Author's Note: Something to make up for too many short chapters… About half revealing flashback. Okay, about three-eighth's revealing flashback, one-eighth adorable flashback. But we need a little of both, right?
Chapter Nine: The lost open windows…
Rory was in with Laylee, helping her pick out hot pink plaster for her cast and managing to keep a brave face right along with the little girl. Luke was waiting with Richard and Emily for Will and Natalie while Lorelai was lead into Jack's room, since the doctor was allowing only one visitor.
"What's wrong with him?" Lorelai asked, taking a few calming breaths before the doctor opened the door.
"It appears Jack hit his head on the steering wheel when the car impacted the tree. His vitals are stable, and he regained consciousness in the ambulance over here. The pain medication has put him to sleep, though. We already did a CAT scan. He's clear, but we want to keep him overnight to observe him."
Lorelai nodded and entered the hospital room, resolved not to cry when she saw her baby boy in that bed.
Her resolution, however, was for naught. The doctor allowed her alone time as she sat beside his bed, taking his hand in both of hers. His right temple was covered with a bandage, and there were a few bruises underneath. She brought his hand to her lips and let the tears slip silently down her cheeks. The tears were mostly those of relief that her little boy was all right.
"Baby boy, you have got to stop scaring me," she whispered. "Your brother's the wild one, but you're always the one that seems to get into the big trouble."
Broken bones, which had seemed so horrible to Lorelai twenty years ago, had been commonplace in the Danes house. Their wild-child Will, however, had always been the one to walk away with a few bruises or a sprained wrist, while Jack as the voice of reason needed twenty-six stitches in his forehead (age nine) or a immobilizing cast for a broken collar bone (age six). He was just unlucky.
Raising Rory had been extremely unconventional, but raising the twins was much more nerve-wracking, perhaps because she was older, perhaps because they were boys. Either way, learning she had another child (two, it turned out later) on the way had been one of the most amazing moments of her life.
"I'm late," Lorelai told Rory over the phone one Friday afternoon.
"Well then get off the phone with me and get to wherever you're supposed to be."
Lorelai was too freaked to mock the rhyme.
"No, Rory. I'm late."
"Okay, White Rabbit, for what?"
"Wow, that Ivy League education isn't helping much, is it, sweets?"
"Oh my God!"
"And she's got it, ladies and gentlemen. A little slow on the uptake, but still in the game."
"Oh my God, Mom!"
"Heard you the first time, kid."
"How late?"
"Way late."
"Have you taken a test?"
"Got one staring at me right now."
"Shouldn't you be telling this to your husband, then?"
"I don't want to get his hopes up."
"Aww, he really wants kids, doesn't he?"
"Yep."
"And do you?"
"Of course!"
Rory was shocked for a moment at the certainty in her mother's voice.
"Really?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You just didn't seem so keen on it eighteen months ago."
"I didn't know that Luke wanted kids back then. And I hadn't been married for six months."
"So what are you waiting for? Take the test, then get your butt over to the diner."
"Alright, hold on a sec."
"Mom, we are not that close."
"Very funny. I was going to leave you in the bedroom."
"Oh thank you. How considerate."
"Shush." She placed the phone on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. About five minutes later, she picked up the phone again.
"Okay, so?" Rory asked, her voice broadcasting her excitement.
"Um, you ready to be a big sister?"
"No!" Rory cried.
"What! I thought you were excited!"
"I am! That was a shocked "no", not a negative "no"."
"Don't freak Mommy out like that, Rory!"
"Sorry. I'm so happy for you, Mom. Now get off the phone with me and get your butt over to that diner and tell your husband."
"Going! Love you, kid."
"Love you, too, Mom."
"Hey, Rory?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I can do this again?"
"Oh yeah."
They hung up, and Lorelai sped over to the diner, ignoring Taylor's admonishments as she sloppily parked and entered the diner. She was glowing, and the diner patrons noticed it, especially Babette and Miss Patty.
