A/N: To catterwall, the best beta I could ever have asked for.
Lorelai woke up to voices on the balcony beneath their window.
"Those waves were off the richter, bro."
"Seriously, man, they were breaking like crazy. Did you see that last one I caught? That shit was insane."
Right. California. She didn't think people actually talked like that.
There was a pain in her neck when she tried to move, and the sun's glare forced her to retreat back under the covers. She slowly came to, listening anxiously for any sound of Luke. All she could hear were the surfers. And it smelled like weed.
"Jesus," she muttered.
Luke was gone. The sheets were folded on the couch, and the clock said it was 10:30. She was starving. She forgot to call Sookie back. She had to go to a funeral.
"Coffee," she mumbled.
Lorelai glanced around the room half-heartedly searching for a note. There wasn't one.
She put a pot on, letting it percolate while she dressed herself. Her funeral clothes reminded her of Gran.
She wondered if, next time she wore them, they would remind her of Mia.
As she stepped out onto the street she tried not to scan for Luke. The few people in her peripheral vision were darkly tanned blonde girls in Ugg boots and white frilly skirts. She put on her sunglasses. It felt like she had a hangover.
'Emotional hangover,' she thought. 'Good name for a band. Mental note to tell Lane.'
She caught sight of herself in a window and realized how much she stuck out; black clothes and black hair reflected in the pastel colors of State Street.
She came to a small café, ordered coffee and a donut and sat down outside. She took in the skater boys in their Von Dutch and the girls with their Louis Vuitton purses. It reminded her of New Haven, only way more ditzy. And with fewer minorities. She touched her forehead, not wanting last night to fully sink in.
She picked up the phone to call Rory, thought better of it, and turned it off completely.
Lorelai asked the busboy directions to the church where Mia's service was being held. A cab was unnecessary; it was within walking distance. She decided to head over. If she strolled slowly enough she might only be a few minutes early.
Her mind was torn between wanting to remember what it was like to be with Luke and wanting to forget it ever happened. She felt like she had been totally robbed of the giddy, excited feelings that come with discovering you're wanted by the boy you like, robbed of that feeling of overwhelming desire from every light touch, robbed of the only security she'd ever invested in. Where there should've been the thrill of a new relationship, there was only bitterness and unrest.
But it wouldn't be too difficult to ignore him today. She knew she would be focused on the service; not because she was terribly single-minded but because of the weight of whom she'd lost.
Mia's scarf was wrapped tightly in her purse. It had been the first present Lorelai had ever given her after she'd been taught to knit. The weave was too open and done with a clearly unskilled hand, but Mia was delighted to have it regardless.
That winter she'd given it back to Lorelai to wrap Rory in at night. It was the only thing that kept her warm in their heatless shed. They'd never remembered to return it to her.
Lorelai fondled a frayed edge as she walked, wishing she'd brought it sooner. She'd always meant to visit but somehow never got the chance. As she rounded the corner, someone hanging out of a car window whistled and leered at her as he drove by, but the gesture barely pierced her thoughts. She had focused her eyes on the church, where people were milling about in small groups outside, all in black.
She failed to notice Luke as she walked by him to the crosswalk; he'd been sitting on the front steps of the elementary school across the street from the church, waiting for other people to file in. He watched her breeze past him, words formed in his mouth but saying nothing.
His gaze followed her down the street, and it was at times like this that he had to remind himself that he actually knew her, that he was lucky enough to know someone that he had wanted to be close to for so long. Before she ever came into the diner some ten or so years ago, he'd seen her around town, wondered about her, fantasized about her. He'd thought she was too beautiful for Stars Hollow, that she had this ethereality about her that didn't belong in his modest town.
She trotted in front of the impatient cars in an attempt to outwit the flashing stoplight, still completely oblivious to his eyes. Her elegant shoulders were pulled back, her gait uncommonly graceful, her gaze straight ahead. Black curls bouncing softly, he watched as she greeted Mia's children with a warm hug and her most sincere condolences.
He was in awe of her just like he'd been in awe of Rachel so many years ago. The only difference was that, once he'd really gotten to know Rachel, been familiar with her flaws and her imperfections, the admiration had ended. He eventually believed himself good enough for her. And ultimately, as it were, too good for her. That was when he'd stopped waiting for her to come back.
Lost in his thoughts, he realized that the doors had opened and everyone had filed in. He jogged across the street, just as she had moments earlier, and entered into the cool foyer of the church. His chest felt tight as he shook Donald's hand and brusquely signed the guest book, not eager to go inside but wanting it over with.
