Author's Note: I've composed a lot of stories about Luke and Lorelai, but this chapter is still one of my very favorites! Let me know if you like it, too.

The diner phone rang early the next Wednesday evening. Before Luke could even get the receiver to his ear he heard Lorelai's voice shooting out words in her usual rapid-fire manner.

He may have gotten to know and understand her much better in the last few months, but some of her mannerisms still annoyed the hell out of him. "Lorelai!" he shouted into the phone, hoping to get her attention. She rattled on, oblivious to him, but his shout had inadvertently made sure that everyone else in the diner was now focused on him and the phone.

His irritation disappeared when he detected the note of panic surrounding her voice. A sudden irrational fear skittered through his own chest. He turned away from the diner patrons and tried again, softly this time. "Lorelai?"

She heard him then. "Oh, Luke! Luke, thank God! Now, listen to me. Andrew's going to be there in…" He heard rustling, things being pushed away. "He should be there in about four minutes. He's going to show you how to work his video camera. Then you're going to have about fifteen minutes to go upstairs and throw on your very nicest pretty-boy clothes, and if you leave right away, you should have just enough time to get to Chilton―"

"What in the world are you talking about?" He managed to break in to her monologue.

"Chilton, Luke! Chilton! I need you to go to Chilton!" He could hear the tension and anxiety in her voice and he realized this wasn't one of her bits. Something was truly wrong.

He turned away even more from the prying eyes and spoke quietly into the phone. "What's going on? Is Rory OK?"

He could hear her take a breath. He could picture her squeezing shut her eyes and counting to ten. He counted along with her.

She exhaled. "Rory's fine," she replied, sounding a little calmer. "Tonight's her big speech in front of the Chamber of Commerce. Remember? You heard her practicing all last week."

Of course he remembered. He'd been there while she'd debated possible topics for this contest sponsored by Hartford's Chamber of Commerce. He'd watched her write her essay on "What It Means to be a Good Citizen" over the course of several nights. He'd served her smiley-face pancakes on the morning she announced she was one of the finalists. And over the past week she had indeed used him as a sounding board as she rehearsed her speech over and over.

"Sure, I know. What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

She pulled in a breath. "I can't go." He could hear the pressure behind the words, pushing them out.

"Why not?"

"Someone―Whose name is Michel, but that's not important now― booked a bridal shower luncheon here tomorrow but neglected to add it to the schedule. We only found out a little bit ago when the maid of honor called to check on something. So that means we've got 12 hours to do what we normally do in 12 days. And to make matters worse, we're fully booked today and tomorrow, so we're going to have to be especially creative in somehow shoehorning this in."

Her voice dropped lower and Luke could tell she was talking straight from her heart now, directly to him and him alone. "This is my responsibility, Luke. I've got to make this work, and I can't abandon my staff and go running off. But it's Rory!" He could hear the special anguish swirling through her words. "I've always been there for Rory. I've never missed anything this important to her. All of her life, all she's had is me. For all of the school plays and award ceremonies and recitals, the only person she could look for in the audience was me, and I always made sure she saw me there, clapping and cheering. I've always been there for her. I don't miss these things that are important to her. But…" she faltered, "I'm going to miss this." Her voice came back stronger. "I'm not going to miss this, Luke. You are going to make sure I don't miss this!" She paused just a moment to draw in a ragged breath. "Please?"

"Of course," he said instantly. "Tell me what you need me to do."

She sighed with relief and he could imagine the way her shoulders sagged as the tension left them. "Andrew's on his way over to the diner now with his camera. He'll show you how to use it. Tape Rory's speech―and Paris, too, that girl's always good for a laugh. Oh, and anything else you think is mock-worthy. As soon as Andrew leaves, go up and put on your suit and the nicest shirt and tie you've got―"

"I can't just wear jeans and a sweater, or something?" he broke in, annoyed.