"Well hello there, Mrs. Danes," Patty smiled, noticing the way Lorelai smiled when she was called that. "You're here at an odd hour."
"Took the day off," Lorelai beamed. "Have any of you seen my grumpy husband?"
"Boy, did we evah, sugah. He's in quite a mood this afternoon. Caesar called in sick at the last minute, and Lane's got a gig in New York, so they already left."
"Well, I'll see what I can do about that," Lorelai grinned, turning just in time to see Luke exit the kitchen.
"Hey," he smiled a little, kissing her over the counter. "What are you doing here?"
She smiled wider, leaning over the counter to whisper the news in his ear. He dropped the coffee mug he was holding in preparation of feeding her addiction and gaped at her.
"Really?"
She nodded.
"Everything's on the house!" Luke announced to the diner patrons, before he pulled Lorelai around the counter and back into the storage room, leaving a very confused group of eaters.
As soon as they were out of sight, he pulled her close and pressed his lips sweetly, but insistently, against hers.
"We're gonna be parents," he smiled more widely than she'd imagined possible, resting his forehead against hers.
"Looks like it," she glowed as he tucked her hair behind her ears. "You ready?"
"Hell yes. You do know this means no more coffee, right?"
"Mean!"
"Sane!"
Lorelai smiled as she remembered, looking to her sleeping son, a veritable clone of her husband. Jack talked like Luke, grumped like Luke, cooked like Luke, and, she'd most recently noted, loved like Luke, with reverence and adoration. She leaned over and kissed the un-bandaged section of his forehead. Jack's eyes fluttered open in response.
"Mom?" he croaked.
"Hey there, baby boy."
"Where's Laylee?"
"In another room, picking out cast colors. She's going to be fine."
"I broke her," Jack lamented. "God, Mom, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn't've let her sit in the front. I know better! I'm the uncle, the authority figure. I should've put my foot down. I should've driven more careful. How could I do this to her?"
"Shh," Lorelai calmed the Luke-esque rant, squeezing his hand. "That's enough, Jack. This isn't your fault. No one thinks that."
"Rory will. I broke her little girl! In a car accident, no less. Oh, God. She must be reliving the whole thing with Sally…"
"Jack, stop it. Now. This was the other driver's fault. You did everything you could."
Jack did as he was told, but did not look too convinced of his innocence. Lorelai continued to study her son's troubled face, aching at her inability to fix his problems. After several moments of reflective silence, he finally whispered:
"She was so scared, Mom. And I was so scared. We were swerving, and the headlights were blinding us, and she was looking at me with total faith that I could fix everything… I failed her, Mom. I failed you all."
"Nonsense, baby boy." Lorelai fought her own tears at the sight of those pricking her stoic son's eyes. "You did good. Now get some sleep, okay? I'm gonna go get Daddy."
"I'm sorry, Mom," Jack apologized, eyes glistening with tears he would never allow himself to shed.
"Shh. Get some sleep, baby boy. Dad'll be here in a sec."
Jack was half-asleep when Luke pushed the door open a few minutes later, pausing as soon as the door shut softly behind him, caught once again in how much he hated hospitals. His parents had lived the last of their days in beds like these, and it made Luke sick to see his son taking up residence, however brief, in one of them.
"I hurt a Gilmore girl," Jack murmured upon seeing his father through feathered lashes.
"What?"
"You told me the first rule of our family was never hurt, or let someone else hurt, a Gilmore girl."
"Jack, you were nine, and I was trying to get you and your brother to be more gentle around Laylee and stop using her as a football. Which you still do, 'cause the crazy kid likes it."
"I hurt her."
"That drunk idiot hurt her."
"I just… I just feel like I could've done something more. Something meaningful."
Luke sank into the chair beside his son, reaching a hand across to rest on Jack's forearm.
