A/N: This chapter sure came out fast…

Ten reviews! So, the consensus seems to be that this story is 'sad but good'. A lot of you used those words… It's supposed to be sad, and I'm glad it's good!

Disclaimer: They're not mine, sorry. So if you want the rights, call up ASP.

Marcel-Marceau-chicken: Copper boom! Hee hee…

The Forgotten Gilmore: Thanks so much for your kind words!

J.Stone: I'm outstanding? Thank you!

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"Maybe we just get through it. And that's all we can ask for."

-Bailey, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (the movie)

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For the better part of an hour, they sat, her clutching his hand like a lifeline, reveling in the newfound empty silence of the bedroom. Lorelai sighed deeply. After another couple of seconds, Luke stood, pulling her upright with him. She immediately released his hand, finally realizing what she had been clinging to.

He placed his hand on her back and gently led her out of the room and to the kitchen table.

As she sat and stared at her hands, he began putting away the groceries and making her a sandwich, sneaking a piece of lettuce between the turkey slices. He slid the plate in front of her and she wordlessly began eating. It was then that he realized that they hadn't spoken since he'd returned to her house.

Luke sat down opposite her, watching her eat. "How're you doing?" He asked, in an effort to start up conversation and draw her out of whatever dark thoughts she was pondering.

She lifted her head and looked him straight in the eyes, cocking her head slightly. "My daughter's dead, Luke. How do you think I'm doing?" Lorelai spat bitterly.

He just blinked slowly, letting her spiteful words sink in as he wondered who the woman sitting at the table was. Because it certainly wasn't Lorelai Gilmore.

Across the table, she closed her eyes and put her head in her hands, rubbing her temples with the tips of her fingers. She met his gaze once more, an apologetic look shining in her now-dulled blue eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just-"

Luke cut her off. "I know."

She sighed. "Everything's so messed up."

He repeated himself; for it was the only thing he could think to say. "I know."

Lorelai examined her partially eaten sandwich for a moment before looking up at him through her eyelashes, the tiniest of half-smiles on her face, and whispered almost inaudibly, "At least I'm not alone."

She always had been a glass-half-full kind of girl.

--

That afternoon, Lorelai napped as Luke stayed downstairs on her couch, staring at the black of the blank television screen, deep in thought yet again. He was occupied trying to picture a life without Rory, and as much as he hated admitting it, it wasn't a pretty picture. It would affect him, he knew, but it would affect Lorelai so much more. He'd seen that already.

The phone rang, jerking Luke out of his thoughts. He snatched it up, not wanting to awaken the sleeping woman upstairs. "Gilmore residence." It seemed the proper thing to say.

"Hello?"

The voice on the opposite end of the line sounded familiar. "Mrs. Gilmore?" Luke asked.

"Yes." She said, skeptically. "Who's this?"

"It's Luke Danes, Mrs. Gilmore."

Emily furrowed her brow slightly. "Why are you at my daughter's house?"

"I'm looking after Lorelai."

"My daughter is a full-grown woman, Mr. Danes. She is perfectly capable of looking after herself."

"I don't know if you've seen your daughter recently, but she's not in the best shape."

"May I speak to her?"

He could hear her impatience. "She's asleep. I could give her a message."

"Just tell her that the – the funeral will be on Friday. The church there, at noon." She tried to hide the fact that her voice had wavered the slightest bit halfway through her sentence.

"I'll tell her."

"Thank you. Goodbye, Luke."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Gilmore."

He returned the phone to the spot on the coffee table from which he'd grabbed it.

Friday. The day after tomorrow. Luke sighed deeply. Would he be ready?

--

For the rest of Lorelai's nap, Luke sat across from her bed in her desk chair, watching her sleep. Watching someone sleep had always sounded creepy to him, but somehow it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

When she awoke, Lorelai saw him seated there. She did a quick double take. "Geez, Luke! You scared the shit out of me!"

He smiled slightly at her reaction. "Sorry."

She rubbed her eyes, waking herself up, as she asked, "Did I hear the phone ring earlier?"

Damn. He'd been hoping to put off telling her, at least until tomorrow. "Yeah."

"Well, who was it?"

"Your mother."

Her eyes widened just the smallest bit, but it was certainly noticeable. She knew her mother could only be calling about one thing. And it was the one thing she didn't want to hear about. But she wasn't going to just sit around in denial. "What'd she say?"

Luke gripped the arms of the chair tightly, bracing himself for the words he had to say. "The funeral's Friday."

Lorelai nodded slowly. That's what she'd figured. After a moment's silence, she spoke again. "I'm gonna take a shower."

He knew she didn't want to discuss it. "Okay. I'll be downstairs." And he promptly left the room.

By the time he reached the bottom of the steps, the water had already started running. He returned to his seat on the couch and, simultaneously, his thoughts.

--

Lorelai leaned against the wall of the shower, letting the scalding water run down her side. It hurt, yes, but not as much as everything else.

Could she do it? Could she go to the funeral? Would it be too much?

All the questions running through her head made her dizzy. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clearing her mind.

By the time she turned off the water, she'd come to a conclusion.

She'd just take it one day at a time.

Because all she can ask for is to just get through it.

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To Be Continued…

Reviews and suggestions are welcome!