Bonjour, mon amis! Je suis tres enthousiate to bring you this week's installment in 'Of Sunflowers Lost'! To those of you who can read French, I apologize; I ran out of words after 'enthousiaste'. To those of you who can't the above says "Hello, my friends! I am very enthusiastic….." and then starts in English again. I have been learning French for exactly two weeks, and I'm lovin' every minute of it!
The fictional flashbacks in this chapter take place a few minutes apart, in season 5. I probably have Rory's age wrong, but I don't really care because I'm a fanfic writer and I can do whatever I want! Which is true in very few areas of my life, which is probably why I love writing these stories so much. Go figure. Anyhoo, bon appetite!
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The air was split by a sudden crash.
Luke jumped, startled at the thunderous sound, jerking backwards away from the memories laid out on the dresser, cursing as his elbow smashed against the wall. Rubbing at the injured spot with one hand, he gritted his teeth, sudden overcome by a pointless, senseless, unreasoning rage; smashing his arm down on the dresser, he jerked his hand violently across, throwing the ancient dandelion to the floor, pushing the little perfume bottle to skitter away across the wood, and leaving the picture to tumble lazily down to the floor like an autumn leaf caught in the throes of dying. Snarling under his breath, he lurched backwards, away into the open, cavernous darkness of the apartment, the void made cold by rain-sweetened wind seeping in between the window and the wall.
Standing there, panting with an inexplicable fury, Luke was suddenly overcome by the sheer vastness of the world around him; the bedframe that he could feel scraping his leg was suddenly and simultaneously millions of miles away, separated by the gulf of sorrow, of knowledge and agony that could never be shared with the unfeeling wood. Suddenly the ceiling seemed to arch above him like the untouchable heavens; the walls were gone, vanished, no longer imposing the comforting boundaries of reality on the world around him, and Luke stood huddled in frigid darkness, alone, shivering, struck by the unthinkable sense of how very, very small he was.
Nothing. Nothing surrounded him, enfolded him, drowned him; the sharp, bitter taste of emptiness stole down his throat with his every inhaled breath and settled into his lungs, seeping into his blood and distilling itself in his heart. He was suddenly cold, torn from his memories, and plunged back into the icy torrent of reality, his past torn from its moorings and cast away into the chasm of uncertainty. And he seized by the conviction, by the certainty that his life, his love with Lorelai had been a dream, a heartsick fantasy, that something so flawless, so insanely comfortable and perfect could never truly exist. It had been a dream conjured from nights of fevered nightmares, of tossing and turning with a throbbing ache in his chest as he thought of her.
As the thought occurred to him, his fear reversed itself; the walls that had seemed to be millions of eons away were now close, too close, growing towards each other and shoving him into a smaller and smaller space until he couldn't move and he couldn't think and he couldn't breathe.
Panic swelled up and crested over, broke on his mind with a sudden ferocity, and Luke gasped for air, panted for breath, desperate to be out in the open away from the claustrophobic cloud of memories. He did the only think he could think of – he bolted for the door, nearly flew down the stairs, not stopping his crazy forward momentum until he came skidding out around the counter of the empty diner. There he stopped, breathing heavily, staring out at the dark blue room, unlit, tainted by the rain; he stood staring at the empty tables, at the expanse of open air that seemed so much wider than he remembered it, at the blank faces of the buildings across the street, and slowly he regained his breath.
One hand rested on the counter that had been burnished until it gleamed, the other was braced on his knees as he breathed slowly, deeply, calming himself with the steady thunder of the rain and the soothing blue of the sodden sky. Standing there, amid the scenery that shaped his life day after day, amid the world washed clean by the storm until even memories no longer clouded the air, Luke dared to be still, to be silent, to search inside of himself for the cause of his sudden, unreasoning fear.
The sensations of falling flower petals returned again to his mind, and he felt a sudden chill wash over him. He knew why he had been afraid. He knew why reminiscing had made him feel worthless, insignificant, and small.
He loved Lorelai. That was truth. He had always loved her; for nine long years he had loved her; and he was utterly certain that he would love her as long as he had breath. And he knew that he had never loved another woman – neither Nicole, nor Rachel, nor anyone else – as much as he loved Lorelai.
