Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.
A/N: Thanks for all your reviews. Sorry it's been so slow, I have pretty limited computer access right now.
Luke walked quickly, determinedly, back through the town—feet hitting the pavement hard, shoulders broad, arms making short, sharp swings, jaw set. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do—he just knew he was going to do something.
He started to move in the direction of Sookie's house, thinking that if anyone had gotten information in the past two years there was a good chance it was her, when he felt himself look up and stop short. His breathe caught a bit and his solid, determined posture dissolved. He had thought he might never see her again and now there she was, brushing her brown hair behind her ear as she stood on the wooden porch of the Kim's, just yards in front of him.
It had been just over a year since he had last seen Rory Gilmore. She had been his last and final resort in his hunt for Lorelai. He could vividly recalled the night he has last seen her.
It was a Thursday, for some reason he remembered that, that he had sat in his truck outside her apartment at Yale for almost an hour, watching the rain pound and streak his windshield. He hadn't wanted to come, he had tried so hard to avoid this. He knew Rory loved him but, obviously, her loyalties lay first and foremost with her mother. He was sure Rory knew where Lorelai was and by this point in his search it seemed she was the only one. It was that fact that had driven Luke to come. He had tried for so long not to do this to her, not to put her in the middle, not to make things harder for her…but he was desperate, he had run out of ideas, out of options—Rory was the only chance he had left.
She had appeared genuinely surprised to see him when he'd finally gotten up the strength to ring the doorbell, but Luke felt it was surprise not so much that he had come but that it had taken him this long. She invited him in and he noticed her surprise fade into nervousness. She knew why he was there and that he knew she knew the information he had spent night and day searching for. She tried to take his coat but he kept it on, dripping wet and all. As she looked at him in the nervousness transformed into a look Luke had grown to know well—pity. He had come to expect it. He looked like a wreck and he knew it—he had almost a full beard, he couldn't remember the last time he had showered, he was pale and haggard, deep bags under his eyes that after so many sleepless nights he felt they must have been embedded there, his eyes didn't seem to be able to focus—they skipped and darted throughout the room, his walk was unbalanced as if he was in a permanent state of drunkenness.
"Oh Luke," was all she could say after several moments of silently taking him in.
"Rory…" he had started but that was as far as he'd gotten before she'd thrown herself into his arms, not caring that he was soaked from the rain, her face buried in his chest, her shoulders shaking as she began to sob. For a moment neither of them could speak.
"Luke," she said though sobs, "I thought I'd never see you again. God, I thought I'd never see you again."
"I know," he whispered, tightening his hold on her.
She sobbed harder. "I'm sorry Luke!"
"Rory…"
"I'm sorry for you, I'm sorry for her, I'm sorry for me—I'm just…everything's such a mess!"
Luke continued holding her until her sobs became silent tears. He wanted to keep her in his arms, to hug her forever because in a way he thought she might be all he had left. She was the closest thing he had to her and Luke knew if he continued with his reason for coming here he would lose that too but he couldn't help it, he couldn't restrain himself any longer. He had to know.
"Rory," he finally began, pulling her away so he could see her eyes, but not taking his grip off her shoulders. "It's been almost a year. I'm a mess. I've tried everything I can think of, Rory, and I've got nothing but dead ends to show for it. Rory I need to know where she is. Please, let me go to her…"
"Luke," she broke his gaze, shaking her head, looking almost fearful of him, "no. Don't, please, Luke don't do this to me…"
"Rory I'm dying, I'm dying here Rory, please! She's my world Rory, you're the only shot I've got left, please! She wouldn't have to know it was you who helped me, I could say I figured it out some other way…just…please!"
"Luke, I can't! I can't tell you Luke! You know I can't tell you!" she was sobbing again, harder this time.
"No, no, no! You can! You have to! Rory I can fix this! Just give me a chance! Please! Let me fix it, I've always been able to fix it!"
