Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore girls past, present or future. But how cool would it be if I did? Oh yeah, and the title comes from the Goo Goo Dolls song, "Name." That's not mine either. But I wish they were.

A/N: Ok so this should be interesting. I never imagined myself writing about this pair, but I think it works.

All the Dreams You Never Thought You'd Lose

The door opened and the maid walked in. She didn't dare speak to the silent woman who was lying in the bed in front of her. She carefully placed the lunch tray on her lap, opened the curtains a little, letting some light shined through. She ignited a fire in the large marble fireplace and turned to face the woman in the bed.

"Would you like anything else Mrs. Gilmore?"

"No, thank you."

She nodded and turned to leave.

"Hester," Emily called out, not even looking at the terrified maid. "Please draw those curtains closed." The maid nodded and trembling, she closed the curtains that Mr. Gilmore had specifically asked her to open.

Emily sighed as the maid walked quickly out of the room. Eyeing the lunch in front of her, she considered eating the sandwich, fresh fruit and tea her husband had sent up for her instead of coming in himself. Richard had been checking on her less and less, only coming in a few times a day. He seemed resigned to the fact that she wasn't leaving her room anytime soon.

With a deep breath, she picked up the tray and placed it on the bed next to her. Hesitating only a moment, she walked into the bathroom and started running water for her bath. She worked quickly and silently, measuring bath oils and powders, making sure the bath water was as hot as she could stand it. Finally, she turned on a new Gershwin CD hoping that the music would lift her spirits. She laid out her robe and slowly got into her bath.

She breathed slowly as she stared down at her shaking hands. It wasn't proper. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. People did not just pack up and leave their families, leaving only a note and no phone number or any information of any kind. She stiffened as she felt her throat start to close up and she pushed back the tears that were forming. No, she would not cry. She sat there, not really listening to the cheery music playing in the background. She heard her bedroom door open and silently thanked herself for having the good sense not to cry.

Richard smiled as he passed by the closed bathroom door. He paused, ready to knock but decided not to disturb her. He listened to the music for a second, hoping that it meant that she would be ready to leave the house soon. He noticed that the tray of food was sitting on the bed untouched. Sadly, he moved it onto the bachelors chest that sat beside their bed. He heard the faint ringing of his office phone in the distance and hurried to answer it. She heard the phone ringing and his quick, steady march as he rushed to talk to another business partner. She sat there, trying to figure out if she was grateful for the phone's interruption or disappointed that Richard hadn't said anything to her through the door. She felt a tear run down her face and quickly brushing it away, she decided that she was glad he hadn't come in. It was better that he not sees her like this: fragile and broken-hearted because she had lost her daughter. She had to be strong.

She sat there until the water grew cold and the fragrance was faint. She stepped out of the tub, putting on her robe and walking back into the bedroom. She sat at her writing desk, pulling her silk robe closer around her, the fire not warming her. As a soprano sang about love in the background, Emily pulled out her stationary and began the letter she had been writing in her head for the past few hours.

Dearest Hopey,

It's been years and I still call you that. I suppose that as your older sister, I still have the right to call you that.

I realize that it has been a few months since we've spoken, I am sorry for that. The last few months have been trying and I expect that is why I haven't called. I know that I could call instead of writing but this is so much easier Hopey. To write this instead of trying to say out loud what I am about to tell you.

My sister, I have failed as a mother. As you know Lorelai had a child. At sixteen, she had a child. Even though this ruined many of the plans we had for her, we agreed to let her not marry the father. Hopey my granddaughter is beautiful as you know from the pictures I sent you. Bright blue eyes just like her mother's and I know she has great things ahead of her. But now I fear that her life will take the same path as Lorelai's, full of wasted opportunities. Lorelai left us. Lorelai took her child and left us with only a note saying that she would call us when she got settled and that she was alright. That was a month ago. You know that Lorelai and I have never gotten along, but not that she is gone, there is such emptiness inside of me. My child is gone.

Hopey, my daughter is gone and I'm not sure what to do. I would never admit that to anyone but you and Richard though. I want to tell Richard to hire someone to find her- she couldn't have gone far. My daughter may be an unwed teen mother but she is no thief. There is no money missing. I don't know what to do Hopey. I do not know what I will say to her the next time I see her. Part of me knows that I would yell at her for acting irresponsibly, that she has a daughter and not just herself to think about now; and part of me knows that I want to just cry and tell her everything will be alright. That she is welcome to come home again and that we will take care of her.

