every time he heard Keith Moon's drumming, he thought of her. That sweet little drummer girl... When he looked at the moon, he thought of her. Everytime he saw a drumset or listened to David Bowie.

Oh Lord… I need a drink of cool, cool rain…

The phone rang. "Hello?" Click. Whatever. He continued to drown in his misery.

It rang again. "Hello?" There was a pause. There was the familiar Quadrophenia guitar rift. Click.

The phone rang again after the song was over and Dave had measured the drum beats at the end of the song.

"Hello? Okay, seriously. Who is this?" He heard a shriek-like sound in the background and a loud groan. Then once more, click. He wondered whether it could be… But it couldn't.

"Oh, Davey! Why so sad?" cooed Aunt Louise. She was here for her weekly visit. His mother was cooking and Aunt Louise was buzzing and Kathy was off playing somewhere.

"What? I'm not sad…" he said.

"You're right, Louise. He's been acting strange for days," his mother said, getting the milk from the fridge.

"Why's that Dave?" asked his aunt.

"I'm not sad. This is my normal state," he retorted. He did not wish to speak with these people.

"Did you get dumped?" asked Louise, intuitively. Dave's mother looked surprised.

"Dumped? Does Dave have a girlfriend?" She seemed excited, all most giddy.

"Not anymore," said Louise.

"SHUT UP! I don't have a girlfriend and I haven't been dumped!" Louise and his mother were definitely taken aback.

"Yep… he got dumped."

Cause I'll never see it again

She thinks that all is well

It's the perfect love story

Gone to hell

Fuck it all

Cuz it sucks

She'll never love me

Cuz she'll never see me again

Well there was one thing that Dave got right. Fuck it all cuz it sucks. This was so pointless. His song was so depressingly emo, that he could've been sick. Emo was an acquired taste, but was nonetheless effective, Dave often did listen to it, but not openly. He was a rock'n'roll guy, not an emo guy. He listened to Bowie, not Bright Eyes. Except he listened to everything, so he couldn't really say that. But that was not the type of music he wanted to write.

And rap was out of the question.

He started over, struck a D minor chord. He did a guitar rift.

I lost my chance

As she bounded away

She's got no reason to come my way

Oh lord, she's a beauty

And pretty damn kind

An independent

But I want her to be mine

Now this wasn't bad. This was better.

This was it. He was going to do it. He was going to ask Lane out. It wasn't really his decision really. "The collective will of the Rygalski family," as his aunt told him at dinner. In front of his parents. It had started out with a, "Hey, what's new, Dave?" and had promptly turned into a "By the way, Dave has a girlfriend, I mean, drummer." He had glared over at her.

"Relax, we already know," said his father, with a chuckle and a mischievous rock'n'roll grin, "As soon as you locked yourself in your room and answered questions in grunts and fell asleep with a guitar in your hand, we knew you were pining. You're a wreck." Dave gave him an embarrassed and annoyed look. Dave's father seemed to thrive on this, "You're a rock'n'roll suicide!"

"Aw, no Paul! Please don't do the Bowie impression," begged his mother.

"Oh no love you're not alone!" Louise laughed as his mother tried to hold in giggles. Dave was not amused. His father saw the look and stopped. "It's cool Dave, I went through the same phase with your mother. I didn't come out of my room for days, because we'd broken up that week. It's the Rygalski way."

"Oh, you should hear how she got him out of the room," said Aunt Louise, "She told him that she'd join the Go Gos if he didn't buck up and the idiot believed her! He was that hung over."

And his parents had insisted that he was a senior now and it would be good, at least for his songwriting technique, to go for it and finally commit to a girl. He'd protested. He wouldn't see her until they found a space.

"Hey, Isn't there a dance marathon in Star's Hollow this weekend?" asked Louise, with a twinkle in her eye.

Dave was in the town square. He sat on the church steps, unsure of what to do next. He decided to head by the diner. You know, mull things over. From what Lane said, she'd be stuck there for a full 24-hour-period. And now it was about 4:00 in the morning. On Saturday, he'd been tied up. He'd had to watch Kathy. Then look for spaces and he had a history final that next week. Or maybe he was just putting it off. But he'd gone to bed early and his alarm was set for 3. He promptly got up, dressed, sprayed on some cologne and grabbed his guitar. He was prepared. He was ready. And he was in love.

A/N: Hate to leave you hanging, here, but I decided it'd be better to hold off until the next installment. That just makes it so much more worthwhile, as I don't see this ending anytime soon. This chapter wasn't as good as maybe the last one was, because it is, once again, character driven and transitional. It also has like no on-screen moments on it, as of yet. Please R and R. There is no such thing as a bad review.