"Absolutely not!" Lorelai shot down that idea. "Trust me on this, Luke. Put on the nicest things you own, and even then, you'll feel like the poor relation when you get there and start chatting up Hartford's finest." She paused thoughtfully for a moment. "Don't worry about shaving, though. There isn't time, and your scruffiness has that 'I could have shaved, but I know I'm ruggedly handsome anyway' vibe to it, so I think that'll fly."

"What?" he sputtered.

Just then Andrew flew through the door, breathless and holding his side as he raced up to the counter.

"Andrew's here," Luke said into the phone.

"Oh, good!" Lorelai said, relieved.

"OK," Andrew started, catching his breath, "here's how to use this. Open this, and then push this button, see? Then you can use this to zoom in and out―"

"Wait, wait," Luke growled. He shoved the phone under his chin to hold it and tore off a slip from the order pad, starting to write down the camera instructions. "Show me again."

Andrew went over the camera several times until Luke finally felt he had the hang of it.

"What else?" he asked Lorelai.

She rapidly gave him directions to Chilton and he scribbled them down on additional order slips. "So I'm set?" he asked anxiously as she finished. He knew he needed to get going.

"Just…Just tell her―" He heard the little catch in her voice, and his own heart contracted in sympathy. "Explain to her what happened. Make sure she knows how much I wanted to be there, and how sorry I am that I'm stuck here. Stupid Michel!" she cried out, frustrated.

"It's OK, Lorelai," he said, soothing her. "It's OK. She already knows, but I'll make sure she understands. It'll be fine," he said, sounding as confident as possible for her benefit, because inside, he was not at all sure he could pull this off. But for Lorelai, and for Rory, he'd do his best.

He heard her let out another deep breath. "Thanks, Luke," she said then, with so much tenderness that his heart absolutely stopped for a moment. "This just means the world to me. You have no idea."

"I won't let you down," he pledged, his voice so low and serious that he could have been giving her a solemn vow.

There was a long pause as both of them listened to the other breathing over the phone.

"You'd better get going." Lorelai finally found the presence of mind to remind him.

"Right," he said, his head jerking back abruptly to the present. "I'll see you later."

"Later," she agreed. "Oh, and stay far away from the Chilton moms!"

"What?" he asked, once again at a loss, but by then she'd already hung up the phone.

Amazingly, in just over an hour he found himself pushing open the heavy doors to the Chilton auditorium. He stepped over to the side and paused, trying to get his bearings and searching for Rory. He felt like he'd been running a race from the moment he put down the phone after Lorelai's call. He'd dashed upstairs, pulling off his shirt and t-shirt as he took the steps two at a time. He'd spent only moments freshening up in the bathroom, hoping that a splash of aftershave would somewhat mute the smell of fryer grease. Following Lorelai's orders, he skimmed into an almost-new white shirt and threw on his black suit, tying his favorite dark blue tie around his neck as he started back across the room to the mirror. He lost a few minutes searching for his black dress shoes in the back of the closet, but once found they were on his feet in no time. He pulled a comb through his hair and stuffed his hastily-scribbled notes in his pocket. Grabbing the camera, he raced back downstairs, calling a few instructions to his employees as he ran out the door. His poor old truck didn't know what had happened, because as soon as they were out of sight of town the gas pedal was mashed down to the floor and he flew towards Hartford.

Luke was feeling completely disoriented. He hadn't expected the school to be this big, or quite so imposing. He'd had a moment of crisis in trying to figure out which parking lot he should enter, and Lorelai's notes weren't any help at all in trying to surmise which building housed the auditorium. Finally he'd just picked one at random, frantically racing down a dark hallway until a custodian took pity on him and directed him to the right wing.

He couldn't help but note that the custodian's crisp uniform was nicer than about 95% of his own wardrobe.

The little breath that his straining lungs had been able to recapture was suddenly knocked out of them again as something barreled into him.

Staggering from the blow, he tried to regain his balance and looked down at Rory's shining brown hair burrowed into his chest.

