More Chapter 6: Pregnant, a gilmore girls fanfic

5.06 (sorry, I mis-numbered the last ep.) Norman Mailer, I'm Pregnant! episode addition.

Takes up where we left L&L.

(I know, I know. Wouldn't happen, but if it did it might like this.... So, indulge me.

And, Happy Halloween.)

Dark reality comes to Stars' Hollow

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Lorelai watched Luke work for a while and sipped at the heavenly coffee, stealing a glance over her shoulder at Norman Mailer now and then too as she sat.

"Artists like to think they are only unto themselves, but that isn't true," she heard the elderly bard drone. "We all want and need an audience. Whether we admit it or not. Sure we write for ourselves, and can do it in a vacuum too for all we care, but when it comes right down to it at the end of the day, we need someone to read it."

"So, symbiosis?" queried the journalist.

No, Sycophant, thought Lorelai and sipped again.

She tuned out the Luke Salon then and returned to watching the man himself putter around the diner. Things were good, she thought contentedly, and the coffee was good. And Luke was... she glanced over at him as he returned with the ice tea pitcher in hand, with yet another roll of his eyes... Well, Luke was Luke, and just what he ought to be, which was great by her. She smiled warmly at him then causing him to look at her a moment before setting the pitcher down.

"What's with you?" he asked with typical tact.

"Nothing," she smiled into another sip.

"Uh hunh," he eyed her doubtfully.

"Really, Inspector: Nothing!" she insisted with a laugh. "You are entirely too suspicious."

"And you are entirely too happy," he returned and reached for the coffee pot to top her off. It was his well-tried ploy for lengthening her stay. Hadn't failed him yet.

"That's just it!"

"What's it?"

"I'm happy," she told him, and then lowered her voice and leaned in a bit, "And you're a big part of that, buddy. You are just my Little Mary Sunshine."

"I am not your Little Mary Sunshine," he frowned.

"All right," she conceded, "But you do make me happy."

Instantly Luke's face transformed from suspicious grump to pleased as punch. (Lorelai loved it when that happened.)

"Really?" he checked.

"Absolutely. You could not make me any happier if you told me you were installing that pizza oven tomorrow."

"Lorelai, I told you I am not going to install a pizza oven."

"I know! And yet, I still want to sleep with you. And look at you. And drink your coffee too. I should say, 'No pizza oven?! Well, kiss my ass, Burger-man!... but I don't. I just...."

But Luke was grinning now. Widely. A pretty rare sight, but not what she was thinking about right now.

"Oh, no you don't! Don't go there!" she warned him knowingly.

"You just told me to kiss your ass," he reminded her.

"Well, I meant it in the insult kind of way." She looked both ways before lowering her voice again, "And the other night doesn't count."

"If you say so," he shrugged and reached for a bussing tray.

"I do," she insisted.

Luke crossed around behind the counter to clear some tables then, but leaned over her shoulder first to whisper in her ear, "It totally counts."

Lorelai felt the warmth rise to her cheeks but was saved from making her sure-to-be-brilliant retort by the ringing of her cell phone. Without looking back at Luke, she snapped open her phone and slipped out past Norman Mailer and to the sidewalk to talk.

Luke eyed her through the window as he picked up the remaining detritus of the lunch rush (they were just down to the codger and that kid with the tape recorder drinking ice tea now.) She was excited, that was an easy tell, he observed as he watched her. Whomever she was speaking to, was telling her good news. He took a quick appraising glance at the salts and peppers then (good to go for dinner) before lifting his eyes to her again: Yep, definitely good news. She was even bouncing a little. Of course with Lorelai that could mean that the new anvil stamps were in at the post office. Only she would get excited about the 'Blacksmiths of the West' series. But no, then again, he mused as he watched her twirl a little (he had to smile at that), this looked bigger than stamps.

"Hey, Luke!" she burst back into the diner, her eyes aglow, "We're having a party tonight!"

"Who's we?" he asked, back in grumpy mode now (he had a rep after all.)

"Babette, Patty, Andrew, Gypsy, Mrs. Cassinni... Oh, everyone!... It's for Sookie!" she grinned and sat back down at the counter.

"Is it her birthday?"

"No, she just found out that she's pregnant again!"

"Oh."

"I can see that you are thrilled by the news," she laughed.

"No, it's..." he began uncomfortably.

She ignored his standard baby revulsion.

