33 - The Precipice Between Groundlessness & Flight
"This is it, isn't it?" Rory asked, the church looming in front of her like some sort of vicious leviathan ready to swallow her whole.
"How very Gothic," Sarah commented from her left, their arms entwined. "I wonder if there's a hunchback living up in the rafters?"
"It is very Notre Dame-ish," the reporter agreed, though her quip was rather half-hearted.
"I'm right beside you, Gilly," her friend assured, the slightly taller brunette sliding her hand down to grip Rory's in support. "You can do this."
The reporter nodded and let out a deep, steadying breath then stepped forward into the church with Sarah beside her, a vague feeling of surrealness washing over her in the process. She made her way to one of the pews on the groom's side and sat down to wait for the ceremony to begin. She watched the groom speaking with his brother and best man as they too awaited the bride's arrival, only to blanch for a second when Marty turned his gaze to her and smiled. Rory mustered the best smile she could in return, hoping that it masked the turmoil in her stomach. Her efforts were apparently wasted because he quirked an eyebrow at her in concern, but fortunately for Rory the organist chose then to begin playing and brought their silent conversation to an end.
Rory let a low, shivering breath escape her lips as the maid-of-honor walked down the aisle to stand at her designated spot. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat when the bridal march resonated throughout the church, a harbinger of Andrea Marie Walker's grand entrance and the end of Rory's most ardent hopes and dreams.
"It should be you up there, not her," a girl's voice came from her right. She glanced at the girl and instantly knew who she was despite the young brunette being around fifteen years old instead of the usual eight.
"Who am I to deny his happiness, Fred?" Rory queried back, not carrying if anybody heard the reporter talking to her imaginary daughter. "No, I refuse to deny him it. He deserves that happiness."
"But what about our happiness, Mom?" Fred countered. "Some people may find it all noble that you're allowing your beloved to be happy without you, but I think it's bullshit. But then again, I am biased since it's my existence on the line right now."
"You shouldn't curse, Fred," she chided, her gaze meeting dark brown eyes so similar to Marty's.
"What do you care? It's not like I'm going to actually exist anymore anyway," the teen scoffed, her visage starting to fade. "Not unless you do something soon, that is."
"Don't go, baby girl," Rory whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. Her resolve was definitely slipping.
"Then don't let me go, Mom," Fred whispered back, her shadowy visage almost completely vanished now. "Say something. Now."
"If there is any person present who objects to this marriage," the minister stated, immediately capturing the Yale graduate's attention. "Speak now, or fo-"
"I object," Rory cried, bringing a collective gasp from the crowd.
Marty stared at her in shock and betrayel. "Rory?"
"I'm so sorry, Marty," she said while stepping out into the aisle. "I thought I could do this, I really did, but I can't do it. I just can't see you marry someone else!"
The groom stepped down from the altar to stand about ten feet from where Rory was standing, his bride glaring daggers over his shoulder as the reporter was pleading her case. "Rory..."
"I mean, don't get me wrong, Andy, you're great and all, but Marty belongs with me," she implored in desparation, her teary azure gaze quickly drawn from the fuming bride back to the bewildered groom. "I know I screwed it up back in Yale, but I was a different person then. I realize that I should've picked you, not Logan. You were always there to help me in that quiet, wonderful way of yours, but I was too stupid to realize it. But I realize it now, Marty, I realize that you're the one!" The distraught Lorelai Leigh Gilmore took a steadying breath before finally declaring for the whole world to hear. "I love you, Martin Harrison!"
Marty took another step which brought a loud but wordless protest from the blonde bride atop the altar. He glanced back and nodded at Andy before continuing towards Rory, who all but rushed forward to engulf the tall architect in her arms. She sniffed against his chest and let happy tears fall as she clung to Marty as though her life depended on it.
"Rory, I'm sorry," he apologized, gently disengaging himself from her embrace. "You shouldn't have done this. It's too late for us now."
"No, no...it's can't be," whimpered Rory, struggling in vain to keep her hold on Marty. "It can't be too late! Marty, it just can't be!"
"Please stop this, Rory," he begged, easily slipping out of her range.
"I love you," she cried, all but falling to the carpeted floor.
"But I love Andy," Marty stated in no uncertain terms. He turned away from Rory and strode up to stand once more beside his bride, who was now sending her rival the most pitying look in the history of pitying looks.
"You poor girl," the bride whispered.
"Father? Please resume the ceremony," Marty said to the minister, his arm snaking around Andy's waist to pull her closer.
The broken hearted Rory Gilmore began to cry harder than she could ever remember crying in her entire life, the words of the minister and the happy couple fading into the background as she sobbed pathetically on the floor.
"Rory," she heard Sarah say softly, a hand placed gently on her shoulder. "It's time to get up."
"I don't want to," Rory cried, slapping her friend's hand away. "Leave me alone."
"If you don't get up, we're gonna miss the wedding," her friend said, completely confusing the reporter.
"What?" Rory asked, lifting her head up to find herself in bed. Oh, God, it was just a dream.
