Author's Note: Short, yes, I know, and I apologize. Important, though. We hear the story of Laylee's daddy (Uncle Sally as the boys called him) and have another heart-to-heart with young William (Introspective chap, ain't he? Where the hell did he get that from?)

Chapter Six: I wrote the pain down…

Rory watched Laylee tumble out of the car and up the front porch steps.

"Hey, Lay?" she called after her daughter, who paused in mid-stride, looking back over her shoulder.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I talked to Mrs. Clare yesterday."

Laylee's head slowly spun back the other way, avoiding her mother's eyes.

"Mom…"

"Laylee, you're a smart kid!"

The girl said nothing, still frozen in place.

"You could so easily ace all of your classes."

"Mom, I'm passing," Laylee offered.

"You should be doing better than that."

"It's boring, Mom! I know it all, the homework's too easy to do, and there're better things I can be doing."

"Like what?"

"Helping the team out at practice, learning from Aunt Sookie in the kitchen, helping Nonna out at the desk…"

"Laylee… you can't blow off homework to do that stuff. That stuff's extra, and everyone appreciates you doing it, but not at the expense of your homework."

"I don't like homework, Mom. It's stupid and pointless. I don't want to do it. I pass all my tests without it."

"It doesn't matter that you don't want to do it, Lay. You have to. Bring your grades up, or you don't get to do any of that. That starts with you coming home every day after school and doing your homework before anything else."

"Mom!" Laylee spun around, eyes wide with indignant horror. "Mom, I go to Luke's after school every day. They expect me there."

Rory stood her ground, feeling sick to her stomach at the fight this had turned into. She crossed her arms over her middle and said:

"I'm sorry, Laylee. Those are the new rules."

"They're stupid!"

"Go inside and get ready for bed. I'll be in to tuck you in in a minute."

"I can tuck myself in," the impetuous Gilmore informed her mother, turning heel and flinging the door open.

Tears pricked Rory's eyes, but she held them back. How had her mother done such a good job of raising her, but she could barely make her own daughter listen without getting into a screaming match? She worked to keep them comfortable, and her job happened to take her out of town. She sighed and retrieved Laylee's duffle from the car, climbing the stairs to the Crap Shack. After closing and locking the door behind her, she picked up the phone to check voicemail. In the process, she noticed the picture of Laylee, Luke, and Lorelai taken last year at one of the school plays a delayed flight had kept Rory from attending.

Would they have handled the grades differently? Lorelai had never had to bother Rory about her studies, but Rory vaguely remembered Jack having a similar opinion of homework in his early academic career. Or maybe, just the suggestion of improved grades from the grandparents would've produced a much better result.

Rory felt sick again, that sad, sinking feeling settling in her stomach. She had lost everyone important to her, even her mother at one point, and now she was losing her beloved baby girl. Could she even turn to Lorelai without seeming jealous? Her mother's comments on changing jobs came back to her, but Rory just didn't know if she could give up on the dream she had worked so hard to reclaim.

"Mom?" Laylee interrupted her thoughts in a small voice, emerging from the bathroom in her pjs, Oreo print. She padded over to where Rory had seated herself moments earlier on the couch, climbing up into Rory's lap. Obviously aware of her mother's pain, Laylee wrapped her arms around her neck, head tucked on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I yelled, Mommy."

That sensitive heart beating in Laylee's chest, the close attenuation to her mother's feelings, was the Salvatore in their beautiful little girl. Laylee was so very Lorelai, with such strong Luke influences, that it was hard to see anyone else in her. But there were moments, such as this one, when Salvatore d'Arielli shown brightly within the daughter he'd never known.

"It's okay, sweetie. Just… Try, please? If you get your grades up, you can start doing your homework at Luke's."

"Alright, Mom," Laylee capitulated, a bit of annoyance still barely perceptible in her voice, lips pressed against her mother's neck.

"Okay, let's get you into bed. You have school in the morning."

