Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.

Luke looked around him, taking in the cluttered room. In the middle was a large wooden desk with two chairs opposite it. There was a stack of scattered papers along with a few open books sitting on top of it along with an assortment of pens, pencils, and markers. The walls were lined with metal filing cabinets and wooden, hand-crafted bookshelves, all overflowing. Every inch of space in the room, excepting only the ceiling and a few non-obstructed spots of beige carpeting, was covered in pictures, ribbons, cards, drawings, certificates, awards, trophies, and the like. Luke knew and recognized every single one.

"Well will ya look what the devil dragged in!"

Luke turned toward the doorway and saw the source of the voice. He couldn't help but crack a small smile. Despite having shrunk several inches over the years, balding considerably, and requiring the use of a cane, Luke couldn't help but think the old man hadn't changed a bit. "Hey Mr. Bolton," he said simply, sticking out his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the great Butch Danes wants to shake my hand!" the old man announced gleefully. "Come here," he said entering the room and wrapping Luke in a bear hug. Luke returned the hug and although it was still a little awkward he noted it was much improved from his earlier attempt with Mrs. Bolton. The old man clapped Luke on the back and pulled himself away. "Lucas, how the heck are ya?"

Luke chuckled. "Mr. Bolton, in the span of about two minutes you've called me the two names I thought I finally managed to get people to forget about."

"Well then Lucas," he laughed as he made his way to the chair behind the desk, resting the cane against a nearby file cabinet, "you've come to the wrong place, an elephant never forgets!" He thumped his chest for effect. "Besides you're practically a geezer yourself and yet, there you are, continuing that 'Mr. Bolton' crap. I told you after graduation you could call me Harry."

"I know, I know," Luke smiled. Changing the subject he looked around the office again as he sat down in a chair and said, "Mr. B you haven't changed a thing. This looks exactly the same as it did when I was in high school."

"Yes," the old man affirmed following Luke's gaze around the crowded walls, "yes it does. Why change it? I like to remember what makes me tick." He gave Luke a wink and looked toward the door as his wife brought in tea for Luke and coffee for himself. "Thank you Martha, dear," he said grasping the cup and saucer. Luke nodded his thanks and took his as well.

"Well, Lucas," Mr. Bolton continued after his wife had exited the room, "I have to say I did expect you sooner."

Luke shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I know, Mr. B, I'm sorry it's been so long. I've had a lot going on and, while I know there's not good excuse for letting years go by without staying in touch but…"

"You're right about that, son, but I'm not asking you where you've been since high school graduation."

Luke stared at him not sure of what to say.

Mr. Bolton continued. "I'm still friends with Buddy, Luke, he told me about you and Lorelai."

Luke felt a shudder run through him. Mr. B had never been one to beat around the bush but even so Luke was taken back by his forwardness. No one had spoken her name to him for a good year and a half now…hell, he hadn't even let himself think it. He heard her name play through his mind a few more times…Lorelai. It didn't sound real any more. Lorelai. It sounded like some sort of made up word. Lorelai. Maybe the name of some exotic flower. Lorelai. Or the name of a small town in some foreign country. Lorelai. Beautiful, but with a distinct air of mystery and distance.

Mr. B brought Luke back to reality by reaching across his desk. "Remember this?" he asked handing Luke a small black frame that had stood beside a picture of his family. Luke knew what was in the frame even before he flipped it over. It was a picture of him, a much younger, more naïve him, standing in a blue cap and gown with his high school diploma in one hand and his other arm tightly around a broad shouldered man with salt and pepper hair.

"When'd you get so old?" Luke joked.

"When did you lose that young man?" Mr. B retorted.

Luke sat back a little further in his chair. He hadn't been entirely sure of what he was expecting from Mr. Bolton when he had called him up after his conversation with the crazy teacher lady. Probably just to reminisce about his old glory days at Stars Hallow High when life had come easy to him and the whole world seemed to be waiting. If there was anyone who could recall those days, Mr. B would have been it. Serving as both Luke's varsity track coach and history teacher Mr. B had become somewhat of a second father to him. The fact that he was an old friend of Buddy's only made the two that much closer. Luke had never been much of an 'open book' so to speak, but Mr. B, well Mr. B, knew him inside and out. It was here in his office that Luke had admitted fears as well as dreams. Mr. Bolton knew exactly who he was and maybe that was all Luke had wanted—to sit down and have his old mentor tell him how great he could be, how much potential he had, how he would have liked a son just like him. Apparently though, this wasn't going to be so simple.