He was afraid that the same was not true for her.
Max. She had loved Max, hadn't she? Loved him with a passion. Almost been married to him, for heaven's sake. She had risked public humiliation, risked making a tramp of herself in her daughter's school, lost her senses enough to risk Rory's peace of mind because of her love for Max. And Luke knew, knew that only the extremities of passion or of madness would derange Lorelai enough to unsettle Rory. And Christopher – she had loved Christopher deeply, unconsciously, for at least sixteen years after she had first fallen in love with him, had broken short the engagement with Max, had broken Christopher's own engagement because she had not been able to let him go. And if those men, whom she had loved so intimately, so devotedly, if they had passed out of her life completely – if they had been cast away and never seen her again – then how long could Luke, the simple coffee supplier, ever hope to keep her happy?
He did not blame Lorelai. Others around the town called her flighty, faithless; such accusations only made Luke's blood boil, made him grit his teeth in anger and bite his tongue to keep from bursting out in rage. No, the problem did not lay with Lorelai; Lorelai was incredible, breathtaking, radiant in a way that blazingly outshone the mere mortals all around her. How could any man hope to be worthy of her for any amount of time?
Luke staggered as though struck a physical blow, leaning back against the counter for support, letting himself fall into the nearest chair, breathing fast and hard. He had been without her once, he had already broken up with her and that had been hell. He could not, would not go through that again!
And there was so much against them. So very many things, so many cruel tricks of fate waiting eagerly to tear them apart. He felt as though he was balanced precariously on the brink of grief, wavering on the edge of an infinite chasm, simply waiting for a harsh word from Emily or a reappearance of Christopher to send him toppling into the darkness that had been his life without her.
It was all too much, too much – especially today, on the anniversary of the greatest loss he had ever suffered, it was too much to be thinking about a loss that might be even greater. He was trembling and cold and sick to his stomach, and he could not take it anymore –
His head jerked up, and he looked around, wild-eyed, as though he could see Fate waiting nearby to tear Lorelai away from him. His desperate gaze swept the room, taking in the empty diner, the counter, the dark doorways and the rain beyond, finally coming to rest on a vase of flowers, his only modest decoration, standing half-hidden in a corner, below a riot of sunflowers that rustled in the afternoon's cold breeze.
The dropping flowers caught his gaze, captivated him as nothing else could have at that moment. He stared, enraptured, remembering involuntarily how intimately those flowers had become bound up with his life; how they had stood resplendent on a specially decorated table for Rory's sixteenth birthday, how they had gleamed all over the Gilmore house whenever he visited.
The familiar sight calmed his panic, restored the sense of peace that came from resolved memories. Today it seemed as though the very air was charged with past moments; Luke relaxed back against the counter, closing his eyes, watching the bright afterimage of golden petals that had been seared into his mind.
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The door opened with a jangle of bells, admitting a gust of wind that pushed two young women before it, seeming to propel them with unnatural speed directly through the bustle of the lunch rush and straight to the counter. Prattling at a speed almost unintelligible to the human ear, Rory and Lane charmed their way into two seats at the crowded counter, with a series of gestures and signals that Luke despaired of ever beginning to understand. But that was not enough. They had managed to seat themselves at opposite ends of the counter; yet their conversation continued, shouted across the heads of those in between, until the people separating them simply gave up and moved to different seats, until the two college girls were the only ones, and sitting right next to each other.
Luke shook his head, leaning on the counter, pen and notepad in hand as he shouted a greeting over the rumbling noise of a hundred conversations. "Hey, Rory, it's good to have you home!" he called gruffly. "When'd you get in?"
"Last night. We were gonna come here for dinner, but they were doing something really gross on Fear Factor, and you know how much we love bad reality TV, so we just had leftovers instead." She elbowed her friend, who squealed and smacked her on the shoulder. "Lane is being uncooperative, so I'll ask you. What's going on in Star's Hollow?"
"Hmm." Luke paused to think for a moment, straightening up to watch Kirk and Lulu toss silverware at each other across the diner. "Nothing, really. I mean, nothing huge that I've heard of. But then, your mother says that I live in cave, so I'm not really the one to ask."