"Bad dream?" Sarah asked, her expression one of concern.
"The worst," she answered honestly, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"You sure you're up to this, Gilly?" Sarah asked, her long fingers brushing back a stray strand of hair from Rory's face. "Because we can always say that I got violent food poisoning and you had no choice but to stay home and take care of me."
Rory shook her head. "No, I've got to do this. I promised myself that I'd be the best friend to Marty that I could, even if he doesn't know about that promise." She sighed, composing herself once more. "Let's do this."
"You're one brave little toaster, Rory Gilmore," her friend smiled.
"Thanks," Rory said, unable to prevent a soft laugh to escape.
"I'll cook breakfast while you get ready," Sarah ordered, leaving the bedroom to do just that.
After eating breakfast and getting ready for the wedding, the pair of friends were three blocks from the church as Sarah drove the Prius towards their final destination.
"Just give me the signal, Gilly, and I'll whip this baby around," her fellow blue eyed brunette offered for what must have been the thirtieth time since they departed the apartment. "No fuss, no muss."
"Keep driving, Riley," she ordered.
"Has anybody ever told you that you're a gigantic masochist?" Sarah remarked.
"You sounded like Paris just now," remarked Rory with a smirk.
"She must be a pretty smart chick, too, then," the other girl replied, then added with a smirk of her own. "Though I doubt she's anywhere near as hot as me."
The journalist rolled her eyes. "You're so conceited."
"It's not conceit if it's true, baby," retorted Sarah.
"We might be running a little late," Rory observed, noticing that the clock now read ten minutes to eleven. "The wedding starts at eleven. I hope we can find a decent parking spot."
"No worries, Gils," Sarah promised. "Danica Patrick's got nothing on me."
"Just don't get us killed," she sighed, starting to regret letting her friend drive.
"Here we are," the other girl said a moment later, bringing the car to a stop. "It's a bit of a walk, but we should get there with plenty of time if we boogie." Rory silently followed her friend out of the vehicle, then pulled the front of her jacket closed as a chill wind brushed by. "Who the hell decided that a winter wedding is a good idea?" Sarah complained, not for the first time. "I'm freezing my perfectly shaped ta-ta's off here, damn it!"
"Okay, once we get in there, you're going to have to be quiet," the reporter sighed and reached out to grasp the other girl's sleeve. "Got it?"
"Affirmative, Mistress," her friend chirped in an oddly cheery but robotic tone.
"You are such a nerd," she said, not bothering to ask what weird sci-fi show and/or video game Sarah was referencing this time.
"I prefer the term 'geek', thank you very much," Sarah declared in mock offense. "Now let's get inside, because it looks like we actually might be the last guests to arrive."
Without another word they entered the church and quickly found their way to their seats. Rory's gaze went to the rafters and then to the stain glass windows, followed by the many people seated in the pews surrounding her and Sarah. When her eyes finally fell on the person she'd tried to avoid looking at out of fear of breaking her own heart, Rory couldn't help but smile softly at how happy Marty seemed. Then and there Rory decided that there was no way she'd ruin this day for him, even if her imaginary daughter decided to make another appearance. She waved at Marty when their gazes met, unable to keep her smile from widening at his grin. Rory mouthed her congratulations, which he responed by mouthing his thanks. She glanced down at her hands when his attention was drawn away by something Dan said, sudden tears beginning to sting her eyes.
"I'm right here, Gilly," whispered Sarah, her hand grasping Rory's in support.
"Thanks," Rory whispered back, thoughts of what could've been inflicting its sweet torture on her.
It should be you up there, a familiar young woman's voice whispered in the back of her mind.
I've had more than my fair share of chances to be with him, but I blew them all, she told her imaginary daughter. I've hurt him enough and I will not cause him anymore pain. I'm letting him go, even if it hurts like hell. She let out a soft sniffle. It's time I let you go, too, Fred.
Good-bye, Mom, the girl whispered back, only this time in her eight year old voice.
Good-bye, baby girl, the journalist sighed, closing her eyes to imagine one last time on how the daughter she'd never have with Marty would look like.
"Um, I think something's not right here," Sarah stated all of a sudden, her confused tone and the sudden murmuring of the assembled people causing Rory to open her eyes. Her gaze fell on a grimly determined looking Lexie striding past them and up towards the altar, definite purpose in each one of her steps. When she arrived in front of the confused groom and his best man, the maid-of-honor handed Marty an envelope.
"I'm sorry, Marty," Lexie rasped, her voice strained. "I'm so, so sorry."
"What?" Marty croaked, the happiness that had been so apparent on his face before now replaced by shock at what he was presently holding. "What is...this?"
"I don't think she's coming," Sarah whispered.
At the sound of those words, Rory felt herself soaring. That euphoria lasted only a fraction of a second though when the harsh realization of what those words actually meant hit her full force like a tidal wave.
"Oh, no," the reporter rasped, her heart now breaking for an entirely different reason.
o_o'