"So, we're having a little impromptu party tonight at her house after dinner. Everyone's invited. It's so exciting! I'm going to stop and get some flowers before I hit the post office to check on the anvils. Hey, can you come by after the dinner rush?"

"Well, I..."

"Oh," her face fell (he hated that).

"I'd like to. Nothing better than a baby celebration in my book," he began ('Uh hunh' she nodded, clearly convinced), "It's just that I've got that bank meeting tomorrow morning."

"Oh right," she nodded, remembering.

"And, I've got to finish getting the frickin' paperwork together," his tone was apologetic now.

She smiled at him and covered his hand with hers, "And you spent Sunday morning fixing my oven..."

"Well, you need dry socks."

"And Monday night we went to Sniffy's..."

"Maisie makes the really big brownies, which you needed..."

"And tomorrow you're coming to fix my backdoor lock."

"Well, that definitely needs to be done."

"You've been neglecting your work for me, Luke," she reprimanded him gently.

"It hasn't exactly been a sacrifice," he looked her in the eye on this.

"You do your paperwork tonight," she smiled, "You can congratulate Sookie and Jackson later. It's so exciting, though. They've been trying for this for awhile now. She told me that they just need someone else in their family. I thought that was such a great way of thinking about it... just needing 'someone else'. Just like that."

Luke took in the way she radiated happiness. Like a lamp or a campfire, or... something anyway. Something that you wanted to be near. Something that warmed you up.

"Maybe I could come by later," he thought aloud, "If I get finished."

"Maybe," she lit up further, "but do what you need to do first. Can't have this place going under."

"Yeah, I'm making my fortune on ice tea as we speak," he grumped with a dark look at the men by the window."

Lorelai grinned and began gathering her purse and phone to head back to the Inn.

"Hey, stop by here on your way to the party," he said impulsively.

"And why should I do that?" she flirted.

"I like lookin' at ya. And I want to send over a pie."

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It can't good for you, can it? Laughing so hard? Laughing so hard it takes the wind out of you? You need to keep the oxygen flowing in a pretty constant supply to your brain, right? But what the hell! You have to laugh. You just have to...

There was Patty and Babbette, and Morrie too, playing the tuneless upright in the corner. They'd go on long into the night, these party veterans, thought Lorelai. And there were Sookie and Jackson too, so clearly thrilled. Allowing themselves to really feel the happiness this time around, without all the baggage and fear that comes with the first pregnancy.

And everyone had funny stories to tell tonight. Lorelai's was about Bruce The Midwife wanting Jackson to tie off the cord with freshly boiled shoelaces. And then they were all howling again...

And how could it get any better than this? she wondered. But she knew how, of course. Just the addition of two more would complete this evening. Make it perfectly perfect. Just the mixing in of her family too. Those she needed most. But work was work and Rory and Luke needed to be where they were. She didn't really need to be anywhere herself, right now. No one was needing her. But that was a different house of cards she didn't want to dwell in at the moment—not during this nearly-perfect evening.

But she was tired now and at the point in her life where, fun or no, that just can't be ignored. And though it wasn't late, she wanted to be in early tomorrow. So, she said goodnight then and walked out into the fall evening listening to the closing strains of Morrie's Mac the Knife as she slipped away. Bittersweet, she thought with a sigh... which naturally made her think of chocolate...

Chocolate? Chocolate!

Hmmm... the market?

She badly wanted to stop at the diner as she strolled into the town square. Tap on it's darkened door until he padded down to let her in so she could slip into the flannel coziness of his bed and just be held. She sighed at that delicious thought and looked up: His light was on upstairs. But she knew he was working and she'd only be a distraction now. So she dutifully walked over to Doose's, focusing in again on the chocolate, but having an epiphany en route instead: What this evening really needed to seal its perfection was not chocolate but a Slushee nightcap!

"Hey Dean," she waved as she passed the register and made a direct line for the beautiful glowing red Slushee light. Like Manna drawing her in.

She wondered briefly how she could obtain such a Slushee light of her own. Was there a catalogue or a website somewhere? Because that would be so cool to put up in her kitchen. Her very own giant red Slushee drink in lamp form burning cheerily every time she came into the kitchen. Luke would blow a gasket, she thought and laughed a little out loud at that.

"Something funny?" she heard.

She turned to the speaker as she capped off her perfectly peaked Slushee with its domed cap.

"Just amusing myself," she replied as she looked up at a virtual mountain of a man. He was bearded (a little salt a pepper) and wearing a western style hat.