"See? I'm not being uncooperative! There really is nothing going on!" Lane said indignantly.
"Huh. I don't believe it. There's always something going on here. You mean Taylor hasn't come up with any more crazy ideas? Kirk hasn't bungled one of his jobs or scared away any tourists? I'm traumatized."
"Hey, the crazy need some time off too," Luke replied. "So, how're you doing in school? Still the smartest one in all your classes?"
"No," Rory began, but Lane cut her off.
"Yes," the Korean girl said proudly. "Still straight A's, but then, that's our Rory."
"That's our Rory," Luke agreed. "Say, isn't your birthday coming up? Turning twenty-one, huh? That's a big deal."
"I guess," Rory said indifferently, trying and failing to hide the eager smile on her face. "Apparently there's some secret party in the works that I'm not supposed to have found out about yet. But what good is a surprise party if it's actually a surprise?"
"Right. Because that would entirely defeat the purpose," he answered sarcastically. Suddenly becoming extremely interested in his pencil point, he asked shyly "Did you get the – ah – package that I sent you?"
"No. What package was that?" Luke ducked his head and made a furtive movement as though trying to escape to the back, but Rory stopped him. "Come on, Luke, cough it up. What did you send me?"
"Well, I didn't know your address, so I sent it to your mom. She was supposed to send it to you. I don't know, maybe she's waiting for your birthday or something."
"What was it?" Luke only shook his head, but Rory put on her best begging face, raising her voice to a pathetic whine. "Come on, Luke, you can't tell me you sent me a present and then not tell me what it is!"
"Yeah," Lane chimed in, "Surprise presents are even worse than surprise parties."
"Don't get all excited, it's no big deal," Luke growled, staring with interest at his shoes. "I just sent you a bunch of sunflowers to put in your dorm, that's all."
"Aw, you sent me flowers?" Rory crooned. "Luke, you big old softie! Did mom put you up to this? Because I swear, the Luke I remember would never send a lady flowers, even for her birthday!"
"It's no big deal," he growled, ducking his head against the relentless stream of teasing. "I remembered you liked sunflowers, and I saw some in a window the other day so I thought I'd send you a few. It must've gotten lost in the mail or something, though. I'll check with your mom, and see if she shipped them right. In the meantime –" he picked up the two coffee cups he always had on hand in case of an unexpected Gilmore visit, "—I expect you'll be wanting coffee?"
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Luke felt his frantic heartbeat begin to slow, his fast breath returning to normal. He allowed a slight smile to emerge on his face, remembering the grin that Rory had given him – the panic slowed somewhat from the memory. He knew that even if Lorelai's family managed to tear the two of them apart, he would never be completely cut off from Lorelai's life. Rory would not allow it. The town would not allow it. Their friendship was too much a part of Star's Hollow to be allowed to die. And he knew that Rory was fond of him as well; that was his saving grace, for he knew that Lorelai would rather throw herself off a random cliff than cause a rift in Rory's life.
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Luke stood against the door that led to the storeroom in the back of the Diner, staring absently through the doorframe that led to the bustling restaurant, lost in thought as his eyes settled on Rory and Lane, giggling and poking each other with French fries at the counter. Caesar shoved past him periodically, moving productively around the kitchen, elbowing Luke in the shoulder not quite hard enough to wake him from his dreaming.
The bright clangor of a bell pierced the rumble and noise, rousing Luke somewhat back to reality; Caesar helped him along with a shove, expelling the diner owner from the kitchen. "Your job is out there," he grunted, before turning back to the sizzling stove.
Luke leaned one elbow on the counter, watching as Lorelai elbowed her way through the crowd, using handbag and heels to clear a path for herself through the bustle and up to the counter, where she fell into the seat next to her daughter, feigning exhaustion.
"Hey, mom, Lane and I were going to go next door and aggravate Taylor so his face gets all red and he stops making sense. Wanna come?"
"Maybe later, hon – and when did Taylor start making sense?" She swung her purse up onto the counter and leaned forward across it, making ridiculous doe eyes at Luke. "Right now I have to try and seduce this gorgeous man so I can raid his coffee stores."
