Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.
A/N: Sorry it took so long...next one may take some time too...I'm out of the country at the moment.
Once again, Luke awoke to pounding on the door. 'Friggin deja vu,' he thought. Only this time he didn't get up to answer. Instead, he grabbed the nearest pillow and buried his head under it trying desperately to shut out the sound. "Owww," he groaned. His head hurt. A lot. As he struggled to escape the sound his leg hit the sea of empty beer cans that scattered his bed and he remembered…well actually he didn't remember much of yesterday after Liz left. What he did remember however, was that he had drank—heavily. Geez, he hadn't been hung over in…well, actually he'd been hung over a lot these past two years, but before that it had been a really long time.
"Luke!" a voice boomed by the foot of his bed. Clearly the person had stopped knocking and let themselves in—thanks to the continuing pounding in his head Luke hadn't even noticed.
"Go away Caesar," he groaned into his mattress.
"Nice try," came the reply. Then, before Luke new what was happening he felt the mattress slipping out from beneath him, sending him to the floor in a clatter, a shower of beer cans following after.
"Wha—" was as far as Luke got before he was momentarily blinded by the drapes being torn open and sunlight, very painful sunlight in his opinion, flooding the room.
"Ugh, how long has it been since you've opened a window in this place!"
"Caes—!" Luke stopped short, squinting up at the figure above him, using his hand to try to shield himself from the light. "You're not Caesar."
"Ah, you always were a quick one," was the reply, followed by what felt, to Luke, like roaring laughter.
Covering his head with his hands he groaned loudly. "How'd you get up here? What are you even doing here?"
"Cleaning up this mess apparently."
Luke wasn't sure if 'this mess' referred to him or his apartment.
"This town in charming, Lucas. I'd forgotten."
"Same damn place," he groaned. "Same crazy lunatics."
"Yes, they must be. Imagine, still caring for your surly ass all these years."
"Thanks, Mr. B. Thanks a lot."
"Humph," the old man replied. "There's Advil on the nightstand and a glass on the kitchen table—drink it and don't ask me what's in it. Works wonders though. Pick up these cans and for heaven's sake take a shower Butch, you smell worse than the locker room after a meet."
"No," Luke said, "no, Mr. B thanks for coming out here, I'm sorry if the Stars Hallow crazies dragged you over. I don't know what they told you but everything's fine and I'm taking today off…maybe I'll work on that math problem of yours some more."
The sarcasm of that last bit was not lost on the former teacher so he decided to cut right to the chase. "Son, when you ran track for me it was not an option when I told you to run sprints till you were doubled over. When you sat in my history class it was not a choice to take the pop quiz I gave. And right now, what I am telling you is not something you get to say 'no' to."
"Well…"
"Those are a lot of stairs, Lucas, and they're not a fun climb with a cane. You have exactly seventeen minutes to be washed, dressed, and downstairs in that diner looking half alive or I will be forced to come back up here and bring you down myself. And I would highly advise against that or you're going to think this is the varsity team's loss to Ridgemont all over again!" With that Mr. Bolton poked Luke hard in the ribs with the tip of his cane and shuffled out of the apartment yelling, "sixteen and a half minutes," over his shoulder.
Just over fifteen minutes later Luke emerged from behind the curtain strapping on his watch. Bolton had him timed to the second, as Luke knew he would. Amazingly enough, whatever concoction the old man had made up had come ridiculously close to curing the hangover.
"Haha!" the old man laughed victoriously. "Come along Lucas" he said, already shuffling towards the door, "it's a beautiful day and we're going to enjoy it!"
Luke rolled his eyes and followed his old teacher, making a mental note to add him to the list he'd give the nice people with the white coats when he finally called them to haul away all the crazies in his life.
"Feel like standing in the lake tryin to catch trout with your bare hands?" Mr. Bolton asked as he and Luke began walking across the square.
"Sorry, what?" Luke replied.
"Want to go scare some campers?"
"Excuse me?"