"Lonely?" the man asked, his eyes crinkling a bit.

"Uh, no. Just crazy," she told him with a smile.

He shifted the six pack of beer he was holding up under his arm, and picked up the nacho plate he'd just filled from the service counter before him.

"Most women are," he stated before turning to go to the check out counter.

Very nice, thought Lorelai with an eye roll, and turned away to search for a straw. Alas, to no avail: Dispenser sadly empty.

"Dean!" she called over as he was ringing up Mountain Man, "Where're the straws?"

"Oh sorry, Lorelai! I'll be over in just a minute!"

"That's okay, just tell me where they are," she returned.

"Cupboard, lower right!"

She found the straws and filled the dispenser too, before popping one into her Slushee and walking over to stand behind Mountain Man to pay.

"Sorry sir," she heard Dean say. And was he actually having to look up at this guy?

"But I'm only short thirty-three cents," groused Mountain Man.

Lorelai looked down and noticed for the first time that Mountain Man was leaning on a cane. It had a particularly intricate carved silver dog head for a handle. All fangs and drool. Lorelai shuddered a little.

"The owner is pretty picky about people paying what they owe," Dean returned a little testily.

"But it's thirty-three cents!"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't you have a penny jar or something?"

Lorelai almost snorted Slushee out her nose at the thought of Taylor leaving pennies out and unguarded.

"No," Dean told him.

"Is there an ATM somewhere in this place?"

"One. Up the street. But I can tell you right now that it's out of order," Dean told him.

"Shit-hole town," growled Mountain Man.

"Hey!" Dean protested with an apologetic look at Lorelai.

"It's all right, Dean," she soothed and opened up her purse. "Look, here's two-dollars. That should cover my Slushee and big guy's national debt here."

"Lorelai..." Dean looked doubtful.

"Dean, it's fine," she assured him.

Mountain Man shifted and looked over at Lorelai a moment, "Thanks," he said gruffly.

"Well, we crazy shit-hole-living women are just Crazy! like that," she said and walked out into the night, "bye Dean!" she called over her shoulder as she went.

Once outside her cell phone rang, and glancing at the number before she answered made her smile.

"Hey there, Burger-man!"

"Hey," was the doleful response.

"Uh oh. You do not sound happy."

"I'm not."

"Hmmm... novel!"

"Lorelai, I can't come to the party."

"Oh honey, don't worry about it. I'm on my way home now."

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed."

"No... Well, the part about missing you, yes I am."

"Luke, it's okay. Really. I'll see you tomorrow. I'd like to say that it'll be all the better for having waited, but I've just never seen the point in all that delayed gratification crap..."

"No, you never have," he agreed. She could hear the smile in his voice. Her smile. The one he wore when he was thinking about her. When she wasn't annoying him, that is.

"Ah now, that's better," she cooed.

"Wish it were."

"Work not going well?"

"I just like to have a head start for tax season."

"No fun," she told him sympathetically, "Do you need any help?"

"Yes, but not with the paperwork. Where are you now?" he asked.

"Walking past the book store."

"So, closer to home than the diner?"

"'Fraid so," she verified.

"Well," he sighed, "I'll come by tomorrow to work on the backdoor lock, after the bank. Can you meet me at your house at lunch time?"

"You bet! My house tomorrow. Lunch time. A backdoor lock fixing date, " she smiled, "And maybe we can find time to squeeze in some more traditional dating activities too."

"I'm liking the sound of that."

"Well, good."

"Good."

"'Night, Luke."

"'Night, Lorelai."

She snap-closed her phone then, dropped it in her purse, then sighed and smiled, and slurped her Slushee too. Still an almost-perfect night. She was happy. Rory was right about that, she thought as she clicked along home. She felt full of possibilities. Even being tired didn't matter so much in this mood.

Once home, she went around to the backdoor (keys still stuck in the lock) and noted Morrie and Babette's darkened house. Must still be at the party, she shook her head and smiled as she reset the dishtowel over the key-in-the-doorknob and went in. She dropped her purse on a nearby chair then and walked over to flip on the light and check her answering machine.

'Hello! This is Lorelai and I've met Norman Mailer personally: He's got a bladder made of titanium! Leave a message at the beep, please.'

