Disclaimer: I own nothing. WB owns Gilmore Girls while the musician Phosphorescent owns the title!

Sorry it took so long for me to come up with another story! I was finally struck with inspiration a day ago.

Well, I hope you guys enjoy the first chapter, and please review!

:)


Luke clicked the top of his pen against the counter and let out a sigh. He had been doing inventory in the back of the diner for what felt like forever, and at last he was finally done. He looked around the dark, empty diner, the moons glow lighting the room, giving it an almost eerie feel. Things felt so empty in the diner now a days, since he shipped Jess back to New York. He had to do it though, he repeated that to himself daily, it was for the best. He scoffed. No it wasn't, he knew it wasn't. Liz could barely take care of herself, what made Luke think that she could take care of her own son?

He had tried to call them, check up on Jess, make sure the kid wasn't laying dead in a ditch somewhere and made it back safe, but no one in their apartment seemed to ever answer the phone. He always got the machine and he always left messages. He never got any replies though. No phone calls from his nephew or his sister assuring him that the kid was fine and safe. Maybe he was worrying too much. Liz would have called him if Jess didn't arrive, wouldn't she? He knew he just had to believe his nephew was fine and back in that cramped apartment living with his mother.

Luke's reverie was cut off by the loud ringing of the phone, causing the man to jump a little. He turned his head and looked towards the phone, a look of confusion crossing his features. Who could be calling him at this hour, he thought. He let out a laugh and stood up.

"Lorelai," he mused as he made his way over to the phone. Of course it would be the infamous Gilmore, she was the only person he knew crazy enough to call someone this late at night.

He grabbed the phone off the hook and placed it to his ear.

"Hello?" he spoke into the phone, a smirk on his face. He wondered what Lorelai wanted. A late night pancake run perhaps? Or maybe some of his hot brewed coffee?

"Luke," he heard a panicked, rough, voice of a boy speak up. That voice was definitely not Lorelai's. He felt as if he recognized the voice somehow, but the hoarseness in the kid's voice kept leaving him with blanks.

"Who is this?" Luke asked, scratching at his head with his free hand.

"Luke, I don't know what to do. She won't wake up Luke, she won't wake up!" the words came out quick and frantic, almost jumbled together. Something clicked in Luke's head and he finally recognized who the voice belonged to.

"Jess?" he called into the phone, "Jess, calm down. What's wrong?"

"She won't wake up, Luke. Liz won't wake up!" Luke heard a harsh breath escape his nephew's lungs. "She's not breathing Luke! I think she's dead!"

Luke's heart almost stopped. Dead? Liz can't be dead, she can't be. He knew that he couldn't start panicking like Jess, he knew he needed to keep his cool and instruct his nephew on what to do. Jess needed him and so did Liz.

"I think she overdosed on something," Jess panicked voice continued, "Luke, what am I supposed to do!?"

"Jess, you need to call 911?," Luke instructed the boy, "I'll come down there, alright? I'm going to leave now, but you need to call 911."

He heard Jess sharply inhale. "Yeah, I will." he responded with a much calm voice. Luke could still hear a tinge of panic in his nephew's young voice. "Luke," Jess added, "Please hurry."

"I will," Luke nodded, "I'll get there as fast as I can." He heard a click on the other end of the line before the tone started beeping in his ears. Luke just stood there for a moment. The whole event just felt unreal to him. This couldn't be happening, there was no way this could be happening. He suddenly snapped back to life and rushed upstairs and grabbed his keys and a jacket. He had to get up to New York, and fast.


Everything felt like a blur to Jess. The call to Luke, the call to the paramedics, everything. Nothing felt real. Liz wasn't laying on the floor next to him, her face pale and gaunt, eyes practically glued shut. It couldn't be happening.

Oh God, he thought, her skin was so white, she looked almost transparent. It felt like she was going to disappear at any moment, leaving him all alone. If he lost her, he'd have nowhere to go. Luke probably wouldn't take him back, not after what happened with Rory. What would happen to him if she didn't wake up? One thing he knew though, he was not going into foster care. He had been taken away from Liz once, when he was just a child, and they sent him to a group home. He hated it and vowed to himself that he would never go back. The only option he had if she did die -- which she wouldn't, he assured himself, Liz couldn't die, not now, not like this -- was to live on the streets. No, that was not going to happen.

Jess grabbed Liz's limp arms and shook her, "Wake up!" he yelled, "Don't you do this to me Liz! Stop being so selfish! Don't abandon me like this!" He shook her and shook her, but she just wouldn't wake up.

He could hear the sirens now, their buzz getting louder and louder as the paramedics made their way closer to the apartment. He let Liz's arms drop to the ground and backed up against the wall.

