Fly Into The Sun

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Part One: Freshman Year

Chapter Two: Mad About Money

"Loin Fruit!"

In the entry way, Rory pulls a face. That particular term of endearment - such as it is - will never stop being gross. Requests that Lorelai stop using it have gone ignored, however, and Rory has resigned herself to it.

"Hey, Mom."

Lorelai is in the living room, settled on a couch adorned with coffee stains, handmade blankets and an abundance of throw pillows. She's surrounded by a bowl of popcorn, an array of snacks, and a bottle of Pepsi, and she's midway through an episode of Seinfeld. The television is muted, however, and her attention is on Rory.

Rory shifts uncomfortably under her scrutiny. Her mother's cerulean eyes are piercing, and it often feels like Lorelai can see right through her. Perhaps it's a mother's intuition, or perhaps it's because she knows Rory so well, but whatever the case, the current examination is unnerving and unwelcome.

"How are you, sweets? I haven't seen you all day. Do you want to watch a movie with me? It's been a while since we've had a movie night."

"Sure," Rory acquiesces, "Just let me have a shower first."

Rory does just that, eager to wash away the sweat and grease accumulated throughout her shift, but also guiltily grateful for another reprieve from conversation with her mother. She scrubs her skin thoroughly, washes her hair, and proceeds Through her nightly skincare routine. She takes her time with it, combs her hair for good measure, eventually runs out of reasons to delay, and reluctantly shuffles out to the living room.

Lorelai is still there, once more absorbed in her Seinfeld reruns, the bowl of popcorn virtually demolished. She has that wild-eyed, frayed around the edges look she gets when she's sustaining herself on too much caffeine and not enough sleep, and frankly, it's a miracle that Sookie or Luke haven't yet staged an intervention.

Ruefully,Rory wonders if they'll actually get through an entire movie. She wonders, also, when she should bring up the subject of her afternoon tea with Trix and all that has come of it, but she tries not to dwell too much on the matter - She's done that enough already.

"What were you thinking of watching?" Rory asks. On screen, George, predictably, is in the midst of yet another emotional meltdown. Rory, who has seen far too many episodes of Seinfeld for her liking, is unamused.

"Robin Hood?" Lorelai suggests.

"Sure."

Rory sets up the movie and makes herself comfortable for the viewing, but they're not even through the opening credits before Lorelai has turned her attention to her daughter.

"So how have you been? I feel like we haven't spoken in ages. My fault, I know, but come on, catch me up. What's been happening? Any news?"

"I met with Gran today," Rory admits, her heart pounding inside her chest. She clenches and unclenches her hands in her lap, nervous, but there's no time like the present, and there's no going back now.

"What? Where? Why? How come I wasn't invited?"

"In Hertford," Rory explains, "She wanted to talk to me about my trust fund."

The words hang in the air between them for an interminably long moment. They reverberate off the walls and ring in her ears and echo inside her skull on repeat, and Rory wants to take them back immediately.

Next to her, something shutters closed behind Lorelai's eyes. Rory watches it happen, transfixed. It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion: She can't look away.

"Your trust fund," Lorelai echoes, tone flat. Her expression is worse.

"Yeah," Rory confirms on an exhale, "Not that I was expecting that, obviously. I went there expecting tea with Gran, you know? To talk about books and knitting patterns and all the usual things I talk to her about, but I guess Grandpa wasn't lying about them getting her affairs in order because she had all this paperwork for me to sign and what was I supposed to say? No, I don't want it? Anyway, she looks awful and she's dying and I didn't want to argue with her, so yeah, that happened…"

Rory trails off into an awkward, uncomfortable silence, avoids her mother's gaze, and picks intently at her chipped nail polish. It's lime green, something fun and bright for the second half of Summer, but there's less lacquer than nail now, and she'll have to do something about it soon.

As tiny flakes of lime green nail varnish accumulate on the fabric of Rory's sleep pants, Robin Hood plays on - an ironic choice, in retrospect - and Lorelai has not said a word.

"Are you going to say something?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Anything."

Permission granted, Lorelai doesn't hesitate.

"I don't like it," she states, blunt and to the point, "I don't like that they're dragging you into their world and I especially don't like that you're letting them."

"It's not like that," Rory protests, feeling defensive, "They're not making me do anything.","

"Yet," Lorelai replies, tone bitter, "You'll see: No one in society ever does anything out of the goodness of their hearts. There are always strings attached."