Rory just shook her head, sobbingly trying to break out of his grasp. "It's not for me to give Luke…this isn't my choice…"
"It can be! Please! Rory!" He was out of control now, lost to desperation. He felt his knees weaken and went to grab onto her again—partly to steady himself, partly in attempt to persuade her. Before he could though he felt someone else grab him from behind, pull him back. He turned and saw blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. It was that kid…Landon or something. Luke had no idea when he'd gotten there, where he'd come from, if Rory and him were even still together. He tried to focus but it was as if the room was spinning and all the voices seemed far away. The kid was saying something to him…"okay…Luke…need to leave…now…" The kid was pulling him toward the door… "Logan…" he heard Rory speak. So that was his name Luke remembered. He looked back at Rory, sobbing with her arms hugging her chest. He had done it again—gone and hurt everyone who meant anything to him.
"Rory," he whispered, his heart breaking at what he had done to her.
"I'm so sorry Luke," she sobbed almost incoherently. "I love you! I do! I wish I could tell you Luke! I wish she'd come back! Luke believe me! You have to believe me!"
And with that Luke allowed the Logan kid to lead him out the door, usher him through the rain and into his car, saying things to him in an uncertain but sympathetic tone, although Luke couldn't distinguish any of his words.
That night his search had ended. He had nowhere else to turn and he hated himself for what he had done to Rory. He had never wanted anything but to protect her, ever since she was a little girl, and the fact that she needed someone to protect her from him was a burden that he knew would stay with him for the rest of his life. He resided then to the fact that the Gilmore girls were gone from his life, excepting perhaps in his dreams. Lorelai was not to be found and he no longer trusted himself to be around Rory and not cause her such pain. So that night when he finally gathered himself enough to drive away from Yale he tried his hardest to never look back.
And now, without warning, there she was—Rory Gilmore. She looked older, he noted, as he watched her say something into the screen door where he presumed Lane must have been standing. She looked even more like her mother.
She exited the porch and began making her way down the walk. The corner of her eye caught his familiar blue baseball cap and she stopped short, turned, and stared at him staring back at her.
For a moment he was sure she would turn and run. For a moment he wondered if he should. But then he saw her begin hesitantly in his direction and he felt his own feet move forward, each step quicker than the last, until he once again had the youngest Gilmore girl wrapped in his arms, crying.
For awhile neither spoke and he surprised himself by kissing the top of her head. That made her look up, equally surprised, and she raised her hands to grasp his face, running her fingers over his features as if to check that he was real.
"I wasn't sure…" she started through tears. "I mean, I thought you might have…" she broke off into sobs, unable to continue.
"I know," he said softly, pressing her to chest, "I know." He paused before pulling back enough to place his hand on her check, urging her to look at him. "Are you okay Rory? Have you been doing alright?" He wanted to know everything about what had happened to her this past year. He wanted to take care of her again.
"Yeah," she replied, voice still shaky, "I'm okay, Luke, I'm alright."
Breathing deeply, Luke felt viciously torn. He wanted to hug her forever, to never let go of his last link to Lorelai Gilmore. But that last night that he had seen her still hung clear in his mind. When Lorelai left him she took most of his heart with her. If Luke stayed near Rory too long he probably wouldn't be able to fight the temptation to inquire about her mother and if he did so, forcing her to choose, watching her break again, he was certain the rest of his heart would crumble as well.
Rory seemed to sense his internal tension and pulled back just enough to look up at him. "Luke," she began, "you know I still can't tell you…"
"I know, Rory."
She looked so saddened, so defeated, as if he was her last link to something too—the family she had been dreaming of perhaps. She wanted to tell him, she wished she could tell him, Luke could see it in her eyes. He'd seen it that night at Yale too.
"I…I should go…" she stammered, tears threatening to begin again.
He nodded, stroked her hair once, and released her slowly, painfully almost.
She kissed his cheek and began walking away quickly. Luke sighed, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and began to turn away when he heard Rory call his name from across the lawn. He spun around to face her.
