"Lorelai, come back to bed," Luke groaned. He stole a glance at the travel alarm clock on the nightstand. He'd had one too many stumbling late mornings because of the fluffy, purring version she kept on her side of the bed. "We have to get on the road in," He squinted his eyes at the glowing numbers, "Three hours and sixteen minutes."

Lorelai had two suitcases spread across the floor with plenty of discarded clothing and shoes spilling out and onto the area rug.

"I have to finish packing," She said in a distracted tone. She picked up two similar-but distinctively different black leather boots and held them out to him, "Which one goes better with baseball?"

"Lorelai," He groaned.

She tossed both on top of the pile in the open suitcase, "Ok fine, I'll bring both."

"The pointy ones," He said, his voice muffled by the pillows, "Make your legs look amazing."

She smirked, and slowly peeled herself off of the ground. The packing anxiety had given her an unexpected-yet-quickly depleting burst of energy.

She shut off the beside lamp, and slid into bed next to him wrapping her arms around him from behind and pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.

"Luke?" She whispered.

He made an unintelligible noise in response.

"Will you help me close my suitcase in an hour and forty five minutes?"

At exactly 8:15 the next morning, Rory sat happily munching away on a plate of chocolate chip pancakes while Luke busied himself around the kitchen.

Her mother was still upstairs getting ready and fumbling with her luggage. And even after Luke's veiled threats of withholding coffee, he still reentered the kitchen mumbling under his breath and put on a fresh pot.

It was Rory's first weekend away from her mother in…well, forever. While Luke and her mom were heading up to Boston for Luke's big exciting baseball event, She was going to park it with her grandparents in Hartford. And, well, she was looking forward to it. Her grandparents always slightly intimidated her, but they also fascinated her. She liked the little gifts, the fancy desserts, and the stocked library. There was so much mystery there in that big giant house. She thought it might be the perfect time to get to know them a little bit better, to get more than just a tiny glimpse into their wonderfully weird universe.

Luke sat down next to Rory and quickly drained a glass of orange juice, and then took few bites of his oatmeal.

"Luke, since it's a special occasion, could I finally try some coffee?"

He slid a bowl of berries in front of her, "Try some antioxidants instead."

She made a face, but delicately popped a few blueberries into her mouth, "Mom still won't let me have a full cup until I'm 13."

His eyes widened, "She gives you coffee?"

"Only a few sips."

"God help me if I'm going to have two over-caffeinated Gilmore girls on my hands."

"Two fabulously beautiful, quick-witted, charming, and energized Gilmore girls, " Lorelai confirmed cheerily as she entered the kitchen and snatched a travel thermos from the cabinet, pouring the fresh brew all the way to the top and securing the lid.

Luke looked down at his watch, "At least one of those Gilmore girls is going to make us late."

"Uh, fashionably late," Lorelai waved her hand down her body. She was wearing a pair of dark jeans that fit her like a glove, with a clingy black turtleneck sweater. A pair of heeled black leather ankle boots on her feet completed the simple yet utterly drool-worthy look.

She quickly tore open a package of Pop-Tarts, sliding a second silver foil package into her handbag for good measure. With a mouth full of brown sugary goodness she pumped one hand in the air, "Ok now I'm ready. Let's get this show on the road!"

Luke made a smooth turn around the circular driveway and through the ornate wrought iron gates of the Gilmore residence. Lorelai looked over her shoulder, her lip caught between her teeth, her brow slightly furrowed.

While she didn't expect a long drawn out goodbye with her daughter (that had happened the night before, over pizza, ice cream, and Casablanca), she certainly wasn't ready for…well…whatever that was.

Emily and Richard had greeted them in the foyer. There were Belgian chocolate brownies waiting in the drawing room on a silver tray (Lorelai had snagged three wrapped in a napkin on the way out.) They had guided Rory further into the house with open arms, and promptly handed over her purple duffel bag to a maid.

Weekend plans were discussed: tea service at the club, fancy dinners and a special trip to the bookstore. All the while, Lorelai did her best to plaster on a smile, and not bruise Luke's ribs too harshly with her elbow jabs.

