AN: So I know you were all a little upset with me about that cliffhanger last chapter, but I tried to make it up to you with a speedy update. Hopefully you forgive me...at least until the end of this chapter when you might be kind of mad at me again. :evil grin:

April 2002

"Chris?" Lorelai's voice was quiet and tearful and the sound immediately made his hackles rise with concern. He glanced over at Sherry, then back at the machine. "It's Rory," the message continued. "She umm…She's in the hospital. Her wrist is broken."

"Oh my goodness," Sherry gasped. He barely heard her through the rushing in his ears. Rory was hurt. His daughter was hurt.

"There was a uh…" her voice cracked. "There was a car accident. She was with this kid—Jess. She was tutoring him, and they went for ice cream, and he crashed her car and I just…" Lorelai sniffled back a tear. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't bother you. I know you're mad at me, but I just…It's Rory." There was another beep and the call ended. He'd forgotten for a moment that he was mad at Lorelai. Only he wasn't, not really. Yes, he'd gotten angry at her when she told him she'd secretly been waiting for him all these years. How many times had she rejected him? How many times had she pushed him away? And then she chose that moment, out of all of them, to confess her feelings. Just when things were going so well with Sherry?

Of course he was mad. But he was also…he didn't know what. Flattered? Hopeful? Confused? All he knew was that ever since that day, he'd been unable to stop thinking about it. Thinking about what could have been. But it wasn't supposed to matter—what could have been. All that should have mattered was what was…and that was Sherry. They were good together. She was good for him. And she didn't keep an impenetrable wall up between them. But he was starting to think maybe he was. Because no matter how much he tried to not think about Lorelai, he couldn't help himself. So yes, he kept his distance, but it wasn't because he was mad at her, it was because it was the only way he could think of to maybe salvage his relationship.

Sherry came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" He shook himself out of his stupor.

"I have to go." He needed to be there. He needed to see his daughter and know that she was alright. He couldn't be here…in Boston. Not when his family needed him. He hadn't always been there for them in the past, but that was then. Things were different now. He was different. And his relationship with Rory was different. They were doing so well lately. They talked every week; he knew about her friends, and school, and her dreams. But he was only just starting to learn it all. He was only just getting to know who she was. So he had to be there. He just had to.

"Of course," Sherry agreed. He was already picking his keys back up. He hadn't even taken his shoes off yet; he and Sherry had just gotten back from dinner. The whole evening had been forced and awkward…and he was quite sure she hadn't even noticed it. She could hold an entire conversation by herself. Sometimes he wondered if it even mattered if he was there at all. Lorelai could talk too; hell, she could hold a full-on dialogue with any manner of inanimate objects. And yet, somehow, it was different. Because for as much as she could have an entire conversation by herself, when she was having a conversation with him…it was with him. They played off each other; the banter, the wit, the obscure pop culture references. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Christopher shook his head. "You have that meeting tomorrow," he reminded her. "I need to stay; I need to be with Rory."

"Of course you do."

"You're alright if I spend the night there?"

"Rory comes first." Sherry had always supported his relationship with Rory. Had always pushed him to be a better father. She pushed him to grow up in a lot of ways. But looking at her now, he couldn't help but think less of her—to think how gullible she must be to send him off to Lorelai's without blinking an eye. That was ridiculous though; she trusted him. That was a good thing. And besides, this was about Rory. What kind of person would object to their significant other rushing off to be with their injured kid? Of course she was okay with it.

"Right." Not that it mattered. He was going to stay there whether she agreed or not. Making sure Rory was okay was all that mattered. He hadn't always been the best father to her, but he loved her, and he had so much lost time to make up for.

Sherry pushed up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss. "Drive safe." He didn't respond. Just turned and rushed out the door.

He sped down the interstate as fast as he could; as fast as his stupid, sensible Volvo would take him. He'd gotten this car because it was supposed to be a safe, reliable family car. And yet, at this moment, he'd have given anything to be speeding down the highway on his motorcycle. His motorcycle was fast. His motorcycle would get him to his family in no time. Of course, even in the Volvo he was breaking every speed limit. He just had to pray he didn't get pulled over.