"Lorelai, this is your mother. I'm not even going to pretend to understand that message. I simply wanted to make it clear that we are on for dinner Friday night. After your schedule mix-up last week, I wanted to clarify. I also know that you walked barefoot on my Persian, young lady. Don't deny it! And the maid found olives in the Baccarat flower bowl. You are a barbarian, Lorelai Gilmore! An absolute barbarian. I don't know how Rory survived, I honestly don't. I also want to make it clear that.....---"

Thankfully Emily was beeped off at this point.

Lorelai sighed and slipped out of her shoes. Well, she wouldn't do that again. Hartford pizza sucked anyway, she reflected and turned to head back into the kitchen to toss out the now-empty Slushee cup.

"Ahh!" she shouted instead at what she saw, "Wh-What are you doing here?"

"I overheard you on the phone before and thought 'Poor Lorelai, all alone tonight. That's too bad.' Thought you might like some company. So here I am."

"You scared the crap out of me! And, d-did you follow me here?" she asked in alarm.

"Street-smart, that's you!" laughed the Mountain Man as he leaned on his cane and took another step into her kitchen, "You really should get that lock fixed."

She looked up into his reddened eyes.

"It's been a long day... And I'm not looking for company," she told him firmly.

"Now, where's that small-town hospitality you always hear tell of?" he asked and meandered further into the room.

"It ended at thirty three cents!" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. Why had she taken her shoes off? She wondered irrationally.

"Well, I owe you," he said setting a bottle down on the table. "Beer?"

"No. I'd really like you to leave now," she insisted.

"Don't want to," he told her and withdrew a different smaller, though clearly stronger, bottle from his coat pocket and took a big drink. His eyes never leaving her.

"Don't want to? Look, this is my house and I don't know you and it's late... so, if you don't mind..." she gestured angrily to the door.

"But I do mind. Come on, Lorelai. Relax. You're alone tonight. I'm alone. Let's just... talk or something.."

Alone.

"Talk? I don't think so. I don't really want to have to call the police to get you to leave. But if you can't comprehend that I do want you to leave, and are unable or unwilling to take that action, I will," she put her hands on her hips.

"Just wanted to talk," he said sadly. "Look, I know this wasn't the smartest thing to do... but... I'm alone, see? And you're the first person in... Well, in a long time, that treated me at all like a human being. That did something nice, just because they could. So I... I don't know. I'm crazy. You're right. You don't know me. If my daughter'd had a guy come in like this, I would have killed him on sight. So I understand. But, you just seemed... well, nice."

"Not this nice! Really. So bearing that in mind, I'm sorry you're lonely, but please...Go. Now." She pointed to the door.

He regarded at her a moment then nodded and turned away to leave. She took a breath in relief, but caught it again when he stumbled a little and reached a hand over to steady himself on the table.

"Oh man!" she hurried over and managed to scoop a kitchen chair under him before he fell over.

"How much have you had to drink there, Mountain Man?" she asked.

He only grunted in reply.

"Where's your car?" she asked in frustration.

He shrugged, "Moline."

"Moline?" she repeated in confusion, Moline Mountain Man? "How did you get here then?"

"My truck," he told her and rubbed his hand over his eyes.

"But you said it was in Moline."

"My car is. You asked about my car. Japanese piece of crap, " he explained with a slur (his breath burned at her eyes as she leaned over him,) "My ex-wife got it."

"Then, where's your truck?" she asked and turned around to switch on the coffee pot.

"Truck stop on the 84. I walked in. Stupid laws against big rigs in the town square."

"Is there someone nearby I can call for you? Someone to come get you?" she offered.

"No."

Lorelai sighed, "I am going to make you some coffee now, which you are going to drink. And then I'm going to take you back to your truck where you will sleep this off."

He looked up at her, "You're being nice to me again," he observed quietly.

"Go figure. As a rule, I'm pretty self-centered. Just ask my fan base," said Lorelai in irritation, sticking a mug directly under the spout of streaming coffee to save time.

"What?"

"Nevermind. Here, drink this," she handed the mug over.

"Don't make me drink alone," he smiled weakly.

Lorelai rolled her eyes, and stuck another mug into the maker to fill it up as well.

"What were you thinking?" she finally asked, after they'd each taken a sip. "I mean coming in here like this? What could you have possibly been thinking? That I? That we?..."

He shrugged pathetically.

"I was thinking you were pretty. And nice," he looked up at her, "Come on. Sit down here by me," he coaxed.

"Man, you do not give up!" she said in exasperation.

"Not when I see what I like," he said, and tapped the chair next to him with his cane, "Come on, Lorelai, I don't bite..." he smiled...