She couldn't get out of there fast enough.

"Do you think she'll come back home wearing a twinset, holding a tea cup with her pinkie raised, looking up at me with judgmental D.A.R. eyes?" Lorelai turned her whole body towards Luke, wide-eyed, "Do you think she'll come back to me at all?"

"She'll come home," Luke confirmed with a nod, "And unless that teacup resembles a coffee mug filled with hot cocoa and extra marshmallows, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Lorelai took instant comfort in Luke's surety. He was always so good with these things. Offering her support in the most utterly confident of ways.

She had someone. Sometimes, that still took her by surprise. Someone to vent to, lean on, to support and be supported. It left her with the warmest feeling inside. Not even coffee could compete.

"What's the D.A.R.?" He asked after a beat of silence.

She slid closer to him on the bench seat and placed her head against his shoulder, "I love you," she murmured.

There were many things that Lorelai had missed out on, or simply skipped right over, given the fact she was a teen mother. Backpacking around Europe, following the Bangles around on tour, putting colored streaks in her hair and then instantly regretting it, getting into college…were all put on the back burner.

Lorelai never lived with regrets. She was never particularly wistful for her life pre-Rory either. She couldn't imagine any life, or universe, without her sweet daughter in it. But there were moments just like these: cruising down the highway with her stud of a boyfriend's arm wrapped around her, him cracking that stupidly sexy grin at one of her (many) dirty remarks, rolling his eyes at the mixtape she had so meticulously prepared for their three hour roadtrip, where she let herself simply bask in that couple life fantasy.

Sooner than she realized, Luke crawled to a stop in front of a very fancy hotel. Two impeccably dressed bellmen met them before their feet even touched the ground, and swiftly transferred their luggage to equally shiny gold carts. Off it went, wheeled through the double glass doors and into the elegant marble lobby.

Lorelai followed Luke to the reception area, where a woman politely greeted the couple and peppered them with niceties. She very descriptively went over the many, many amenities and the 5-star restaurant on the property, before handing over two sets of golden keys and sending them on their way.

A few weeks after the original letter had arrived in Luke's mailbox, a representative from the team reached out to formally go over a few details. Luke had been hesitant to accept some of the over-the-top accommodations, but one look at the excitement in Lorelai's eyes as she poured over the hotel brochure and schedule of events for the 2-day trip had him nodding along yes to whatever the team was offering. A long time ago, these things were somewhat normal to him. Fancy hotel rooms, private drivers, they came along with the job. He wondered to himself how easy it would be to fall back into that role again, if only for a weekend.

Upstairs on the 22nd floor, Luke pushed open the double doors to their hotel suite. He had to admit, it was pretty incredible. A marble entry led them into a wide open living space area that was tastefully decorated with plush sofas and overstuffed chairs. He was immediately drawn to the floor to ceiling windows that covered the whole length of the room. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring out at the gorgeous view of the city and harbor.

Lorelai was equally intrigued by some of the elaborate gift baskets left for them. One in particular, had her name on it. She needed no further instruction. Inside, she pulled out tons of branded merchandise including a navy blue Red Sox hat and a white jersey with DANES 04 on the back. She brushed her hand lovingly across the letters.

Luke let out a sigh from behind her, "Oh geez."

She went and stuck the baseball cap on her head backwards and held up the jersey to her body, "Hmm someone sounds a little worried that I'm going to steal their look."

He cradled her cheek, and couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at her antics.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Her expression grew confused, "For what?"

"Just…thank you," He repeated. He kissed her softly then. Teasing her. Kissed her until he had her all but clawing at him. He loved her like that. Desperate for him. Helped to tamper down his own desperation for just a taste of her. And then he had her in his arms. He confidently strode across the hotel suite through the double doors to the bedroom with her hands in his hair and lips against his. A trail of clothes and two baseball hats were strewn carelessly behind them.

"Does it feel weird to be back here again?" She asked an hour later, pressed up against his bare chest, her legs tangled with his own. Luke played with the ends of her hair, "Right now, it feels perfect."