He miraculously made it to St Mary's Hospital without any new points on his license. But when he got inside, the receptionist informed him that they'd already left. That was good, he supposed. If they released Rory, it couldn't have been too bad. The fact that they didn't feel the need to keep her for overnight observation or anything must have meant she was okay…relatively speaking.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Lorelai's cell. He wasn't sure why he waited until now to do that; he'd just been so laser focused on getting here that that was all that mattered.

The phone rang, and rang, and rang…until the voicemail picked up. The brief sense of calm he'd received by the knowledge that Rory had been released from the hospital was gone. He didn't bother to leave a voice mail; he wouldn't be fully satisfied until he saw them. So, without a second thought, he climbed back in the Volvo and started the rest of the way to Lorelai's.

By the time he pulled up to the familiar, blue, colonial, it was almost midnight. The outline of the building was just visible in the gauzy, light of the streetlamp a half a block away. There were no lights from within, and the place was silent but for the hum of cicadas outside.

He opened the car door and swung his legs out onto the driveway, feeling the crunch of the gravel beneath his feet. Creeping slowly up to the porch, he stopped to listen for any sound from within but all was quiet. He didn't want to wake them; they needed their rest after the night they'd had. He crouched down in the dark, straining his eyes as he sought out the shadowy outline of a ceramic turtle. He lifted the shell off and reached inside for the spare key, then quietly let himself in.

They were clearly asleep. He'd just grab a blanket and pass out on the couch. He just needed to see Rory first. He tiptoed through the living room, into the kitchen. Her bedroom door was open and he peeked in. An armchair sat inconveniently placed at the foot of the bed and a head of brown hair rested against the back of it. Lorelai's feet extended out from a blue blanket and were propped up on the foot of the bed. He took a couple steps into the room and Lorelai didn't move. He turned to the bed to see Rory sound asleep, her left arm rested on top of the comforter, encased in blue plaster. His heart broke a little at the sight, but the rest of her seemed to be intact. The pressing weight he'd almost gotten accostomed to over the past four hours of his life, lifted from his shoulders; the gripping sensation that had kept him from breathing fully, eased.

It was a beautiful sight…his child and the mother of his child sleeping soundly. They were a family—his family, and yet one he wasn't a part of. He'd missed so many scenes like this. He'd missed stomach flus, and tears over boys, and study sessions. He'd missed so much. This was all he ever wanted…to be a part of this family, but he'd never quite known how.

But now, in the darkness and silence, he could be a part of it. He didn't turn around and head back to the living room. He sidled past Lorelai, pulling out the desk chair and positioning it next to hers before taking a seat. Taking his leather jacket off, Christopher burrowed down into the seat, and laid the jacket on top of himself like a blanket. He took one last look at the women in loved and finally satisfied, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

December 2006

"Be ah guess, be ah guess…" The blonde toddler sang merrily as she waved her Mrs. Potts piggy bank over the tiny, purple, plastic table set with pink, plastic teacups and a towering pastry tray full of inedible scones. Her smile made his heart ache with an unnatural combination of bliss and melancholy.

He loved his daughter, and seeing Gigi's joy brought him joy. But it was tempered, strained, squeezed into a place that couldn't quite hold it. Not when that place was already full of so many other emotions…guilt, fear, sadness, regret. Because Christopher had another daughter. A daughter he'd never quite been able to connect with. A daughter who he'd never really tried hard enough to connect with. A daughter who he'd disappointed time and time again. And now she was gone; missing. He had no idea where she was or if he'd ever see her again. He had no idea if she was okay. He had no idea if he'd ever have a chance to show her the love he'd always kept sequestered inside of him—hidden away because he didn't know how to separate his daughter from her mother; didn't know how to love Rory when his love for Lorelai had been unwanted. And now, every day, it seemed less and less likely that he'd ever have the opportunity to make things right with her.

So how could he ever be truly joyful? How could he ever be fully present in the moment? How could he when his happiness felt like a betrayal to Rory? And yet, not doing so was unfair to Gigi who deserved all her father's love and attention—especially considering her mother had left her and he was all she had.

