Chapter 20: This Can't Be The End

It is times like this that remind her why she went to Christopher's on that fateful night all those years ago. She had been broken. Her heart in pieces, ripped to shreds. And she had been alone. She had no one. Rory was with Logan. Sookie was with Jackson and the kids. And Luke, well, whoever Luke was with, it wasn't her. She had told him everything. She had thrown caution to the wind and just let loose. And he had just stood there, as if he hadn't heard her, babbling something about April and Anna as if they were the first people on his mind. And in her final moment, standing in front of him, she had given him one last chance, looking at him, waiting, and he had said nothing, as if it didn't even matter anymore, as if he really didn't want to marry her, as if he really didn't love her anymore.

Hey.

Hey.

You okay?

Uh, I'm having a really bad night and, um…. I just don't want to be alone. Okay?

Yeah. Come on in.

She hadn't gone there for that. She was lonely. She just needed to know that there was someone who cared. And she had known he would let her in. He always did. He was always just waiting for her. But somehow it had taken her 12 hours, actually less than that, to understand that what she wanted from him, he couldn't give her. No one could. Only Luke. And Luke wouldn't give it to her anymore. Then she was lost once again. And alone.

Well, not alone in actuality which she would find out two days later during her visit to the doctor's. And when she found out she was pregnant with Nicolas, she had cried. The doctor just sat there, handing her tissues and she just kept on crying. She couldn't stop and she didn't know why. It was like something in her had burst and she just needed to let loose of everything through her tears. The doctor had been worried that she didn't want the baby. But it wasn't that. She wasn't upset about the pregnancy at all. She had wanted kids with Luke from the moment he had suggested it the year before. She could just imagine their little girl with curls and his hidden smile. She could just see their little boy with her love of life and his generosity. And she could see them raising that child together.

But the moment she had stepped into his apartment and had seen him standing there with Anna and April as if they were a family, she had known it would never happen. It was over. She had screwed up. She had broken his trust by walking away from him just after repeating over and over her love for him and her intense desire to marry him. She had walked away from him and walked right into the arms of the only person she knew Luke would slit from head to toe before letting him be in the same room with her, much less touch her. And it was over. Whatever wonderful, magical thing they had had was all lost. He no longer saw her and now she would no longer see him.

And, yet, still there had been some hope. Something deep inside her had never given up the idea of him, that he was still waiting in his diner for her all this time. When she had walked into his place of work six months ago, something in her had still contained if only a small glimmer of hope, a selfish revolting dream, that he had waited for her, that he had pined for her for fifteen long years. That every moment she had thought about him during all that time, during the birth of their son, the birth of her daughter, at her wedding, before every cup of coffee and every night and morning of her time in San Francisco, was equaled by how often he had thought about her. It was nauseating to think that she had wanted to be that important to him, that she had hoped that he hadn't moved on, that he was just waiting for her to return, knowing he was the reason she had left. She was disgusted with herself. And it was only once she had finally given in and admitted that she had never stopped loving him, that she realized it was true.

Now she had lost all that. She sits under the chuppah, leaning against the pole that Gilbert hangs from, staring at nothing. The unopened envelope from Rory in her hands. And she knows that if she never gets him back, she probably never deserved him to begin with. Slowly she slides her index finger between the slips of the envelope and rips it open and extracts a small piece of paper.

Dear Mom and Luke,

One letter, two people. It's nice to share. Besides, I have the same thing to say to both of you. So I'm writing you both a letter. I know I could easily tell you in person, but really I don't feel like dealing with your interruptions (Mom) and your muttering under your breath (Luke). And I think after 25 years, I have a right to play the adult in the relationship because honestly you two act like children sometimes. In the minimal amount of words, here it is: stop being stupid. Got it?

Moving on then, I have a few instructions for you two. Mom, go through your Luke box. Luke, go through your Lorelai box. Don't play dumb, I know you both have them, because, come on, I've known both of you almost as long as you've known each other. Go through the boxes and remember what it was like, remember all those great times, remember what you lost fifteen years ago. And remember what you had just a few days ago and how great it was when you finally gave in and lived life for yourselves rather than for other people. Maybe after your trip on your own Delorians, you'll finally see that you can have it all. You'll finally see that this is your last chance to be together; that you may have missed 15 years but you don't want to miss any more.

You don't want to have to spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been.

