Gilmore Girls

Wu Feng Qi Lang

A/N: As the summary says the title means 'creating waves without wind.' It's Chinese. I know I said you'd find out about Lorelai and Chris this chapter but you'll have to wait till next chapter. Hope you like. Gen. xx

Summary: Rory doesn't want to do this anymore. (Creating Waves Without Wind.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls nor am I affiliated with it in anyway. I have taken the title from 'Falling Leaves' by Adeline Yen Mah.

Chapter Three: New Wounds in Old Places

'These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase.'

My Immortal by Evanescence.

"Rory," Luke said. A smile lit up his face and Rory's heart warmed to see it so. (He hadn't smiled much since then. Not since all the way back then). "What brings you here?'

"Your coffee of course," she smiled. She walked over to him and let him hug her awkwardly.

"It's good to see you. Sit down," he said. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"Coffee would be great," she agreed. She waited patiently as he pulled out her favourite pale green mug and filled it with her poison of choice. "Who needs alcohol when you have coffee, huh, Luke?"

"Sounds about right, kid," he replied. "Of course, I do like my beer every once in awhile."

"And I like my coffee once in awhile," she shot-back lightly.

"But I do not drink it at a rate that is going to cause me to die prematurely or so much that it stunted my growth. Rory, you could have been five ten or five eleven," he mocked, shaking his head. "Instead of just five nine."

"How do you know I'm five nine?" she asked. (Please don't say her name. Please).

"I made your drawers. The new ones that... I was asked to make them and I wanted to know your height so I could make them to the right height," he shrugged.

"Luke, that is so sweet," she grinned. "You old softie."

"Don't spread that rumour again," he replied gruffly. "Patty still tries to hug me when she sees me out on the street, Babbette asks me to hold Apricot and Sookie tries to get me to look after Martha."

"How is Apricot doing?" Rory asked. She remembered cooking dinner for Dean dresses in that ridiculous (but cute) Donna Reed outfit when she was supposed to be looking after the kitten. "She'd be getting old now."

"Actually, you just missed her eighth birthday. If you had of come in yesterday instead of today, you could've joined in the festivities."

"No!" Rory gasped. "Oh, was there cake? Please tell me there was cake."

"There was cake and party hats," Luke answered.

"Stars Hollow," Rory said warmly. "There is just nowhere like it."

"I hope not," Luke said. "This place is full of lunatics and control freaks. The whole town should be instutionalised."

"And yet you still stay here," Rory said, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged and leaned against the counter, glancing out past her, out to the street.

"I guess you could say I'm the craziest of the lot," he murmured. They sat in silence for a moment and eventually, Rory turned around in her seat to watch the inhabitants of Stars Hollow go about their daily lives.

"I'm going to miss it here," she said softly. There was a hint of sadness in her voice and it shocked them both. Luke dragged in a deep breath and then let it out. He made no effort to rejoin the conversation as if he knew where it was headed. (As if he didn't want to know).

"How's that husband of yours?" he asked finally. Rory turned back in her seat to face him and the counter.

"Logan is great. He is amazing," she gushed. "Very supportive and… he's just good."

"He's finally taking you away from here, huh?" Luke asked. Rory shook her head and lowered her eyes.

"I am taking me away from here," she corrected. She eventually drew her eyes up to meet his and she saw the sadness swimming in them.

"Is he going with you?"

"No. I have to do this by myself. I'm… I'm going to Paris. I have a job with a cosmetics company. It's a great opportunity, one I couldn't pass up," she explained. "I've been thinking about going back to work for a long time and then this job came up and it seemed perfect."

"I get you," he said. "Are you doing this for the right reasons though?"

"Of course I am," she said, a little defensively.

"I just wanted to make sure. I'm not entirely sure it's the best idea. What is wrong with here? Why Paris, Rory? Why?" he practically shouted. She tilted her head up at him and he saw the tears in her eyes. (They were identical to her mothers. Identical blue, identical tears, identical goodbyes).

"You know why Paris," she answered evenly. Their eyes stayed glued to each others until eventually Luke looked away.

"I just want what's best for you, Rory. That's all I ever wanted. Since you were twelve, it is all I have wanted," he said.

"I know, Luke. And thank you for that but I have to do this. You know I do," she replied.

"I know it," he said. "I think you're brave."

"I'm the opposite of brave," she disagreed. "I just want things to be normal again. That's all. I want my comfort zones, my security blanket going back."

"You are brave to be going. What if you don't find what you're looking there?" he asked.

"Then I come back and nothing has changed. So as you can see, I'm not brave. It's a win-win situation," she shrugged. She looked at your watch. "I should get going. Logan is meeting me for lunch in Hartford."