And so, he tried to shove his feelings back in that tiny corner he'd always relegated them to before; pack them away in one of those vacuum sealed containers that sucked all the air out of it. He'd already spent enough time over the last six months choosing Rory over Gigi…rushing off to Cincinnati, or DC, or some small town in Missouri to follow up on one lead or another. Though he supposed he felt like he owed it to Rory since he'd chosen GiGi over her when Sherry had gotten pregnant and he'd gone back to her. He just didn't understand why it always seemed to have to be a choice.

He shifted in his spot on the floor where he was sitting cross-legged—too big for the chairs that went along with the child's tea party set—and picked up his teacup, holding it out for Gigi to fill with imaginary tea. She babbled incoherently as she tilted the toy teapot absolutely nowhere near his cup.

"Thank you kindly, Miss Belle," he told her with a smile. He tipped the teacup to his mouth and drank the imaginary brew. "Yum, oolong."

Gigi giggled. "Ooo-ong" she repeated in a sing-song voice.

"This is excellent. You are quite the hostess. And I bet these scones are excellent too." He reached out to help himself to a frosted blueberry hunk of plastic. Halfway there, he felt the vibration in his back pocket and heard an electronic thrumming pierce the air. His hand hovered for a moment, unsure whether to continue its forward momentum towards the pastries, or to change direction and reach for his phone. He wanted to ignore it and continue to play with his daughter…he did. But an uncomfortable sense of anxiety gripping at his chest kept him from doing so. He shifted onto his left hip so he could extract the device from his right rear pocket. An unknown number flashed across the LCD screen.

"Daddy…no phone."

"I know, Kiddo," he told his daughter. "I'm sorry, let me just…" If he just answered it and got it over with, he'd be better able to concentrate on the tea-related festivities in front of him. He flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

"Is this Christopher Hayden?"

"Speaking."

"My name is Linda. I'm calling from Massachusetts General Hospital. I'm calling to inform you that we've just admitted Leigh Parker."

"Excuse me?"

"Leigh Parker, she just came into our emergency room. You're listed as her emergency contact."

"I'm sorry, I don't know an…" his voice trailed off as a cold sensation flooded his body; like his veins had been injected with liquid nitrogen and if he moved, his frozen insides would shatter. Leigh. As in Lorelai Leigh Gilmore. Could it possibly be…? "Did you say Leigh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Twenty-one years old, brown hair, blue eyes, 5'6"?"

"Umm, yes, I do believe that sounds about right."

"Is she ok?" His heart was pounding in his chest and he was still worried his icy veins would crack from the pressure.

"She fell and hit her head. She's being checked out by the triage nurse right now, but she seems stable and the…"

He cut her off before she could say another word. "I'll be right there." He hung up, already halfway to standing, barely aware of the fact that his right foot had fallen asleep and couldn't support any weight.

"Daddy?" Gigi asked, looking up at him with confusion.

"I gotta go, Kiddo."

"Dada, noooooooo," Gigi pouted.

"I know, I'm sorry. I gotta go. But we will finish this party soon," he promised, turning towards the door of her playroom. "Miriam?!" he called out as he made his way out into the hallway. "Miriam?"

"Yes, Mr. Hayden?" The nanny appeared from the direction of the kitchen where she'd been cleaning up after lunch.

"Can you stay and watch her?" he gestured back towards the playroom. "I have to go. I don't know when I'll be back. I might…"He scrubbed his flustered face. "I might need to you to stay the night."

"It's Saturday, Mr. Hayden. I have plans."

"Right, right," he shook his head. She usually left early on Saturdays and had Sundays off. "Could you maybe take her to my mother's then, at least?"

"What's going on?" she asked. "Is everything okay."

He took a deep breath as he prepared to say the next words out loud. "Mass Gen just called," he told her. "Rory's there."

"Rory?" The nanny's eyes went wide. "Go…" she immediately began shooing him in the direction of the door. "Go…go… I can cancel my plans. Go."

"I'll pay you an extra week's salary," he promised. "And the next three Saturday's off."

"Go!" She insisted again, pushing him towards the exit.

"Right." He nodded and started making his way across the den and out of the posh apartment. He didn't even think to grab his coat. He flipped his phone back open as he went, pressing the speed dial. The phone rang…and rang…and rang as he made his way onto the elevator. Finally, the voicemail picked up. He didn't even listen to whatever witty message she'd left on it—they weren't even that witty these days anyway—and waited impatiently for the beep.