Your daughter and (hopefully) future stepdaughter,

Rory

Not needing to reread the letter second time, Luke folds the letter back in Rory's perfect thirds and stuffs it back in the envelope. He glances at the diner that is filled with patrons. The diner, that he had created in memory of his father, no longer stands to him as a tribute to the man who was once William Nicolas Danes. But still the restaurant is not just a place of work, it's a living memorial to what once was. It's the place that, three years after its opening, welcomed its most frequent customer, when she flew through the doors, half-crazed, on a serious coffee withdrawal. All these years later, she's still the person that he most associates with this place.

The diner is what brought her to him on that fateful day when she gave him the first horoscope. He can still remember those early mornings when she would slouch in the chair by the door, moaning in her need for coffee. He can see her vivaciously chatting with Rory about some movie or a town event. And there's her stool. The one right by the register. The one she claimed as her own without actually saying so. The one that he could barely look at for years. It was the stool she sat in when she would lean across the counter for a quick, small but sweet kiss, as if needing only the light touch of his lips to get her through the day. Those kisses, their very special, all Luke and Lorelai, public and yet also private at the same time, kisses. Those little moments were what was missing in his life as he worked each day in the diner after she left.

Hey Luke.

Lorelai, hi. Where's Rory?

Oh, out in the car.

Oh. It was a really nice ceremony, wasn't it?

Yeah it was beautiful.

What's up?

I just wanted to say something to you in case we don't see each other before you go on your trip.

Sure, what?

Don't get engaged.

What? Why? Lorelai?

And in his mind, in his dreamy state of mind, she had walked away. And in real life, she had run away. Because he had told her to go. He had told her that he never wanted to see her again. He had told her that he wished he had never met her. And from the moment he discovered her note, he had cursed himself continuously for hurting her like that. The pain of losing her was worse than he could have ever imagined. Yes, the idea that she had slept with Rory's father had hurt, but it couldn't even compare. He had to take care of Paul Anka while she was gone, the dog that he had run to the doctor in the middle of the night for Lorelai's sake. He had to watch the TV in his apartment, the TV that he had bought for her so that he would never have to spend a night apart from her again. Little did he know at that time, it would only be a week later that he might have never had her again.

Reluctantly, he opens the door to his place of business which April had already opened without him, wanting him to have a chance to sleep after the drive from Maryland. She clearly remembers how to run the place although she hasn't been a waitress in the diner for quite a few years. The plates are being passed from customer to customer with ease, coffee cups are magically filled without being asked and the cash register is constantly ringing. He remembers that when she used to work there after to school, he used to wonder if he had passed his love for the diner on to her. But really, what he had passed onto her was a love for family, for parents, for memories, for fathers.

"Where's Loren?" he asks as he passes her on his way into the back. She gives him a knowing look. "Still at Lorelai's?" April nods.

"We'll meet her over there soon," April says pointedly. Luke sighs, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. "I've got this under control, Pops. You look like you've got something to do." He nods.

"Thanks April," he says and glances around the place. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Married the love of your life fifteen years ago?" she suggests and his heart sinks. But she just grins. "It's true too, we both know it. But then you would have missed out on knowing a really great daughter and some fantastically awesome trips to science museums and that one night when you caught your fantastically awesome daughter making out in a boy in the living room when you got home from work when she was supposed to be babysitting for her three year old sister." Luke takes a deep breath, all those moments rushing into his memory at once.

"Some days were better than others, but I wouldn't have wanted to miss out on knowing you," he admits and glances down at the envelope in his hand. "Not even for…" He shakes his head. April touches his arm gently.

"Come and get me when you want to go over there," she says softly, kisses him on the cheek and walks away. Luke stands there, watching her for a moment, 28 and all grown up. And he can still picture her on her bike, wearing a helmet that was a mix of head gear and a hockey mask. He can still see her that first day when she told him about her science project, grabbed his hair and ran off. No matter what Anna or anyone ever said, he was born to be a father, he had loved his little girl from the moment that he knew he was her father. Kids were one thing but Loren and April were another, they were his kids. And now Nicolas. He knows deep down that he had loved Nicolas far before ever knowing that he was his son. More than because he was Lorelai's son, because there was something so familiar about him, something that he now knows only reminds him of his father, and it's no wonder to him why Lorelai named him Nicolas.

It was just like Rory to do this to her. To see her mother sitting out here under the chuppah, come out carrying the giant box, set it at Lorelai's feet and go back inside, locking the door behind her. And it wasn't that Lorelai didn't want to go through the box. She knows that over the past few months, ever since she stepped foot in Stars Hallow, all of the memories have come rushing back. She knows that all of the important moments with Luke she's heard and seen all over again if only in her mind's eye. But actually touching these items, mixing reality with fantasy, it might be too much.

