"Honey," Lorelai knocked lightly on her daughter's door. "Rory, are you alright?" When there was no answer, she pushed it open and peeked into the dim room. "Babe?"

Rory was lying facedown on her bed, her head resting on her folded arms. She wasn't crying, not anymore, but her entire body was stiff. It was as if she were holding her breath for something.

"It's not fair, you know?" she mumbled, sniffing a little as she sat up. "All this waiting and worrying and hoping for the best, it's not supposed to be like this."

"Well, what is it supposed to be like?"

Rory looked into her mother's face, so stoic and unemotional. This wasn't the mother she knew. Not really. "You're supposed to be thinking about the Inn and Luke and me and some more of Luke. You should not have to worry about your will when you're 32 years old."

"Well, life's not fair, it is?" Lorelai replied unsympathetically as she picked up one of her daughter's pillows and kneaded it in her hands. "Do you think I want to do this?" she asked, growing more agitated with each statement. "Do you think it's fun wondering what might happen to you and the Inn and everything else if I never wake up on Saturday? Thinking about never getting to open my own inn with Sookie? Thinking that this may be my last week ever? Do you think that's fun for me?"

By now she was holding back tears and Rory was flat-out crying again. They had both known that this talk was coming sooner or later, but it sort of caught them by surprise. All of a sudden, at that exact moment, they had to face up to their fears.

"I don't want to die!" Lorelai yelled, throwing the pillow as hard as she could against the wall. "I had to make it on my own since I was 16 years old, and now I'm forcing the exact same thing on my kid! What the hell kind of mother am I?"

"It's not your fault!" Rory argued. "It's not like you asked to get cancer. You didn't do this to yourself or and you sure as hell didn't do this to me."

"But it's my job to take care of you," she cried. "I should be there for you when you grow up. I want to see you graduate college, get married, have babies, the whole shebang."

"Listen to me," Rory took her mother's face in her hands. "Listen to me, Mom. You are not going to die."

"But you don't—"

"No," she interrupted. "You are not going to die. We are going to grow old together."

Lorelai stared at her daughter, her sobs settling to a quiet whimper. "But what if we don't?"

"I don't know," Rory replied, "I can't tell you that I'll be fine because I don't know what I'd do if you were gone. I can say that I have a lot of people to turn to. I have Lane and Sookie and Luke. I have Grandma and Grandpa. I have Dad. I won't be alone."

"I know," Lorelai nodded, smiling bittersweetly. "I know you won't."

"But whatever happens," Rory continued, "I want you to know that you have been the best mother a girl could ever ask for. Hands down, no contest. The best."

"You too, babe," Lorelai pulled her daughter into her arms and holding her there for a long time. "The best."

"Hey," Lorelai walked not quite casually to the counter and sat down. "I need two cheeseburgers to go and a couple pieces of whatever kind of chocolate you have in this place."

"Are you okay?" Luke asked as he scribbled down the order. "You look like you've been crying. Did something happen?"

"Nothing life threatening," she replied, smiling tiredly. "Rory and I had a long-overdue talk when she got home."

"Yeah, she was worried when you didn't show up here," he remembered, pouring her a cup of coffee. "You get held up at work?"

"Actually, I didn't go," she admitted, knowing that she should have told him that before she'd left. She didn't even know why she'd lied. "I skipped the day to get some paperwork ready for Saturday."

"Like what?"

"Insurance papers and stuff," she said quietly. "And my . . . uh . . . my will."

"Oh," he said, suddenly understanding. "Just in case . . ." He trailed off, not wanting to think about it. "So that's what the talk was about."

"Yeah," she sighed. "She kind of freaked. I guess I did too, but we talked and got a few things out in the open. I think it'll be okay now."

"So are you okay?" Luke asked again.

"Yeah," she smiled halfheartedly. "I'll be okay. I just wish . . ." She trailed off, running her fingers through her hair as her smile faded. "I don't even know. I can't wish that this week was over with because there's a chance—granted, a fairly small chance, but a chance nonetheless—that I may not have anything else. Then again, I can't wish for this week to last forever because every moment I wait is filled with worry and doubt and the most agonizing anticipation." Her eyes trained on the counter, she fidgeted with the rim of her mug. "I'm scared, Luke."