And it was then that she saw something, something in that smile...

She couldn't really put her finger on it...

She regarded him a moment. What was it... ?

And then swallowed down a sudden bilious realization...

(a little cold clench snaking its way into the pit of her stomach...)

And the penny dropped...

Oh!

Oh, no!

Oh, no, no, no, no...

She managed to remain stock still but flicked her eyes ever so subtly over to the chair by the now-closed backdoor where she'd dropped her purse and phone when she'd come home.

It wasn't there.

Crap.

Her heart rate accelerated palpably.

She swallowed again and flicked her eyes back over to Mountain Man still sitting at her kitchen table. He was watching her. Still smiling that smile.

That's the mug I used for breakfast this morning, she thought apropos of nothing, as she took a deliberately casual sip from her own.

And then the babble began (damn it!) like it had a frickin' life of its own.

"Um... Okay, don't really have time to sit down right now, Mountain M--.... er, Big Guy!.. Sorry! Don't know your name! But, it's late, and I have to be at work early and my b-boyfriend's coming over soon anyway," she tried with a smile. "And you should get going. Really. You should. Let me... Uh... just let me get my shoes in the other room, and then I'll take you back to your truck. Just be a minute..."

She turned to walk away then. Very nonchalant there, Lorelai.

And then... Please, please, please... I'll never drink coffee again.... Anything...

She could see her shoes plainly there, just under the phone table. Pink Choo pumps. Adorable. Had been on sale. Just a few steps away. A very few steps now. She focused in then on the phone table. On the phone itself.... slowly she reached for it...

And yelped in fear as the silver headed dog came crashing out of no where, smashing the phone before her to smithereens.

She looked at it in dumb shock a moment, her hand frozen just inches away still in mid-reach.

She turned to look at him then. He was closer to her than she'd realized.

"W-would you like an Altoid?" she asked, shaken to her core.

"What?!"

Lorelai backed up a little, "You should consider accepting it," she informed him. And then another wee little step backwards towards the living room then too. "When someone offers you an Altoid, it's usually a polite hint about the condition of your breath. So, it's a good idea to take said hint because bad breath can really..."

She was scared now. Definitely scared. Knees weak, adrenalin-surging-scared.

"You're crazy," he said and stepped in to her, smiling again.

Lorelai moved awkwardly behind the couch then, trying to gauge how far it was to the front door at the same time.

She nodded, "I am. I am crazy. Ask anyone. But I told you that already. And you should get the hell out of here. That would really be the best thing right now. And, if you think I'm going to run up the stairs where there is a working phone but yet another really crappy doorlock attached to a door that may look real enough but is actually made out of paper, then you are crazy too. I've seen the movies, my friend, and running upstairs is the biggest mistake you can make..."

"Seems to me that running anywhere would be a big mistake for you right now. And it would disappoint me terribly," he told her.

"Look, Mountain Man, (his eyes widened at that)" she tried a different tack, forcing a smile of her own, "My boyfriend's going to be here any time, really. And we don't have to say a word about this... "

"No, he's not."

"Wh-what? Of course he is."

"He's not coming until tomorrow. Going to fix the lock then. Dumbass should've fixed it before now, dontcha' think? You're awfully pretty to be here alone with no backdoor lock."

"It's a small town. People hear everything. They're nosey."

"Good thing no one on the block is at home then," he replied. "I checked," he added, his smile widening by the minute. He reached into his pocket, withdrew his bottle and took another swig before replacing it again.

"What's your name?" she asked then.

"Mountain Man's works for me."

"Come on," she wheedled, "you must have a name."

"You talk to much," he told her as he moved into that space perfectly equi-distant from both exits.

He tapped his cane menacingly on the floor. She noticed.

"So," she began from behind the couch, "Why the dog?"

"I like dogs," he shrugged, "And you're wasting time. This doesn't have to be difficult, Lorlelai. Why make it that way? We could just go upstairs for awhile and then I'll leave."

"A real cuddler, hunh?" she laughed inappropriately, but sobered immediately with the realization that he was still dead serious, "Look... M-Mountain Man, I have a daughter," she said a little desperately now. "I have a life. A boyfriend. You said that I was nice. Why would you want to do this...to me?"