Beep

"Lore, It's me, Christopher…I…she…" he took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the doors to the elevator slid shut and the lift began to descend. "We've got her. We've got her, Lore. She's at Massachusetts General Hospital."

With three large strides, Lorelai crossed the living room and grabbed at the phone like her life depended on. In a way it did. This life she'd been living for the last six months was hardly a life at all. It wasn't living; this thing she was doing without her daughter. As hard as she'd tried not to think about how Rory wanted nothing to do with her, she couldn't. As hard as she tried to move on with her life…getting engaged to Luke, adopting a dog, doing work on the house…no big life event could compensate for Rory's absence. Was this real? Was this another one of her dreams? If so, why was Christopher the one delivering the news.

"Christopher?" she gasped, winded, as she lifted the handheld off the cradle.

"Lore?"

"Is this for real?"

"I just got the call."

"It's really her?"

"She's going by her middle name. Leigh. Leigh Parker, they said. But it's got to be her. She had me down as her emergency contact, apparently. And she fits her description."

A dark, creeping feeling slithered its way through her stomach at his words, cutting into the joy of the news. But surely it had nothing to do with the fact that their daughter had chosen Christopher as her emergency contact over her. No, it was obviously just because of the news that her daughter required the use of an emergency contact at all. That was all it was. "Is she okay?"

"They didn't know much, she was still being triaged. They said something about a fall."

"Oh God," Lorelai gasped.

"I'm on my way there now. I'll call you as soon as I know more."

"Chris?" His name came out as a whisper. She didn't need to say anymore. She didn't need to ask her unasked question. Christopher had known her for her entire life. He knew what she needed to hear.

"She's going to be fine, Lore," he assured her. "We found her; that's what matters. Whatever she needs, I'm gonna make sure she gets it. The best doctors, a private room, the best food…none of that crappy hospital stuff. I'll make sure she has the best of everything. She's going to be fine; I'll make sure she gets whatever she needs.

She nodded, feeling somewhat reassured by his words. "I'm on my way." She hung up the phone. Heading immediately to the foyer, she threw her coat on, not bothering to even change out of her pajama pants or put on a bra. She shoved her feet into some boots, grabbed her keys and purse, and she was out the door.

By the time she was able to think about anything but getting to Boston, she was already on the Interstate. She tried to focus…clear her head. She should probably let someone know where she was. She picked up her phone and dialed her fiancé.

"Luke's Diner," his voice came through the line.

"She's in Boston."

"Lorelai?"

"Rory is in Boston. She's in the hospital."

"Oh my god, is she okay?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, just…" She could hear him getting ready to go into his white-knight mode. "Just wait right there, I'll be there in a minute."

"I'm already on my way."

"What? Where are you?"

"I just pulled onto 84."

"Loreali, no!" Luke insisted. "You're in no position to drive. Get off at the next exit and wait for me."

"I can't, I have to get to Boston."

"Lorelai," Luke scolded.

"She's at Mass Gen. Meet me there…and bring clothes."

"What?"

"Clothes," she repeated. "Including a bra."

"Umm…?"

She hung up before he could argue anymore and focused her eyes back on the road ahead of her.

Boston—150miles

The large green road sign caught her vision. Only 150 miles to Rory. Her daughter was less than three hours away. Had she been this close the whole time? And if so, why did she still feel so damn far away?

She should do something to distract herself. Something to keep busy. Staring at the road for the next three hours wasn't going to cut it. Maybe she should make some calls. She should call her parents. She knew she needed to. But damn, she didn't want to make that call. Of course, she also had to call Babbette to make sure someone took care of Paul Anka. She couldn't tell her nosy neighbor why…she wasn't ready to answer those questions yet. But still, Paul Anka was going to need his rare hamburger.

She flipped open her phone and made the call. And then she called Sookie and Michel—they'd need to take care of the Inn while she was in Boston. And Pat the mailman to ask him to hold her mail for a couple days. And Kirk to ask him to stop by and water the plants she hadn't watered in months.

