Disclaimer: Really, nothing's changed since the last seven chapters. Believe me, you'd know if the CW gave me all the rights to these characters... Of course, Lucas is mine, though I believe he's the little kid in all of us, so I don't think I can lay sole claim on him.

Chapter 8

"I shouldn't have left her there," Lorelai muttered miserably, staring at the bathroom door in utter disappointment.

"Why did you?" Luke asked, sipping a cup of herbal tea. His gaze fell to Lucas', who was alternating looks among Luke, Lorelai, and the bathroom door. "Lucas, eat your dinner," he ordered in a light tone before returning his attention to Lorelai.

Lucas frowned and stuck out his tongue at his plate of food. The only thing left on the plate were carrots and spinach, the chicken nuggets Luke made for him earlier having already been scarfed down. No, now Lucas was more concerned at the upset look he'd seen on Rory's face before she disappeared into the bathroom. He'd heard clips of "sleep," "note," "visit," and "Dean" and the rest was whispered between his parents.

"Why is Rory so upset?" Lucas asked as Luke got him dressed in his pajamas later that night. "Mommy said she went and saw Dean."

Luke nodded, "They both went and saw Dean, kiddo."

"But why would Rory be sad then? She laughed and smiled with him the other day," Lucas pointed out to his father. "At the ga-thee-bo."

Luke wasn't sure how to address this. How to explain the complexity of love to a child? He settled for pulling the pajama bottoms up to Lucas' waist and lifting the kid onto the racecar bed.

"Daddy?" Lucas ventured quietly, watching his father toss his worn clothes into the hamper across the room by the door.

"Lucas, buddy, it's complicated," Luke sighed. He came back to Lucas and crouched down in front of him, offering a sympathetic smile. "I wish I could tell you and have you understand, but you wouldn't. Sometimes I don't even understand it."

Lucas let out an exaggerated sigh, one twice the size as him as he always seemed to do. "Can I go see Dean?" he asked suddenly. If anyone would be able to explain things to him, it'd be Dean. Dean could always tell him things that even Lorelai seemed to have trouble with.

"Sorry, kiddo, but Dean's a little sick right now, and he doesn't want you catching anything," Lorelai stated from the doorway. It was a fib, not even entirely a lie, but the little boy wouldn't so much as bat an eye about it.

Lucas frowned. "When'd he get sick?"

"Never you mind that," Lorelai said, walking in to help Lucas under the covers of his bed. "Right now it's bedtime for tired little boys."

"'M not tired," Lucas yawned. He snuggled closer to his pillow as Luke and Lorelai placed kisses atop his head and headed to the door of the room. Luke wrapped his arm around Lorelai as she flipped the lights off and left the door open only an inch.

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Lucas rarely ever woke up in the middle of the night. Only if he was having nightmares did he ever really leave his bed and run to his parents' room upstairs, darting in the door and ducking under the covers without Lorelai or Luke even stirring. Usually, Lucas slept through the entire night without a peep or without tossing or turning. That's why, when Lucas woke in the middle of the night, he fidgeted, contemplating what to do. He wasn't scared, and he wasn't tired. He wasn't hungry and he wasn't thirsty. Yet, something was bothering him.

He slid from his covers and padded to his bedroom door, peeking out in the dark kitchen. The foyer light was on, shedding a small amount of light into the kitchen and Lucas' bedroom. After making sure that Lorelai and Luke were indeed asleep, Lucas pulled his door open and padded out to the living room.

Rory was laying on the couch in the dark, and had Lucas not been as still and silent as he was, contemplating his next move, he would have never heard the strange sniffling sounds coming from his big sister. He was beginning to wonder whether Rory had caught Dean's cold or not from visiting him.

"Rory?" Lucas called out in a whisper, taking a step closer to the mass of blankets on the couch.