"Oh," she cried out, "you're here!" He could hear the relief in her voice. She looked up at him, smiling, but showed no intention of letting him go. "Where's Mom?" she asked, looking around.

"Your mom had an emergency at the inn," he told her, tentatively patting her head. "She sent me instead."

"An emergency?" Rory's big eyes widened even further. "What's wrong?"

Luke mentally kicked himself for scaring her. "Nothing's really wrong," he quickly explained. "Someone―named Michel, apparently―overbooked them, and your mom is trying to fix things, that's all. She's really upset that she can't be here."

"Aw, poor Mom," Rory sighed, obviously disappointed. But then her face brightened as she looked back at him again. "But you're here!" She leaned a little closer and her voice took on a tone of confidentiality. "I was afraid that I was going to have to do this on my own. It seemed like everyone else had their whole families here. I mean, most of these kids have multiple families: Step, half, blended, you name it! They have whole entourages following them, but still, I've got Mom, and she can hold her own, you know? But now I've got you, too, so it's really great!" She hooked her arm under his and positively beamed at him.

He awkwardly patted at her hand this time as he hoped her confidence in him was justified.

"Andrew lent me his camera," he said, raising it for her to see. "That way your mom can still see your speech."

"Smart idea!" Rory said in approval.

"She told me I should tape Paris, too. Which one is she?"

Rory instantly swung up her free arm and pointed towards the stage. "See the really intense girl directing the way the microphone is attached to the podium? That's Paris."

"What's she doing?" Luke watched as the scowling girl employed a small tape measure and then turned to rant at the audiovisual crew standing around her.

"She seems to think that the way the microphone is attached gives some sort of an advantage to male speakers. She raised such a fuss that Headmaster Charleston finally got someone to move it for her."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. That's Paris." Rory grinned. "But she is always good for a laugh. You should definitely tape her for Mom."

"OK," Luke said, noticing but not commenting on how often Rory and Lorelai used the same words. Now more at ease, he looked around the auditorium. "Hey, is that one guy here?"

Rory's eyebrows pulled together in concern. "What guy? Do you mean Tristan?"

"Tristan?" Luke looked at her as if she was crazy. "What the heck's a Tristan?"

She had to grin at that. "Never mind. Who do you mean, then?"

"That guy who wanted to date your mom," he muttered.

"Oh! You mean Mr. Medina." Rory started to look over at the rows where the teachers were starting to congregate.

"Nah, not him." Luke wasn't worried about the teacher. He knew Lorelai hadn't spoken to him in months. "That other guy. The dad. He followed your mom clear back to Stars Hollow to ask her out."

Rory was trying very hard not to laugh. For years she and her mom had wondered how much attention Luke actually paid to anything they babbled to him. She was beginning to comprehend that he paid attention to all of it, and this reference to something that had happened way back on her first day of school in October pretty much confirmed it.

"His daughter really isn't into this sort of stuff," she told him, tamping down her glee. "I'm pretty sure he isn't here."

"Oh." Luke sounded a bit disappointed. He would have liked one look at the guy.

"You'd better take a seat," Rory said anxiously. She was getting waved towards the stage, and as always, she liked to know everything was properly in place.

"You go on. I'll be fine," Luke told her. He smiled and patted her hand one more time. "Knock 'em dead, Tiger!"

She had to laugh at him then. "Tiger?"

"Sorry." He nervously rubbed his jaw. "I don't know where that came from." He was lying. He knew exactly where that came from. It was what his mom and dad had said to him every single time before he ran out to play baseball.

"No, don't be sorry," Rory told him, still grinning "I think I kind of like it." She made her hand into a claw and growled, then giggled and hurried towards the stage.

Instead of taking a seat, Luke leaned his back up against the wall. He wanted to make sure he was able to get an unobstructed shot when Rory's turn came.