"I know," he said, putting a hand over hers. "I am too. And so is Rory, and so is the rest of the town." She looked up at him, trying to see where he was going. "The thing is," he continued, "if we stick together, maybe it won't be all that scary."

"Like the dark," she smiled, a childish spark returning to her eyes. "I bet you were one of those guys who was afraid of the dark but way too stubborn to admit it."

"I try to help," Luke pulled his hand back in mock exasperation. "I try to say the right things and be the supportive boyfriend, and then you go and spoil it all with that mouth."

"You love my mouth," she smiled mischievously, grabbing hold of his collar and pulling him down for a slow, sweet kiss.

"I do," he smiled back, unable to still his rolling eyes.

"Thank you," Lorelai whispered, her voice suddenly very genuine as she let go of his collar. "For everything. For saying the right things and being the supportive boyfriend. Thanks for being here."

"Always," he answered before grabbing the coffee pot and walking away.

"Rory!" Lorelai called, pounding on the door with her foot. "Mommy has no hands! Come open the door!" Then, after a moment of silent waiting, "Rory!"

"Relax!" Rory called, finally opening the door. "Jeez, you would think I'd left you out there with Taylor the way you're howling."

"Look who's back to being grumpy," Lorelai pouted, walking into the kitchen and setting the food on the table. "I liked it better when you couldn't talk."

"No you didn't," Rory countered, following her. "Then we couldn't make fun of people together."

"True," Lorelai smiled. "Very true. So what's the bug up your butt now?"

"Hey!" Rory laughed, "there is no bug up my butt. I have no bug. I'm totally bug-free."

"Okay, fine," Lorelai ceded, spreading a bunch of take-out trays over the table.

"Wow, I thought you were just getting burgers. There has to be two week's worth of food here."

"I know," Lorelai replied. "That's all I asked for, but I guess Luke decided to send me home with three-fourths of the menu. I mean, if I didn't know better, I'd think he was trying to get rid of me. These leftovers will last us a month . . . or at least a week."

"I think he's worried," Rory breathed, touched. "He's showing concern through takeout. That's so cute. And so very appreciated." She opened a box of fries and popped a few into her mouth.

"So anyway," Lorelai sighed, opening another bag. "I figured that tonight would be a good night for a movie, so I stopped by the video store and picked one up." Grinning mischievously, she pulled out The Princess Bride.

"Classic!" Rory giggled. "Hey, I'll get the food into the living room and you get the movie ready."

"As you wish," Lorelai bowed dramatically.

"Oh," Rory stopped, her expression falling. "Crap."

"What?" Lorelai righted herself.

"I just remembered," Rory pouted. "A while ago, I promised Jess we'd watch this together at our next movie night."

"So call him and tell him to get his ass over here." Lorelai replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He can watch too."

"But I thought this was going to be kind of our week."

"It is," she shrugged, "but who says it can't still be our week if we bring boys? Tell him to bring Luke."

"Are you sure?" Rory asked skeptically.

"As long as you don't start making out in front of me, I'm good," Lorelai winked.

"Ditto," Rory smiled, and then dashed off to call the diner.

An hour later, Lorelai and Luke we sitting side-by-side on the right side of the couch, his arm around her shoulders as she leaned against him. Rory and Jess were lying on the floor in front of the couch, her head resting on his stomach.

Buttercup: You can die too for all I care. pushes him down a high hill

Westley: AS... YOU... WISH.

Buttercup: Oh, my sweet Westley. What have I done? throws herself down the hill

Jess looked down at her and saw that there was a smile on her face. He'd always loved this movie, but he liked it more watching her watch it. Her face glowed when she laughed. Her eyes turned a perfect shade of turquoise and everything else seemed almost unimportant.

Westley: Can you move at all.

Buttercup: You're alive. If you want I could fly.

Another hour later, Luke stood up to take out the movie, nearly tripping over Jess and Rory, who were sleeping quietly on the carpet. It was getting late, long past sundown, and he needed to get back to the diner. He and Jess had closed up without cleaning the place or anything. Besides, Lorelai was already asleep, and he didn't want to wake her up.