"She loves you Luke!" Rory called, breaking into sobs. "She still loves you! She's always loved you! There's no one else…I just wanted you to know, there's never been anyone else!" And with that she ran off in the direction of her car, unable to look back.
Luke stood still, staring off after her even when the car had long since rounded the corner. In a way, he almost couldn't believe it—she still loved him. He took the horoscope out of his pocket and held it, turning it over in his hands, running his thumb over each crease in the paper.
"She told me to hold on to that horoscope, put it in my wallet…that one day it would bring me luck…"
After two years Luke knew one thing for sure—he did not believe in fate. Luck, however, he had yet to make a decision about. It would have made for a nicer story for Luke to believe his relationship with Lorelai was 'fated'—that she would follow her heart all the way back to him and all would be forgiven and they'd ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after for the rest of their lives. That was the kind of story that was just made for you to tell your grandkids about. But none of that was realistic, not of that depending on 'fate' stuff made sense, and no matter how 'nice' it would be to have things happen that way, Luke knew they wouldn't, not without a push. If luck was going to be that push, hell, Luke would take it—'nice' sounding or not.
With that thought in mind Luke took off running in a full sprint, loafers only grazing the ground as he went—in fact he didn't even realize he was still heading towards Sookie's until he was coming up her street. Bounding onto the porch Luke alternated pounding on the door and bending over, hands on knees, trying to catch his breath. "Sookie!" he yelled. "Sook—"
"What? What?" a slightly sleepy Jackson grumbled, opening the front door, apparently having just been awoken from a nap. He seemed shocked to see who it was, but recovered quickly. "Luke?" he questioned because although Stars Hallow had only one baseball hat wearing, flannel clad diner owner, no one had seen Luke this…well...lively in some time. "What's wrong? What happened? Are you okay?"
Luke seemed a bit taken aback by the last question and pondered it seriously for a brief second while he caught his breath enough to shake his head and reply, still slightly panting, "I don't know. I don't know what okay is anymore…"
"Alright…" Jackson said slowly, not sure of where to take the conversation from there.
"Sookie!" Luke said, remembering why he came. "I need to talk to Sookie! Where is she?" he pressed Jackson.
"Well, she not here, she had to go to the inn today but…"
Luke didn't wait for him to finish before taking off toward the Dragonfly. It seemed farther than he remembered it, but then again it had been years since he'd been anywhere near the property. He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he charged up the lawn, across the porch, and through the screen door, into the reception area, trying his damnedest to concentrate on finding Sookie, thereby warding off the avalanche of memories that seemed to reside in every corner of the building.
"Yes," Michel sighed as Luke began to approach the front desk, "how may I assist…you!" Michel let out the last word in a tone filled with almost accusatory shock as he had finally torn himself from the catalogue he'd been flipping through and seen who it was that had come in. He now stood wide-eyed, staring at a very determined looking Luke, seemingly trying to decipher if the flannel image in front of him was actually who he thought it was.
"Where's Sookie?" Luke monotoned.
Yep, it was. "I…I do not know," Michel stammered at first but quickly regained control as he came around the counter. "Do I look like her babysitter? Now go, you are scaring the guests—all that facial fur makes you look like some sort of animal."
Luke waited long enough to roll his eyes at the over gelled, over manicured Frenchman before side stepping Michel's attempts to usher him back toward the door and striding into the dinning room. "Sookie!" he demanded, stepping past some startled guests.
As he made his way toward the kitchen door Luke could hear Michel coming after him, though unable to match his long strides, calling, "It's the baseball man! Stop the baseball man!" Inwardly, Luke found his shouts odd…until he burst through the swinging kitchen door just in time to see the back door slam shut. Luke stood, planted in his spot in the doorway, taking in the scene before him as a rather agitated Michel came crashing into the room behind him. The five or so members of the kitchen staff had halted their chopping, stirring, and arranging and were now watching Luke intently. Next to the now still back door, at the opposite end of the kitchen stood a very nervous looking Sookie, a dish towel being nervously wrung between her hands, two mugs and a half empty pot of very black coffee sitting on the small wooden table behind her.