"I'll miss you, you know that," he told her tenderly.

"I know that. I'll miss you but it's only for two years and think what we'll have if I find what I'm looking for," she said. They hugged again. "I think you would have been a great step-father, Luke."

He nodded and flashed a small smile. (He just couldn't get his mouth to move).

"I promise I'll come back," she said. She looked at Luke, squaring her shoulders and hardening her eyes so he could see she meant it. "I promise I'll come back. I'm not her."

"I know you're not," he answered. "Take care, Rory."

"Take care, Luke," she echoed, at a loss of what to say. She turned to leave but stopped at the door when she heard Luke whisper something. She turned and looked at him inquisitively.

"I guess I am an old softie at heart," he shrugged. "Gilmore girls are my weakness."

"Ah, but the only Gilmore girl I know now is my grandmother," Rory replied.

"You'll always be a Gilmore to me," he answered. He stood still as Rory walked over to him.

"I'm sorry my mother didn't marry you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. And with that, she pressed her lips to his cheek and pulled away quickly. She seemed to flee the Diner, seemed to flee the town and he watched her go, the entire time thinking 'she looks just like her.'

(And she had left too).

-

"Rory?" Logan called. He entered the bedroom and found Rory lying across the bed on her stomach. She was watching a DVD he vaguely recognized and she looked up briefly when she heard him.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I think I know why you want to go to Paris now," he said.

"You're such a detective," she answered. She reached for the remote and flicked off the TV.

"You're DVD is still playing," he said.

"You're such a smart one," she answered in the same tone as before. She was colourless, monotone, vapid.

"Ace?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"I feel so bad for Luke," she answered. "I went and saw him today and he is a broken man.

(And you are a broken woman, he thought but did not say.)

"I thought all the pain had gone away but it hasn't. Not for me. Not for him. And the worst part is we aren't even trying to put it behind us. Not him. Not me. I am doing the complete opposite. I'm going to Paris where the cause of my pain is. I want relief. I want resolution."

"But what if it isn't there?" he asked. "What if you can't find it?"

"At least I tried," she said.

"Rory," he said tentatively. "If the job that was offered to you wasn't in Paris but in Washington, New York or even Miami, would you have taken it?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Is it the getting away from me part or is it the working part?" he asked. He couldn't look at her while he asked but that was okay because she couldn't look at him.

"The working part, of course," she answered. "The working part. I just don't want to be a trophy wife."

"I didn't know you were one," he replied. "I tried not to make you one. I knew that wasn't what you wanted."

"It wasn't you, Logan," she answered honestly.

He walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek.

(What more could he do?)

-

"Logan, I have a postcard from Paris," Rory said.

"Paris, the city or Paris, the girl?" he asked from his position on the bed. He lay across the very middle, spread out, reading the paper. She walked over and tickled his bare back and kissed it before settling in near him. She sat with her back against the headboard and her legs across her husband's back.

"Paris, the city," she answered. "Paris, the girl lives two streets away."

"There's a city writing you postcards now?" he asked.

"You better believe it," she replied. She turned it over and read it, drinking in every word. She paused when she got to the end and read it again. Over and over again, she read it, trying to make sense of the scribbled letters. (Rory couldn't read Latin. She knew she should've taken the course when it was offered. Surely that was why she couldn't make sense of it. Surely that was why. It was in Latin. It had to be. Surely).

"What does it say?" Logan asked, having waited impatiently for ten whole minutes.

"I don't know exactly. Do you read Latin? I think it's in Latin," she answered.

"What?" he asked, rolling over and sitting up. He joined her sitting against the headboard and read it over her shoulder. "Oh, Ace. Oh, Ace."

"It's in Latin, right?" she asked. "Or Sanskrit or ancient Greek? Cyrillic even? It has to be because I'm not quite sure I understand one bit of it. Logan, please tell me that this doesn't say what I think it says."

"Oh, Ace," he repeated. He looked away, unable to see his wife in so much pain. She turned to him and pulled his head around so he had no choice but to look at her.

"It isn't in another language, is it?" she asked. Logan shook his head softly and waited to see how his wife would react. She simply looked at him, dropped the postcard and shrugged. "I guess she is a grown-up now. I guess he is one too and I guess they can make their own decisions."

"Rory, are you alright?" Logan asked, barely able to trust his face. (Trust his voice? What about her? Listen to her go).

"Of course I am," she replied. "I'm fine. This is fine. After all, we're all grown-ups and it's their decision to make. It's fine."

(But it wasn't and that was the day she changed).