Rory's parents raised her away from the watchful eyes of society. There were expectations, of course - do well in school, behave, definitely do not get pregnant - but for the most part, she had the freedom to learn and grow and dream. Her parents have always loved and supported and encouraged her, and though not always successful, they have also done their best to shelter her from her grandparents' lofty expectations and societal machinations. As such, Rory has never known the blatant and unreasonable pressure that both of her parents experienced as children, and neither has she had reason to harbour the same sort of enduring resentment for her parents that Chris and Lorelai hold for their's.

The thing is, Rory loves her grandparents. They are imperfect, and they put too much significance on the opinions of people they shouldn't care about - Emily and Straube, in particular - but they love Rory, have always been present, and have helped shape her into the person she has become.

Rory isn't sure if they learned from the mistakes they made raising their children, or if it's because the relationship between grandchildren and grandparents is just fundamentally different to the one between a parent and child, but whatever the case, Rory's relationship with the elder Gilmores and Haydens is leagues better than those the elders share with Lorelai and Chris, respectively.

Her father, Chris, recognises this fact. He doesn't particularly appreciate it, but he accepts it, and beyond the boundaries he's set regarding society, he tries his best not to interfere.

Her mother doesn't, and her unapologetic bitterness places Rory in an uncomfortable position. Oblige Lorelai and offend the elders, or oblige the elders and offend her mother? Either way, Rory loses.

Truth be told, it isn't the first time Rory has been placed in this position, but the situation is no less draining for its familiarity. The anxiety and the guilt about disappointing her mother weigh heavy against her chest, and Rory, with an increasing and inexplicable sense of exhaustion, realises that there are no words she can say that will make her mother happy about this development.

Struck by this epiphany, Rory sinks further into the couch with a weary sigh and gives up on trying.

"They'll suck you in with the glitter and the glamour and twist you up inside and Before you know it, you'll be on the arms of your rich, cheating husband who doesn't give a crap about you, snorting cocaine in the VIP lounge of some fancy New York City cocktail bar with friends who would rather tear you down than build you up, and wearing enough jewels to feed a small country for a year - You won't even recognise yourself anymore."

"Do you really think that poorly of me?" Rory scowls, disgruntled, "That I'm so superficial and lacking in character that I'd completely change myself just to fit in with a bunch of people I don't even know or care about?"

"That's not what I said, Rory."

"That's what you implied though," Rory counters and impatiently swipes wisps of her hair out of her face, "Or maybe you think I'm just too naive and stupid to realise that all of that glitter is actually just the light refracting off all the diamonds mined by an underweight, underpaid and overworked six-year-old in Ethiopia.."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Rory. That is not what I meant."

"It's a moot point, anyway. It's done and I doubt Gran would take the money back."

This indisputable fact silences them both, and Robin Hood plays on.

"I'm going to bed," Rory declares, tone weary, expression more so.

Mercifully, Lorelai doesn't stop her.

-!- -#-

After a restless night, morning brings no resolution to the disagreement - such as it is - subsisting between Rory and Lorelai. There's no opportunity for it, because Lorelai is gone by the time Rory stumbles out of bed, bleary eyed and in desperate need of coffee.

Feeling oddly put out by her mother's pointed absence, Rory makes herself some breakfast, eats alone, and contemplates the day ahead of her. Beyond contacting her dad to get him up to speed regarding recent events, she doesn't have any plans, but it's a perfect day - blue skies, a pleasant breeze, not unbearably hot - and frankly, Rory doesn't want to spend it at home simultaneously dreading and anticipating her mother's return.

With that in mind, she calls her father to see if he's home and available for company, and once he confirms both of these things, she invites herself over for the weekend.

"You know you don't have to warn me," Chris reminds her, "This is your home too."

"I know, but I don't really want to walk in at a bad time, either. What if you've got company?"

Her father laughs. "You don't need to worry about that."

Rory isn't sure if her dad's just not dating at the moment or if he has a system in place in which he doesn't bring dates home, and neither does she ask. Instead, she accepts the man's answer at face value, advises him that she'll be over within the next two hours, and then proceeds to get ready to leave.

A note left on the whiteboard on the fridge advising Lorelai where she's gone (because Rory may be mad, but she's not cruel), a load of washing spinning in the dryer, and a bag packed for all of the essentials required for a weekend by her father's pool later, and Rory's on her way to her second home.