Paris was one of the first students to read her essay, and Luke dutifully taped it for Lorelai. He wasn't sure that he could follow all of her arguments, but it sounded to him like she was advocating that the best way to be a good citizen was to get rid of all of the other citizens. He grinned to himself. Maybe he actually had something in common with this odd girl. She maintained her intense, threatening delivery style all through her speech and when she finished, it took a few long moments before the audience began to tentatively clap. She glared at everyone and took her seat beside Rory.

There were several other essays, and then it was Rory's turn. His heart was pounding for her as she took the podium. Pride flowed over him in waves as she smoothly and professionally delivered the words she'd taken such care to select. He couldn't believe any 16-year-old could have such poise. When she finished, smiling gently out at the crowd, he clapped as loudly as he could, beaming at her. He belatedly realized that he still had the camera clutched in his hand as he clapped.

Oops. That would be some interesting video.

After Rory's turn he finally found a seat, feeling much more relaxed. He panned over the crowd to give Lorelai some idea of how many people were here. He taped a small, pale boy who tripped over Paris' feet on the way to the podium, and then proceeded to trip over every third word he uttered. He noticed that Rory gave him an encouraging pat on the back as he tried to get back to his seat without encroaching on Paris' territory.

He tried to focus on the rest of the essays, but frankly, they were dull. The judges held a brief consultation before handing out the awards.

He stood and cheered as Rory was called forward and accepted the third place medal. He filmed her accepting it with grace, her usual serene smile in place. He himself was feeling anything but serene. He very much wanted to go up and have a consultation of his own with the judges. Third place? Come on! What were they thinking? Rory had owned this thing! He huffed inwardly with indignation, but he made sure a broad, proud smile was on his face when she looked over at him in triumph.

She raced over to him as soon as the awards were over and the audience had been thanked for their attendance. He gave her a big, unself-conscious hug.

"Good job!" He told her proudly.

She laughed, bobbing on her toes as she raised the medal hanging around her neck so he could get a better look at it. "Yeah, I'm just in it for the bling, you know!"

"Your mother once told me that all women like something shiny."

"So true," she agreed. "And this doesn't hurt, either." She showed him a certificate they'd given her.

"What's this?" He started to read it over.

"A $500 scholarship towards next year's tuition," she told him, gloating.

His head jerked up. "I didn't know there was money involved."

"Yeah, that's why I did it," she confided. "I know it's not much, but it's $500 less that Mom'll have to repay Grandma and Grandpa."

Luke slowly shook his head. "Did your mom know about this?"

"No," Rory replied. "I wanted to surprise her, and you know, I didn't want to disappoint her if I didn't win anything."

The overwhelming pride he'd felt earlier returned. The love Rory and Lorelai had for each other almost always struck him speechless. "You should have won first place if you ask me," he muttered. "But disappoint your mom? That'll never happen."

She smiled, but quickly discouraged his prejudice. "No," Rory said simply. "Tina's was better than mine. She made her points more clearly, and her essay read more smoothly. She deserved to win first place. But now, James, the guy who took second? I'll agree with you there."

"So, isn't a celebration in order? What do you want? Ice cream?" Luke would have bought her the moon at the moment. "You just say the word."

But before Rory could say anything, they heard her name being called behind them.

"Congratulations, Rory. Wonderful speech!"

"Thanks, Mr. Medina," Rory said, turning to her teacher.

"Is this your father?" Max asked, trying hard to keep an even, pleasant tone around his inquiry. His eyes had been sizing up Luke ever since the crowd had started to disperse. He stood as straight as possible, a polite smile on his lips, as he raised his arm to offer a handshake.

Luke straightened his own back as he brought his hand up to meet the teacher's. "Luke Danes," he said coolly.

"Luke is my…and my Mom's…He's our friend." Rory stumbled over the introduction, not quite sure how to categorize Luke. "Mr. Medina is my English teacher."

"Yes, I've heard you mention him," Luke said, bringing his hand back to rest possessively on Rory's shoulder.

"Where is your mother tonight?" Max asked Rory.

"She couldn't get away from work," Luke responded before Rory could. "She asked me to cover for her."

