Disclaimer: I think I'm losing all originality saying I don't own 'em darn it...

Chapter 7

After scrambling to shower and dress, Lorelai and Rory were out the door and in the car within fifteen minutes. It was record time for the two Gilmore Girls, but they didn't find any joy out of the achievement. The half-hour drive to the hospital was made in silence. There were so many things Lorelai wanted to say to Rory, so many things she wanted to ask, but each time she turned to look at her daughter's distressed and almost dead expression staring out the front window, her words of comfort and unasked questions fell silent.

There was nothing she could say, and it was definitely not the time to interrogate the fragile soul. So Lorelai settled to driving. Getting to the hospital and making sure her daughter -- the one she hadn't seen in three years, the one who had stopped calling and visiting, the one who shut the world out and stopped feeling -- didn't break in half.

Pit-Pat-Pit-Pat-Pit. The heels struck the pavement hurriedly as they made their way across the parking garage and into the hospital.

Rory collapsed into a chair in the waiting area just inside the entrance, Lorelai heading off to find information on Dean and his room. Her brain itched, too many thoughts traveling through her head. She wasn't even sure she wanted to do this now. What would she possible say to him? Sorry, but your sister sent me in her place. From the scraps of detail Clara offered to divulge over the phone, it sounded like Dean really didn't have anybody in the world anymore. No wonder he was so good with Lucas. The little boy idolized Dean, loved him like no other person loved him.

"Don't get me wrong, Rory. I love Dean; he's my brother."

But Clara had made it clear that there was virtually nobody who cared about Dean's well-being. His own parents refused to acknowledge his existence anymore, and Rory felt a little guilty for that. 'If I never would have ruined his marriage, they wouldn't hate him so much.' But their resentment ran deeper than that apparently, down to things Clara refused to talk about when Rory came to pick Lucas up in the evenings and they had their catch-up talks with each other. But how was she going to walk into Dean's room and tell him nobody cared enough to make sure he was alright? How was she going to admit that she cares? She's always cared, some part of her, of what happens to him. Before Jess, before Logan, before now.

Lorelai's back before Rory can blink. She's rambling off fragments of the news on Dean's condition. Concussion, broken ribs, fractured femur. God, the mental imaging in Rory's mind didn't help any.

"He just got out of surgery for his leg," Lorelai explained. There was a brief pause as she let the news settle into Rory's brain, though she was almost positive that half of it had been discarded and only the big words like surgery, head trauma, and broken leg managed to store themselves in the hidden depths of her daughter's mind. Considering what the outcome of this whole event could have been, Dean's injuries didn't sound so bad. The doctor had said he'd be able to go home in a couple weeks.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to, Rory. I'm sure Clara'll understand."

"No, I have to do this. Not for her, for him… for me."

Lorelai nodded and squeezed Rory's shoulder in encouragement. "Do you want me to…?"

"Can you go get me a cup of coffee?" Rory asked, answering her mother's question as a no. No, I need to go alone. Just me, for now.

Lorelai nodded in understanding and left to find the cafeteria.

Rory sat for a moment longer before she got up and walked down the hall towards Dean's room. She hesitated just for a moment, steeling herself, before she pushed open the door and walked inside.

The room was quiet and dark, save for the desk light over the bed and the rhythmic beeps of the machines, though that was probably a good thing. The shades of the window were drawn close to keep the cool air from escaping into the humid day. Rory shivered as she eyed the sleeping form in the bed. The hospital bed.

Dean's features were relaxed, no sign of any discomfort or pain. His face was a little pallid in color, though that could be because he'd just come back from surgery. There were a couple shallow scratches across the left side of his face from the shattered glass of the car windows. His left leg, which was suspended in a harness, had bandaging running from his knee to his hip where the hospital blanket cut off further visibility. The other leg was completely hidden beneath the thin blankets, which came up to just under his arms, though both arms were laying atop the blanket. The left hand had several IV's running into it, dripping medicines into his system.

"Oh Dean," Rory murmured.

Her feet unconsciously carried her over to the chair placed beside his bed, and she slid into it with ease. There were so many things she wanted to say, whether he could hear her or not. But there was a distinct lump in her throat, and try as she might to move around it, it stuck in place. She settled to releasing a sigh, though it came out breathy and sob-y, and she wrapped her hand around his, fingers tracing carefully over the IV needles before rubbing the skin below his knuckles.