"You did good, Jackman," Luke assured the boy, voice deep and low, saying that was the end of the conversation for now.
"Do you think they'll let me play Friday?" Jack said after minutes had slid by in silence, which was not uncommon for these two.
Luke let out a short laugh, halfway between a snort and a scoff. "God, you're just like you're grandmother."
"Hey!" Jack objected, reflexes a little slowed by the drugs.
Luke smiled, "No, my mom. She never slowed down when she was sick, just kept acting like everything was okay."
"I'm not sick."
"Thank God," Luke breathed out of reflex, squeezing his son's arm. "I just mean she was always more concerned about everyone around her. You're a lot like that, too."
"Well, good thing I'm named after her."
"Funny how that works."
He and Lorelai had debated for months about what to name the second twin, and as her due date was rapidly approaching, Baby #2 was still missing a first name. Baby #1 was already designated William Richard (though this was a heavily guarded secret), and Baby #2's middle name had been well established as Gilmore (someone had to carry on the name). But a first name eluded them. Then, on May 21st, over a mountain of French fries she was attacking while Luke finished closing up, Lorelai had asked what his mother's maiden name was. Luke had answered "Jackman" automatically, and Lorelai had fallen in love. They both agreed that it was perfect: different, but not too wild, and with a very easy nickname. And it honored his mother.
"You know I learned it from you," Jack shared after a time, seeking out his father's eyes.
"Learned what?"
"All that everyone around me stuff."
Luke paused, suppressing the emotion caught in his throat because he knew his stoic Jackman would want nothing to do with it. "You're a good son, Jack."
Jack smiled sleepily and appreciatively, leaning back into his pillows. His face became more serious, though, as he fell into more musing.
"She's gonna be fine," Luke read his son's mind.
"Yeah, but will she forgive me?"
"You haven't visited your granddaughter yet!" Emily accused Lorelai as soon as the mother returned to the waiting room.
Lorelai sighed, the emotion of her visit with Jack still hanging over her, her baby boy's pain settling right into her gut. She didn't have the patience for this right now.
"Rory's got it under control. With you and Dad there too, I didn't want to overcrowd her."
"I don't know if you've noticed, but Laylee thinks you hang the moon and stars; I think she would enjoy a visit from her grandmother. Instead you are just sitting out here drinking that infernal coffee…"
"Hey!" Lorelai interrupted. "I was in with Jack. You know, Jack? My son, your grandson… The one who was unconscious when the ambulance showed up and now has his head wrapped in bandages…"
"The one driving the car…"
"Whoa! What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that he crashed Rory's car into a tree and broke Laylee's arm."
"Hold on a God-damned second, Mom…"
"Lorelai, there is no need to use such language."
"Yes, I think there is. This is not Jack's fault, and you will not even mention anything of the sort to him. He feels responsible as it is. I'm not sure if you've even bothered to find out the whole story, but Jack saved Laylee's life. He avoided a drunk driver and pulled her out from under the airbag before it could suffocate her."
"She shouldn't have been sitting with the airbag in the first place. A responsible driver…"
"He's a sixteen year old boy, who indulged his niece for a short trip home on a very special night. He was trying to give her the best night possible, so she wouldn't notice she was the only little girl at the dance whose Daddy wasn't escorting her. What the hell is your problem?"
"Pardon me?"
"If Will had been driving, you wouldn't be blaming this on him. You've never been able to accept Jack. Well, I'm not sure if you got the memo, but Will and Jack are brothers, twins, and they're a packaged deal. And I don't know if you've ever noticed, but Jack is Will's hero, and vice versa. I mean, you love Will so much because he fits into your perfect little world, but Jack is just as good a kid as Will, and Will'll be the first person to tell you that. Jack was unconscious tonight, and you don't act in the least bit worried about your grandson. Why don't you love him!"
Emily stood shell-shocked for a few moments after her daughter's mother-bear outburst. There were tears in the recesses of her eyes, beginning to build up as she was faced with her sins. Finally she whispered:
"He terrifies me."