"Sounds like a lovely little life you got there, Lorelai. Must be nice," he said caustically, "But I'm here tonight to tell you that sometimes things happen. Not nice things. Even in this shit-hole town. Sometimes fucking not nice things happen!" he was shouting now. "Like your wife gets knocked up by someone else and leaves... Or your little girl gets sent to Iraq by a man no smarter than a bag of hair! Or your job gets outsourced to India! Or you get hurt trying to do a job you're too old and fat to do... These things happen, Lorelai. Fucking Not Nice things! And if they haven't happened to you yet, then maybe it's goddam time they did!"

He took another step toward her. His intent plain.

And Lorelai felt a cold quivering begin within her. She could taste the metallic bitter of adrenalin in her mouth.

This was going to happen. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it, whatever the little voice inside her was trying to say to the contrary.

"I'm sorry Mountain Man. It sounds like you've had some terrible things..." she said quietly

"Don't really give a fuck what you think, Lorelai, so don't be sorry. I don't want you goddam sorry for me. Now, what I want is for you to go upstairs. I can hurt you here, or you can go upstairs. Those are your choices."

"I will give you anything you want to leave now!" she tried bargaining. "Money? Do you want money? My parents are very rich. I can get you money, if that's what you want!"

"Yeah, there's something about a lady slurping a Slushee in the street that just screams money," he laughed. "Upstairs, Lorelai. I prefer a bed."

And he punctuated this point by slamming his cane down onto her coffee table, splintering it down the middle with a loud crack.

Lorelai jumped this time and felt the tears threaten but turned and walked slowly toward the staircase.

"That's better," he nodded.

She started climbing the stairs. Maybe if she hurried she could reach the phone after all? He was clearly slower than she... Maybe it was a good thing she'd taken off her shoes after all...

Almost to the landing, she made her move and dashed up a couple of steps.

But, of course he stopped her.

Damn it.

He stopped her with the cane. And before she knew it she was on her back on the landing. And pretty sure her leg was broken too. Once you've broken a leg in your life, you're pretty certain if you've done it again.

Oddly, she wasn't crying in pain this time or making any noise. Wonder why, she thought dizzily. And, ow! Her side hurt too, when she breathed... And he was over her now, she knew that. She could smell his breath again. Actually, he was on her. Ripping her shirt open, sliding his hand up under her skirt and ripping away the scrap of silk there (the new blue ones, she thought numbly). She could feel the cool air between her legs now...

Yes, he was on her, though not in her (not yet.) She was trying to focus (she should do something, she knew--but what? Scream? Would anyone hear?) And, confused as she was... the pain so far away she almost wondered if it were someone elses, she looked him right in the eye...

His face just inches above hers...

"You're not going to do this, Mountain Man."

Was that her voice? She couldn't be sure.

"The hell I am," he growled.

"No. You're not."

He froze over her then and looked down into her face.

"You have a daughter," she told him, deadly calm. "You have a daughter..."

He blinked at this logic a moment.

"Fuck you!" he whispered.

And she watched, from what seemed a great distance away, as his eyes filled with tears...

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She opened her eyes and looked around groggily. She could hear the TV. That much she was sure of. CNN Headline News.

And then, of course, it all came back to her. She looked around herself. Still on the stair landing.

She tried to sit up but it hurt and she couldn't get her breath and besides, it hurt!

"You awake now?" she heard.

She looked down at her legs. One clearly still broken. The other tethered to the newel post with what looked like a knotted belt.

Crap.

She focused on the origin of the voice now, down in the living room. She watched him hoist himself off her sofa with great effort. CNN still droning in the background.

Mountain Man staggered over toward her then. Could he be even more drunk now? she wondered wearily.

"World's going to hell in a hand basket," he told her.

She nodded. Mute. Might've laughed at the absurdity of it all if it wouldn't have hurt so much.

"Fucking war and starvation everywhere," he went on. He stood at the base of the stairway, looking up at her now. An odd expression on his face.

She found her voice then, though it was dry, "I think at some point this evening someone must've plopped me right in the middle of a David Mamet play," she decided out loud. "Or one of those guys who writes those plays like that... You know, where you pay seventy-five bucks to sit in the theater and watch the psychopath terrorize the girl because it's Broadway and therefore must be art?...(her throat still felt scratchy and something tasted salty too. She tried clearing it.) What's the one with the blind girl? Audrey Hepburn played her in the movie."

"Wait Until Dark," supplied the Mountain Man, his diction surprisingly crisp.

She nodded and looked at him.

"Okay, Mountain Man, you've broken one leg and tied up the other. You didn't rape me, not that I remember anyway..."