Emily blinked through the tears that were forming and watched in dismay as they fell on the page, smearing some of the ink.

Hopey, I must end this letter by telling you that I am sorry. I feel as if I have truly failed my husband and my family. My daughter is gone, I have lost her.
I hope you are well my dear sister; France seems too far away lately. I wish you were here
All my love, Emily

Unsuccessfully trying to blink back more tears, Emily sighed, opened the desk drawer, and placed the sheet of paper on top of a pile of letters that would all remain unsent.

Glad that Hester had lit the fire, she settled back into the bed she shared with her husband and buried herself under the duvet.

She couldn't understand why her daughter would do this. Why would her daughter, not matter what they had been through, cause her family so much pain? Why couldn't she have just caused a big commotion, yelling like she normally did and then told them she was leaving? Of course Emily and Richard wouldn't have agreed to it, they would have yelled back, demanding again that she marry Christopher and do the right thing for herself and Rory. She would have demanded that she not shirk her responsibilities and demanded that Rory be given all the opportunities that Lorelai had thrown away. Undoubtedly she would still have moved out, but they would have known. They would have known where she was, if she and Rory were safe. They would have known whether or not they were going to see their granddaughter ever again. They would have known whether or not they were going to see their daughter again.

Emily felt the tears coming again and this time she didn't fight them. She grabbed the nearest pillow and sobbed into it, letting the grief overtake her. She held on to the pillow, hugging it as she cried into it. She felt the excess of emotion draining her in a way nothing else had. She slowly stopped crying, her body growing cold as she grew still. Drawing the covers closer to her, she closed her eyes and slept.

She didn't hear Richard come in half an hour later, and she never stirred as he sat down beside her. As he watched over his wife as she slept, he was filled with a deep sadness. Of course he regretted what happened between them and Lorelai. Not an hour went by when he didn't think of his daughter and granddaughter. But to watch the one you love be overtaken by the grief in her heart, that was another kind of sadness altogether. He sighed as he thought of how much his wife's demeanor had changed in the past month. She hadn't left their bedroom, had not really spoken to anyone besides Richard, the only exception being quick phone calls to the chairs of various committees, declining invitation after invitation. The feisty spark that Lorelai had inherited from her was no longer there. Sighing quietly to himself, he let his thoughts wander to his daughter. He wondered if he would ever see his daughter or granddaughter ever again. He had his doubts. Lorelai hadn't called yet, and the private investigator that Emily didn't know about yet hadn't found anything so far. It was all a matter of waiting for something to turn up. He tensed up as he reminded himself why she was gone in the first place: he had failed his wife and daughter; he knew this to be true. If he had been a better father, if he had kept a closer watch on her, she would still be there. And his wife would not be grieving right now. It was all so sudden. They had come downstairs looking for his tie when Emily found that note. If he had found that note first, he could have thought of something to say, something to do to shield Emily from what it said.

Pulling himself out of his melancholy, Richard reached for the book that was sitting on his bedside table and tried not to think about the current situation that his family was in. He starting dozing when he heard the maid come in with the tea he had requested, informing him that is was nearing seven o'clock and therefore dinner would be ready soon.

"Emily," he whispered into her ear, placing his hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently. "Emily, it's almost dinner time."

"Richard, how long have I been asleep?"

"I suspect it hasn't been too long. Possibly an hour?"

"Oh. Well what time is it?"

"A little past six thirty."

"So it's dinner time."

"Not quite. We still have a few minutes before dinner is ready." Emily watched Richard as he spoke, telling her about the meal he had asked the maid to prepare. She saw the sleepiness in his eyes and figured he must have been dozing, as he was prone to do. The book still in his hands confirmed that. Richard always fell asleep while reading in bed. She realized that he must have fallen asleep while sitting with her. She smiled.

"Richard?" She said, interrupting his description of the roast.

"Yes?" He said, trying to hide his disappointment. He knew what she was going to say. I am sorry, but could you just have the maid bring up a plate with a cup of tea?

"Why don't I meet you downstairs? I need to get dressed." Richard smiled and nodded, taking her hand and squeezing it before he got up.

"Very well, I shall see you at dinner."


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