A/N: Well. What do you know? It's ME. ME with the nerve to finally post a chapter after such a bloody long time and not expecting to be shot/flogged. Well, school/attempts at a life took up more time than I thought they would. And I wrote the first chapter what… 12 days before the Season premiere? And now FIVE EPISODES have already occurred? I hope you can find it in your large, warm hearts to forgive me for being so incredibly selfish. As we speak I am groveling at your feet for forgiveness, though you don't know it having learned to block out any disappointment since I know being left at the hill-hanger the first chapter ended with left you hurt, sad, wanting to bomb something, etc.

I'd like to apologize in advance for the crapness of this chapter.And no, this isn't only because I think everything I write is crap, at first, until someone tells me repeatedly how fantastic it is, which I do. I HATE writing Chris. Iend up trying to make him seem as mean as he possibly can and then it isn't realistic. But this needs to be done. And sinceI couldn't really fitin anything else in a chapter that seemednatural,it's all that's done.I can't wait until I FINALLY get to the Stars Hollow part. Here's the promise I'll try my hardest to keep: the next chapter will be longer and it will be posted somewhere within the next two weeks.

Muffin Is Injured: Oh my. YES. This is exactly what you probably thought it was upon receiving that email- a new chapter! Finally, after (how long has it been? A month? Woah, I suck) all that time of pining, the Lusciously Loined one returns with a new chapter. Incredibly short, yes. Incredibly angsty, yes. Deep? Maybe. Can numbness be painful? Absolutely. I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, m'dear, and even went so far as to calling me 'stupid' for 'not getting a publishing deal.' Have I tried? Yes. I'm waiting for the perfect moment, Muffin. You know of my evil plan. Thank you for being you, Muffin. For you make my dreams come-a-true. Must stop before the corny music begins.

Lorimar Jayne, Ten Ticket Thrill Ride, lukelaiandroryndean, JoEySaNgEl1534, No.13dreamer, BluJPlover, biscottimoment, hi, javajunkie219, xxnicole033xx, Sophia… Thank you. And I'm sorry. And thank you. I love you. I'm sorry. THANK YOU. I wish that I could write shout-outs of saying 'sorry' repeatedly and groveling but because I am once again, selfish, and have two projects due next week, I am not.

And now, the chapter that you have come here to read that actually kind of sucks and is not worthy of you… but alas, I am but a humble Fan fiction writer.

"I'm pregnant."

They were silly and serious at the same time, those words, spoken softly and hesitantly, drawn from to weeks' worth of built up courage, but falling like a badly aimed whipped cream pie somewhere to the far left of its target. Like a bad joke in a room of crabby nuns. It didn't fit, it seemed strange next to the weird food smells drifting over from the fake meat in the cafeteria, weird next to the way this place reeked of a month ago, when she'd be sitting at that table ten feet from here, making fun of Ms. Walton, slinging her arms around her friends, singing the lumberjack song obnoxiously.

It took a while for the words to make contact, to initiate some kind of response. But then a quick series of emotions flashed over Chris's face, surprise and confusion and seriousness all too resembling of his father (deep frown, etched eyebrows) and finally amusement. The pie splattered.

"You are?"

"Yes, I am."

His sardonically amused expression faltered at her new sincerity, but just for a moment.

"Oh yes?"

"Chris…" She turned away and felt a pounding headache and nausea emerge simultaneously. At her silence Christopher's eyes began to panic.

"You're funny. Lor, you're funny." He turned to a random group of students to their left. "This girl is funny. Hey, do your Prince imitation, I don't think they believe me."

She found a smile and displayed it wanly for the students and Chris. "Hey, Chris, how 'bout those meds, eh?" She got up and pulled him firmly by the arm and stalked through the crowd of hormone-enraged teenagers in plaid. The fake meat smell was maddening, incurring a deep nausea, and the lights were too bright, and she wasn't chickening out. She wasn't.

"Where are we going?" Chris tugged back in resistance but not so hard that she couldn't reciprocate it as well as turn around and glare at him. Over sprawling limbs, through jostling arms full of toppling lunch trays, she walked quickly while Christopher remained confused and dully aware of how strange the past thirty seconds had been. They speed walked out of the lunchroom door, turned a fast corner and finally swerved into a supply room. By some twist of fate it was there, open, and just big enough for the two of them and everything else.

Silence, finally, and dimness- the light that flew in through the door cracks was enough to make their faces vaguely visible- not enough for Chris to see the lie in her face. He touched her cheek and leaned in to her face, so that their eyes and lips were level, and he was pausing over them- confused about what she wanted. Lorelai could almost feel his senses raging where their arms and skin were touching; it was enough to make her scream. She pushed him away.

It was a horrible moment- awkward, life changing, cruel and pointy and vicious. Three weeks ago she couldn't imagine this happening; now it was gnawing away at her vital organs. Her spleen was getting ready to jump out somewhere above her left earlobe. Bomb's away…

"Christopher..."

Somewhere, muted and mutilated and distant, the bell rang.

"I'm pregnant."

The words echoed dully around them- this time, in their second utterance, they landed directly on their intended target. It was done, it was there- somehow, in this moment, there was nothing left to say. The air shifted, their silence was enforced by something, and Lorelai was surprised at the relief she felt- she hadn't even noticed the dread pressing weight upon every square inch of her skin- but just like that, it was gone, now flying around this small space savagely, settling on him.

"How?" He asked finally, his tone insistent but weak. It was a stupid question. "When?"

She sighed. "The Benefit Dinner. The bad olives. Our parents getting drunk and deciding it was a good time to finally get into the ol' disco craze ten years too late. You and I on the balcony…"

"Stupid," he finished.

She turned away, toward the door. "Well, it was done." Her voice was thick.

Christopher hesitantly touched her arm. She realized how old she felt, with more than old Abba songs coursing through her brain, and Christopher's face, barely visible, seemed very young all of a sudden. Frightened.

"What do we do?"

She paused, looking down on her feet, surprised that the stupid bawling thing was crawling up her throat again.

"Um…Um…" She whirled around to face the wall, to regain the stoic structure in her face, and then whirled back, laughing shortly. "We do…what we have to. At some point we should tell…them. I mean. They'll notice eventually." She laughed again, pulling a strand of hair back behind her ear.

White-faced, he nodded and accepted this. Waited for her to say something else.

"And then, depending on how quickly I recover from my encounter with dad's snow shovel, we decide what else to do about…it. Her. Him." Given more meaning, given a gender, some kind of name, a personality, a future, it was having a new effect on her.

"Maybe we should…" She began softly. He didn't need to answer, just stepped out into the hallway and turned the corner to go to his classroom. She wiped her face with her blue sleeve then did the same, feeling flimsy, ineffectual, unaffected, floating toward Room 17.

I'd like to thank Muffin's good hair for making this chapter possible. And also, the writing gods for berating me during my sleep.

Review, if that aforementioned kindness in your hearts will allow you. Oh, here's a hook to get you to do it: What season do the girls have the best hair in? I want 25 words and a good argument to back it up.