The water-works started then. She just started crying and couldn't stop. She was scared. Scared that this could have been so different. He could have died, and she would have lost him forever. Scared that she cared so much about him still, after they'd both thrown each other away to the wind. She was just scared that all of this was happening. But how could she ever explain it -- to him, to her mother, to herself?

So she cried some more, resting her head on the thin hospital blanket, warm tears trickling down onto their intertwined hands, ticking the skin as she mechanically rubbed her thumb over the knuckles. 'Move Dean. Talk to me, feel me. Anything, just anything to make this go away.' Her eyes were closed before she even stopped praying and wishing for things to be better soon.

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The door clicked closed and Rory's eyes slowly drifted open, blinking a few times to adjust to the dim light of the room. It took her a moment to realize where she was, that sinking sensation returning to her stomach. It hadn't been a nightmare… it was all too real. Her eyes caught the dark sky through the cracks of the blinds, and she picked her head, wondering how long she'd been out and why her mother hadn't woken her.

She caught the gaze of the olive green eyes staring at her from the inclined pillows of the bed. She swallowed nervously and offered a smile, though Dean didn't return one. He just stared, gazing her with a sort of steeled and indifferent look in his eyes.

"Hey," was all Rory could say, sifting through her head for awkward conversation. "How long have I…?"

"It's seven o'clock at night," Dean answered, eyes never leaving Rory. When it became obvious that Rory was still looking for something to talk about, he replied a little tightly, "I know Clara sent you. Lorelai told me."

Rory frowned. Sometimes her mother started trouble without realizing it.

"I came because I was worried about you, Dean."

"Sure," Dean snorted, ripping his eyes away from Rory's and settling on the city lights beyond the window glass.

Rory let out a disbelieved sigh. Why did he sound so offended that she was there? Sure, they weren't the closest of people, but at least she was there. That was more than she could say about Clara or his parents. What about those so-called friends he had - Kyle or whoever - where were they?

"I don't believe you," she muttered under her breath.

But Dean heard her. "I don't believe you," he said curtly, rolling his gaze back to her with a glare. "You run off with all those damn snobs and six years later you decide to come home. Why? We don't need you in Stars Hollow, Rory. It's not like we stopped our lives just because the town princess was gone… off to Yale, off to New York City. We've all done good without you around, especially Lorelai, Luke, and Lucas. Lucas doesn't even know you, just stories he's been told numerous times by the townspeople, and they usually leave out the abandonment part or the cheating part so they don't break his heart."

The words cut through Rory like a knife through butter. She knew it would be awkward, but not so snappish and cruel. How could Dean say those things to her? But instead of acting hurt, she lashed out in anger. "Well aren't you lively after such an accident? Guess the truck didn't break your holding-grudges-for-long-times bones," she retorted angrily.

"I didn't ask you to come here."

"No, but Clara did."

"Yeah, well I didn't ask her to send you. God, she's only using you to get a job in New York. Everything she's told you are lies. Yeah, she takes a class or two at the community college, but the rest of the time she's not babysitting she spends in New York with her boyfriend. She just needs a steady paying job so she can move down there," Dean snapped, turning his gaze back to the window.

Rory shook her head, holding back the threatening tears. When she finally found her voice, she said really quietly, "I'm sorry I left to live my life, Dean. I'm sorry I went to Yale and I'm sorry things didn't work out between us. Knowing now what I knew then… I wouldn't have left that town. It's my life, my home. The people there are my family." She sighed and grabbed her purse, batting her hand at the watery lines on her eyelids. "I'm sorry things never worked out for you and you didn't get the life you deserved. I'm sorry your parents and your sister are too busy and too far away to come see you." She stopped at the door to look back at him, though his gaze was still locked onto the window. "But you know what I regret the most? Never being able to stop loving you even after you've clearly moved on."

As the door shut behind her, Dean's eyes flashed over to the spot she'd been standing in. With angry, watery eyes he willed himself to call out to her. Make her come back, you idiot. Don't let her leave again. But the seconds ticked by and Rory was gone. Now, instead of her pushing him away, he was pushing her away. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, he really didn't want to escape Rory Gilmore because he knew he couldn't.

Author's Note: Okay, I really planned for this chapter to be a lot longer than the last, and if you look at it word wise, it is longer then the last by 600 or so words. But that's not really significant, huh? The whole angry thing at the end took me by surprise and I'm writing it. Heh, but it fit sorta. If you pay attention to the whole gasp! Dean angst at the end of chapter 5 I believe, than the anger fits at the end of this chapter. Well, I hope you liked.

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