"Well, how nice to have…friends…available to help with such things," Max's faux pleasant voice didn't try to hide his meaning. "Luke Danes. That sounds really familiar. Oh, the diner, right? You run the diner?" His tone was definitely patronizing.

Luke's eyes narrowed as his smile disappeared. "I own the diner," he said firmly, remembering Lorelai's pep talk from the weekend.

"It's practically our second home." Rory jumped in, anxious to get this conversation over with. "Luke's like family," she added.

Max's discretion suddenly returned and he grudgingly accepted that if Lorelai preferred this scruffy-faced videographer over him, there was nothing he could do about it. He'd always believed the real reason she wouldn't start something with him was because there was someone else. This seemed to confirm it. And really, if this was her taste in men, what did that say about her judgment in other areas? Although he would have loved the opportunity to broaden her horizons and teach her not to accept the first thing she stumbled over.

"Again, Rory, congratulations." He switched his attention back to Rory, smiling genuinely. "No one deserved this more than you. This just proves yet again what a pleasure it's been to have you in my class this year."

"Thanks," Rory said again, looking visibly relieved when Max merely nodded at Luke and walked away.

"Let's get out of here," Luke suggested, and Rory couldn't have agreed more.

They'd only taken a few steps towards the door, however, when a soft, fluttering, feminine voice stopped them.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Lorelai! Très bien! Your essay was magnifique!"

Rory turned back with a sigh. "Merci, Mademoiselle Gillian."

"And is this your père?" She smiled brightly at Luke.

"Non." Rory looked grim, but determined to get through this. "This is Monsieur Danes. Luke. Luke Danes. He's a friend," she added, giving up on the French completely. "A family friend."

"Well, how nice when friends take an interest in your schoolwork." The French accent abruptly disappeared as the teacher gracefully offered her hand. It didn't escape Rory's attention that Mme. Gillian's eyes raked over Luke's left hand, obviously searching for a ring. Her smile increased as she saw none. "If you have children of your own, you know that," she said to Luke, fishing.

"No, no children," he said, bewildered, looking at Rory for help. "Unless you count Kirk."

"Oh, I think Kirk counts," Rory agreed, instinctively stepping closer to offer him some protection.

"Your mother isn't here?" she questioned Rory. "Such a shame! She always livens up our proceedings!"

Luke choked down a laugh.

"Yes, Mom keeps things lively," Rory confirmed.

"You know, Monsieur Danes, if you ever want to sit in on one of Mademoiselle Gilmore's classes, we'd love to have you. We encourage parent―and friend―participation wholeheartedly. If you're ever interested…" She opened a notebook she was carrying and quickly scribbled down her name and number, tearing off the corner of the page and handing it to Luke. "You just give me a call, OK?"

Luke gingerly took the proffered paper. "Um, thanks," he mumbled.

"OK! Well, we need to go," Rory said brightly, starting to drag Luke away.

"À demain!" the teacher called to Rory. "Call me, Monsieur Danes!"

"That wasn't obvious at all," Rory muttered, as they once again headed to the doors.

"What was that about?" Luke asked. "I don't really have to come to your french class, do I?"

"Oh, my God! Luke? Luke Danes? What in the world are you doing here?"

A petite woman with precise blond streaks in her hair was walking towards them. She had on a Chanel suit that would have been at home in Emily Gilmore's closet. Rory thought she might have had a shocked look on her face, if her surgically-tightened face could have registered surprise.

She apparently saw that Luke had no idea who she was. "Now, don't tell me you don't remember me," she said playfully, "because I sure remember you! I'm Theresa Sturgis. Well, I was Theresa Sturgis. I'm Theresa Whitfield now. Stars Hollow High? I was in your sister's class."

"Oh, sure. Of course," Luke said to be polite, because it was apparent he had no memory of this woman.

"Butch Danes," Theresa drawled out. Rory grinned instantly at hearing Luke's old nickname. "I can't believe I didn't know you had kids here at Chilton. I would have looked you up a long time ago if I'd know that." She was greedily looking Luke over.