"Hi Luke!" Sookie tried, but he voice came out in a high squeal, betraying her attempt at nonchalance.
Luke shot her a single menacing stare before he shot past her and out the back door. Once outside he glanced around widely, searching for a clue as to which direction he should pursue. He was about to charge straight ahead towards the woods and in the direction of the stable when he heard the sound of an engine starting and a car being thrown into reverse coming from the parking lot off to his right. Luke turned the corner in time to see a blue sports car moving out of the Dragonfly parking lot. In the second or so pause the car made before pulling out into traffic and speeding down the street Luke got a glance at the driver's dark wavy hair. And he may very well have imagined it, but when his eyes darted over the car's rear view mirror he could have sworn he saw a pair of eyes staring back at him in a hue so blue he knew could have only seen it once before. And then, just like that, the car and its driver were gone.
Luke tried to make himself stay calm, he tried to make himself be rational. He failed. His fingers balled themselves into fists so tight they pierced his knuckles white, he felt his breathing become belaboured and heavy, his vision blurred, and his jaw clenched as his feet moved themselves in loud pounding steps back to the door of the kitchen, which was violently kicked open. "That was her! Wasn't it? Wasn't it!" he heard himself bellow at the kitchen as a whole. Finally his eyes landed on Sookie standing next to the sink below the back window, dish towel in hand.
"Now Luke…" she started slowly, nervously.
Her reaction was all Luke needed to affirm his conclusion. "You knew!" he screamed at her, still in disbelief of the fact.
"Luke," Sookie took a few steps backwards, while vocally trying to calm him, "Luke, this isn't what you think…just let me explain…"
"You knew!" he screamed again incredulously while slamming his fist across the counter sending two pots and some potatoes flying across the room.
"Please just calm down and…"
"Calm down! You want me to calm down! I've been going through hell here Sookie—hell—barely hanging on, only to find she's been in front of my face the whole time!" Another pot was sent clanging to the floor. "I know you're better friends with her than me, Sookie, I'm not looking to be invited to any slumber parties here, but I thought that at the very least you cared about me enough to pass on some sort of information! Just something so maybe I'd have a shot of one day waking up and not being disgusted by the fact that I was still alive!"
"Luke!" she screamed at him as a coffee mug hit the back wall and shattered.
"Ya know, I'm not even asking for much here but after two years a subtle 'oh hey she's alive by the way' might have been nice! How many other people knew huh? What was it a town conspiracy? Was it on the agenda at the town meetings? In some sort of code maybe? Huh!"
"Luke this isn't fair!" Sookie cried at him.
"Not fair! Not fair! You want to talk about not fair!" he ranted. "You knew! You—"
"Damn it Luke!" Sookie shouted, cutting him off. "You're not the only one who thought you'd lost her!"
Luke paused his rage long enough to be slightly taken a back by her sudden changed of tone.
"Sit down Luke," Sookie commanded firmly, motioning with her head to the small table she's been standing by when he's first burst in. After a moments hesitation Luke did as he was told. "Go check on the guests," Sookie told he the kitchen staff who gladly took the chance to escape. "Not you!" she grabbed Michel's arm as he began to exit the kitchen. "You're in the this too."
"Not by choice," he sulked. Still weary of Luke, he positioned himself by the counter at the opposite end of the room.
Sookie sat down in the seat across from Luke and looked at him intently. "I never lied to you Luke."
Luke shook his head in disbelief and annoyance. "I asked you if you knew where she was, you said no, and yet she was here! You lied—end of story!"
"It's not that simple Luke."
Was that her sitting in her, with you, just now?"
"Luke…"
"Yes or no Sookie!"
Sookie sighed and sat back. "Yes," she said softly.
"Then it is that simple," he snapped, getting up to leave.
"No," she said, her voice soft but heavy as if weighted down by what she knew as she grabbed his arm, pulling him back to the table, "it's not." She put her head in her hands. "Sit down Luke, we need to talk."