Disclaimer: This is an original story based upon the characters of Gilmore Girls. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit will be made from this story

Author's Note: Thanks to all who read and reviewed my last chapter. I always appreciate reviews! I hope you enjoy this next installment! P.S. There are no spoilers in here.

"You want me to come?" he asked as I made my way to the door.

I turned back around and kissed him again. "No," I said quietly, "I have to do this on my own."

"Okay," he said, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. "I'll be right here when you get back."

I nodded, grateful for his support and then walked to the car. I went slowly through town, past the stores and houses and that had been her world for so long. I remembered back and could almost see me pushing her in the Salvation Army stroller I had bought out of my first month's paycheck. I could see me walking her through the streets in her little pumpkin costume to go trick or treating, going on our snow walks, and walking to Luke's everyday. What had happened to my little girl? Where was the Rory wearing a plaid skirt with a book in her hand and dreams big enough for the both of us? I turned left and started towards the freeway to go back to Hartford.

I was fifty times more nervous going to see Rory than I had been telling Luke I wanted to marry him in a week. I was still not used to feeling nervous talking to Rory. In some ways though, it seemed like it had been this way forever—like the best friend team of Lorelai and Rory was a dream.

I practiced what I was going to say all the way to Hartford. I would tell her about my experience going through Mom's things, Mom's wishes that we reconcile our differences, and I would tell her I was sorry for my part in all of this. I rehearsed the words over and over again. But I pictured her sitting there with the pouty face, not listening to anything I was saying or slamming the door in my face as soon as I got there. My hands started shaking. I couldn't do it—not tonight, maybe I should just come back tomorrow. But then I wondered how many times Mom had tried to call me to make amends, and hung up the phone thinking she would call again tomorrow. Mom didn't have any more tomorrows.

I turned off the exit and followed the road down to her apartment. She had been living there for a year, and while part of me was selfishly gleeful that she wouldn't be with Mom and Dad anymore, I was upset by her decision to move. It seemed so final. I always thought that she would get sick of living with Mom and Dad eventually and want to go back to school, but instead she just wanted to move into her own place.

"I just want to be left alone!" she had screamed at me during one of our many phone battles. "You of all people should understand that!"

I guess I should have counted my blessings. After all, she could have moved in with Logan, she could have been working at a strip club, but she was living alone and she was working for a nurse practitioner. From what Lane had told me, Rory and Logan were on the verge of breaking up. I didn't want to press her for details, didn't want to put Lane in the position of feeling like the informer, but for whatever reason, I was glad. I turned into the apartment block and for a minute, couldn't get out of the car. I was so afraid. Slowly, I closed the car door, and looked up to her apartment window half praying that it would be dark—it wasn't. I slowly walked up the stairs and again stood outside the door for a minute before knocking. It took her some time to get to the door. I wondered if she had seen me pull up and was going to pretend like she wasn't home. The door opened though and there she was, mini-me. Every year she looked more and more like me.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," she replied, "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" I asked.

She opened the door wider and I came in. There wasn't much in the apartment—mostly furniture Mom and Dad had given her. There were a few pictures of mountains and lakes on the wall and a corner table that had a few pictures standing on it—her and Logan, her and Lane, her and Dad, and then a family picture that we had taken her second year at Chilton—Dad, Mom, me and Rory--back in the days when we were still somewhat a family. I only looked at it for a second. It hurt too much to see Mom. She gestured to one of the chairs and I sat down. She sat in the other one.

"What's up?" she asked. I took a deep breath and started.

"I want you to talk to me," I began. "I have things to say to you and I know you have things to say to me and I want us to be able to say them."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "Mom, I don't have anything…"

"Rory," I said forcefully cutting her off. "I'm not a porcelain doll. I know you are angry with me and I know that you want to tell me why. I'm not going to break. I'm ready for you to tell me what you want me to hear."

She looked down at her feet, shifting again in her seat. Inside of myself I was gearing up, trying to be steel so I wouldn't get defensive about what she would say. There was a long moment of silence and then she mumbled something.

"What?" I asked.

"You didn't understand," she said again. "My life was falling apart, I was really confused, and you didn't understand."

"You're right, I didn't" I said. "I just didn't want you to drop out of school. I was worried you wouldn't ever go back." She turned and looked at me.

"Why couldn't you have just told me everything was okay, supported me in my decision and trusted me that I would go back? Why couldn't you have trusted me?"

"Rory…" I said softly, trying desperately to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "Are you back in school?" She sighed, "See, you don't even hear me! Mom, I just wanted you to know that you trust me."

"I do trust you" I said. She shook her head.

"No you don't, you are so self-absorbed you only care about yourself. It's been like that for a long time."

"What?" I asked incredulously. Where did that come from?

"Mom, all you care about is yourself."

"That's not true," I said quietly, trying to keep the tears from coming.