He looked away, "I didn't."

"So, what happens now? Because, buddy, I've got a headache the size of Toledo here."

He regarded her a moment.

"Are your parents really rich?" he asked.

"Yes."

'Then why do you live here?"

"Because I like it and I'm not rich."

"What about your boyfriend?" he asked.

She sighed in irritation, "What about him?"

"Well, do you... need him?"

She paused then, not expecting a question like this.

"Need?"

"Yeah, do you need him?"

She looked him in the eye, "More and more by the day."

He nodded.

"What about him? Does he need you?" he asked.

She sighed. What the hell did it matter now?

"He doesn't really," she leveled at him, "And I keep waiting for him to figure that out. So chew on that, Big Boy."

Mountain Man nodded.

"My daughter," he began tenuously, lost in his own thoughts... "My daughter... She got caught in one of those car bombs. In Iraq," he told her quietly.

Lorelai swallowed, thinking of Rory. So suddenly incredibly grateful that she was safe at Yale.

"Did she... Is she...?"

"I don't know. She's in a hospital over there, but I don't know anything yet." He looked up at her through his drunken haze, as if willing her to understand something.

"I'm sorry for her. She must have been terrified."

They looked at each other for another moment.

"I almost raped you," he told her unnecessarily.

"Go back to your truck, Mountain Man," she told him back.

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The phone was ringing. She could hear it. Far away. Like in Egypt or something. Her phone was ringing in Egypt.... Why was her phone in Egypt?

She blinked her eyes open and squinted down. The quilt that had once hung above her on the wall was tucked around her now. The Crazy Quilt she had made. She remembered the day she hung it up. It had rained.

She tried to move a little and groaned in pain. The status of her legs had not miraculously altered since last she checked.

Then the phone rang again... She heard her own voice. She sounded happy; something about Norman Mailer's bladder...

Wait! Hadn't Mountain Man smashed the phone? How could it still ring? she wondered through the fog of her exhaustion. Oh well, who the hell cared...

'Lorelai, pick up the phone! (the answering machine clearly still worked) You were supposed to be here an hour ago and I must have PawPaw and ChinChin at the groomers in forty-five minutes. You understood this perfectly yesterday. Or so you claimed, but I suppose the memory is the first to go in the elderly...."

Oh, right. The phone upstairs. The phone upstairs could still ring.

Mystery solved.

Now, if she could just sleep maybe... she might feel better and then things wouldn't hurt so much...

And then the damn phone was ringing again. Not in Egypt this time. Somewhere closer now, like maybe the Bronx. Why wouldn't Rory answer it?

"Mom! Mom, pick up! I've tried your cell, The Inn, and Luke's. Where are you? Grandma wants to re-re-confirm for Friday and won't leave me alone until I have your formal RSVP to give her..."

Rory! It was Rory. Rory wasn't home, she remembered. And she wasn't in Iraq either. Not like poor Mountain Girl. Lucky, smart Rory...

Thank God...

Sleeping would really be the best thing right now, she thought again... If people would just stop calling and leave her in peace to rest, she could tell them everything they needed to know when she woke up...

Damn phone.

And she was tired. So tired....

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So, she tried to piece it all together in her mind once again.

But it was difficult because her head still hurt. She knew Luke had come to fix the lock and found her. And that Mountain Man was long gone by then. But she only knew that because Luke had told her so once they were at the hospital and they had awakened her.

And then there were doctors poking and prodding and fixing and stitching and checking, 'Is there any chance that you are pregnant, Miss Gilmore? Before we X-ray you?' 'Anything is possible!' she'd quipped, but amended it quickly at the Stop-Kidding-Around-This-Is-Serious look on Luke's face. 'No, not pregnant', she said hastily.

So here they were now, finally, in the room waiting for family, the police having left after taking the report ('He had bad breath too,' she'd confided at the end of her tale). And Luke was just sitting in the chair against the wall. Silent. His mouth tight.

She wondered what she could possibly say to him. She wondered if things had changed forever.

She knew that they had.

Her leg was broken, her rib cracked, and she had a concussion (seven stitches and a shaved bit of hair proof of that). It would be months before Luke would tell her that her face had been covered with blood when he found her, and even then only in the dark late at night, snuggling under the covers where they both felt safe.

But now there were her parents and Rory to be brave for. To put on the hale and hearty routine for. Because that's what you do when you are sick or hurt or scared, you comfort those you love to protect them from it. So they won't have to suffer too.