"No, no, no kids," he said, quickly. "Rory's not―She's the daughter of a friend of mine," he tried to explain.

"Even better," Theresa said slyly, angling herself a little closer to Luke, while Rory's eyes widened. "They're not really my kids either," she confided. "They're Bruce's. My husband's. I'm not really old enough, you know, to have kids in high school." Rory had to bite down a laugh as the woman actually fluttered her eyelashes at Luke. He looked appalled. "So tell me all about Liz. We were such good friends back then, remember?"

Rory looked away in an attempt to regain her composure, and saw that Madeline and Louise were frantically trying to get her attention. She decided that if Luke could handle Miss Patty on any given day, he could surely handle this trophy wife on his own, so she made her way over to the two girls.

"So is that him?" Madeline asked at once.

"Who?" Rory asked.

"Your father. Is that him?" Louise demanded.

Rory was tired of trying to explain who Luke was. "Um, sure," she sighed. "Why not?"

"I totally see why your mom couldn't resist him," Madeline said.

"What!" Rory was appalled.

"I mean, sure, he's old now," Louise observed, "but he's still hot. It's easy to imagine how gorgeous he would have been back in his prime. No wonder your mom fell for him."

"So do they still have feelings for each other?" Madeline pushed.

Rory's mouth had dropped open during this back and forth. "Look, he's not my father. I just said that because…I don't know why, OK? But he's not my dad. His name's Luke and he's a friend from Stars Hollow. My mom asked him to come here to tape me tonight. That's it!"

Madeline and Louise looked at each other, then back at Rory.

"He acts like your dad," Madeline commented. "At least, he acts like you think dads are supposed to act. All proud and loving and stuff."

"So are he and your mom an item?" Louise asked bluntly.

"No!" Rory couldn't believe how much upheaval Luke was creating just by appearing at Chilton. "They're just really good friends!"

"Oh," Louise purred, knowingly, "those type of friends."

"No," Rory insisted again, "it's not like that!"

"Sweetie, it's always like that," Louise informed her. "What's wrong? Do you not like him?"

"No, I lo―" She'd almost said 'love.' "I like Luke a lot. Mom likes him a lot. But they're not dating! They're just friends. They tried dating, but it didn't work out, and now they're just…" Her voice trailed off. She blinked hard, looking back over to where Luke was trying to extricate himself from the former Stars Hollow High groupie. He succeeded and looked over at her, rolling his eyes. She sent him a dorky smile, but she was actually picturing him the way he normally looked at their house, all laughing and comfortable. Scenes from the past few weeks ran through her mind swiftly. Her mom looking at Luke. Luke looking at her mom.

She turned back to the two girls. "They just don't realize what they mean to each other yet," she explained slowly, understanding it herself for the first time.

"Ah, so sweet!" Madeline cooed. "He'll be a good stepdad, once Lorelai reels him in. You're lucky."

"Yeah, usually they just act all interested in you until the wedding, but I think he'll be different," Louise declared. "Well, keep us informed," she ordered. "Come on, Madeline."

"Bye!" Madeline trilled, following Louise out the door.

Just as Rory turned, she saw Headmaster Charleston making a beeline towards Luke. She sprinted over as fast as she could.

"You must be Christopher," Headmaster Charleston said jovially, reaching to shake Luke's hand. "Richard and Emily are good friends of mine. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Luke shook the man's hand and looked at Rory helplessly.

"This isn't my dad, Headmaster Charleston," Rory jumped in as quickly as she could. "This is Luke Danes. He's a family friend. Mom couldn't be here tonight, so Luke came instead."

"Oh," the Headmaster said, sounding as if he'd been cheated.

"This is quite a school you've got here," Luke said nervously. "Lots of parking lots, and buildings, and - and hallways. And your custodians have really nice uniforms."

Both Rory and the Headmaster looked at him strangely.

