AN: I haven't written anything Gilmore Girls in about a month, so I decided to come back with something a little bit different from my previous writing. This is a Luke and Lorelai fic and takes place….well, you can figure that one out. Hint, hint: Read any spoilers lately? Wellll, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Disclaimer: The characters and setting in this do not belong to me but are property of The WB.
He was sitting on the bridge. He couldn't remember the last time he had sat here. Was it 5, 10, 15 years ago? It didn't matter now. All that mattered was that he was sitting there, alone and thinking. Though, his mind was so swamped with nonsensical visions that he couldn't really call it thinking at all. Remembering, that was it, remembering and evaluating.
He half expected to hear it. He didn't. He was alone. It was just him and the wind. He focused on it's gentle caress and felt the tears threatening to emerge. But he wouldn't cry…
The murmur of a woman to her toddler woke him from his semi- conscious state. He grunted in acknowledgement as the woman began to lead the child across the bridge. She was careful to avoid his eyes. Even strangers knew what they'd find there. He bustled to a stand and wiped his hands on his jeans. He avoided their eyes too; his focus had strayed to the wavering crystal of the pond. Beauty. He turned, and watched the woman and her child retreat, their hands were clasped together. Love. Luke turned and ambled away from his bridge of regret. He knew what he had to do.
The first step was the hardest. The second, the third she had lost count. But as she stood in front of the blazing white door, she knew that this would be the hardest step of them all. She swallowed, mustered all of the confidence that she could and reached for the knob. She turned it.
The word hung in the air, dwindled to the ground and shriveled in front of everyone's eyes. She turned back around, her face aflame.
No. She would not let the town's gossiping seniors discourage her. She turned again and entered, each stride longer then the previous.
"Lorelai honey…..so glad to see you out and about," the dumpling cooed. Lorelai had grown so accustomed to comparing her to a dumpling with arms and legs that she nearly replied by addressing her as so. But today was a serious day, so she caught herself.
"Hi Miss Patty, hi Babette, hi everyone."
Silence descended in all of it's deafening glory. Lorelai searched frantically for a quip, a joke, an airy comment, but none came. Her head was empty.
She kept walking, and stopped at the counter, ignoring the aroma of her favourite drug, ignoring the hum of gossip behind her and the shuffle of chairs as every member of the town strived to get a better view. This was their all time favorite. No admission, no aisles, no concession stand….but enough drama to get any movie- goer wringing their hands in anticipation.
Lorelai gulped and rung the bell. An Italian man, the essence of a snowball in his white chef's suit, lunged forward. He nodded to her.
"He said if anyone interesting came to tell them that, so I'm just doing my job."
"So, if you start crying again, it's not my fault."
Lorelai trembled. She wouldn't cry. Couldn't they see that the crying was an elaborate ruse to give them one more tid- bit to whisper about? She wouldn't cry. She didn't feel like appeasing the masses today. She felt like talking to him. No. She had to talk to him. It was all her conscious would allow at this point in the game.
She turned, letting her feet guide her, she edged her way through the maze of chairs. Next time she'd ask them to make an aisle. As she headed out the door, she turned around and surveyed the townsfolk in front of her.
"You're gonna be ok, honey." A dumpling coated with sugar, yum. This town sure was starting to aggravate her.
"Next time bring some popcorn," she replied frostily. They frowned. This was not the Lorelai they knew. As she left the murmuring surged to a roar.
They met on the sidewalk, which was where most meetings took place in the quaint tuck away town of Stars Hollows. She froze. He stared. Silence lay low, waiting to pounce and lift them both, dangling them in it's razor filled mouth. It didn't get the chance.
"I- I- was just- uh- taking a walk- that's why I was at the-uh – well, I was gonna- but I…"
"I was just coming back from- Caesar said that you were out and I- it's not like I was…"
They both blushed. Luke bore holes in his shoes. Lorelai looked straight over his shoulder, acquiring a new fascination in the bench on the left side of the road. Lorelai spoke first, a stumbled speech that grew into a frenzied attempt to communicate something, anything, that would let him know.
"I- I was- well- first of all- you- you- left your Bert at my house- and your- uh- Doobie Brothers CD and I was just coming to drop those off because I know that you can't live without tools and doobies…I mean- um- well- you also left your flannel at my house- Ralph, I think I called him- you know the one with the random button at the front that I said could be his nose…and you said should be removed because I said that…well yeah- so Ralph- Bert and Doobie- I have them with me- in my uh- my- purse- and well- I thought I should return them to you- because heaven forbid you're without you're Doobie Brothers CD, I mean that would be like Einstein being without his light bulb or Courtney Love being without her joint. So- I can just-uh"
"Don't." It was a blunt "don't", but without that intention. It was meant to come out as more of a soft, reassuring kind of "don't", and that was how she heard it.
"Don't. Don't. You say it better then my mother. Why should I "don't"? Or not?"
"We need to talk." He shuffled uneasily, his lumberjack bulk idling from one leg to the other. He met her eyes, and she instantly took a step backwards.
"Talk? Talk? Hmmm, I think I have to be reacquainted with that word. It seems to me that in the last few weeks talk between you and I has been minimized to monosyllabic statements and cold toes. Actually, scratch that, just cold toes."
Once again, he had no idea what she was talking about. That thrilled him. Encouraged, he battled on.
"We- well- we had- a- misunderstanding. I think we have to talk about this. I mean it happens to everyone. I needed my space, my space caved in and made me claustrophobic. Now, we need to talk, about things other then cold toes and Courtney Love's joints. How's tonight sound?"
She heard herself say it, but it came from a heart, body and soul not her own.
"Christopher is coming over."
She saw him recoil. She had not meant to say that. She had already bestowed hurt. She had meant to take it away. But sometimes thingsjsut don't come out the way they are planned.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the cruelest of them all?
"Oh." She watched helplessly as his hands clenched, and unclenched, a classic sign of his temper threatening to rear it's ugly head. He refrained, and instead showed what he hoped to be the expression of "a good team player". He had had his chance, he had screwed it up, and now she was moving on. It was the story of his life, simple and sweet with all it's searing pain and sleepless nights.
"I guess I'll be seeing you." He turned. Those words had sealed his casket. He officially had nothing left to live for, well, except for baseball on a black and white t.v. and cold Campbell's soup. What a life.
At that moment he felt nothing but numb. She on the other hand, felt cold. Christopher wasn't coming over for dinner. Christopher hadn't come over for dinner in a very long time. But as he walked away she knew that Christopher would have to come over. She didn't have anyone else to catch her tears.
AN: Ok, so the last lines a bit on the soap- operatic side but I couldn't think of any other way to convey the emotion. I hope you liked it! Please review and tell me if I should continue!