"No need to seduce me," he replied, reaching behind him for the coffeepot without turning away. "Just wear one of those little black dresses in here every day and you'll get more coffee than even you can drink." Under the pretense of filling her cup, he leaned across the counter and gave her a quick kiss. "Good morning, crazy lady."
"If you two are going to start making out again, I'm gone," Rory moaned. "I'm sure I'm going to see plenty more of that over the rest of my break, so I'm going to go distract myself with something interesting. Come on, Lane." Shoving Luke away long enough to give her mother a quick peck on the cheek, Rory disappeared, leaving Luke and Lorelai alone.
"She's only delaying the inevitable," Lorelai commented as she watched her daughter walk laughing away across the square. "Sooner or later she's going to have to learn that watching other people make out is a part of life. She's going to have to get used to it."
"Just don't teach her to yell out commentary as she's getting used to it," Luke grumbled.
"Excuse me! I only did that once! And Kirk really needed the help! Who knew that a grown man would be that pathetic a kisser?"
"Kirk has a very low self-esteem," Luke growled. "Not only did you make him cry, you made him huddle up in his house for a week, which means he wasn't coming here."
"I thought you didn't like Kirk."
"I don't like Kirk. But Kirk has money, and he is a paying customer, which almost makes me able to overlook the weirdness. Some people, however, just take what they want and run."
"Burglars?" Lorelai asked innocently.
"Yes, and annoying girlfriends."
"Hey, do you think Geico offers the same deal on coffee that they do on car insurance? Cause that gecko looks like he could use some lovin'."
Luke shook his head. "I'm going to completely ignore that statement. And in an effort to end this unusually pointless conversation, I am going to ask you a question. Did you send Rory her birthday present?"
"What birthday present?" Lorelai asked. "I didn't know you already sent her something. In fact, I was going to ask you to chip in when I hire the clown for the party."
"I didn't already send her something, I sent you something that you were supposed to send to her. I don't know her address, remember?"
"Hmm, let's see, present for Rory, present for Rory. Nope, drawing a blank," she said cheerfully, downing most of her coffee in one gulp.
"I sent her a bouquet of sunflowers. Didn't you get it?" Lorelai's smile suddenly turned from her patented I'm-annoying-Luke-and-loving-every-minute-of-it grin to a cringing, apologetic expression, a guilty face. "Lorelai….."
"I didn't know they were for Rory," she whined. "I put them in a vase in the kitchen. They were so pretty….."
"So she's already seen them. Wonderful," Luke grumbled, refilling her coffee cup out of habit. "I don't suppose you could take them out of the vase and mail them?"
"Nooo….." she said hesitantly. With a sigh of frustration, Luke set the coffeepot down, planting both hands on the counter and staring determinedly into her eyes. After a few seconds, she crumpled. "They're…. not with us anymore," she admitted. When this was met with a stony stare, she sighed. "In fact, they're dead," she murmured; then hurriedly continued, with a placating grin, "But my love for you will never die!"
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Luke reached up and plucked as single limp flower from the vase, holding it close to his chin, letting the rain-sweetened fragrance engulf him. He remembered the vow, spoken as a joke by day, but pronounced with all seriousness at night, when they lay together in each other's arms. He remembered Rory's smile, her affectionate words, her approval. And he relaxed, all fear gone, the hollow cavity inside him filled with the comforting warmth of love. This was going to work.
A rare smile on his face, he stood up from the counter, a warm golden light chasing all cold thoughts from his mind. He strode across the Diner in three powerful steps, grabbed his coat from where it hung by the door, and disappeared out into the rain, the lone sunflower still clutched in his hand.
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Guess where Luke's going? I can't tell you…… thanks again to all my luverly reviewers! More reviews gets next chapter posted faster! Oh, and now for a bit of self-advertising; I will shortly be coming out with a new oneshot, as yet untitled, but let me leave you with this tantalizing tidbit; Rachel and Nicole find some peace, Lorelai is forever banned from a secret society, and I get to use the phrase 'Little did Luke know….' which I think we all can agree is a very fun phrase.