Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with "Gilmore Girls."

Author's Note: Hello, this is my first "Gilmore Girls" fanfic, so I hope that you'll go easy on me. It's a sad story; there is a character death. I've read many stories about Rory dying and they were all very good. I just feel that Lorelai wouldn't be able to go on without her. This is essentially my take on what would happen if Rory had died.

So please, read on and review. I'll accept anything. I don't mind flames.

w.t.s.

Any Minute

The casket holding the girl he considered a daughter was a blinding white. He wasn't sure he could handle the color; he wanted to look away, but his neck wasn't responding. Hishead wouldn't turn. An endless amount of flowers surrounded the bright coffin and lined the church. Plethora. She would call it a "plethora" of flowers.

He scanned the church quickly. She wasn't here. Where was she? Why wasn't she here?

The priest droned on about how He "givith and taketh away," but all he could hear was the painful cries of her grandmother. The sobbing wasn't quiet sobbing. There was no usual dignity. No grace. Only pain and grief. And he couldn't stand it.

The air smelled like winter, even though it was mid October. Luke smoothed over his flannel shirt with his one free hand. The other hand held a box of triple chocolate brownies. Maybe she would eat some this time.

Clearing his throat as he jogged up the front porch steps, Luke prepared himself for the scene he saw every day for the past two years.

He knocked out of politeness and let himself into the Gilmore household.

Others cried. The whole town was there, their sobs collecting into one big moan. But this woman, this one woman, Emily Gilmore, was out-crying the whole lot of them. That's they only way it registered in his mind. Emily's husband Richard hugged her tightly, but he could barely contain his own cries. Her constant wailing made his stomach turn. He had to get out of there.

She was sitting in the living room on the lounge chair just off to the side of the stairwell. Her hair was clean, her make-up was done; she looked better than she had in a while. "Hey Luke." She said, smiling warmly, and the knot in his stomach began to untie a little.

"Hi. I brought you some brownies. Triple choclate." He said gruffly, holding the open box out in front of him.

She took one from the box and bit into the corner. Nodding, she said, "I see you messed up the recipe again. I hope you brought some coffee to wash this down."

Luke smiled. Relief began to slowly wash over him as he made his way to the kitchen. "No, but I'll make some."

"Good." She replied slowly. "Because I don't think this brownie will be able to complete it's journey without some help."

"You know I'd do it, but my shrinking machine is in the shop." Luke said, grabbing a filter from inside the utensil drawer.

She giggled a little in reply and he thought his ears would have fallen off in surprise. She hadn't giggled like that since before...

Funerals always made him uncomfortable, but this one was particulary bad. It was unnatural. It was wrong.

It was Rory Girlmore's funeral.

As Luke staggered out of the church, holding his breath until the sunlight hit his face. He could feel the town's eyes burning holes into the back of his head, but he never cared about what they thought of him, and he wasn't going to start caring now.

As he broke through the doors, a quick, loud, and unexpected sob escaped his lips. Luke clapped a hand over his mouth to keep another one from coming out. Hot tears made their way down his coarse cheeks. His whole body shook so violently that for a minute, he thought he would collapse in the street.

Luke shook his head in protest. "No." He whispered. He was not going to break down right now. No way. He had to be strong. For himself, for the town...for her. Straightening himself out, he turned to the direction of their house. She would be there. He knew she would be there.

He began to walk.

Luke poured water into the coffee maker and reached for the bag of coffee in the cubboard.

"Luke. Luke." She called and he poked his out from around the kitchen wall.

"Yeah?"

"Make sure there's enough."

"What?"

"Make sure there's enough." She said louder.

Luke closed his eyes. His heart sank. He was so sure that she was coming out of it.

"Enough for who?" He whispered, already knowing the answer.

"Hmmm?" She asked, only catching a little of his voice.

"E...enough for who?"

"Lorelai." Luke shouted, barging through the door. Where was she? Was she okay?

Luke wildly snapped his head around, looking for her. He saw her out of the corner of his eye.

She was sitting in the living room in the lounge chair just to the side of the stairwell.

Her hand was clasped tightly around the phone. Her hair was clean, her make-up nicely done. She was dressed in black indicating that she had planned to go to the funeral. What happened?

"What are you doing?" Luke asked, his breath hitching in his throat.

"What?" Lorelai asked flatly, coming out of her trance.

"Why are you just sitting there? What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting." Lorelai replied, focusing her attention at the windows across the room.

"For what?" Luke asked, taking a few steps toward her. He stopped though, an uneasy feeling washing over him quickly. Something wasn't right with Lorelai.

"For Rory."

Somewhere between this room and the front door, Lorelai Victoria Gilmore broke.

"What?" Luke's voice cracked in a mixture of surprise, hurt, and sadness.

"She called. She'll be here any minute."

"E...enough for who?"

"For Rory. I'm sure she'll want some coffee when she gets here."

Luke sighed deeply, put the coffee in the maker and turned it on. Then, he went back into the living room and crouched down by Lorelai's chair. She was staring at the window across the room.

"Lorelai. Rory's dead. She's been dead for two years now. She was in a car accident."

Lorelai didn't respond, so Luke continued.

"Look, I need you to snap out of this. If you don't, you're going to be put in a hospital. I tried. I really tried to keep you here. To make it seem like you could go on without her. And you have to. She would want you to. Rory would want you to move on."

"I'm sorry what?" Lorelai turned to Luke, but her eyes were empty.

"Lorelai." Luke begged, but he knew it was too late.

"I'm waiting for Rory." Lorelai said, turning her head back to the window, waiting for a car that would never drive into her view. "She called. She should be here any minute."

A single defeated tear rolled down his cheek. Lorelai sighed in contentment, waiting for a daughter she would never see, or hold, or talk to again.

And Luke knew that he would never get to see either Gilmore girl again.

The End.

Thanks for taking the time to read.