Laylee untangled her limbs from her mother's and hurried off to her room, Rory in tow.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah, Lay?"

"Can you tell me more about Papa tonight?"

Rory hid the sharp burst in her heart well, though she knew her daughter detected the faintest hints of it.

"Sure. Like what?" Rory asked as Laylee climbed under the covers.

"Tell me how you met him."

"Laylee, it's always this one!" Rory grinned a little sadly.

"It's my favorite," Laylee explained, settling her head onto the pillow.

"All right. The short version."

"Goody."

"So I was on assignment in Rome, at the US Embassy. Papa was a reporter for the Il Quotidiano, reporting on the embassy too. All the reporters hung out at this little café across the…"

"Via Vittorio Veneto," Laylee chimed in with her sweet little accent.

"Right, across the street. And we all ate wonderful meals every day at that little café."

"And Papa always made sure to sit next to you."

"He would only speak to me in English…"

"And insisted you answer him in Italian."

"Right. Soon he was showing me around Rome and Tuscany and Naples… I couldn't help but fall in love with him."

"Luka-and-Nonna in love," Laylee emphasized.

"Right," Rory confirmed, smiling at the reference, "Luka-and-Nonna in love."

"Which is pretty huge."

"Hey, who's telling this story?"

Laylee giggled and made show of zipping her lips.

"Much better. What really made me realize I loved him was when he came back to Stars Hollow with me and met your uncles. Those three got along so well… They're my baby brothers, and if they loved him that much and he could love them that much…"

"You were gone. What about Luka and Nonna? Did they like him?"

Rory shot her daughter a playful exasperated look at the interruption.

"Oh, they loved him, especially because he offered to watch the four-year-old boys while I went out with your grandparents. Back then, your uncles were quite a handful."

"Back then?" Laylee snorted.

Rory grinned. "Nine months later, Papa proposed."

"And three months later, you found out about me."

"And all your Papa could do for the next three months was talk to my tummy…"

"In Italian…"

"And tell you how very excited he was for you to enter the world and how much he loved you already."

"Papa was good man," Laylee yawned again, eyelids drooping, dangerously close to sleep.

"Your Papa was a great man, tesoro," Rory gave a watery smile as she carefully formed the Italian endearment Salvatore used to murmur to her stomach while they drifted off to sleep. She tucked the covers up under their shared dream's sleepy chin and dropped a kiss on her forehead before taking her leave.

Detention: Day Three.

"All right, boys. How do you feel about gardening?"

From beside Will, Greg Matthews groaned, summoning a faint smirk to Will's face.

"Sounds great, Miss Rosa," Will charmed, still managing to look dashing in his practice clothes as he gentlemanly took the tools from the middle aged custodian.

Greg remained still, and Will figured the spoiled bastard had never gotten those manicured hands dirty. Will, on the other hand, had been helping his dad outdoors for as long as he could remember.

"The clippers are for the bushes. The flowerbeds need weeding. You have one hour. Be quick," Miss Rosa ordered with the precision, and command, of a drill sergeant, her heavily accented English not detracting from the image. Having issued her instructions, she sauntered away, leaving the two juniors in the front courtyard to serve out the halfway point of their punishment.

"You heard the nice lady, Matthews," Will said, tossing a pair of heavy work gloves at his companion. "There. Wouldn't want you messing up the manicure."

"Shut the hell up, Danes."

Will rolled his eyes at the unoriginal comeback and picked up the clippers to begin his task. Ten minutes into their labor, Greg ventured into conversation.

"So, Danes, how's your mom?"

Will froze mid-clip, feeling the tension seize his muscles and the heat rush to his head. He remained silent, fighting the urge to use the clippers a little more violently. Greg continued to poke.

"What about your sister?"

Will kept clipping, though each snip had a little more force behind it than before. Behind him, Greg smirked and stood up.

"So you can be all tough until you get caught by the Headmaster? What, you scared of disappointing him again? Scared you won't be his pet anymore?"

