A half hour later, they were sitting opposite one another in the little skiff, basket of hastily-prepared food between them.
"It's beautiful out here," she said quietly as Luke handed her the rod. He nodded.
"Hey, I thought you were giving me the pink sparkly squid lure," she protested, examining the boring hunk of rubber at the end of the line.
"This one's more practical. You're not going to catch any worthwhile fish with that thing."
"Hey, just because a fish would be attracted to something pink and sparkly doesn't make him any less worthwhile than the other fish."
He glared and took back her pole.
"So what're we fishing for here?" she asked brightly.
"Well," he exhaled, "the majority of what you'll catch in here is scrod, maybe some pike."
"Scrod?"
"Scrod."
"So..." she smirked devilishly. "You could potentially, any minute now, have scrod on the end of your rod?"
"I knew this was a bad idea."
"Fishing is dirty," she giggled.
The water lapped against the side of the boat as Luke cast his reel. He adjusted his cap and tapped at the plastic edge of the rod's spindle.
"And kind of boring."
"It's usually more of a silent activity, actually."
After that her incessant chatter stopped, though he couldn't tell if it came of complacency or happy accident.
They sat together for some time, occasionally flicking their reels, both deep in thought.
Soon, though, the silence turned from comfortable to worrisome. He sneaked a glance out of the corner of his eye; she was staring absently at the picnic basket. Focusing on the lake, then back at her, he realized she wasn't even blinking.
"Hey."
"Hmm?"
"You hungry?"
She smiled as if she were embarrassed, as if he had been reading her thoughts. "Sure."
He secured their poles and pulled out two salami sandwiches, both wrapped in wax paper from the eighties. Soon they were both chewing peacefully, a small tower of Wheat Thins resting on Luke's knee.
"Are you seriously eating salami?" She didn't let the giant bite she'd taken get in the way of her sneering words. "Isn't this sandwich like, a heart attack wrapped in a coronary and smothered in angina sauce?"
"That's disgusting," he muttered. "And yes."
"So, twenty-four hours stuck with me in a cabin in the woods and you're suddenly begging for an early death?"
He smiled. "It's just... I don't know. You can't be good all the time, right?" He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, then took a bite and swallowed thoughtfully. "Plus, you know, it's tradition. My dad and I spent hours on this boat together. Eating salami sandwiches."
"Yeah, I know how you feel. My dad and I used to spend hours alone together too, only staring at each other from across the dinner table in really awkward silence. And then I'd steal his brandy. So I totally know how it is."
He failed to acknowledge her snide comment, speaking in a surprisingly warm tone. "You know, even if you don't have good memories from your childhood, you've given so many to Rory by now that it almost... cancels out. You've made up for your own family's mistakes by giving her what you always wanted."
"Yeah, really great memories. Like your dad socking your mom in the face. This incident alone is gonna be worth five grand in therapy bills and at least one overdose in her future."
He wasn't sure how to respond, or how comfortable he was responding to such a thing. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, how long were you thinking of being out here?"
Her dismissive verbal whiplash continued. "Well, if I'm going to go back into town looking like this, I'm going to have to wait until these--" she wiggled her shoe at him-- "are back in style. So, probably never."
"What, Lorelai, a few days? A few weeks? The whole summer?"
"Luke!" She pushed his knee playfully. "Come on, I don't know. I haven't really thought about it yet."
He didn't flinch. "If I hadn't found you last night, would you've told me what he did to you?"
She was taken aback for just a second, then seemed amused at the thought. "God, probably not. You would've Nicky-Santoro'd him in the neck with that geeky pen you keep in your pocket."
Then his head was in his hands, and he was moaning. "God, Lorelai, just stop."
"What!" She was taken aback, confused.
He breathed a heavy sigh. "You're not taking anything seriously. I hoped that you could either come out here and get your mind off things, or be able to really talk about what happened. And you're not doing either, you're just bringing it up and making jokes about it, and it's not dealing with anything. At least, not in a mature, adult manner. Be honest with yourself, please. And stop making jokes, because there's nothing funny about this." He stopped and took a breath, relieved to spill his words. He knew it probably wasn't the best way to handle it. But it evened the score with her.
She was immediately stricken by his tone; her face fell as he spoke, his words resonating in her mind.
She sat in silence for some time, trying to understand why he was asking her to deal with this differently. It was only in the past few hours that she felt like her old self had returned, that it was possible to begin acting normally again.
But if he was asking her to do it differently, she would try.
