A/N : Ok...I'm taking a huge leap with posting this cause truthfully, I haven't watched Gilmore Girls in years (and the only time I really do is when the 'Jess-Eps' come on during reruns in the afternoons) so I'm going out on a ledge, considering this is set during the college years - the first one specifically. Also, I started this MONTHS (and months) ago and haven't touched it till today.

But I was starting to feel like the dreaded writers block was creeping up on my other fanfic so I decided to give my brain a good dose of distraction so it would go away - put don't think I still won't update 'Full Moon' cause I still have quite few chapters done for it to post, so I'm good for now.

So, since this is getting dreadfully long I'll just quickly add that, with me being GG-deprived lately, this is coming slow so give me some time to get back in the grove :)

Disclaimer : Don't own, though is Amy wants to toss Jess my way, I'm waiting with open arms (and a set of hand-cuffs so he can't run back...)


The snow was starting to slightly cover everything under the sky, giving the darkened town a slight ghostly feel. Rory Gilmore walked slowly down the main street of Stars Hollow, Connecticut, her coat shut tightly around the slender form. Clad in a hat and gloves she stared up at the sky, enjoying the chilling sensation from the cold air in her lungs and the slight crunch of snow beneath her feet.

It was the first snow of the year and she had learned from years of experience to never miss it – she knew for sure that if her mother hadn't been out on a date they would be out here together. She could imagine the late night wake-up when her Mother finally did arrive home and the giggles as they would once again don their snow-boots and gloves, intending on going out and playing in the snow.

Listening to the wind as it blew through the tree's surrounding the gazebo, Rory closed her eyes and walked on, knowing the landscape by heart and not fearing tripping over anything. The cry of the wind grew stronger and shriller, the slight sob in the middle of it making Rory re-open her eyes. Listening closer to the cry she faltered, realizing that she was indeed not hearing the wind but a human voice crying.

It took a few more seconds for Rory to deduce that the wail belonged to baby and she glanced around, wondering why someone would have a child that young out in this weather. Not seeing a single soul – considering it was after midnight – Rory felt unnerved as she still heard the baby's anguish cries.

Figuring that if she got up in the gazebo she could see more and maybe spot the direction the noise was coming from she quickly bound of the steps, intending to find the source but froze in her tracks, the culprit having been found that easily.

"Oh my god…" Rory breathed out, staring down at the small basket sitting in the middle of the old wooden gazebo. The small baby, maybe only a few months old, was wrapped tightly in a pink blanket, its face red and wet from all the tears streaming down it. "Oh my god," Rory repeated, taking a few steps closer to the baby before craning her neck in a half circle, hoping to see someone near-by.

When she once again came up empty handed Rory looked back down at the baby. Did someone just drop this poor child off here alone? Seeing the small white envelope poking out of the small basket Rory bent down and retrieved it, her fingers numb even through her gloves. It was at that moment that she realized how cold the baby must have been.

"It's freezing out here…" Rory mumbled to herself, knowing that she had to get the poor thing inside soon. She glanced across the street and saw that's Luke's was closed, which was her only real choice if she intended to leave the baby here when she went for help.

It would take at least 10 minutes to get back to her house, phone for help, and then 10 minutes more to come and be here when someone arrived. Looking back down at the small child, who was still crying shrilly, Rory knew what she had to do.

"Don't blame me if I'm not good at this," she tossed out nervously, slowly cradling the small form as she drew it up out of the basket. "I've only held one baby as small as you, and it was only one time." Remembering her mother's advice when she had held Georgia, Rory supported the baby's head and carefully maneuvered the bundle into her arms until she had a firm and comfortable grip.

Taking her first few steps on shaky legs, Rory grew more confident once she got all the way down the gazebo steps. Looking down at the tiny pink face inside the blanket, she softly said, "I'm gonna get you some help," and took off for her house.