It was true. The boy had always been too insightful for Emily's comfort. Every time he looked at her, she felt as if her soul and faults were exposed. And she could never tell if he was accepting those faults or disdaining them. He was so quiet and so alien to her world that she had always been on edge around him. His natural tendencies were against nearly everything she had acknowledged as good and proper. He was as rough as his father, as stubborn as his mother, and as independent as both combined. To Emily, Jack had always seemed so hard to reach, and somewhere along the way she had ceased to try, even pushing him away in an effort to lessen the uncomfortable sting of his measuring stares. Being rejected by the steadfast boy once had been enough to send her retreating back into her shell when it came to her youngest grandchild.
She heard the tires of the Jeep crunch on the gravel and nervously moved to the window. Having played hostess to numerous dignitaries and noble persons, she still could not remember ever being more nervous about a guest, and this was her own grandson. She peeked through the curtains and watched Lorelai climb out of the ancient Jeep, all dolled up and looking as beautiful as usual. Lorelai pulled the passenger seat forward, and Emily could see Luke turned in the driver's seat to talk with the occupant of the back, his laughter inaudible through the windows.
Holding her hand out, Lorelai helped the rear passenger onto the gravel driveway, leaning in behind him to grab something. She motioned to the hat sitting, the wrong way, atop the eight-year-old boy's head and said something to him, which brought a grin to his face while he grudgingly removed his head-covering. Lorelai ran her fingers through the boy's red-gold hair, ruffling it up just to smooth it again. Then she unfolded what she'd retrieved from the backseat to reveal a navy blue polo shirt. Jack grimaced and removed his raggedy plaid flannel, flinging it into the car so it hit his father in the face, causing the mother to giggle and the son to beam with pride. He held his hands above his head for the polo to be slipped onto him, allowing his mother to fuss and smooth all his wrinkles while sharing a put-upon look with his father which vanished the moment his mother looked into his face in favor of a small, soft smile. Lorelai leaned over and kissed each of the boy's cheeks dramatically while Luke climbed out of the car and slipped Jack's overnight duffle out of the rear.
Jack shook out his hair and wrinkled his nose at something his mother said. Then he smiled as she took his head into her hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks. Lorelai rested her forehead on his, then they brushed noses as Luke motioned towards the front door, probably suggesting they get inside.
Emily backed away from the window and composed herself, waving the maid off as the doorbell rang.
"Hey, Mom," Lorelai smiled, obviously trying her best to make this pleasant for Jack.
"Hello, Lorelai, Luke, Jack. Come in."
They did as they were told, the maid taking the duffel from Luke.
"Hi, Grandma," the quiet boy finally spoke, hesitating for a moment before giving her a quick hug about the middle.
"Emily, are they here?" Richard called as he walked into the room. Jack brightened at the sound, practically running to his grandfather while exclaiming:
"Grandpa!"
Richard chuckled and embraced the boy.
"Hello, Jack. Are you ready for our evening?"
Jack nodded enthusiastically.
"Well, good. I hear there's a pool in the backyard that hasn't been used yet this summer. I do hope you brought a suit, because I could use some company breaking it in for the season."
Jack looked to his mother, who had done his packing. She smiled and nodded.
"Excellent," Richard smiled.
"Richard, you're not really going swimming, are you?" This was the first Emily had heard of it.
"Well, of course, Emily. That's what we have a pool for."
"And here I thought it was for skinny-dipping," Lorelai sighed dramatically.
"Ah jeez, Mom," Jack groaned, covering his face with his hands.
"My God, Jack, you are your father's son."
"I should hope so…" Luke teased.
"Well, I wasn't sure…"
"Guys, stop!" Jack interceded before it could get mushy, which was usually where his parents' banter lead.
"You're no fun," Lorelai pouted.