"Hey," she sat up, apparently not as asleep as he'd thought, "What if I'd wanted to watch all the extra stuff?"

"I didn't know you were awake," he whispered apologetically, sitting next to her on the couch again. "But either way, you shouldn't be. You need to get some sleep."

"Yes, Doctor Luke," she mock saluted him.

"I'm serious, Lorelai," he sighed. "You should be taking it easy. These late nights aren't good for you."

"Luke," she breathed, "tell me something. If this is my last week, do you really want me to spend it sleeping?"

For some reason, Luke didn't find that very comforting. "Please don't talk like that," he whispered. "I don't want to think about that."

"But I have to," she replied curtly. "It's my only option at this point. So please don't take it the wrong way when I tell you to stop telling me what I should and shouldn't be doing. It's not helping."

"Well, I'm sorry," his tone matched hers. "I'm sorry I don't always know what to say. I can't always tell you what you want to hear."

Lorelai began to reply but stopped when Rory shifted in her sleep. "Out here," she whispered, pulling him by his sleeve onto the front porch. "Okay," she said once the door was closed, "I never asked you to tell me what I want to hear. I asked you to support me and be there for me. Why are you all of a sudden being like this?"

"Like what?" he demanded. "Concerned? Optimistic? All I want is for you to take care of yourself."

"I am," she retorted. "I'm doing everything I know how to do." Running her fingers through her hair, she began to pace the porch. "Look, I don't want to fight with you. I don't want what could be our last week together to be tense or angry. I just need you to realize that I need to do this my way. You can't tell me to be optimistic and put on a happy face because that's not me. That's not who I am right now, so don't ask me to fake it."

After a moment, Luke sat down on the swing, looking like he'd been hit. "I didn't know I was doing that."

"I know you didn't, but that's what it feels like," she sighed, sitting next to him. "Every time you tell me to have hope and that everything will turn out fine, I just want to scream because I don't know that it will be. I'm scared, Luke, and I'm allowed to be. And when you tell me to stop talking pessimistically, it makes me feel like I have to keep it together for you, for Rory, for everyone. Ever since I got back, all I've been trying to do is keep it together, and I'm tired of it."

"So stop," he said simply. "Don't keep it together. Shout, scream, throw things. See if that makes you feel better." He looked at the tears starting in her eyes and took her face in his hands. "Look, I'm sorry I made you feel like you had to be something for me. You don't. You don't have to be anything you're not."

"I know," she smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I know."

The room was almost pitch black when Rory stirred. The only light she could see was the porch light faintly breaking in between the curtains.

"Mom?" she croaked, her throat dry from sleep. "Is the movie over already?"

When something moved beside her in the dark, she sat straight up, her heart jumping into her throat. But then the lump next to her made a noise in his sleep, and she remembered that that lump had been invited.

"Hey," she whispered, nudging where she thought his arm might be. "Jess, it's time to wake up."

"I swear on all things holy," he mumbled grumpily, turning over and digging his head into a throw pillow, "give me five more minutes, Luke, or I'm going to spit in every third burger I serve."

"Jess," Rory laughed, nudging him harder. "Jess, you're not at the diner, and there are no burgers here to spit in." Still no answer. "Jess!"

After a minute of groaning and shifting and being poked within an inch of his life, Jess sat up in the dark, rubbing the back of his neck. "Rory?"

"Took you long enough," she chuckled, flicking on the light.

"Tell me something," he groaned, rolling over again to block out the light, "why do I feel like I've been beaten by a meat tenderizer?"

"Because you kept calling me Luke," she laughed. "I mean, I may spend about as much time in that diner as he does, but I don't look nearly as good in flannel."

"You'd look great in anything, including a giant potato sack," he replied, "but you should know better than to wake a guy up when he's sleeping."

"How could I have been so careless?" she sighed dramatically. "Now get your lazy butt up before I do get a meat tenderizer."

Jess look up for a moment, confused. "Rory, why would you guys even own a meat tenderizer. I didn't even know you knew what one was."

"We have one," she poked him again playfully, "for occasions just like this. Whenever we get especially frustrated with our boyfriends, we use it to better disguise the bodies."

