Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.

Distribution: Gimme some of that. If you want it on your site, add it, but tell me when you do.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm back, for a new fic! I really hope I finish this one, and I'll try to update a lot, but I want to make this fic the best I can so please be patient.

I never got what I want in high school. Until Christopher, who was my best friend up until the moment he kissed me. Then I believed I had everything, or at least could eventually get everything. It wasn't until I started receiving child support from Chris when I realized he had just been another loser, and I had been his knocked up cotillion brat girlfriend, even though I thought of myself as 'misguided'.

I hadn't even thought of the possibility of a pregnancy until I was in my second month, when I figured out something was missing, my period. By then I didn't even have to take the test, I knew it. I was pregnant, I would be doomed, branded a slut, and end up trailer trash, a prostitute trying to raise her kid, who would probably end up a high school drop out, just as I was about to be. Of course I weighed the other option, but then I'd end up a 30 year old divorcee, or worse...Like my mother.

Then I hadn't a clue where to start, what to do. I sat through my sixteenth birthday wondering what I would do, sat on my bed staring up at the ceiling, hoping an answer would just come to me. An abortion had crossed my mind several times, but knew that option wouldn't work, I wouldn't be able to get enough money, the only kind I'd be able to afford with my limited funds and resources would be one in a dirty old basement with a coat hanger, not only that, but I truly didn't have the heart to give it up. The day before my coming out pictures was when I told Chris, and the day after was when I told my parents.

I remember Chris's distant look, my mothers whispers, my fathers anger...I remember the night after I told them, I was four months along already. I remember how I started out, trying to form the sentences, trying to form the words. I didn't know why I had waited so long to tell everyone, but later I realized it was because I couldn't even face it, I was still a teenager to myself. It was only until the night I told Chris when I aged several years.

We had been sitting on my parents couch; they were out to another party, for one of my mom's events or charities. I felt so uncomfortable, even after sitting on that couch for my entire life it still never felt quite right, but Chris had always insisted to sit next to each other always, if there was one thing about Chris I loved it was his ability to be a true blue romantic; he had always wanted to be near me, next to me, he'd sneak through my window at night, and then we'd sneak out together, riding in his dads Porsche, sometimes just to drive around.

"Lorelai, you know I love you?" he asked that particular night. I laughed a little, "I think I do." I said softly, he could sense I was off that night too...I knew that because he asked me.

"Chris... I'm pregnant." For about a half an hour he sat on that couch. I inched away slowly, moving onto the chair next to the old silver drink cart. I studied the wallpaper as Chris tried to register what I had just said into his mind. But I couldn't blame him; in retrospect it had taken me several months to take in that kind of information. When he finally spoke he had a nervous smile, his voice was a normal tone, a little shaky but electrocuted.

"Lor, this is perfect!" he declared, he moved towards me and took each of my hands in his, "We can both runaway, together it's perfect, c'mon Lor!" For a moment I considered it, maybe it was perfect; maybe I wouldn't be stuck in a house I hate, with parents who I hated. But then that little speck of common sense I had kicked in, the part of me that was slightly rational, I stared into his eyes, I didn't want to let him down, after all he had gave me everything I needed. I shook my head, "No... Chris..." I knew it would never work out, I didn't see a future with Chris, I didn't see a future at all. When I tried to peer into it all I saw was midnight black, taunting me, it was what prevented me from seeing into the future, being guided in some sort of path.

The day after the next Chris and I had formulated a plan to tell our parents. He was being cold towards me, he had begged for a long time, but I had refused. I wasn't afraid of my parents, I was afraid of what my parents would want me to do. Marriage. They'd want me to get married, and I'd refuse. In those three days I had aged so immensely, into a full grown adult. The fact that in a few months a baby would enter our lives, my life had finally hit me, and the impact was hard, so hard I felt like I was bruising. I had sat my parents on the couch, asking for a 'family meeting.' Slowly it all came out; I was pregnant. It was the only time I didn't understand what they were feeling, until Chris's parents came over, it was clear they were disappointed. Chris and I didn't speak until I gave birth. But, I hadn't seen anyone; I was to stay inside the house at all times, unless I was in labor or going to a doctor's appointment.

In those months I had to admit, my mother showed me an entirely different side, she was still stubborn and annoying, full of anger, but she cared. I had never seen her like that, maids were all over my room, asking me every half hour what I needed, or did I want anything.