The house is on the outskirts of Hertford, only about 20 minutes from Stars Hollow. It's a sprawling, low-set brick home situated on an acre and a half of land that boasts a glassed-in pool area, a robust vegetable patch, and a truly ostentatious shed full of cars and bikes. Her father's lived there for years - since he finished grad school, in fact - and Rory knows (and loves) the place as much as she does her mother's cozy home in Stars Hollow.

Chris waits for her in the living room, dressed comfortably in a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt, settled comfortably in a wide suede couch that's seen countless naps, movie marathons, and more makeout sessions with Tristan than Rory will ever admit to.

"You made it," he greets.

"I made it," Rory echoes, flops gracelessly beside him on the couch, and sighs deeply.

"Want a drink?"

"No," Rory declines, "Thanks though."

"All right then" Chris acquiesces, "Want to tell me about what's brought you by? I thought you were pretty determined to stay in Stars Hollow for the Summer."

It was a decision Rory came to when she realised that after the Summer, she'll probably never live in Stars Hollow again. She's off to Yale in the Fall, with career plans that will take her to New York or London or somewhere far flung that Rory probably hasn't even thought of, and her life in Stars Hollow will only become a series of bittersweet, sepia-toned memories, only ever rekindled during holiday visits and childhood reminiscing and conversations with her mother.

With that in mind, Rory's spent the Summer taking it all in, the shifts at Luke, the eccentricities of Taylor and Kirk and Mrs Patty and Babette, the snarky repartee from Michele and the enduring friendship of Lane. She's read countless books under the shade of the gazebo, hung her feet off the bridge that always makes her think of Jess, squirrelled away memories and photographs that she'll carry with her wherever she goes.

"I was," Rory confirms, "I am. Just… Mom."

Chris frowns and sets down the novel he'd been reading. "I think I'm going to need more details than that, kid."

Rory hesitates, a little gun-shy after her mother's poor response, but logic prevails: Her father works for the Hayden family business. He bought the house and paid child support with the money from his trust fund. He couldn't care less about the Hertford Set, but he enjoys the luxuries, advantages, and conveniences his family name offers him. As such, he won't be nearly as put out about the money as Lorelai, if he'll be bothered at all.

All of that aside, Rory also just wants to inform him as a courtesy, and so she can also maybe get some advice about what to do with her sudden infusion of funds.

"Gran's given me access to my trust fund," Rory explains, "Mom's not happy about it."

"That's to be expected," Chris acknowledges, but Rory's not sure what he's referring to, "She'll just have to get over it - There's more where that came from."

"Gran mentioned that yesterday. Something about trust funds from Grandpa and Grandad?"

"You're surprised?"

Rory shrugs. "I guess I just assumed it would all go to you and Mom. It's not exactly something any of us have ever talked about."

"It's a pretty awkward thing to discuss," Chris concedes, "Emily would say it's gauche."

"I kind of feel like a vulture," Rory admits.

"There's that, too," he agrees, "I can't say much about what Richard and Emily are planning, but I can tell you Mom, Dad, and my plans, if you like? It's something you'll need to know eventually, but I was going to wait until you were a bit older…"

"Maybe wait on that a bit?" Rory requests, "I'm still wrapping my head around the money from Gran."

"When you're ready," Chris acquiesces.

Much like confronting the reality of her family's mortality, Rory isn't sure she'll ever be ready, but she doesn't mention that. Instead, she turns the conversation to her mother's poor response to her news, and her father listens attentively.

"Try not to take her words too personally," he advises, "It wasn't an attack on your character - I promise."

Rory scowls. "It definitely felt that way."

"Your mom's had to watch from the sidelines while her childhood friends married assholes, gave up their dreams, and became shadows of themselves," Chris explains, "I guarantee it's not an attack on you - It's a criticism of what society does to everyone it touches."

"The money has nothing to do with society," Rory protests, disgruntled.

Her father shrugs. "Your mother disagrees."

Rory pulls a face, dissatisfied, but she doesn't argue. "Anyway, she's mad and avoiding me and I don't really want to be there right now, and I also needed to let you know what's going on, so here I am."

"I appreciate you telling me," he says, pulls her in for a one-armed side hug, and advises, "Give her some time. You know what she's like."

"Stubborn? Dramatic as hell?"

Chris huffs a laugh. "Exactly. SHe'll come around. She always does."

Rory sighs, resigned. She doesn't care at all for conflict within her family, so that day can't arrive soon enough.