"Okay, okay. I get it," he laughed, finally dragging himself from his place on the carpet. "So what happened? Where are your mother and Luke?"

"I don't know," she looked around, suddenly worried. Her mother wouldn't have gone anywhere without letting her know. "Do you hear something?"

In the silence, they could hear Lorelai's distinctive voice coming from the porch, and not sounding terribly happy, "…that everything will turn out fine, I just want to scream because I don't know that it will be. I'm scared, Luke, and I'm allowed to be. And when you tell me to stop talking pessimistically, it makes me feel like I have to keep it together for you, for Rory, for everyone."

Rory looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Ever since I got back," Lorelai's voice continued with deep emotion, "all I've been trying to do is keep it together, and I'm tired of it."

"I guess we know where they are now," Rory mumbled, standing abruptly. Then, loudly enough to drown out Luke's reply, "I think I need a glass of water."

"Rory?"

"You want one?" she called with forced cheerfuness over her shoulder, already halfway to the kitchen.

"Rory?"

"We have soda and juice too. And I think there's still some food in here if you're hungry."

"Rory, stop." Jess stood up, joining her in the kitchen as she searched through the refrigerator.

"Actually, a beer sounds insanely good right now," she pulled two out and passed one to him. "I've never actually had one before, but now sounds like a perfect time to try."

"You don't want that." He took the beer out of her hands before she could open it and put both of them back in the fridge.

"Yes, I do," she insisted, pulling one out again and twisting it open before he could stop her.

"No, you don't," he took it out of her hand before she could take a sip and poured it out in the sink.

"My mom's not going to like you wasting her beers," Rory pointed out with a childish sulk.

"She'll live," he replied, getting annoyed himself. "Now will you stop? Beer is not what you need right now."

"Fine," she huffed and poured herself a glass of water, downing it in one, long breath.

"Rory, look at me," Jess grabbed her hand as she was pouring another glass. "What's going on in your head?"

"Nothing," she insisted defensively. "I mean, not nothing, but you know what I mean. I just realized that my mouth was really dry and I needed something to drink. It doesn't mean anything. I know what you're thinking and what you think I'm thinking, but I'm not, so don't. I mean, can't a girl just be thirsty without it meaning something?"

"Rory, I know you," Jess said calmly. "But even if I didn't, the fact that you're in full-on rant mode is a dead giveaway."

Rolling her eyes, she chugged another glass. "Just because I'm doing the rant thing doesn't mean I'm…whatever you think I'm doing. I'm perfectly…" Putting her glass down with a resigned sigh, she looked up at him with wounded puppy eyes. "Was I even a little convincing?"

"Not in the slightest," he replied, taking her hand away from the glass and wrapping it in his own. "You couldn't lie to me if you wanted to, Rory. You're just not good at it. It's one of the things I love about you."

"I just freaked out a little," she admitted, rolling her eyes again as if it would help the tears from prickling in her eyes. "I seem to be doing that a lot today."

"So why the freak-out?" he asked, putting his arms around her waist.

"That's the thing," she replied, exasperated. "I don't even know half the time. Someone says something completely random about anything, and I get choked up. I mean who am I turning into, Cry-Baby Walker? This isn't me."

"Look, you know this is going to happen until your mom is in the clear," he reasoned. "So stop beating yourself up. And stop worrying about being too emotional; you're allowed."

"No, I'm not!" she almost shouted, impatient with herself. "Every time I get emotional Mom feels guilty, and I can't do that to her. It's not fair to her."

"Just stop, okay?" Jess pulled her face into his shoulder. "Take a few deep breaths." After a moment, he felt her lungs expand and contract, though he could hear frustration in her sigh. "Okay, one more time." Again, she breathed in and out, though this time with less force. "Now look at me."

She looked up at him, her anger and resolve deflated.

"How about we take a walk and you can rant and rave to your heart's content?" he suggested. "That way you don't have to worry about your mother seeing it."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're incredibly smart?" she sighed. "Come on, I'll leave mom a note and we can sneak through the back."