And as Rory cried softly into her shoulder, and Emily yelled about her thoughtlessness with the doorlock (promising to order her a Panic Room right away) and Richard stood stoic in the corner, Lorelai felt oddly comforted because these were exactly the reactions she expected of them. And getting what she expected was going a long way to making her feel better right now.

Though through it all, Luke remained uncharacteristically (and miserably) silent.

And, a day or two later, after sleepless nights and well-meaning visitors wanting to hear the story again and again, and she and Luke still not talking about it, she'd had enough and demanded to go home.

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She hobbled down the stairs, one at a time, grateful that the cast came only to her knee this time around. Luke had rehung her quilt at the landing she noted, and the shattered coffee table and phone were gone. Good.

She found him sitting in the kitchen, his arms resting on his knees staring at something in his hands.

She cleared her throat a little and he looked up, surprised to see her there.

"You're up," he tried to smile.

She nodded and waved him off as he hopped to his feet to help her to a chair.

"Coffee?" he asked a bit too brightly.

"Please!"

He poured her a mug and sat down next to her while she sipped.

"So, the new locks are in place," he began. "I had the locksmith come yesterday and do all the doors and windows. I wanted a professional to do it."

"Thank you," she said into her sip.

"I wish you'd think again about an alarm system..."

"No, Luke. No Panic Room. No alarm system."

"Well, I think you should reconsider letting me move in then," he tried. "Rory's for it. Your parents are for it..."

"Luke," she smiled indulgently at him, "I think we are on that track. I really do. But not like this. Not because you're afraid for me."

He nodded morosely.

"I just have to be able to... to come home again. On my own. Though someday, and maybe soon, I would love to come home to you, I need to do this first. I have to get back on the horse. Myself. Or nothing will ever be right."

He sighed, "All right."

She took a sip of her coffee.

"What have you got there?" she asked then.

He looked down into his hand as if he'd forgotten something was there, "Nothing," he evaded.

"Luke..."

"All right," he sighed irritably, "It's your underwear. The underwear that he..." he ended gruffly and got to his feet to walk away from her. He tossed the blue silk into the trash.

"I found them by the back door and then I came in and kicked a hole in your wall right over there," he pointed. She turned her head to look at the foot-sized hole down low by the baseboard, next to her sewing machine.

"I see," she said, taking that in, "Did you hurt your foot?"

"No," he responded.

"Okay. Did it make you feel any better?"

He shrugged, "A little."

"Well... Good," she took another sip.

"I'll replaster it for you on Tuesday."

"No hurry," she said gently.

He nodded and looked at her, "Lorelai..."

"I know, Luke," she nodded, "I understand."

He nodded at that too.

"Luke, I want you to know something," she began a new thought.

He looked at her expectantly.

"I really need you," she told him with meaning, "I mean... I do. I need you you. Not just for locks or coffee, but... for you."

He swallowed, "Well, I need you too."

She considered that, "But Luke... Why?"

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"I mean, I think it's probably perfectly clear to the world why I need you..."

"I don't know about that..."

"I do," she assured him, "But why on earth would you need me? Aside from the obvious, of course."

"Do not minimize the obvious!" he tried to lighten the mood.

She ignored him, "Luke, why do you need me?" she demanded.

"Lorelai, that's a crazy question..."

"It's not," she shook her head, "Indulge me, I'm hurt."

He looked at her a moment.

"Well, I just do. I love you. You make me happy," he said simply.

"I do?" she asked in genuine surprise.

"More than anything or anyone ever has."

"B-but, I drive you crazy..."

"Yes, you do."

"But, I make you happy?"

"Yes."

"And, you love me?"

"Yes."

"So, I drive you crazy and make you happy and I love you, and now it turns out that you love me too?" she checked.

He paused and looked at her, a little smile playing around his lips (a real one), "Looks like it."

"Do you think we would have gotten to this point without the Bad-David-Mamet-Play-Slash-'B'- Horror-Movie?"

"If I'm following you right, I sure as hell hope so."

"Then we're going to be okay?"

"As long as you're going to be okay, then I'll be okay," he explained.

She smiled at that and so did he.

"Okay!" she said in relief, "May I have some more coffee now please?"

"Lorelai, you've had enough... The doctor said..."

"Please!"

He sighed then as he poured, "Half a cup. That's it."

She grinned in adoration, "You're so good to me!"