"Well, Miss Gilmore, you should be commended on your accomplishment here tonight. I know your grandparents will be very proud." He patted Rory's shoulder, and nodded silently to Luke. "Good night," he added, and hurried off to greet another family.

Luke and Rory sagged up against each other for a moment.

"Where are your grandparents?" Luke asked, suddenly horrified that they might materialize in front of him as well, demanding to know why he was here with their granddaughter.

"Bermuda, I think," Rory said. "Why, I don't know. But I expect they'll hear all about tonight as soon as they get back," she commented, wincing at the thought. She turned to look at Luke's exhausted face. "Are you ready to get out of here?"

"Absolutely," he confirmed, and began to lead the way to the door once again.

They were making their escape down the hall when one of the Chamber of Commerce judges stopped them. "I really enjoyed your speech, young lady," he said to Rory. "You must be very proud of your daughter," he added, looking at Luke.

Luke drew in a breath, winked at Rory, and then put his arm firmly around her shoulders. "I certainly am," he said. "The wife hated to miss it, but she had a board meeting. What are you going to do, right? Now, if you'll excuse us, I've got an early tee time tomorrow."

"Oh, of course!" the man said, pushing open the door for them.

They all but ran for the safety of the old pickup truck, practically choking on their laughter as they dove inside it.

Luke leaned his head back against the driver's seat for a moment or two, still chuckling. "OK, so ice cream?" he asked then, sitting up and turning the key in the ignition.

Rory wiped her eyes and turned to him, all shining and happy. "Would it be OK if we went to see Mom first?"

"Of course," he agreed, backing the truck out of the parking spot and starting towards home.

Rory was on a high from all of the emotion of the night and she babbled on giddily in a way Luke had rarely heard, sounding more and more like Lorelai to his ears. He found that all he had to do was smile occasionally or murmur 'uh huh' as she prattled on.

Luckily that was all she did require of him, because as Luke glanced over at this charming, sweet, absolutely wonderful girl, he found that his own feelings were in an uproar. He felt as though his insides had turned into a lava lamp. But instead of lava, it was anger that was forming huge blobs inside of him, breaking off and floating to the surface, then sinking down and reforming into even bigger, messier pools of fury. Inside he was hurling curses at whatever fate had determined that he had grown up in Stars Hollow, far away from Lorelai. He swore at those clueless, self-centered parents that had allowed their fifteen-year-old daughter to slip unsupervised outside onto her balcony one night between dinner courses. And most of all, the knowledge that he would never be able to share in the creation of this beautiful little being currently sitting beside him in his old truck filled him with despair.

By the time they were a few miles outside of Stars Hollow Rory had exhausted her commentary and had leaned back against the seat with a peaceful smile on her face, her eyes slipping closed. Luke had found the 'off' switch on his lava lamp of anger and had stoically accepted that his life had taken a different path. But he did have one new insight.

He'd always assumed that one day he'd have a family. His parents had been very happy together, and he'd always just assumed that someday he'd have that too. As the years went by and he was still alone, he pushed that vague idea of a happy family further and further from his mind. It wasn't that he didn't want it; he did. He just had no idea how to find someone who would live up to that standard of love set by his parents. He didn't want to settle for anything less than what he'd witnessed firsthand.

But tonight he'd figured it out. While half the population of Chilton mistook him for Rory's father, all of the lies he'd told himself for the past five years had been torn away.

He didn't want just 'a' family. He wanted a very specific family. And half of that family was sitting drowsily right beside him, with a shiny new medal around her neck, longing to get to Lorelai.

And he felt the same way. No matter how fast he urged the truck to go, he couldn't get to her fast enough.

He swallowed hard against the yearning inside of him. He just didn't know how he could ever convince her to feel the same way about him.

The 'Welcome to Stars Hollow' sign appeared from out of the darkness. He tried to ignore his sense of despondency and cautiously leaned over to shake Rory awake.

"Mom?" she asked, half-asleep.

"No," he said gently, "but we'll be there soon."