Will ignored him.

"I mean, I understand why you were upset earlier. I'd be touchy too if my mom were a slut."

"That's it!"

Will threw down the clippers and turned to face the defamer. Then his father flashed before his eyes. The love and trust and pride Luke had always placed in him, no matter what, stayed his fists.

"C'mon, Danes, hit me!"

"Go to hell, Matthews," Will replied coldly, turning to retrieve the hedge clippers.

Greg scoffed and stalked off, probably to tell one of his cronies what a wuss Will was.

As soon as Greg was gone, someone interrupted Will's work.

"I think that's enough for today, Will. You should go on home."

"What? Mr. Medina, I've got an hour and a half left, and then I go to practice."

"Go home and be with your family, Will," Max urged again, hands in his pockets and brow knitted thoughtfully. "I think you've learned your lesson."

"Sir?"

"I saw what just happened. A lesser man would've swung."

"I should've swung," Will said, disgusted in himself. "He insulted my mom."

"He was trying to get a rise out of you and get you in more trouble, and you didn't take the bait. I'd say you learned your lesson."

"I'd say I was a wimp, but see it however you want."

"You got in a lot of fights as a kid, didn't you?"

Will nodded, setting down the clippers and taking a seat on the nearby bench.

"But you don't have any fights in your Chilton records."

"I haven't hit anyone since the summer before freshman year."

Max said nothing, waiting for his pupil to continue.

"It was Jack. I hit Jack. We'd been picking at each other all summer, mostly because I was trying to push him away."

"And why is that?"

"Jack and I are really close, Mr. Medina. We always have been. And we were in all our classes together all through elementary school and junior high. We played on all the same sports teams, had all the same friends."

"And then?"

"He didn't want to come here. My whole childhood I dreamed about following in Rory's footsteps here. School in Stars Hollow was great; everyone knew me and stuff, but it was pretty boring. Now, Jack… he's not much a scholar, at least not in the Chilton sense. The part of school he liked was the sports, playing for the hometown team. As much as he pretends otherwise, he likes bringing Stars Hollow glory. He loves that town; it's all he wants out of life. And it's all he's ever wanted. So he wanted to go to Stars Hollow High, throw for the Fighting Minutemen, and I wanted to come here. I just expected him to follow me, so when he said he wasn't, and Mom and Dad supported him in that, I was pretty upset. It used to feel weird going to school without him when he was home sick for the day, so the thought of going without him every day just unnerved me."

"So you pushed him away so it wouldn't hurt as much."

"Right."

"And this lead to a fight?"

"Yeah. We were arguing about it. We're both stubborn as hell, and my temper got the best of me. I punched him. In the face. He swung back, naturally, and it became a full out boxing match. Two townspeople had to pull us apart and throw us into the diner. I'd never seen my parents look so horrified. I thought my dad was going to be sick. Here were their sons, beating the shit out of each other in the middle of town square. I mean, we were brothers, family…" Will trailed off, looking up at his mentor. "Jack never told them who threw the first punch, and I was too ashamed to admit that I had done it. I felt so bad afterwards that I didn't throw another punch until last Friday. I always tried to control my temper. But when Greg started…"

"I understand. Your temper is your demon, Will, and we all have demons to struggle with. They're a part of what makes us who we are. And I happen to think you are handling yours very well. Now go home: hang out with your brother."

Will snorted a little at that. "If I can pull him off of his girlfriend."

Max laughed. "Can't keep their hands off of each other?"

"Dear God, no. It's pretty disgusting."

"I know how that is."

"Please don't elaborate: you were engaged to my mother, and I'd rather not have to go to therapy."

"I'll stop there," Max assured him, offering his hand to help Will off of the bench. "I'll vouch for you with Miss Rosa and Coach. Just get on home."

"Yes, sir," Will agreed, shaking Max's hand. "I'll see you tomorrow, Headmaster."