Obviously, the entire house was still and silent, because Rory heard the tiny whisper and jerked her head up and gazed over to the little boy in faded red car pajamas. She sniffled once more and sat up better, rubbing her eyes and patting the couch beside her. "Lucas, what are you doing awake?" she asked, looking at the clock above the TV and seeing the green digits reading 2:04 AM. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Lucas waddled over and climbed up next to Rory, shaking his head. "No, I just woke up and I don't know why."

"Maybe you're worried about something," Rory suggested, pulling the blanket currently wrapped around her around her little brother's shoulders.

"Like you and Dean?"

"Me and Dean?" Rory asked, a little confused and taken aback. "Why would you be worried about me and Dean?"

"I saw you crying when you came home from seeing him, and Mommy said he was sick."

Rory sighed, thinking about the days' events. If she could change them, boy would things have gone differently. She finally caught Lucas' steady gaze and shook her head. "You shouldn't worry about me, Lucas. And Dean'll be fine, so don't worry about him."

"He forgot to take me to the park," Lucas said while looking down at his feet. He felt ashamed for feeling so angry about it before, but Dean never broke a promise and always remembered him. "I was mad at him."

"That's okay, you didn't know," Rory replied with a hug and small smile.

They sat in the silence for a moment before Lucas turned his gaze back to Rory's. "Are you getting a cold too?"

"No, why?"

"Because your nose and eyes are all red and you were making those sniffle sounds that I make when I'm sick."

"I'm just upset, Lucas."

"Why?" When Lucas didn't get a reply from Rory right away, he tilted his head to the side and asked, "Because of Dean?" Again, silence answered his question, and he leaned against Rory, eyes drooping closed as sleep befell him. Through a strangled yawn he said, "Dean's the one that told me all about you. What you smell like and sound like and feel like. The stories came from Mommy, but the other stuff, the things I can remember, Dean told me."

Lucas was lost in sleep, and Rory had her arm wrapped around him, his tiny body curled against hers. She leaned back and kicked her legs back onto the couch, minding not to kick Lucas as he snuggled closer to the blankets. His last words echoed in her mind, and Rory felt like crying again.

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--- A Week Later ---

"Where'd you go?" Rory asked as Lorelai came in the door late one night. She knew full well where her mother had been, and she had fumed about it just until the point where she'd heard Lorelai's car pull up front, masking her true feelings by the time the door seemed to open.

"Well, I had to pick up something Lucas forgot a couple weeks ago when he stayed with at your grandparents' house. Seems the ice queen is still alive after the death of winter, and she refused to make the trip out here when I was already in Hartford."

"And what were you doing in Hartford?"

"What do you think?" Lorelai retorted, mirroring the condescending look her daughter was sending her. After dropping her purse on the table with the phone, she walked up to Rory sitting on the couch. "You can't do that, Rore," she stated. "You can't make me hate him just because you do."

"I don't hate him," Rory said flatly.

"Well you certainly don't like him."

"Like you would if he said half the things to you that he said to me," Rory snapped.

"Hun, I know it sounds wrong of me to defend him, but you gotta understand that he was a little shocked to have you there. Of all the people who've left him in the world, the one that he actually let go himself came back to him. He's just overwhelmed and a little upset the way things have turned out. You can't hold that against him."

Rory sighed. No, she couldn't hold that against him, could she? "So, what did Lucas have you bring him this time?" she asked rather tiredly. Lucas had been making all sorts of things in the past week for Lorelai to take to Dean. He'd made a bunch of pictures, a toy car with Luke's help, a card he had signed by the entire town, and a house made of popsicle sticks that Davey helped him with.

"Sookie helped him bake Rocky Road cookies this afternoon."

Rory smiled. Rocky Road cookies were Dean's favorites. She used to steal them from the Independent Inn's kitchen and take them to Dean whenever Sookie made them. She personally hated them, but seeing the smile on Dean's face at how cleverly sneaky and loving she could be was reward enough.

"Don't over-think yourself to death," Lorelai said, noting the look on her daughter's face.

Rory sent her an unheated glare.