"So how were your classes today?" Jess asked as they walked, hand in hand, down the deserted streets. "Anything interesting happen?"

"Not really," she drawled, looking up at the stars as they walked. "Paris is an alien. Tristan is a pod person. Madeline and Louis have made it their goal to date every senior on the football team by homecoming. All is as it should be."

"And this Tristan guy is still playing nice?" Jess asked almost casually.

"Yes," Rory replied, trying to hold back a smile. "He has been a perfect gentleman, so stop worrying. Besides, there is no reason on earth you should possibly be jealous. I already have the best boyfriend in the world."

"I would disagree with you," he smirked, "but I can't."

"Now don't you go getting a big head!" she teased, cuddling closer to him. "I just mean that you've been really supportive through all of this crap. I promise, once all this stuff with my mom is resolved, I'll be back to my chipper self."

"I'm looking forward to it," he nodded. "You know I hate to see you sad."

"Yeah, me too," she chuckled. "Look, let's just forget about all that right now. I just want to talk about something normal, like books or movies or molecular biology."

"Molecular biology?" he arched an eyebrow.

"Well," she smiled, "maybe not molecular biology, but something. Something fun."

"So what have you been reading lately?" Jess asked, resorting to their traditional topic of choice.

"It's funny," she chuckled, shaking her head, "with everything that's going on, I haven't picked up a book in days. Over a week, even."

"Wow," he stated, genuinely surprised. "Are you sure you're not sick, or possessed? You could be possessed."

"I'm not possessed," she sighed. "Just preoccupied. What about you? Do you have a book on you?"

With a smirk, he pulled a paperback from his back pocket and held it up.

"The Great Gatsby?" she asked. "Why in the world are you reading that?"

"I thought I'd brush up on the particulars for class tomorrow," he shrugged.

"But you're not going to class," she replied. "You said you didn't have to. You said Matthews was going to pass you without your actually having to be there."

"Yeah, he did," he nodded, "but my girlfriend doesn't want me out of school."

"Jess, you don't have to do that for me," she shook her head. "I also told you that I didn't want you to be bored."

"Yeah, well, if I'm dying of boredom after tomorrow's class, I don't have to go back," he said. "Besides, it'll go a lot faster if I'm there to point out the absurdities of everyone else's views."

"You are so full of yourself," she laughed, but before he could reply, she pulled him down for a long, lingering kiss. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked. "Not that I'm going to argue."

"For making me feel normal," she replied. "Or as close to normal as I've felt this afternoon."

"Well, normal is overrated," he replied. "But I'll take the thanks anyway."

Stepping in front of her, he tilted her face up for another long, fervent kiss.

"Rory?" Lorelai called softly as she opened the front door. "Are you still sleeping?"

She and Luke had talked, and kissed, and talked some more. Then they'd just sat on the porch swing in perfect silence, looking up at the stars and enjoying each other's company. This was how things were supposed to be. Peaceful.

Eventually, he'd had to go, reluctant but insistent that he needed to do a few things at the diner before he went to bed. He'd told her to say goodnight to Rory for him and send Jess home as soon as she could pry the two apart. That had given her disturbingly dirty thoughts, but she'd agreed nonetheless and said goodnight.

When her daughter didn't reply, Lorelai figured she must still be asleep. But when she walked around the couch to wake her, the blanket on the floor was empty.

"Rory? Jess?" she called, more urgently than she meant. "Are you here?"

Frantically, she walked to her daughter's bedroom door and opened it, but there was no one there either. The bathroom was empty too. So was the upstairs.

"Rory!"

She was about to grab the cordless and call Luke when she spotted the post-it by the phone. I needed to get out, so Jess and I are taking a walk. I won't be gone long, so please don't worry. Love you, Rory.

"I swear, child, you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days," she sighed to the empty room.

"So have you heard from John since he left?" Rory asked, sitting on the steps of the gazebo. "I'd like to know how his first week of senior year is going."

"I got a two-minute instant message, but that's about it," Jess replied, flopping down next to her. "He said school was okay, but he misses me and my delinquency. I always did my best pranks during the first week."

"So I've heard," she chuckled. "Did he say anything else?"