He tried to give a nonchalant laugh, "what you mean the hair? I know I'm thinning but…"

Mr. Bolton set the picture down facing Luke and leaned back in his chair. "No," he said, "I don't mean your hair. Lucas, you're dancing, you're dancing like a damn ballerina. You're dancing right around my questions and right around your reasons for coming here."

Luke let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his hair. Across the desk his old teacher's eye held a slight twinkle—he was getting to him. "I don't know why I'm here Mr. B.," he finally let out while staring at the ceiling tiles. "It was an impulse thing. See, I was sitting in the town square a week or so ago, in the gazebo actually, and I see this goofy kid running around, screaming…"

Mr. Bolton leaned back in his chair, nodding slightly, letting Luke break out into full rant mood. This was good.

"…so really I don't get it. I mean she starts talking about needing to remember who I am…what the hell does that mean? Oh, and that bit in the gazebo, about school subjects I liked—what was that!" Luke sank back into his chair after having poured out his whole run-in with the crazy lady.

The room was silent for a moment as Mr. Bolton sat smiling across from Luke, staring off while rubbing his chin absentmindedly. Finally he turned to face his former student. "Luke you loved my class—too much possibly," he laughed. "You loved your English classes, I know because I had to hear about those too." This time Luke laughed. "I also had to hear about Mr. Johnson and how Calculus was so…let's see how would you have put it…retarded?" This time they both laughed. "Why? Why did you think that way Luke?"

"Um…well…" Luke wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. All students had subjects they liked and subjects they didn't. Right? What was the big deal?

"Luke I'm not asking you to be an adult here. I'm not asking which one is better or more useful. I didn't get a history degree until I received my masters, do you know what my bachelors degree was in? Mathematics. It's good stuff."

Luke nodded.

"But you didn't think so then. So why not?"

"Because…" he thought back through all those forgotten about years for a reason, "math was so 'this is the way it is.' I didn't like that. I didn't like memorizing formulas. My friend Paul loved it, you plug in the numbers to the right spot and out pops the right answer—THE right answer because there's only one and no matter where you are in the world, in time, that's the answer. Paul loved that. I didn't."

"Why?"

"I guess I just wanted to reason things out more, in a way that worked for me. I didn't understand x's and y's, I understood people and motives. You made history come alive in your class. I, we all, felt like we were a part of something bigger than ourselves. Same with English, I guess. Themes, motifs, characters in books, there was a message you know. It meant something, it was about something. It was life, it didn't follow a formula, there was no right answer, but a lot of possibilities. That was where I thrived."

"So you didn't like exact answers, didn't like things making too much sense?"

"I guess not," Luke responded. He felt a little stung by those words. Things were supposed to make sense. He made sense. Didn't he? Hadn't that been his mantra of late?

"I don't know if crazy lady's quite so crazy Luke," Mr. B winked. "In a round-a-bout way I think she was trying to find out if you'd remained true to yourself or you'd lost yourself somewhere along the way." He motioned back to the picture. "Do you remember what you told me that day, Luke?"

Luke nodded recalling their conversation on the lawn outside of the school right before the picture had been snapped. "Sure, I was young, idealistic, clueless," he laughed. "I wanted to see the world back then. Heck, I wanted to change the world. I thought anything could be fixed. I was arguing 2+2 with you…"

"Yes, sir, you were damn sure you could make that little old equation add up to five."

"I don't know what was thinking with that one…" Luke found himself reddening a bit at the remembrance. It was actually pretty embarrassing. In what world doesn't two and two equal four?

"Sure you do."

Luke stared at him.

"Come on Luke. This," he dug out a sheet of scratch paper and sketched out '2+25' "will never make sense. Okay? Can we agree on that? There are no numerals, x's or y's that will make that work correctly. But is it so wrong to want to believe it anyway?"

Luke thought back to his gazebo conversation when the woman asked him if it would be so horrible for the boy not to be able to define his made up words.

"This isn't about math Luke, it wasn't about math then either, it's about believing things that don't make sense. It's about knowing there's something worth defending, worth going after, even when you can't understand all the reasons behind it, you can't explain it. Sometimes things aren't meant to be explained."

Luke sat back in his chair and breathed deeply. He wasn't sure what to say to something like that.