"Well, Jack, your mom and I better get on our way if we want to make our reservation," Luke said, hand on the boy's shoulder. "Be good, alright?"
"Okay, Daddy," Jack agreed hesitantly, hugging his father. "You be good, too."
"Your dad? Always. Now come 'ere, baby boy, and give Mommy a hug before we go."
Jack obliged immediately, throwing his arms around her waist, face buried in her stomach.
"Have fun, be sweet, and call us if you need anything." Still embracing her youngest, Lorelai looked to her parents. "Thanks for having him tonight, guys. It's much better than the infirmary back in Stars Hollow. Will, Rory, and Laylee have been puking since early this morning."
"The pleasure is ours, Lorelai," Richard grinned, ignoring his daughter's cruder remarks. "You've picked the perfect evening, and I have it all planned out. Jack, the Red Sox game is on after supper."
At that, Jack grinned, but still held his mother tight, whispering, "You can't stay, Mom?"
"Naw, baby boy. You're gonna have a great time with Grandpa and Grandma, and Daddy and I are going out to dinner."
"I can't go with?"
"Nope, sorry. Tonight is Mommy and Daddy time."
"Okay," he gave in. "Be safe."
Emily's brow wrinkled at such a strange remark from such a small boy.
Jack finally released his mother after planting a kiss on her lips, stepping to his grandfather's side.
"Now, I expect a full report on the game when we pick you up, Jack," Luke informed him as they left.
"You got it, Dad," Jack smiled slightly. Luke nodded approvingly at the boy's straightened spine and resolute set of jaw, adding a slight wink when he was sure his in-laws weren't looking.
When they were gone, Jack spent another second forlornly studying the door before jumping into action with his grandfather. They splashed in the pool until just before supper at seven, when each hopped into the shower quickly to become presentable for an Emily Gilmore dinner. Jack sat himself at the table promptly at seven o'clock in khakis and a hunter green polo shirt that made his hair seem all the more red. He remembered all of his "pleases" and "thank yous" and "ma'ams" and "sirs" flawlessly, if a little practiced, and he cleared his plate. Then it was game time, and they leapt back into action, Jack producing a worn Red Sox cap from his back pocket and holding it in his two hands while they watched the game, periodically rubbing the bill as if it were a good luck charm.
"Wow! What a great hit!" Jack cried, the loudest Emily had ever heard him.
"Indeed. Much like your brother's on Saturday."
"Yeah. Will really can hit 'em."
"With you pitching to him at practice, he's been forced to learn how to hit everything well."
Jack grinned modestly, flushing slightly at the praise.
After the game, it was long past Jack's bedtime. He was sleeping in his mother's old room, which soothed his homesickness a little, though he saw little of his mother in that strange room. Richard left the task of tucking Jack in to Emily, assuring her that the only way to become comfortable around young Jackman was to build a relationship with him.
Jack changed into his pajamas (those were plaid flannel) and brushed his teeth. He said goodnight to his grandfather, thanking him for the fun evening, and started his slow ascent to the bedroom, Grandma cautiously in tow. Richard nodded reassuringly to Emily as she glanced at him over her shoulder.
"Are you cold? Or hot? I could have Ursula bring up another blanket if you're cold."
"I'm good, Grandma," Jack said, unnerved by his grandmother's jumpy state. "Just… maybe a glass of water?"
"Oh. Of course. I can handle that."
She slipped out into the hall, meeting an expectant Richard with water in hand.
"We almost forgot his water; Jack loves his water." Noticing his wife's discomfort, Richard added, "Emily, he doesn't bite. Well, there was that unfortunate period of the toddler years where he and Will had an affinity for taking chunks out of each other… But otherwise…"
Emily took in a deep breath and stepped back into the room to find young Jack already climbing into bed. He took the water with the appropriate gratitude and took a long sip before scootching down onto the pillows and pulling the covers up.
"Well, are you all set?"
"Yes, Grandma. G'night."