"Yeah, it is true," she replied, looking out the window. Under any other circumstances I probably would have yelled at her and stormed out of the apartment, I would have gone over to Luke's and started wedding plans. But I had just spent two hours going through things my mother had left me, reading words my mother was too afraid to tell me. My mother was the queen of hiding her pain with anger and her granddaughter had inherited it. Something else was going on here—some pain that Rory was hiding, that was so deep it was eating away at her.

"Rory," I said trying to bring up a tone that I used when she was a little girl and I would chase away her nightmares. "Honey, tell me," I said. "Tell me the truth. What are you feeling?" She stood up and walked around for a minute—she always did that when she was nervous.

"Rory," I said again, "Tell me,"

She turned around and I could see the tears coming, her face crumpling, and I could tell she was trying desperately to hold onto to sanity—just like I had been trying to do just a few hours ago.

"Rory," I said, using the softest tone I could. "Let it out,"

She turned back around for a minute, her hands covering her mouth and then she turned back around.

"I wanted us to be a family!" she cried. It shocked me how ferociously it came out. Whatever that meant, she had been holding it in for a long time.

"Who Honey?" I asked, desperately trying to grasp what she meant. "You, me and your Dad? Is that what this is about? You, me and Luke? Are you upset we haven't got married yet?" She shook her head and her tears started falling. "You just don't get it do you?" she cried. I held up my hands as if in an attempt to slow her down.

"Rory, I'm trying to get it. I'm trying to understand. Talk to me. Who do you mean?" I asked.

She madly tried to wipe away her tears. "I wanted us to be a family. That's all I ever wanted. Every year when I was a little kid, I used to write Santa Claus a letter while you were at work. I asked him to help my Mommy and Grandma to get along so that I could go over to Grandma and Grandpa's house. Every single year, even after Friday night dinners started happening, I would blow out my birthday candles and that was my wish—that we could be a family. You, me, Grandma and Grandpa."

Now tears were stinging at my eyes. I just looked at her, I knew there was more. I just looked at her, trying to will her to continue. She paced around again.

"Rory," I choked on my words. "Just say it, just let it all out,"

"Why didn't you ever care about that?" she cried out again. "Why didn't you ever care about what I felt? Sure, you told me we went over for Christmas and Easter because you wanted me to know my grandparents and you acted all self-sacrificing and then I had to sit in the car and listen to you complain about them all the way home. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to say! Then Friday night dinners started and I loved them—I loved when all of us could be together but then you and Grandma had to get into one of your stupid fights and I had to be referee!" she stopped for a minute and I steeled myself for the words I knew were coming.

"I hated being put in that position Mom!" she screamed. "I hated having to be the one to tell you that it was going to be okay and always having to take your side whether or not I agreed with you. I know Grandma was awful a lot of the times, but I hated having to always take your side and not be able to make up my own mind. I hated having to choose between you! When you just announced on your birthday that we weren't going over to Friday night dinners anymore did you ever once think that maybe I didn't want stop going? That I actually liked going over for dinner? Did you ever think that when I said I would go back for dinners that maybe they weren't manipulating me and I simply wanted to spend time with my grandparents? Did you ever think that maybe I didn't appreciate all of the snide comments you made about Grandma and Grandpa? Did you ever think about that?"

"No," I choked out, tears streaming down my face. "Dear God, Rory, I never thought about it."

She was sobbing openly now. She looked so broken, so vulnerable and I couldn't move. I just stared at her, both of us in pain—deep, bleeding pain. I bit my lower lip, struggling to find words.

"Rory—I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. I shouldn't have got you messed up in all of it. I should have just kept it to myself. There's just so much you don't know. You didn't know them like I did."

She threw up her hands and stared at me in disbelief. "Would you stop it? Would you stop talking that way? Don't you get it? Grandma's dead! She's dead!"

"I know that!" I said raising my voice for the first time. "You don't have to tell me that!"

"Then why can't you stop with the victimization crap?" she yelled. "You know what? You're right, I didn't know her like you knew her. I didn't see what you saw. I saw a good woman who was trying in the only way she knew how to be good and decent. I saw a woman who was hurt and vulnerable who loved us so much but didn't know how to say it. I saw a woman who died of a broken heart!" At that last sentence she broke down, falling on a heap on the floor and crying uncontrollably. I moved towards her, it being my turn to be the parent now. I touched her on her hair, not sure if she wanted me to comfort her or not. She didn't respond and so I just stroked her hair, murmuring little sounds of comfort. I let her sob until she couldn't cry anymore and then I helped her up.

"Rory," I said. "I'm sorry. I had no idea you felt the way you do. I am so very sorry. I know your still upset and I know you still have some things to work out. If you want to talk, I'm here. Your home is always open to you. Maybe someday I can tell you about what I did tonight, about the cedar chest your grandma left for me and the things I learned from it. Maybe someday I can tell you about how sorry I am that I didn't repair my relationship with her before it was too late. I hope I can. Anyway, I just wanted you to know also that I'm getting married to Luke next Friday. I would love for you to be my maid of honor. I hugged her to me, not paying attention to whether or not she hugged me back.

"I love you Kid" I said as I turned and walked out the door.

TBC—soon!