And then, finally, she was all out of people to call…except her parents. With a nauseating turn of her stomach, she opened the phone one more time and scrolled down her contacts, making her way to the "M" section. And then…just before the blinker landed on "Mom" she saw one more name. She didn't particularly feel like calling this name either, but at this moment, she'd do just about anything to not call her Mother. And so, as she glanced one more time at the blinker hovering over the name, she pressed 'send.'

It rang three times before he answered. "Lorelai?" the bewildered voice of her daughter's ex came through the line. She never cared much for that voice…or for the cloyingly charming young man it belonged to. He was a bad influence on Rory. He was the reason this had all happened; she was sure of it. But still, he'd shown he cared about her daughter…in his own way. The fact that he was even still answering his ex's mother's calls was evidence of that. "What's going on? Is everything alright?"

She took a deep breath. "We found her."

"What?" His voice came out as a gasp.

"We found Rory," she repeated. "I just thought you should know."

"You found her?" he asked.

"She's in Boston," Lorelai confirmed. "In the hospital. They called her father; apparently he was down as her emergency contact."

"She's in the hospital?" His voice was panicked—a baffling amount of alarm, if you asked Lorelai.

"That's what I said."

"What happened? Is she alright? What about the baby? Is the baby okay?"

Lorelai's body reacted before her brain had fully processed the words. Her muscles convulsed almost violently, wrenching the wheel to the left, the car curving almost straight into the median. She cut the wheel again, and the Jeep skidded out from under her. She instinctually let up off the gas, trying to steady the wheel without applying too much force. Somehow, miraculously, she regained control of the vehicle.

"Lorelai?" The voice floated up from the cellphone which she had dropped somewhere on the floor beneath her. She pulled the car over onto the shoulder and put it in park before bending over to feel for the device. She slowly brought the cell back up to her face.

"What did you just say?" she hissed lowly.

"Fuck."

"What baby?"

"Umm…"

"Logan?"

There was a pause, then she heard him take an audible breath. "She's pregnant."

"And you knew this…the whole time?" How could he have kept this secret from them? Though she supposed it made sense…why else would a 22-year-old lothario be so invested in finding his ex-girlfriend? She always wondered why he cared so much.

"No!" His voice was almost pleading. "No, of course not."

Lorelai scoffed. "Then how?"

He let out another sigh. "I already found her. By accident. I was in Boston and I just...looked up and there she was."

Her heart was beating madly. Rage was throbbing at her temples, creating an aura that blurred everything in her immediate vision. "How long have you known where my daughter is?"

"You have to understand, Lorelai…"

"How. Long?" she growled.

"Two months." He sighed in relent. "Since just before her birthday..."

"Two months? TWO months? Two months you've known the whereabouts of my missing daughter—my apparently pregnant, missing daughter—and you didn't think that was worth mentioning?"

"She begged me not to. I was afraid she'd run again. I thought with a little time I could convince her to go home. And I got her to write you those letters at least…."

"You…?" Lorelai rubbed at her face, flabbergasted by the audacity. Letters? Those stupid letters? He thought some scribbles on a piece of paper could absolve him off this?

"Listen I get that you're upset, but…"

"You get that I'm upset?" The word came out as a laugh. Upset? Was he insane? Upset was so far from what she was. Livid, enraged, furious…even those words didn't do this moment justice. Upset was a fucking joke.

"Yes, I…"

"You lied to me about my missing daughter," she reiterated. "My missing daughter who you got pregnant."

"I didn't lie, I just…"

"Are you seriously trying to deny it? You just said…"

"Look, whatever…be as mad at me as you want. You have every right. But I did what I had to do protect my family."

She blinked. Unable to breathe, unable to even begin to comprehend. "Your 'what,' now?" The audacity of him. His family. Rory was her daughter. Hers! If he thought for even a second that just because he'd gone and knocked her up, that he had any claim to her…

"What hospital is she at?"

"Go to hell, Logan." She slammed her finger into the 'end' button and tossed the phone on the passenger seat, taking deep gulping breaths to try to calm herself down. After a few minutes she picked the phone up again, her hands still shaking with rage.

"Lorelai?" Luke's concerned voice answered.

"I think I'm going to need that ride after all."