A/N: Yes, these characters are mine.

"Thanks again, Sookie," Lorelai said through the window. "We'll call you when we get there." She blew a kiss and walked to the back of the car.

Lorelai began yanking the suitcases out of the trunk before Luke stopped her and motioned for her to get up onto the curb. He grimaced under the weight of her bags, but slid them next to her wordlessly.

He stepped onto the curb with her, their bags between them- his small blue duffel bag, her black suitcase and the garment bag that housed their formal clothing for the funeral.

He peered into her eyes for a minute, and his forehead unwrinkled as he adjusted his cap. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, a man in work gloves and a fluorescent yellow vest walked by, blowing an ear-piercing whistle. "Keep it moving! Let's go!"

Luke jumped a little, but picked up their bags and walked through the automatic doors without a second glance at her. She followed just a few steps behind.

Everything had been sort of hazy since Donald had called and given her the news, but Lorelai was clear-headed enough to know that this was really weird, this whole situation. She had thought about going on vacation with Luke before, but in her head it had never been this uncomfortable or awkward – quite the opposite, if anything. Then again, her fantasies didn't have her attending a funeral either, so she was going to have to adjust regardless.

After checking in, handing off their luggage and going through security, they made their way through the maze of gifts shops and gates until finally spotting the sign above the counter that read, "SANTA BARBARA – 6:10 – ON TIME." Luke checked his watch. "We still have an hour and a half to kill. You wanna get somethin' to eat?"

Lorelai nodded. The lump in her throat was beginning to get painful; it had been lodged in there for a good twelve hours now.

She looked up at Luke, who was showing absolutely no sign of emotion. This wasn't unusual, of course, but she was normally good at handling him at face-value. She knew what lines to cross and which to stay clear of, when to flirt shamelessly and when to be straight with him. But when it came to this raw level of emotion, she was somewhat surprised to find herself at a loss. She looked at his set jaw and steady eyes and wished she knew what was going through his head.

She wondered what he wanted to say outside on the curb, if it was like, "Lorelai, I love you more than anything," or more like "I forgot extra socks." Or maybe it was just, "I'm scared and I don't want to go."

She wondered, for the thousandth time that afternoon, how he was handling all this. If it brought back memories of his dad's funeral, or his mom's for that matter. She wondered if he was nervous about flying, or about seeing Mia's family, or about seeing her cry, or if he was going to cry himself.

Luke could feel her eyes burning a hole into his face, but kept gaze roaming the concourse for anything that seemed even somewhat palatable. Eventually he gave in and glanced down at her, but she didn't look away like he expected.

"What?"

"I um, it's just that I'm not really that hungry, now that I think about it." He looked at her like she was crazy, which was, at least, something. She knew that face, it was comforting. She decided to stop trying to read him and just act as normally as possible, given their situation.

Maybe, though, a little liquor would help coax his heart out onto his sleeve.

"But let's get a drink, shall we?"

She linked her arm through his and they made their way to something called Concords, a restaurant lounge that reminded him of a sleazy hotel singles bar. "It looks like a Starbucks," she noted, flopping down on a maroon loveseat.

He ordered a beer, she a martini, and they sipped in companionable silence for a few minutes before one of them spoke.

"So. Are you nervous about flying?"

He considered it for a moment. "I'm not really nervous."

She didn't look like she believed him.

"I mean, it just doesn't seem natural to me sometimes," he continued. "I get the physics behind it and everything, how they can put this machine in the air that weighs like fifteen tons, but I'm still astounded at the fact that people have enough faith in the damn thing to carry them safely for thousands and thousands of miles. Trains get derailed every day, buses are constantly ramming into things, but hey sure, let's fly. Through the air. That's sane."

She jumped in before he could launch into a full-on rant.

"So this is your first time, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, as long as you're not nervous, then."

There was a short pause, one that seemed to have lengthy silence potential. Definitely something to avoid. Keep talking, she thought.

"You know, flying can be pretty fun, with the right company. And as long as you can keep your mind off the fact that you're in this weird sort of steel tube hurtling around the sky."

He looked at her pointedly and shifted in his chair. His leg began vibrating up and down and he started peeling the label off his beer. Dammit, she thought, I totally just freaked him out. Fix it.

"Me and Rory? On our flight to Europe, we would take turns sneaking those airsick bags with us into the lavatory and then we'd fill them with the little shampoos and soaps and maxi pads they have hidden away in the walls. I mean, why they have them in the first place is totally beyond me, you can't even tilt forward in those things without hitting your head on something, so I don't know who would try to wash their hair in there."

Luke continued peeling.

"And the maxi pads they have in there are hilarious, they're seriously from 1986- they come in these huge containers and have a picture of an Olivia Newton-John look-alike on the front, feathered hair and leg warmers and everything. You'd think if they were changing the parts on the plane every couple years or so, it would occur to someone to change up the maxi pad storage area they have back there. Maybe go crazy, get some tampons. Or hell, stock some condoms while you're at it, because the only thing those bathrooms are good for anyway definitely… involve, um, condoms."

