Standard Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB & AS-P.
Dedication: For my friend Rachel, who has mysteriously disappeared. I wish you'd drop me a quick email to tell me you guys are alright.
Spoilers/Timeline: No spoilers, set in Season 6. Around "Let Me Hear Your Balalaikas Ringing Out".
Rating: K
A/N: I know that the title makes it sound like this is based on Houston's song (and movie) of the same title, but it isn't. I hope you enjoy this. Do let me know if you do; nobody is paid to write here; our currency is reviews. So once again – do read and review.

Waiting To Exhale
Chapter 1: Breathe In

The first few nights were easy. Get out, get away, stop thinking. Stop thinking about how I had it perfect for twenty years. Stop thinking about how it was all sweetness and light for so long. Stop thinking about… stop thinking about anything.

"Rory, is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything is fine, Grandpa."

I really don't deserve him. He and grandma took me in, and I know that mom's definitely not happy with me about that, but I had no other choice, no other alternatives. Would she rather have me go to Dad? Dad wouldn't have understood, and he definitely wouldn't have been able to handle me. He's got Georgia to handle, and I know that with Sherry gone, it's just not easy. More so because he's a guy, and being a single parent is…unless you're my mom… and I just had nowhere else to go.

"Rory, did you enjoy dinner?"

"Dinner was lovely, thank you Grandma."

Such easy responses. They came so naturally to me once I was firmly ensconced in the poolhouse. Everything is fine, grandpa. The roses are lovely, grandma. Yes, I love the book, grandpa. The dress looks gorgeous, grandma, thank you. It's a set piece that we play. They ping, I pong. Everything made sense. There was order there. Order that I couldn't find at home.

It's all gone to pieces. It collapsed suddenly. My plan, our plan… can't she see that? We started… I started getting derailed once I started college. Maybe I made the wrong choice. Maybe I should have gone to Harvard instead. Maybe… but it's all been done. The die had been cast. I was in Yale, and everything just started falling to pieces.

Perhaps the weight of my dreams was too heavy to be supported by so fragile a vessel. But mom never let me think that. Mom only ever told me that I could be whatever I wanted. You only ever told me that I was the best, and that I was the smartest, and that I could be that war reporter, that journalist, that I could be on C-SPAN one day, that I would be in that White House press briefing room.

Mom… you lied.

The first few nights were easy. I just needed… to get away from her. From her anger. From the disappointment and disapproval that I could feel rolling off her in waves. It was so palpable, and I just couldn't stay there any longer. So I ran. Ran to the one other place that I had sought refuge in, so many years ago. My other home.

Why can't you understand, mom? Why can't you see? I just needed some time to think. I just needed to be away from everything. I just needed time to… process everything, to look at everything, to just… get away. Why couldn't you understand that, mom?

So the first few nights were easy. I slept easily. I slept a lot. I slept the sleep of the dead, and woke up feeling…relieved that I wasn't at home.

Then came the trial, and I paid 300 hours of community service for that boat ride. In a perverse, almost masochistic way, I felt relieved. The punishment was harsh, but it fit the crime. I stole, and I should be punished. And although 300 hours was a lot, it felt…it felt a lot like penance.

"Repaying your debt to society, I assume?"

"That's what this is."

"System already hardened you?"

Why did you come there, mom?