"He misses you, of course," he continued. "But he said that he'll be here on Saturday for your mom's surgery."

"Aw, the big softy," she smirked.

"I think you're just about the only person who could get away with calling him that," Jess told her.

"Yeah, I know," she grinned. "That's because he loves me too much to kill me."

"Too bad for the rest of us, huh?"

"Hey, Jess," she said suddenly, lying back on the wood planking. "Tell me something."

"Shoot."

"What do you see when you look at the stars?"

"What do you mean?" he looked back at her, perplexed.

"Lie down and tell me what you see," she insisted.

Shaking his head, he lay down next to her and looked up at the stars.

"I see stars," he replied sarcastically.

"No," she rolled her eyes, hitting him in the stomach. "I mean, when you really look into the stars, when you stare up at all that space and beauty, what do you think? What do you see?"

He was silent for a few minutes, his even breathing the only sound besides the breeze blowing through the trees. "I guess," he said finally, his voice just above a whisper, "I see hope."

"Why?" she asked. It wasn't an answer she'd expected.

"Do you remember when I found you sleeping on your fire escape back in New York?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"You said it was refreshing to see someone who hadn't grown up there," she replied, trying to remember it exactly. "You said something about me being…" she smiled as it came to her, "…you said I was like a star."

"And that you were hope," he finished for her, a wisp of a smile on his own lips. "See, so that's what I see when I look up at the stars. I see hope because I see you."

For a long time, she was quiet, contemplating his answer. "You know what I see?" she said finally. "I see you."

"You know," Lorelai called from the living room even before Rory had stepped over the threshold, "for someone so worried about my health, you sure are intent on scaring me to death."

"Hi Mom," Rory called as she shut the door behind her. "Did you get my note?"

"Yeah," Lorelai replied as she huffed into the entryway, "I got your post-it—after I'd searched all over the house for you. You couldn't have poked your head outside to let me know you weren't being kidnapped?"

Reacting to her mother's tone, Rory scoffed and started towards her room, "Oh, and when was the last time someone was kidnapped in Stars Hollow? I don't think it's a Taylor-sanctioned activity."

"Oh, no. You don't get to play the safe card on me tonight," Lorelai said as she followed. "I was up and down this house looking for you. After everything tonight, I didn't need that kind of stress."

"I wrote you a note," Rory argued. "It was in the note spot. It's not my fault you didn't check. Besides, with the conversation you were having, I didn't think you'd want me to interrupt."

Lorelai's face paled, her angry demeanor completely melting away. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough," Rory snipped. "You know if I'm such an emotional burden, why didn't you just leave me in New York? I mean, I had Jess, I had John, I had Aunt Grace and Jay's and the rest of my life there. I was doing fine there without you."

Immediately Rory knew she'd gone too far. Lorelai's eyes grew wider, now moist and hurt. For once in her life, she was speechless.

"I didn't mean it, Mom," she stuttered, but Lorelai had already turned away. She followed her through the living room and up the stairs and into her mother's bedroom where Lorelai sat down and put her head in her hands. "Mom? Mom, I'm sorry, okay? Please, don't be sad; I didn't mean it. I promise, I didn't mean it."

When Lorelai spoke, her voice was completely calm, not a hint of emotion. "You know what, Rory? You told me before that you wanted to be here with me, one hundred percent. If that's changed, by all means go back." Rory tried to interrupt, but Lorelai just kept talking. "I never said anything about you being a burden. I said I was tired of hiding my feelings from you guys, and that was my fault. I shouldn't have tried to hide it. But I'm not going to do that anymore, and if you don't want to handle that, I'll put you on a bus tomorrow."

"No," Rory hugged her mother. "I want to be here. I promise I do."

Lorelai shook her head tiredly. "I know. And I'm sorry I freaked out about the note. It's just been a long day."

"It's alright. It's been a long week."

"Just leave me a bigger note next time, will you? Maybe a billboard."

"I'll skywrite it."

"Sounds good."

The two lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling for a long time. Lorelai spoke first.

"You know, when and if Luke ever moves in here, he's going to need some sort of sanity insurance. Do you think someone sells that?"

"I don't know, but with people like us and Taylor in the world, they should."