XXXXXX

When Rory woke up the next morning, it took her more than a few seconds to recognize her surroundings.

For one, the bed was bigger than the one she had at home. When she'd entered the room, it had a mountain of pillows on it that were each painstakingly removed by her grandmother the night before. They now sat in a neat pile on the bench at the end of the bed.

Her grandmother had also helped her unpack her suitcase, even after she insisted she could do it herself. She'd unfolded each piece with a critical eye and a put-on smile on her face.

The scent was different too, like a basket of flowers and clean laundry. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't necessarily homey either.

She knew it was early. She could just sense it. She further confirmed this when she pulled open the heavy silk-trimmed curtains to reveal a sliver of sunlight rising in the distance.

She'd spoken to her mother twice the night before, once when she and Luke arrived at their hotel, and once more after they got back from dinner. She'd proudly informed Rory that Luke had eaten red meat. And he liked it! When it was Luke's turn to take the receiver, he'd insisted that yes he had red meat, and no he didn't hate it. They said their goodbyes with promises to call the next day, and Lorelai didn't hang up without letting Rory know where she'd once hid a bag of emergency Hershey kisses.

Though, she'd never spoken in much detail about her time in Hartford to Rory, the relics left behind in her childhood bedroom certainly told a story. Rock posters above her vanity, framed photographs with young faces she didn't recognize, stuffed animals, the untouched giant dollhouse.

It felt weirdly comforting to be amongst her mother's old things.

She shuffled over to the vanity desk and sat down. Picked up a silver frame with a group of young teen girls with their arms wrapped around each other. She smiled, and set it back down. A wallet sized photo of her mother, dressed in a fancy gown goofing off with her father dressed in a trim tuxedo caught her attention. By it's condition, it looked like it had once been taped to the mirror. She picked it up and studied it for a moment, quickly stuffing it in her pajama pants pocket when she heard the door open and her grandmother's voice greet her good morning.

"Morning, grandma," Rory chirped back.

"I see you're up early, an excellent habit to acquire at your age."

Rory nodded, and tucked her hair behind her ears.

"We've got an exciting day today planned, just you and me."

"Grandpa can't join us?"

Her expression fell ever so slightly but she recovered just as quickly. "Your grandfather has a prior engagement, but he'll join us for dinner tonight, and tomorrow at the bookstore."

She walked over to the wardrobe and unzipped a garment bag. She held out light green colored party dress trimmed with white, and a similarly colored cardigan. "I saw it at Neiman's and couldn't resist. What do you think?"

Rory looked between the flouncy skirt of the dress and her grandmother's eager expression. "It–uh looks like it will go well with tea."

Her grandmother flashed her a wide smile. "Well good. Now let's go downstairs and get you some breakfast, shall we? Elsa prepares the best parfait in all of Connecticut."

Ugh, yogurt. Rory feigned another smile and dutifully followed behind.

XXXXXX

Rory tugged self-consciously on the skirt of her dress as she followed her grandmother into the Hartford Country Club a few hours later. She'd never been before, but she'd heard various stories from her grandparents over the years.

The Tudor-style building looked imposing from the outside, and it's dark wood paneled walls and ornate decor didn't do much to tamper that down inside. Her grandmother walked with her shoulders back and head tilted high in the air.

Quickly, Rory was able to tell which people her grandmother like, or merely tolerated, and which ones she practically shot daggers at.

However each time someone approached their table by the window to offer a polite greeting, whether she liked them or not, she introduced them to Rory with an excited lilt to her voice.

"Lorelei's daughter?" They'd ask.

"Yes, this our Rory. Isn't she just darling?" Her grandmother would respond.

Finally, after what seemed like a never-ending line of similarly-dressed women, her grandmother rolled her eyes across the table, "I couldn't tell you that woman's name if my life depended on it."

"Elizabeth Dowd," Rory said easily. She plucked a chocolate pastry from the silver tower on the table and used her fork to attempt to eat in the most lady-like way.

Her grandmother appeared shocked, "How did you know that?"