Lorelai snickered. "Janice Dickenson, ladies and gentlemen." As the pillow came sailing across the room, Lorelai ducked out and over to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

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On Sunday, Luke took Lucas fishing. After much debate where Lorelai whined incessantly that she wanted to learn how to fish, too, Luke abided and took her along. So Rory was alone in the house, with three different types of casseroles, a vegetarian lasagna, four different breads, and two desserts that Sookie had made in case Rory went hungry in the 24 hours Luke, Lorelai, and Lucas were gone.

Rory was busily scribbling away on a pad of notebook paper. She had abandoned her novel a week ago, and was beginning to concentrate on several articles she had due next week. Apparently, the Big Apple News doesn't stop printing just because its offices are being renovated.

Rory sighed.

Focusing solely on her work was how she avoided contemplating her problems. It wasn't necessarily a good thing, and it proved to distance her from her family and friends. Hell, she didn't even have friends anymore. Just acquaintances and associates that she rarely ever got together with unless an article or business meeting called for it. However, returning to this magical little town was supposed to fix all of that. All of her problems, whether they be with family, friends, or work, were supposed to be solved as soon as she felt the magic that Stars Hollow offered her. Yet, seemingly, it complicated things even worse.

Rory jumped slightly as the phone rang. She frowned and absentmindedly reached over and clicked the cordless on.

"Hello?"

"…"

"Hello?" Rory repeated frustratedly.

"Is Lorelai or Luke there?" came the deep voice rather hesitantly.

Rory recognized it immediately and sighed heavily. "No," she said a little flatly. "They took Lucas out fishing."

"Oh."

There was a long pause where Rory waited for another question or even a goodbye. Not receiving one, and too polite to just hang up, she asked, "What did you want from them, Dean?"

There was an audible sigh, "I was discharged from the hospital and need a ride home. I'd call a taxi, but I don't exactly have the money to spend on a half-hour cab fare."

Somebody up there was torturing Rory. First, thrusting Dean back into her life, then ripping him away, now thrusting him back again. It's like some unseen force was dangling happiness in front of her, just out of her reach.

"Will you accept a ride from me?"

Hesitant again, "Yeah, sure."

"I'll be there in a half-hour," Rory said. She clicked the phone off and dropped it onto the couch. Taking another deep sigh, she grabbed her purse and car keys and left.

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Dean was sitting in a wheelchair, much to his dislike, when Rory arrived in the waiting room. There was a nurse standing over him, refusing to let him abandon hospital protocol and hobble out the door. Rory couldn't help but snicker at the glower Dean sent the nurse, his eyes practically lighting up the minute he caught a glimpse of Rory.

"There you are!" he exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Sorry, a little bit of traffic," Rory offered up.

"You must be Mrs. Forester," the nurse replied, extending her hand to Rory.

Rory was about to correct her when Dean threw his hands up and complained about still being stuck in the deathtrap they called a hospital. The nurse sent him a reproachful look and turned toward Rory, handing her several papers explaining how many pain killers Dean could take for his leg and different physical therapy exercises he could practice at home. On the outside, Rory smiled and nodded her head in understanding, but on the inside she was shaking her head in objection. 'No, no, no. He's not my husband, he doesn't want to be. I'm not taking care of him. Don't tell me all this stuff. Where's Clara, shouldn't she be taking care of him? She lives with him.'

"Clara's conveniently stuck in Chicago for another two weeks," Dean replied as soon as Rory had pulled onto the road towards Stars Hollow.

Rory remained silent. What could she possibly say to him? After everything he had last said to her?

Dean seemed to be able to read the thoughts off of her face, because he stopped talking for a while, thinking about how to fix the damage he'd done. Finally, as Rory was reaching down to turn on the stereo and kill the horrible silence, he settled for a whispered, "I'm sorry."

Rory's hand froze and she took her eyes briefly off the road to look at him. His complexion had gotten a bit more color in it, and the scratches on his face were barely visible. But what made her want to scream was the loss he held in his eyes. Loss, regret, remorse, loneliness. Something along those lines. What in the world did she do to cause that? Was it even her fault?