He'd said his goodbyes to Mia that morning before anyone had arrived. He'd sat outside for a half hour before the hearse pulled up to the church. The family had granted him a private moment and he'd sat in the back room with her, his head hanging low, leaning forward, hands clasped earnestly, staring at the tips of his shoes.
As he'd never been one for prayer, he'd spoken to her softly under his breath, thanked her for everything she'd done for him as a kid. She'd given him so much, so much that he hadn't felt had been adequately repaid.
Luke talked for over an hour, oblivious to the family members who peeked in every so often to check on him.
He thanked her for making dinners for his family while his mom was in the hospital, asked her forgiveness for leaving them untouched. Made sure to tell her how much he'd looked forward to her visits, apologized for not having spent more time with her when she came in to see him.
He'd promised Mia, after she left Connecticut for California, that he would keep an eye on Lorelai and Rory for her, support them when he could, be there for them when they needed it. He begged pardon for every time he'd failed them in that respect, any time he didn't do everything in his power to help. Times like now, he'd added bitterly. Times when he couldn't give them relief from pain, couldn't care for them, couldn't sustain them in however small a way.
And he hadn't cried, not a single tear. He knew that if he had, alive or not, Mia would've scolded him for it, told him to be a man, men only cry over dogs and sports so buck up. The memory of her made him smile, and the small lump in his throat dissolved.
He'd walked to the steps across the street and waited, silently asking Mia's help in getting them through the day.
"Welcome, friends and family," began the pastor. "We've gathered here on this beautiful day to celebrate the life of Mia Galloway, beloved wife, mother…" Luke slid into the end of an empty pew at the back of the church just a few rows behind Lorelai. He could see her gingerly worrying a green scarf against her black jacket. She was dry-eyed.
John, Donald's younger brother, was introduced by the pastor. He spoke of Mia's dedication to her family, her extensive charity work, her pilgrimages around the world. What a kind woman she was, taking in unfortunate girls and raising them as her own. Cooking meals for the families in Stars Hollow who'd lost a loved one and couldn't care for themselves. Lorelai glanced back over her shoulder, accidentally catching Luke's eye and lowering her gaze. He stared intently, willing her to turn back around, disappointed when eyes stayed focused forward.
Last night had been the worst night of his life. He'd sat there at the window, completely immobilized, fighting every urge to go get her, to go help her. He could see her shoulders shaking through the fog, worried when the tide had begun to rise, wondering if she would just let it overtake her. All Luke wanted was to bring her back to their room, dry her off, wrap her in warm blankets and hold her until everything was okay again.
But the minute he thought back to that look in her eyes, the fear of her terminable constancy rooted him to his chair.
He couldn't go through it again, he repeatedly told himself. She wouldn't stay, no matter how sincere her words seemed.
Lorelai cocked her head back slightly, passing him a fleeting look, one he couldn't read. He stared at the coffin not twenty feet ahead of him, playing and replaying his promise to Mia in his mind. He was supposed to take care of Lorelai. He was meant to be there for her, intended to watch over her. And he was hopelessly failing everyone, absolutely everyone who'd been promised his word.
He got up from his seat and walked out of the room, the speaker glancing briefly in his direction without pause. He didn't know where to go, but he couldn't be in there, staring from Lorelai to the coffin until he was dizzy.
He thought to step outside, but the glaring sunlight was harsh and caused him to immediately retreat to the foyer, swaying unsteadily on his feet. He felt physically ill, his vision hazy from the sudden burst of light in his eyes.
Luke strode down the corridor, finally coming to a men's room, pushing open the door, the acrid smell of chlorine hitting his face. He turned to the mirror above the sink, but cringed at the disoriented look he was wearing and faced the wall. The crook of his arm cushioned his forehead against the cold, mismatched tile.
He rarely got headaches, but this one was all too familiar, another relic of his childhood- it was the pain caused by the pressure of unreleased tears. It pulsed against his temples insistently and pressed against the back of his throat.
His neck and his shoulders were vibrating gently from the tension. From the tremendous amount of exertion involved in damming a barrage of emotion. Coupled with a completely sleepless night, his body was begging his mind for relief, to just let go completely, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, wasn't even sure he knew how. He wiped angrily at the tears brimming in his red-rimmed eyes, refusing to allow himself to break down. He coughed feebly, but the raw lump in his throat only hardened.