"How 'bout standing on your hind legs, pounding your chest, letting out a good roar?"
"Huh!" My God, Luke thought, the old man really has cracked.
"You look like a bear," Mr. Bolton replied his brown eyes twinkling as he nodded at Luke's very much unshaven face, "I thought they were legitimate questions."
Luke shook his head but said nothing, letting the old man gloat a bit at his cleverness. Finally he asked, "so where're we going exactly?"
"Where did we always go?" was the reply.
Luke thought and then nodded. "Ah." And sure enough, moments later the pair were climbing the stairs of the grey metal bleachers surrounding the Stars Hallow High track.
"Feeling nostalgic?" Mr. B inquired as they took a seat.
Luke shrugged. "It's changed."
The old man stared out at the track. "Anything worth keeping eventually does."
Luke stared at the ground for awhile before he sighed. "Look Mr. B, I know you're trying to help and I know you want me to find myself again and all that but I can't okay? I just can't. I have to shut off my past or I can't go on. I'm in hell right now Mr. Bolton—hell, and that's where I'll be for the rest of my life. I'm not looking to escape it anymore— I have this town to take care of, I have my daughter to take care of, so I make myself at least go on. Every morning, every day, I go on the only way I know how."
After a few minutes of thoughtful silence Mr. B responded. "I'm not going to tell you to go after her, Luke. I'm not going to tell you to surround yourself with pictures of her so you'll remember her, who you were with her. I'm not even going to tell you that you're wrong. I will tell you to make a decision. You're no good to anyone if you just exist, Luke. So if that's all you're going to do then it's not worth it."
Luke shifted his weight and glared angrily up at the man next to him. "So what are you trying to tell me then, huh? Not worth it! All this crap about finding myself and now you just want me to blow my brains out!"
"I'm telling you I think there is a reason why you haven't 'blown your brains out,' despite how utterly depressed as you clearly are. I think you want more than to just 'go on' Luke."
"It doesn't matter what I want!" he ranted, his brow furrowed, his voice still angry. "Life doesn't just give you what you want. I'm faced with a reality here and I'm just trying to make some sense out of it!"
"Then stop."
"Don't you get it! She left me!" He was on his feet now. "She slept with Christopher! We were engaged and she slept with her ex!"
"After two years you really want to play the blame game about this?"
"Hey! I'm not the one who disappeared! I never went anywhere—she knew where to find me!"
"Sit down, Lucas," Mr. B said calmly.
Luke fumed but managed to sit down as he was told.
"I'm not going to tell you you're wrong—it doesn't matter what I think. Should you try once more? Maybe …"
"I can't."
"Of course you can. You love her…"
"No!" He was back on his feet. "This 'love' thing—it's bullshit! It's some abstract word the Hallmark Corporation shoves down your throat but really it's nothing!" Luke looked into Mr. Bolton's steady gaze. "If there was a poster couple for this 'love' thing we were supposed to have been it. But then she left. She walked away. Nothing stopped her…"
"Not even you," Mr. B pointed out.
"Well I was angry! I was shocked—I mean my whole world was crashing down and…"
"And you made a mistake," Mr. B finished. Your emotions got the best of you and you made a mistake. People do that, Luke. And sometimes they don't know how to fix them—even when the answer seems clear to everyone else."
Luke sat silently for awhile and when he spoke his anger was gone. "I can't. I can't watch her walk away from me again. I can't let myself love her again…I couldn't survive if she left again," he said, the last line coming out in a whisper.
Mr. Bolton laughed. "Well of course she'd leave you Luke."
Luke sat back a bit, shocked. "Excuse me?"
"Luke," Mr. B put a hand on his knee to calm him and looked at him seriously. "We are born knowing we are going to die. Six feet under is the ultimate destination for everyone. Yet, people get very worked up over their time in between—school, work, passions, successes—even though they know what the end result will be. People fall in love the same way, Luke. You love with someone knowing that one day they will leave you. Maybe you break up, maybe you grow apart, maybe they die. Something will happen. There is no such thing as forever, Luke, it doesn't exist. But love? That does."