She eyes the box in front of her warily, still leaning back against the leg of the chuappah. Bringing her index finger to her mouth, she chews on the tip for a minute as she considers her options. She can say to hell with Rory and all of that, ignore the box, forget about Luke, go back to San Francisco and continue living a life not worth lived. She can follow Rory's plan, go through the box, and hope that Luke's doing the same. Or she can… And she pauses the work of her mouth on her finger. There's no third option. In fact, there was really no other option all along. And she groans, knowing that Rory knew that from the start.

Reaching out and grabbing the edge of the box, she pulls herself up into a sitting position, crossing her legs Indian style. She pulls the box closer to her and glances in. Just the image of all of it, of everything related to 10 years of Luke, all of it together, instantly forces a lump in her throat. And she just has to take a deep breath before she actually reaches in.

Slowly she begins pulling different items out and setting them around her. Some she stares at for a moment and smiles. Some she runs her fingers over for a moment, conjuring up the memories again. And a few she ignores, not wanting to actually touch them again. A pink dress. A pair of ice skates. A pair of earrings and a necklace. A coffee mug. A bag of decaf coffee. A pair of yellow boots. A package of Barbie bandaids. A green Frisbee. A pair of silver shoes with the heel falling off of one. A menu with her name drawn in scribbles all over it. Lorelai Gilmore. Lorelai Victoria Gilmore. Lorelai Danes. Lorelai V. Danes. Mrs. Luke Danes. Mrs. Danes. She smiles to herself, she had wanted it so badly. An unopened bottle of champagne.

So when you went up earlier, you were going to bed. You go to bed early, which makes sense because you get up early. And, ug… now I got it.

Hey, it's no big deal. Just come on in, we'll, uh…

No, I can hold on to this 'til later.

Yeah?

Yeah. Good night. Goes to bed early, I gotta remember that.

Only on some nights.

Hey, don't you also hate champagne?

Kind of.

Yeah. I'm learning, I'm learning.

She places the bottle next to her, running a nail down the side. She had wanted to bad to know all of his secrets, all the little things about him, and she thought she had. She had thought she knew him so well. But if she had, wouldn't she have seen the end before it happened?

Getting up on her knees, she looks in the box to see what's left and she knows what's still there. She remembers that she put it in the bottom for a reason. This was the only item, the only memory, the only moment, that she wasn't sure she could ever handle retrieving. She's still not sure if she can handle it. And as she stares down at it, a tear drifts down her cheek. Her hand works separately from her body and reaches in and takes hold of the soft white material. She rests her arm on the side of the box, running the tips of her fingers over the silky tulle, the gorgeous beading, and the satin sash that had made her smile at the time because it was by request from him. She was going to wear it. She was going to become Mrs. Lorelai Danes. She was going to have everything she had ever dreamed of. And at that moment, her fingers release the material, rushing to cover her face as the she begins to sob quietly, mourning the loss of everything she had ever hoped for.

Luke is now sitting the middle of his former apartment, now Loren's special place, surrounded by the various parts of what once was a fairy tale life. The box rests against his knees as his eyes gaze over all the objects that surround him. While he had been unpacking, he had been stunned that they still had her scent. He was even more amazed that each still brought back the wonderful memory he had been hoping to preserve by making this box, by keeping the box. The rose. The daisy. The note on Garfield stationary. The suit carrier. The napkin with a loan agreement and a thank you written on it. The response card from the Dragonfly. The box of pens. The aprons with diner code written along the edge. The faded green baseball cap. The menus with her name written on the cover. The oven guide. The toolbox formerly known as Bert. And his favorite item, the picnic basket that cost exactly $52.50 and once contained two stale PopTarts and a Slim Jim.

And I don't know, it's a nice concept.

What is?

Just having someone you love or have some kind of crazy crush on bid on your basket and then share a romantic lunch. It's a nice concept.

Well I'm sure someday you'll manage to find the right guy and drag him out to this thing and make him buy your stupid basket and then you'll be sitting out here with him.

Yeah, someday.

You know what?

What?

This is nice.

He picks up the basket, turning it over in his hands. And it had been nice, a lunch with Lorelai, with the woman that he had always dreamt of. His eyes roam from the basket to the tabletop, where he knows three very important items sit. Two horoscopes. One ring box. Just as he's about to stand and get a little closer to them, there's a light rapping on the door.