"You know where to find your grandfather and I?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Alright then, goodnight. I'll wake you in the morning for breakfast, and then your parents should be by to pick you up."
"'Night."
An hour later, Emily stuck her head in to check on the strange little boy and found him tossing and turning, the tears on his cheeks reflecting the light of the hallway. All of a sudden, he sat bolt upright and gave strangled cry. Emily's grandmotherly instincts set in, and she rushed to his side, shaking him awake and holding his shoulders comfortingly.
"Mommy!" he whispered, now half-awake, shaking off Emily's grasp and curling back into his pillows. "Where's my mom?"
He asked that with blue eyes red-rimmed and wide, distrust and fear radiating off of him. The stare knocked Emily in the gut.
"She's out with your father," Emily delivered shakily, collecting herself. "You must've had a nightmare."
"I gotta talk to her. I gotta talk to her now."
"Jackman, she's out with your father."
"Now," he whimpered, pulling a pillow to his chest and rocking back and forth.
"What on earth is going on?" Richard asked as he entered the room, noticing with horror Jack's hysterical state. The tears were so out of character for such a stoic child.
"I gotta talk to her," Jack repeated, tears still slipping down his cheeks.
"Who?"
"Lorelai," Emily answered. "I believe he's had a bad dream, but he won't say anything."
"Well, then, let's get him a phone. I'm sure hearing her voice will make him feel much better," Richard said, laying a soothing hand on his shaking grandson's shoulder.
Emily took the hint, but not before noting how Jack didn't pull away. She returned with the phone, handing it off to Jack, who snatched it greedily and began to dial. He sniffled as his mother answered the phone.
"Mommy?"
"Baby boy, what's wrong!"
The grandparents could hear the worry in their daughter's voice through the receiver.
Jack sniffled again and took a shaky breath. "Where are you?"
"We're at the hotel, like we told you we'd be. Jack, what's wrong?"
"No more driving?"
"Not until we come to get you in the morning. Baby, what is wrong?"
Jack wiped his tears with the back of his free hand, his breathing coming under control.
"I had a bad dream."
"Oh, baby boy…"
"You and Dad were driving at night… and all of a sudden…" Jack trailed off, choking up again. "You… you… died, Mom!"
"Oh, Jack…" Lorelai's voice was full of emotion, and her need to hug her son flowed through the telephone line. "I'm okay. Daddy's okay. Here, Daddy, say something so Jack knows you're alright."
"Hey, Jack. You okay?"
"Yeah, Dad. I'm okay now."
"Alright. Here's your mother."
"Jack, go back to bed. We're absolutely fine. How was your night with Grandma and Grandpa?"
"Good."
"Who won?"
"Red Sox. Tell Dad."
"You got it. I love you, Jack."
"Love you, too, Mom."
Jack, visibly relieved, handed the phone to his grandfather, managing a watery smile. "Sorry."
"Nonsense, Jackman. You have to do what you feel is right. Now get some sleep; your mother is going to be just fine. Better dreams this time, you understand me?" Richard said gently, brushing back the boy's sweat-soaked hair.
"Yes, sir," Jack said, his voice raw and quiet.
"Goodnight, Jackman," Emily said as they closed the door behind them.
In the hall, Richard noticed the shell-shocked expression on his wife's face. "Are you okay?"
"I… That was not a Jack I have seen before."
"That little boy loves his mother more than anything in the world, Emily, and a dream like that was a worse scare than any ghost story or scary movie for that boy. And he worries, much like his father. He just needed reassurance that she was safe."
With that, Richard headed off towards bed, expecting Emily to follow behind. She did so, but only after glancing once more at the door, as if to steel herself against any further rejection from her youngest grandchild. As she had with Lorelai, all Emily wanted from Jack, deep down, was acceptance; the fear in Jack's eyes and his refusal to be comforted left a lasting mark that she would never allow anyone to see.