She wanted to stop rambling, but seemed to be having trouble. Eventually, when she saw that he wasn't even looking in her direction anymore, she gave up and went back to her own thoughts. At least there was a chance, now that he wasn't any paying attention, that he hadn't heard the thing about the condoms. It was inappropriate enough for her to be babbling on like this, but that was terrible.

She was used to lightening the mood. It was what a decade and a half of growing up Gilmore had done to her.

She was definitely out of her element in this situation, but she couldn't face just sitting there and mulling over why they were there in the first place. Instead, she wanted to focus on Luke, to try to help him through this instead of having to deal with her own grief.

Lorelai had never really had to deal with a big family death before, not unless you count Gran. But Gran's death had been different than this, these were a totally different set of emotions. Gran hadn't helped raise Rory, hadn't guided Lorelai through her most vulnerable years. She hadn't given her a chance to start over in a new town, with a new home, a brand new life with her brand new kid. Mia taught her... well, virtually everything, from how to properly change a diaper to making her own bed, how to open a savings account.

She had been the one to first give Lorelai directions to Luke's for coffee. When she'd returned to the inn that day, she begged Mia for the details on the guy behind the counter. "He's a good kid," she'd said. "But he needs friends. He's had a tough time of it, like you."

Luke heard her sniffle and finally turned back toward her. Tears were running down her cheeks and she looked up at him, pleading for attention with her eyes. His expression softened and he sat down beside her, gently guiding her to the crook of his arm.

"Hey, Lorelai. Stop. It's gonna be fine."

She nodded tearfully and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Luke felt the ball of guilt in his chest grow even bigger, he didn't mean to get so absorbed in his own thoughts. 'I've always wanted her to need me,' he thought to himself, 'and now here she is, looking at me with those eyes and I'm not even being there for her.'

Unbeknownst to Lorelai, he had spent a better part of the day in a heated argument with himself. There was a part of him- and he couldn't believe this- there was a part of him that was actually sort of excited.

Well, not exactly excited, of course, but let's say he wasn't not un-excited about it. And it was making him feel like a total ass.

He could barely acknowledge it, the fact that these thoughts were coming out of his head.

At first, he was just relieved that he could be there for her in a time like this, because he knew how much worse this would be for her if he couldn't be there.

Then later in the morning, as he had been standing in front of his closet figuring out what to bring, he suddenly realized that he was packing only the clothes that she had bought for him years ago. He was subconsciously packing for her, picking out the things she'd said over the years looked good on him, trying to impress her.

He dumped the clothes out of his duffel bag and settled on just his black suit and tie, and an assorted array of plaid. This was no time to be thinking about his relationship, for chrissakes. I mean really, how insensitive could he be?

Word had gotten out around town about Mia, and people were coming in and out all day to give him their condolences. They knew how close she and Luke had been growing up, and he eventually lost count of the number of times he'd had to say words like "heart attack" and "funeral." He couldn't wait for Lorelai and Sookie to come get him, he couldn't stand being in the diner for very much longer.

Finally, just as he'd stopped looking up eagerly every time the door opened, Lorelai breezed in and sat at the counter.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, let me grab my stuff and give Lane the key."

"Can I get a cup of coffee for the road?" She looked tired, but nice.

He reached over and began making a new pot, feeling her eyes on the back of his head.

This was something Luke was particularly attuned to, he could always feel it when someone was staring at him. Even though he considered himself sort of a loner, a generally ordinary guy, it seemed like he'd been in a lot of situations throughout his life in which every eye in the room was on him. From his mom's funeral as a kid to his years doing track in high school, he got used to people staring. They did it after Rachel left. The day Lorelai announced her engagement. He could always feel it, and it always bothered him.

Just as he turned to pour her coffee, she stated nonchalantly, "oh, and we're sharing a hotel room in Santa Barbara. I hope that's okay."

Luke tried not to visibly jump out of his skin. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, um, I guess the school there is having its graduation or something and practically every room in town is booked with parents. My mom's agent was finally able to bribe some family into staying in the dorm room with their kid for the weekend, so the two of us have a place to stay. I was only able to get one room, though."

"Wow... poor kid," was all Luke managed to get out.

"Heh, yeah, that's gonna be one hell of a graduation for him, I'm sure." She took a sip. "And I didn't want to intrude on Mia's family, I'm sure they have a lot of people staying with them already so I figured…"

"No no," he said quickly, "that's fine, I guess. I mean, you don't have cooties or anything. Sharing a room is fine."

Truth be told, the persistent feeling of guilt was sort of fading, the longer he held her in his arms. Two guys at the bar were staring at them and talking, probably wondering if he was comforting her just to be able to nail her later. He tried to ignore them and focus on Lorelai, who was starting to calm down.

He told himself that he was just being a realist. After all, he had dealt with death enough to know that, while grieving was certainly important, the person wasn't coming back and there was no point in dragging out the process. So yeah, it was okay that his mind was more preoccupied with the woman in his arms than the woman who had died. Right?

As soon as he had that thought, though, he felt bad again. He focused on Mia.

Lorelai slipped her bare arm under his and laced their fingers together, sighing deeply.

Luke's poor, conflicted conscience was wearing him out.

This was going to be a long week.