"I'm sorry, too," she replied, tearing her gaze back to the road and forgetting about the stereo.

Dean looked at her, really took in the sun-kissed skin outlining the freckles on her nose and cheeks. Not many people noticed her freckles, but Dean could count each one in his sleep. He supposed she had spent the summer on a beach somewhere, and the postcard she'd sent Lucas, who had showed it to him, proved it. She'd died her hair a shade of dark chestnut and it hung in loose ringlets around her face and down her shoulders. And her eyes were still the same blue pools he would find himself lost in during the dog days of long past summers. He'd fallen in love with this woman, so much so that he let her go so she could be happy, ignoring the pains in his own heart just as long as he saw her smile. But now, after he'd put it all behind him, after he managed to lock up old feelings and desires, she had returned. And once that dam broke and let loose how he felt for her, he was slightly frightened that he wouldn't be able to rebuild it once she left again. He rebuilt his life once before, but he doubted he could do it again.

Just, how could he explain that to her though?

"I lied," he spit out instead. Deal with the guilt and shame before you jump into the icy waters of their relationship again. "Clara wasn't using you. I was just upset about her going off to Chicago."

"Oh," Rory said with a nod. The understanding hitch in her voice wasn't there though.

"Rory, I mean it," Dean stressed. "Clara really does love you. She tells me over and over how much she wishes me and you got married when we were eighteen instead of me and Lindsay. Sometimes I wish the same thing."

Uh-oh, wrong thing to say. Did he really just blurt that out? Dean wanted to kicked himself as Rory whipped her face around to his and narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?"

But there was no explanation he could offer, and definitely no cover.

Rory threw her gaze back to the road and hit her hands against the steering wheel. "I don't get you, Dean Forester!" she snapped. "First you act all cold shoulder to me, only being considerate because of my little brother. Then, when you're in a car accident -- a car accident, Dean! -- I come to make sure you're all right and you don't believe me! I tell you I care and I love you and I'll never stop caring and I'll never stop loving you, and you basically just sit there with a look that tells me that you don't care, you moved on! Please tell me that this is just a twisted little game of yours and then leave me out of it!"

Dean sighed. Wait to go, genius.

"Rory," he stumbled on his words again, watching the anger and irritation on her face fade to confusion and distress. "I can't explain it, I just…"

"Just what?"

Dean shook his head with a little frustration, his defense mechanism switching on. "It's doesn't feel too great being strung along, does it?" he smirked, immediately regretting it again.

"Nice, Dean, real mature," Rory retorted. "You know, that was a long time ago. I was a kid and I didn't know anything…"

"Did you know that you loved me?" Dean asked suddenly.

There was a pause before, "I thought I did."

Dean scoffed, "Yeah, well I knew. And I thought you said you knew, too."

"What? If you know you love me, then why in the hell are you making this so hard?"

There was just a brief pause before, "Because it's as screwed up as this in my own head." Dean let out a soft chuckle, glancing over at her through the corners of his eyes.

Rory didn't know whether to yell or laugh at the sudden statement. She was confused as anything, and who honestly wouldn't be by that conversation? She settled for a lopsided grin and flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. Her head was throbbing and she desperately needed an advil or something. It was going to be a long ride if the two of them kept that up.

Disclaimer numero dos: I don't own advil, so don't sue. You won't get anything but gum wrappers and a shiny mechanical pencil...

Author's Note: Alright, sorry, sorry, sorry for being away so long and making you guys wait so long! Grr, I had a severe case of Writer's Block and couldn't really be bothered to write anything. That being the case, I know this chapter wasn't up to par, and I know parts of it were completely random and stupid -- but that's what I get trying to force my Writer's Block away, huh? Still, I strived to make this chapter twice as long as all the others since I'm not entirely sure when this stupid Writer's Block will go away. So, I hope you enjoyed it... somewhat... and tell me what you thought!

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