Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls
Author's Note: Thanks for all the support so far. I wasn't originally planning on a sequel but the support for On From Here really stayed with me so I thought I'd give it another go. The chapters will get longer as it goes on...
Luke couldn't help but find himself marveling at the scene around him. Briefcase barring, suit-clad Fortune 500 wannabes brushed by him, cars honked noisily in the street, a couple, who looked like they actually might just now be ending their adventures from the night before, hailed a cab, a green leashed poodle yapped wildly at a chunky golden lab who growled in return but nevertheless backed behind its owner's leg. He found himself sidestepping quickly to allow a jogger to pass, able to hear the bass of his workout music despite his use of ear bud headphones and when he heard Lorelai stifle a laugh next to him he knew she was thinking what he was: no man should ever be seen in shorts that short—running or not. A squirrel poked its head out of a garbage can to his right, a Big Mac wrapper wedged between its paws, and an oddly guilty look on its face.
Everywhere he turned, anywhere he looked, life seemed…normal. Despite his lack of familiarity with city lifestyles, he had seen enough TV to know that this was just about how things should go on a regular old day-to-day basis and, well, he couldn't quite figure out how he felt about that. It was almost angering really. The world kept spinning on its axis, just as it had for the past two years…and yet for Luke, time had stood still. He had spent months in his apartment, locked away from everyone, everything, and had spent the rest of the time locked away even further within himself. Yet, looking at the world around him it was almost tempting to believe that none of it had happened, that he had gone to sleep one night and had an awful nightmare of a dream and awoken this morning. He found himself double checking the date on the front page of The New York Times as they passed a news stand just to be sure the date was as he thought it should be.
He wanted to grab some of the people as they passed by: the runner, the sunglass wearing three piece suit man, the bum sitting in a doorway, the cop directing traffic. He wanted to grab any of them, all of them, grab them by the shoulders, shake them and yell, "What's wrong with you?! How can you just keep on jogging by me like that? How can you stroll by with that cell phone pressed to your ear? How can you sit there panhandling for change like that? How can you stand there with that whistle in your mouth directing traffic? How on earth can you go about doing what you've always done? Don't you know what's happened! Don't you know what is happening? Can't you see? All of you! Look at me! Can't you see? Can't you see what's happening to me? To us?"
It was a senseless rant, of course. He'd never seen these people before in his life and they likewise had never seen him. His life meant nothing to them—they had no idea what he had been through the past two years, nor would they care if they did. He wasn't trying to be cynical really—it was just the truth. He was sure he could spill his saga to any random passer-by and he'd get the sympathetic looks, pats on the back, apologetic words—all of which would be genuine enough he was sure. But then they would part ways and he would still have two years of misery breathing down his neck and a future that scared him far too much to attempt prediction. And the sympathetic ear? Well, he or she would have something new to discuss over their dinner table but ultimately they would go about their lives much like they were now, hardly giving his grief a second thought.
It was the way of the world really—to you it could absolutely appear to end, and yet, it kept on spinning. It wasn't cruel so much as necessary, he knew this, but he couldn't help finding it utterly remarkable nonetheless. He glanced at the dark haired beauty walking along beside him, reassuring himself briefly that it wasn't a mirage and felt himself shake his head slowly as he struggled to take it all in. Two lives hung in balance—not just their happiness he knew, but their very being—and yet all around him millions of others raced on—unmoved and utterly unaware.
He glanced again at Lorelai, her gaze fixed upon a little girl in a ballerina costume walking besides a grey stroller her mother was pushing. The girl was practicing blowing bubble gum bubbles and with each try the pink mess grew larger and larger. He caught the amusement in her eyes as she awaited not just the inevitable messy 'pop', but also the prime and proper looking mother's reaction to it. She was all he had, Luke realized. Whether they made it past today or not, made it past their impending discussion or not, made it past whatever hurdle would lie next it didn't matter. No one else in the world, not April, not Liz, not Stars Hallow, not anyone, for as much or as little as they cared for him would be truly able to fathom what the past two years had been like, what walking along besides her now was like, what his tomorrow would be like. No one, but her. They were alone in the world in that sense…and Luke honestly wasn't sure if that was good or bad.