He'd lost both of them, both Lorelai and Mia, the two tethers in his life. At once. They were gone; he was alone.
Luke turned and stared at his face in the mirror; he was visibly shaking now. He couldn't look himself in the eyes, choosing to focus instead on keeping his knees locked upright.
He hadn't remembered what it was like to feel alone because he realized he hadn't actually been alone in a long time. Not since she'd come into his life, in whatever capacity, so many years ago. He had considered himself a loner, but knew now that he hadn't been, not really. He talked to her more than anyone else who walked through the door. She knew him better than anyone else, and he hadn't failed to realize that it went both ways.
But now Lorelai felt just as inaccessible to him as Mia did; he couldn't talk to her, he couldn't communicate with her. He didn't even know how to begin conveying his concerns to her, as it would result in dredging up everything from his previous relationships that he couldn't really articulate to himself, let alone to someone else. Let alone her, someone he'd always had trouble being really succinct with when it came down to anything truly personal.
He felt like he didn't know anything. He didn't know… he didn't know how the diner was doing. He didn't know how he was going to spend another night in the same room with her, or even with his own thoughts. He didn't know how to stop the sudden panicked feeling in his chest, or why it felt like someone had reached down his throat and tied his organs in a big knot.
All he could pinpoint for sure was that he was utterly alone, in a city he was completely unfamiliar with, suddenly alienated from his best friend and his only source of maternal comfort lying in a coffin on the other side of that wall.
A small tear streaked down his face, quick like a shooting star, leaving only a hopeless little trail of moisture on his cheek. He remained expressionless, staring in the mirror, ignoring the droplets that were quickly pooling and spilling over, looking down as he shifted his weight against the wall.
His mom had told him as a kid that, if you could take four deep, deep breaths, then you would stop crying. He struggled halfway through one before being interrupted by a small hiccup. His breath shuddered as he exhaled.
Luke heard the faint clicking of heels against the wooden floorboards of the corridor. They echoed off the walls of the restroom as they approached, finally pausing in front of the door.
A hesitant knock came and the swinging door pushed open. Lorelai's voice ricocheted gently off the tiled walls. "Luke?"
He didn't answer directly, but his fidgeting gave it away. She glanced around the door and saw him standing against the wall. She slid in and closed the heavy door as quietly as possible, blinking rapidly as she surveyed the situation.
Her eyebrows were knitted in concern and she was wearing a similar expression to the one that had been haunting Luke, the one right after he'd told her that he wanted out of the relationship. Confused, definitely distraught, a bit spooked. Uncertain, but loyal. Almost desperately loyal.
He continued studying her face, picking out the emotions one by one. Apprehension, that was written all over. Tender, though, and sympathetic. Framed with obstinacy. Earnest. Optimistic, he thought. But then again, her face was always optimistic.
She stood in front of him without saying a word, unsure if it was appropriate to speak, if he was mad that she'd interrupted what was obviously a very private scene.
"Luke… I..." She trailed off doubtfully, questions in her eyes. "Do you want to be alone?"
Luke stared at her beautiful face through his tears, the invisible hand around his throat tightening with every passing second. Her question was more loaded than she knew.
Self-consciously, he extended a hesitant arm to her as he sank further into the wall, wordlessly asking for her help.
Without pause, she was immediately in front of him, embracing him. His face tunneled into her neck, now moist with tears and he tightened his grip around her small waist.
She grasped the back of his jacket with one hand, the other stroking his shoulders, murmuring soothing things as he sniffled quietly.
Neither knew how long they stood like this, holding each other in the dimly-lit bathroom of the church. Eventually, they heard footsteps and voices in the hallway and realized the service must be over. Luke wiped his face and stepped back from Lorelai, regarding her with soft eyes. He placed a hand on her hip.
"I need you," he said plainly.
They were the words she had used, the words she'd scrutinized hundreds of times, agonized over, the last words she'd said to him before he decided he wanted out.
Without thinking, she crushed herself against him, throwing her arms about his neck.
Luke squeezed her and lifted her off the ground, pressing his forehead into her shoulder.
"Please. I need you," he repeated, struggling for a breath.
Lorelai was floored. Her mind was a mass of questions without answers and raw emotion, completely unequivocal to anything she'd ever contended with.
She settled back on the ground and looked up at him, into his earnest, pleading eyes. She gnawed her cheek, her forehead deeply creased, then pressed her clasped hands into her stomach. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I… I don't know if I can."