"The lady with the white poodle in her bag passed by our table and called her Elizabeth, and then the waiter interrupted and called her Mrs. Dowd."

She was more than pleased at her granddaughter's astute observation, "Well done Rory, I could certainly get used to having you around here more."

Rory glanced around the room, at it's beautiful fresh flower arrangements, free-flowing lemonade, and women chatting happily with their daughters and granddaughters over freshly-baked pastries and tiny sandwiches. "I think I could get used to it too, grandma."

At the valet stand later that afternoon, Rory was swinging her full skirt back and forth, admiring the shadow that danced on the ground. She listened half-heartedly to her grandmother a few feet away, scolding a worker for not having her Mercedes out front and waiting.

"Emily!" A woman's voice rang out, "Oh, Emily it's been too long."

Her grandmother's nervous laugh and sideways glance had Rory's interest peaked, but after meeting so many of her grandmother's friends today, it wasn't completely out of the ordinary. The two women chatted for just a few moments before her car was pulled up to the curb.

Rory skipped over to her grandmother, kicking up gravel along the way with her patent leather shoes. Curiously, she studied the blonde woman's coiffed hairstyle and strangely familiar-looking blue eyes.

"Francine, really, we must be going."

The woman looked down at Rory, who stood demurely off to her grandmother's side. The look on her face made Rory go wide-eyed.

"This is the girl," Francine whispered, almost to herself. She straightened her spine, pulling herself together. Looked briskly between Emily and the young girl.

Rory felt her grandmother's hand on her shoulder, "This is Rory," Emily confirmed.

Francine pursed her pink lips into a frown, her brows furrowed in disbelief. "Oh dear, not here Emily, not in front of all of our friends."

Rory felt her skin flush, and her grandmother's grip tighten on her shoulder, her tone growing icy. "Excuse me?"

"Look," She glanced around, and took a step closer, looking right over Rory's head and into Emily eyes, "I'm sure she's a nice girl. She's certainly pretty. But it's all...still a bit unsavory, don't you think? I mean really, bringing the girl here is only going to invite further questions. And my poor Straub, he's had as tough of a time already bailing Christopher out again."

Christopher. The last puzzle piece. Suddenly, it all made sense. This woman…she was her other grandmother?

"Rory, go wait in the car," Emily whispered in her ear, breaking her out of her stupor.

Rory skirted around the woman and quickly slid into the backseat of the Mercedes sedan. Her hands gripped the edge of the camel leather seats. She took a deep breath. And then another. Tried not to listen to the hysterics outside of the car. Her grandmother's voice raising with each passing second.

"How dare you speak about my granddaughter that way. I'll have you know Francine, I'll have you know, that Rory, that wonderful, bright, beautiful girl in there has nothing to be ashamed of. I, have nothing to be ashamed of. Unfortunately the same can't be said about you. About your abhorrent behavior here today. And back then, too, while we're at it."

"Well if only you'd taught your daughter, not to be so precocious as a teenager then maybe none of us would be dealing with the consequences of her actions!"

"Her actions? Oh, Francine, I know you may have tricked the mirror with that botched facelift of yours, but I know you're old enough to understand it takes two people to make a baby."

"Christopher did his duty!"

A valet attendant cautiously approached, "Mrs. Gilmore, there are other cars waiting."

Emily took a breath. And then another. It was then that she noticed a long line of cars in the driveway behind her car. The engine running. Her granddaughter's tear-streaked cheeks through the window.

"Christopher, did nothing." Emily shot back, before turning on her heel and marching away.

It was silent on the drive home. Rory had opened her window, and leaned her head against it, letting the wind whip her hair all around her and dry her tears.

For her part, Emily was still heated. She gripped the steering wheel and pursed her lips into a thin line. At a stop light, she looked into the rearview mirror at Rory's sad little face, and then made a quick decision.

She made a left, and then a right, before pulling into a parking lot. With the car in park, she unclipped her seatbelt and turned around to face her granddaughter.

"Rory?"

Rory looked over at her blankly, her expression unreadable.

"How does some old fashioned retail therapy sound?"