"Hey, are you good at dating?"
"What?" Okay, she had been known to ramble off some pretty strange and random things but he was sure he hadn't heard that one right.
"Dating, do you have that down?"
Nope, she really had said it. He sighed, tired of their argument already. He was upset, sure, that she obviously thought a guy that looked about twelve was more suitable for dating than he was, but hey that was her preference then, right? Who was he to get mad at her about it? He tried to think of the quickest way to diffuse the argument he felt brewing, "Okay, if this is about that kid, then…"
"No," she shook her head, " it's not about anything, it's just a question." Her tone had remained light—serious, but light. She wasn't trying to spark an argument, which he found strange after their bout that afternoon, but he decided to give earnestness a chance.
"Well," he responded, still tinkering with his watch for distraction but trying to keep his tone equally light, " I don't know if I have it down. Considering I live with my nephew, I'd say probably not."
She grinned at that. "I don't have it down either," she confessed. "I've never been very good at it really. I've never even really liked it. Too much 'what if'. I like things I can count on. I mean, uh, actually, with Max," she faltered as his head jerked up at the sound of her ex's name and though she looked momentarily uncomfortable she continued quickly, " it was the first time I was finally like 'Hey, here it is, that one person who will always be there for me.' And then, I turned around, and it's suddenly 'Oops, wrong, keep moving.'"
He had given her nothing but crap that afternoon and now here she was, opening up to him without any prodding, volunteering information that made her, despite the lightness in her tone, almost vulnerable. He couldn't stop himself from blurting out a blunt, "Why are you telling me this?"
He watched her take a breath before answering, which made him leave his watch well enough alone, knowing whatever was coming was obviously important. "I don't have very many people in my life who are in my life permanently forever. They will always be there for me. I will always be there for them, you know?" She met his gaze firmly before continuing, "There's Rory, and Sookie, and this town and ... you." She let out a nervous laugh. " I mean, at least I think I've got..."
"You do," he confirmed and when she smiled in return he could almost see the relief that washed over her.
Luke wasn't sure where that memory had come from, where any of them came from for that matter, but he caught himself wondering when it was that he had changed so. When was it that his being there for her had changed from a thing of consistency, dependability, stability, reassurance, and unconditionality to something that occurred simply because there was no one else that could comprehend their situation. What had happened to him? Was it April? Or was it more than that?
He wanted to turn, to take her in his arms, look her in the eye, and scream "you do" over and over and over until all of New York had heard his message. He wanted to reaffirm to her who he once was, that he loved her like that again, that he had always loved her like that, even if he had screwed up in showing it. But he couldn't. Not yet. Things had happened, he reminded himself, things that he had to be able to forgive. And even if he could, more things were going to happen. They would have to leave New York at some point and their old lives would be waiting for them, prying with questions and demanding answers—answers that he wasn't sure he would have. There would be April too, April wanting to know where she fit, how she fit, where she would be on his priority list? Would she resent Lorelai for running away? Would Lorelai resent April for being the spark that started it all? What about Rory? What about…?
He was shaken from his thoughts by Lorelai's voice calling him and her hand waving in front of his face. "Hey, youuuu-whooo, Lukeeeee!"
"Huh?"
She laughed, "Stay with me here buddy."
"Sorry," he said, offering her a sheepish grin.
She put a hand lightly on his chest and he wondered if she could feel his heart jump at the contact. "No head starts, okay? I need to be…I want to be with you when we hash this all out. Please? I know you like to process and all…but Luke we need to process this one together. We need to be on the same page. Please?"
He felt himself blink at her a few times, shocked his line of thought had been that obvious. But then again he knew he shouldn't have been. She had known him better than almost anyone ever had, second only to his father. Despite the past two years, he knew that fact still stood. He nodded at her. "I'm trying. Really." He breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind. "Promise."
She smiled at him and he found himself thinking that even though he had no idea what sort of path she'd be taking him on today (both literally and metaphorically speaking), he knew that not only did he not mind, but he'd follow her to the ends of the earth, even if it was the last thing he would ever do. He was laying his life on the line here. He knew it. And all it took was that instant for him to decide it was worth it.