Luke sighed frustratedly, holding his head in hands, looking down at his shoes.
"I know you're hurting Luke, but ask yourself—if you could go back and avoid this relationship—would you? Would you never let yourself meet her, never let yourself be her friend, never ask her out? Would you?"
Luke closed his eyes, thinking…
"Oh, it's great!" she was practically squealing with delight, trying to steady herself, attempting to glide gracefully across the ice.
"Keep away from trees." He worried briefly she might break an ankle or something but then again he constantly worried about her, an ice rink didn't change that.
"Ah, I look like a dork but I love it," she cried over her shoulder as she flailed her arms for balance. The smile was back in her voice…oh, that voice.
"You look fine." That voice always made him smile back, internally at the very least. She was lying to him…there was something more to her story about why she hadn't felt well
this morning but it was okay, maybe it was the damn snow, but whatever it was, it was okay. He trusted her. She was it for him. No matter what happened, from here on out they were gonna be okay, he could feel it.
"You want to be Randy to my Tai?"
He had no idea what that meant, but even if he had he probably would have replied much the same way, "Nah, I'll just watch." And he did, sitting in the cold like an idiot watching a crazy woman in her thirties skate about like a six year old, giggling the whole time. And as he shook his head at how nonsensical the whole ordeal was it struck him that amazingly he wasn't cold at all, in fact he had never felt quite so warmed. He heard her laugh echo through the yard and her brown hair fall over her face as she wobbled to maintain balance and it dawned on him that in this moment he was happier than he had ever been in his entire life.
"No," he whispered, opening his eyes.
Mr. Bolton let slip a small smile as he stood up. "Endings suck, Luke. There's no way around that. What makes them bearable, what makes life worth living at all, is everything else. If this was your end with Lorelai, Luke, than take comfort in that.
Luke looked up at him. "If?"
"You still love her Lucas," the old man shrugged. Then he turned and descended the metal stairs. "Think about it," he said with a wink.
Luke watched him walk away and then stood to leave himself when something caught his eye. There, on the bleacher, right where Mr. Bolton had been sitting was a small rock set on top of a very familiar yellowed piece of paper. 'Damn it, Bolton,' Luke thought. 'Stupid Liz must have said something about it to someone…he must have grabbed it off the dresser. Damn it Liz!' his mind yelled.
He looked back at the paper. That crazy man sure knew how to make his point. Luke really did have to make a choice, and make it now. Either he walked away and lost the horoscope forever or he picked it up, making his past a tangible reality.
Luke stared down at it, his former teacher's words coming back to him in a flood: if this is the end…still love her…what makes life worth living… And then he couldn't help but remember…
"I need more time! I told you that." He just needed to think, make sense of things.
"I'm afraid of this 'more time' stuff. I'm afraid it'll take forty years and that's not good." She seemed frantic almost.
"Lorelai," he said her name almost warningly. He couldn't follow her, she knew he couldn't follow and she continued to talk in circles. He couldn't handle this now…
"We'll miss our middle! I want a middle! And the town is dividing us up! I need that to stop!"
"Don't." He stopped her rambling. He didn't know what the hell a 'middle' was supposed to mean but she was making this too hard. She was practically begging him…she was tearing at his heart and it was starting to hurt…his heart actually hurt…he couldn't possibly make a rational decision like this!
"Luke. I am all in. I'm all in. Please trust me. Let me show you what a great girlfriend I can be. But I can't wait. We can't wait…"
A part of Luke hated himself for what he was about to do. The other part, the part that held that memory, that held all his memories, the part he'd tried to seal off…well, that part had known all along that no matter how long it took, in the end, this was the only way he was ever meant to be. With one last deep breath he grabbed the paper and left the bleachers, striding off in the direction of the diner, striding off toward uncertainty, and at the same time toward the only thing he had ever really known.