As she turned and glared out into the water, the skin around her eye beginning to throb. Thoughts of Christopher made her feel ill, and she found her mind instantly falling again on thoughts of Luke. She didn't want to deal with Chris. She wanted to deal with Luke.
But not because he was safe. Not because he would never act like Christopher. But because he'd brought her here, because he'd taken care of her. Because he was better than her. Always had been.
And because last night he'd given her the confirmation she'd been seeking for so long.
Luke moved the basket from between them, seating himself on the plank in front of Lorelai. Their legs were awkwardly interlocked, her bare knee brushing his side pocket.
"What are you doing?" she asked, startled.
He reached forward and cupped her face tenderly, his other hand sweeping back the curls and pinning them to her temple with a thumb.
"I think you're getting blisters," he said softly, surveying the bruise. "But I don't have any sunscreen in the boat."
"Oh."
"We should go back."
Her face, crestfallen, turned away from his hands. "Okay. Sure."
"Actually, here." He lifted the blue cap off his head, setting it on hers. The brim fell well down below her eyes, covering her bruise almost completely. Lorelai hadn't realized how much pain the sun was giving her until she felt the shade.
"Better," she said, tilting her head back to look at him. She smiled as he smoothed his hair. "Thanks."
"Yeah. And... I'm sorry I snapped," he muttered. "You should deal with this however you want to deal with it."
She nodded sagely. "And I think I know how I want to deal with it now."
"You do?"
She nodded again. "Castration."
He laughed. "Castration, huh?"
"Well..." She cocked her head to the side, as if to think about it, still grinning broadly. "We could cover him in honey and roll him over an ant hill."
"Eating the face, a very nice touch."
"Ooh, or! We could drop an anvil, or like a safe or a piano, on his head from the top of an apartment building, like in those old cartoons? Or flesh-eating bacteria, we could put it in one of those mail-bombs. The guillotine, that's a classic, and very in right now."
"The French never go out of style," he added, allowing himself to play along. "Reliable, too."
"Mm. Messy, though."
"True."
In the silence, she adjusted the brim of her cap and smiled. "This really completes the look. Thank you."
"What look, crack-pot chic?"
She smiled again, but didn't answer. He noticed that her expression, though still bright, was beginning to cloud over.
Suddenly she pulled the brim down lower and ducked her head down onto her lap, breathing deeply.
"I'm not dealing with it, really, am I?" Her voice was muffled by her legs.
He sighed along with her and rubbed her shoulder. "You're going to be fine. I promise."
Coming from anyone else, they would have been hollow words. But from Luke, somehow, they carried worth. And she chose to see it as a guarantee of sorts. If he were there with her, she would remain.
She uncovered her reddened face.
"You really think it'll turn out alright, huh?"
"Well, I don't know." He looked down uncomfortably, shifting his weight, fiddling with the stray wicker on the basket. "I guess..." He met her eyes expectantly, hints of a smile dragging his lips. "You could always strip him naked and leave him in Miss Patty's studio. Probably not as messy as the guillotine."
Then she reached to him, taking hold of the back of his neck, gently closing her eyes and pulling him into a quiet kiss.
Her nose was pressed into his cheek.
He was floored at first, shocked at what seemed to be happening. Then overwhelmed, a bit confused. Then in awe.
Then, he kissed her back.
He was still surprised, but he kissed her back. Tilting his head to the left so he didn't disturb her cap.
When he shifted closer, now in his right mind, about to take stronger hold of her lips-- she shied her head back, pulling away. It was a very slight movement, but he drew back instantly, sensing her hesitation.
The moment their eyes opened and met, the vulnerability they both glimpsed was unbearable. They looked away simultaneously, Lorelai smiling to herself, Luke clearing his throat.
"So," she began casually, just a hint of caution in her voice.
Immediately, his stomach tensed in fear of her words. She shouldn't be talking right now. He needed time to catch up first, for his mind to quit hemorrhaging and his heart to stop pirouetting around his chest. He opened his mouth to say something first, but the combination of what-was-that and why-did-you-do-that and it's-okay-if-you-didn't-mean-it and can-we-do-it-again all got lodged in his throat at once, and then she was speaking.
"Wanna go swimming?"
She saw that she'd caught him off-guard. "Swimming?"
He squeezed her knee, fighting for control of his sanity. "But if we go swimming..." What the hell does that mean? Did you want to mess around in the water, or actually do laps or something? Why don't you seem phased by what just happened? Is this how you're dealing with it? "It'll disturb the fish."
Lorelai looked at him quizzically, but didn't push him. "Okay." She picked up her reel, casting it into the water as he'd shown her.