Disclaimer: This is an original story based upon the characters of Gilmore Girls. No profit will be made from this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Thank you for all the feedback for History Repeats. I really appreciate it! I would love to hear what you think of this story as well! This is just a little snippet that came to my mind after watching Forgiveness and Stuff. Enjoy!

Richard's Thoughts

She reads me the paper and I notice the slight trembling of her hands. Poor dear must have been scared to death. I try to act calm and collected--as if to assure her that the long night is over, that I am going to just fine. It's too bad that I got a C in drama class in school--I am just not that good of an actor. I can't pretend to give her assurances about things I don't know myself. How can I help her not be scared--when I am terrified myself?

Emily walks in carrying pillows and I have to smile slightly--that's my girl, busying herself finding me down pillows. She is sending Rory away--just as well, Emily and I need to talk. Rory leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. I try to blink away the tears as the love I feel for her washes over me. Who's going to take care of her? Who's going to take care of my girls if I die?

Emily puts her arm around Rory, "This little girl likes you," she says, and Rory smiles. I smile, but a wave of pain goes through me. Does Rory know my secret? Does she know that I love her, and would do anything in the world for her...but that sometimes, when she is reading to me, or telling me about some new feat of scholastic acheivement...sometimes, I close my eyes and make believe she is her mother? Does she know that sometimes I have used her as a replacement for my little girl? I feel ashamed, but smile, "Well, she has good taste." I reply.

Rory leaves and Emily begins fluttering around, changing my pillows and mubling about sheets. She is frightened. She is always frightened--my poor dear beautiful Emily. I get in words about the will, and the safe-deposit box in between her ramblings about sheets. Finally, I say it...the first time I have said it outloud. "If I die..." and she retaliates. She always does when she is scared, that's the way she is wired. And so I stop talking about practical matters, and I tell her that she may go first. I stop being an insurance man, and start being a husband. She goes to the phone to call and get me sheets--trying to save some shred of control over this night and I reach over and take her hand in mine. She starts to cry--my poor Emily.

She cries for a minute--in the solace of our room, and then she kisses me, tells me to get some rest and walks away. I almost call her back. I am still scared, and if I die...I don't want to die alone. I drift off asleep again, and this time--I dream of Lorelai. This is a very strange dream. I am reliving moments of her childhood. I am reliving moments when I brushed her aside--she brought me a picture she had drawn, and I told her to go clean up her mess. She wanted me to read her a story, and I told her I was too busy reading the paper. I saw the moments I had yelled at her--coming in after curfew, the ride back from the Summer camp in Maine, the times when I had ignored her, when I had run off to work or the latest dinner parties. I saw the times when I made her feel like everything else in the world was more important to me than she was. For the first time, I saw--really saw, the look in her eyes. The hurt, disappointment, the disillusionment, and then finally, the bitterness. I saw myself through her eyes--and it hurt worse than any pain in my chest.

I had failed. I had failed her and I knew it. She had made mistakes--that was undeniable. But who hasn't? I had turned my back on her. I had been blaming her for sixteen years for shutting us out of her life. But had she shut us out because I had shut her so long ago. All she had wanted was a father who would do things with her, play with her, teach her things. What a disappointment it must have been for her to get me.

I open my eyes slowly and wonder if I'm still dreaming. She is there--my little girl, looking scared--and vulnerable. Like she did when she would tell me her dreams of the giant monster who would come and take her out of her room--carrying her away from Mommy and Daddy, and she would scream for help--but nobody would hear her.

It's okay Sweetheart...Daddy's here. Daddy's not going anywhere. The monster's not going to hurt you.

She looks as though she is starting to say something, and then the door opens and Emily walks in with Rory and Joshua. Joshua tells me I'm going to be fine. I am oblivious to whatever else is going on in the room. All I can see my daughter's face. She smiles in relief.

Daddy's here Lorelai. It's okay. It's going to be okay.

She turns and walks out and I am now listening to Joshua's instructions for getting better. I am going to get better. The long night is really over. I can stop being scared now. I turn to look at Emily, who brings a hand up to caress my cheek, and then to Rory who smiles at me. The three people I love most in the world are in thist hosptial tonight--and I am not going to leave them. All is right with the world.