"I thought I was going to get you when I was ready…" His voice trails off when he opens the door to find Nicolas standing there. "Uh… I thought you were…" Luke rubs his hand over his mouth. Nicolas seems frozen on the other side of the door, as if he's afraid to take another step. "Heya, Nick, you want to come in?" The sound of Luke's version of his name brings a slight smile to Nicolas's lips. "Nick?" Nicolas nods and walks in. Luke watches him nervously as he closes the door, unsure of what to do. He remembers the first time he spent alone with April and somehow this is completely different. He already knew Nicolas. Somehow, he already loved Nicolas. Maybe it was the idea that this was his chance to be a father to his child with Lorelai, the only child of his conceived in love, the child whose life could have been so much different, so much better, if only he and Lorelai had been able to figure things out all those years ago, if only they had understood back then what those fifteen years apart had shown them, that they would never stopped thinking of each other, that they belonged together, that through everything they were still deeply in love.

Nicolas stands in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips as he stares down at the box with all the objects surrounding it. Luke walks over to stand next to him, in exactly the same position. "My mom's?" Nicolas asks. Luke glances over at him and nods.

"Yeah well…" Luke shrugs uncomfortably. Nicolas nods.

"So you found out, huh?" Nicolas asks. Luke nods, walking over to the table, sitting down and motioning for Nicolas to sit as well.

"Yeah, your mom told me," Luke responds. Nicolas walks over and sits at the table, his eyes focusing on the horoscopes and ring box. Luke grimaces and brushes them to the side.

"You didn't know," Nicolas figures. Luke watches him for a moment and shrugs. He glances over at the mess he's created in the middle of the floor.

"Maybe. Somewhere deep down. Maybe I had an idea," Luke says. He looks back at Nicolas. "But, you know, it wasn't anything official, I mean she didn't say anything official." And Luke's eyes close momentarily.

You knew what I was doing?

Well not officially!

Not officially? Oh come on. I mean, I didn't have a ref present, but other than that.

Well you didn't say anything official!

What was I supposed to say? I did things. I let my actions speak. That's what you're supposed to do. You're supposed to let your actions speak. That's the romantic way to do things.

"Luke?" Luke opens his eyes and looks at Nicolas again. "I think…" Nicolas sighs. "I think I knew too."

"She's really something, your mother is," Luke mutters.

"I wanted to come here to, you know, get to know you, or something. I mean, I know you, but I don't. You know?"

"Yeah, I know," Luke agrees.

"Does this feel at all a little Outer Limits-y to you?" Nicolas wonders. Luke stares at him for a moment before grinning.

"A little," Luke agrees and chuckles. Nicolas smiles, only because Luke is, but not getting the real reason that Luke is smiling.

"I just want you to know, I mean, I'm glad. I'm glad it's you, I guess. I mean, I love – loved – I mean, my dad. But I never felt close to him, you know? I never felt like we had anything in common. And then I come here and it's… different," Nicolas says.

"Some fathers are hard to get close to. My dad was like that."

"My grandfather," Nicolas realizes.

"Yeah," Luke agrees, his eyebrows raised as if he hadn't thought about it. "You know your mother named you after him?" Nicolas shakes his head.

"Your dad's name was Nicolas?"

"No, my dad's name was William." Nicolas snorts.

"Oh, well that makes sense."

"His middle name was Nicolas. Guess she wanted to make it a little less obvious for Rory or whoever," Luke figures.

"She tell you that?" Nicolas asks. Luke shakes his head.

"No, I just know your mom." Nicolas smiles slightly.

"I wish I could say that this changes things. But I'm not going to be calling you dad anytime soon, I mean, I don't know what will happen a few years from now but…" Nicolas says.

"That's okay."

"And I'm still angry with Mom, but…" Nicolas shrugs. "She's still my mom."

"You know, your sister always said you were a Momma's boy," Luke remarks.

"Oh yeah? Which sister?" Nicolas asks, although both men knew he was referring to Lucy. But Luke suddenly realizes that Nicolas now has four sisters: Rory, April, Lucy and Loren. They share a small smile. "I guess, I mean, I don't really know. I just needed some time."

"To think," Luke finishes for him.

"Yeah. To think. But I forgive her. I mean, I figure she had her reasons."

"She did," Luke replies. Nicolas raises an eyebrow. Luke nods. "She did," Luke assures him again.

"So you forgive her too?" Nicolas asks. Luke shrugs. "You know this is killing her, right? I mean, she loves you. I think that's what I always saw in her eyes around you, that's how it was different from my dad. She never loved him. She never loved him because she never stopped loving you."