The month I remembered most was my sixth, mostly because of this moment I had, sitting alone in my room with a Bangles tape and my headphones on, my stomach was huge, I still wonder now how it got so big. My arms rested on my tummy, feeling the movement, she was hungry. Baby was hungry. I sighed, I didn't want to bother anyone, so I took my headphones off, and put them to my stomach, wondering what a baby would thing of "Walk Like an Egyptian" and immediately I felt more movement. I smiled; it was the first smile in months and for a little while in my sixth month I was happy. My baby could dance.

It was at the end of my eighth month when I was confined to my bed, I was worried, not because of bed rest but because of labor. I was afraid of labor, maybe if I was in my twenties, or the "appropriate" age I'd feel more comfortable. I'd heard things, I'd read things in health classes, giving birth at a young age was hard, harder than at a normal age, and more risky. I knew what I was getting myself into, and by that time I knew there was no turning back. I already knew to request the drugs, I didn't want to feel a thing, I'd still go through labor, but when it was time for the delivery hopefully it would plop right out. Unfortunately I realized later that it wasn't as easy as I wanted it to be.

. The day I went into labor was the day before I had Rory, I was watching Dirty Dancing, and she was due any day now. Suddenly I felt an incredibly acute pain where the baby was. I dropped my sandwich clutching my stomach tightly. I knew after what seemed like an eternity of silence I was going into labor. Labor. That word made every inch of my body flinch; I didn't want to do just pop out... I thought as I quickly scribbled a note to my parents, took my mom's keys and ran out of the house, a giant puddle of water left on the ground from my water breaking as I ran to the car.

---

Thirteen hours later, I lay in my hospital bed, wishing that the pain would stop anytime, and it would all be over. I was only 8 inches dilated, I had tried calling Christopher many times but he didn't pick up, my parents had showed up to lecture me, but instead were told they couldn't come in the room, I was so relieved I think that great sigh of happiness I let out was heard all over the hospital. The nurse walked in, looking annoyed (I didn't even have to guess what was irritating her so much, I had perfected the same look when dealing with my mother.) She smiled sweetly, "How are you dear?" she asked. I was in the middle of an incredibly painful contraction, sweat rolled down my cheek. "Just dandy." I said sarcastically, I hated when people called me 'dear', especially when they were being paid for it.

Ten minutes later I was in the delivery room. To this day I wonder why they call it the delivery room, and why do women 'deliver' babies. I just don't see it; I mean why can't they call it the birthing room? Or the, 'Oops, there goes my possibility of a bright future' room. But I don't think that it should be called that anymore, because later I realized it was just a different future I had mapped out for myself. As I sat in that bed, pushing as hard as I could, in more pain than ever I wished I could just stay pregnant forever, I was scared. I was more scared of what would come after, afraid of how I would do it. My parents were still off in a dream world that Christopher and I would marry, but I was already checked into reality. I knew my fate already, my fate as a single mom. Chris was already so far from me, I knew that we'd live in separate houses, separate towns, separate jobs. I knew that we'd live separate lives. Plus, I didn't think I could live with a man whose favorite band was The Offspring.

I don't think I've ever sworn so much. I remember yelling several words I later wrote in the baby book, as I relived the uh, magical moment of giving birth. I didn't let Rory see her baby book until she was 14 because of the "colorful" language. I said every single swear word in the friggin' cussing dictionary, or whatever. Sweat dripped down my face, I was sobbing so hard. "Get it out!" I yelled as I pushed harder. Then there was the head. And the torso, and the legs...It was all there. Every little bit of her was perfect, I was a little drugged at the time, but I remember as she was handed to me, I remember the smile I gave the little crying girl in my arms. I remember wondering what I'd call her, "Lorelai." I said as I was asked the name. I could figure out a nickname later.

The thing I remember most clearly though was the realization that I hadn't made a mistake, I had made something beautiful. Eventually I drifted off, and an hour later I visited the nursery, staring into little Lorelai's eyes, and standing next to me was Chris. He was always late, I had expected him to be late for the birth of his child also. I sighed, and we exchanged a few words. Later, after Chris had gone into the waiting room I stood next to my mother, we gazed through the window. "Everything's different now." She whispered, and all I did was nod, I didn't want to face it yet.