Jess ran a hand through his hair and banged his head against the back of the wall.

"Fuck!" He cursed, "Fuck fuck fuck!" So many emotions whirled around his mind. Anger, sorrow, confusion, helplessness, fear. God, he couldn't handle this. He just wanted it all to go away, he wanted Liz to stop being such a selfish bitch and wake up! He felt tears threatening to fall, but fought them. He couldn't cry, he wouldn't shed a tear. Because Liz wasn't dead, she was going to be fine. She had to be fine. Of all the crap she put him through throughout the years, she was not putting him through this. It wasn't fair.

The door to the apartment banged open, startling Jess. A crew of paramedics and two police officers rushed in and swiftly made their way over to Liz's unconscious form. One of the male paramedics looked up towards Jess.

"Get him out of here!" he called to the officers. The chubby officer made his way over to Jess and kneeled down in front of him.

"Come on, let's go outside and let them work," the officer helped him up and lead him to the door. Jess was too worn out to fight with him. The past twenty minutes had been filled with a whirlwind of emotions and he was just too exhausted to yell or scream or feel anymore. His emotions vanished and he felt nothing. He welcomed the feeling of numbness. This was all too much for him and feeling nothing was sure as hell a lot better than feeling as helpless and scared as he did minutes before.

The officer led him outside and sat him down at the front of the building. A rush of cold hair hit Jess hard, causing his body to let out a shiver. He hugged his torso tightly.

"Here," Jess looked up to see the officer from before. He held out a blanket towards the kid, "you look cold." Jess grabbed the blanket out of the chubby man's hands and wrapped it around his body. Jess dug into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. All of the stress that this event was causing him left him craving one bad. He grabbed out a stick and placed it between his lips. He pulled out his lighter and flicked the thumbwheel frantically. A small flame sparked but didn't last. He flicked it again, this time more panicked, but the lighter barely sparked. Shit, he cursed, his lighter was not out of fluid now! Not when he needed a smoke more than anything! He flicked it one more time, thankfully a flame finally appeared. He protected the flame from the harsh wind with a cupped hand and lit the end of his cigarette. He took a deep, shaky inhale and let the smoke out slowly.

The cop didn't say a word about it. He didn't scold him for being underage or take his pack away, all he did was sit down next to him and keep him company. He liked the man for that. It had to be the first time he'd ever actually liked a cop. Once his first cigarette was reduced to barely nothing, he pulled out another and lit it with the end of the first.

"What's your name?" the officer asked. He felt the need to talk to the kid, maybe get his mind off of the situation going on above their heads.

The boy tapped the ash off of the end of his cigarette, "Jess." The kid stared straight ahead, his eyes never darting to take a glance at him.

"My names Randle Jones," he told the teenager.

A small, but fake, smile formed on the kid's lips, "Like Patrick Randle McMurphy, from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." He inhaled deeply and slowly let out a cloud of smoke. Randle didn't know if the kid was talking to him or thinking aloud.

"Yeah," Randle smiled, "you've read the book?"

"Over twenty times," Jess hugged his knees and rested his head on them, "it's a great book."

"It is," Randle nodded his head and watched the boy take another drag. He should be stopping that kid, he knew Jess wasn't old enough to be smoking, but the boy was dealing with a lot right then. He'd let the kid have a few cigarettes. Hell, from the way the kid looked, he definitely needed them.

"Jones!" He heard another officer call his name, his head snapping in the direction of the call. The man motioned him over. He looked back over at Jess. He didn't know if he should leave the kid or not.

"Would it be alright if I left you for a few minutes," he asked the teenager. The boy barely reacted to the question. If he hadn't noticed the small shrug the came from Jess' covered shoulders he would have though the kid hadn't even heard him. "I'll be right back," he assured Jess before standing up and making his way over towards the officer.

"Is the woman alright?" he asked as he reached the man. The officer didn't respond, his eyes fixated on something behind them. Jones turned to see what the other officer was looking at. He spotted another officer and a paramedic talking to Jess. The boy was now standing up, the cigarette that was almost glued to his hand thrown somewhere on the ground. He watched as the paramedic spoke, the boy's skin going instantly pale. The kid suddenly went weak. His knees suddenly gave out on him and he collapsed. The paramedic and officer quickly caught the kid and gently set him on the ground.


Luke parked his truck across the street from his sister's apartment. There were police cars and ambulances parked out front, their red and blue lights flickering in the darkness. Oh God, he hoped Liz was okay. The whole event felt so unreal to him. Luke opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He quickly made his way across the street.

"Excuse me," a police officer called, speedily making his way over to Luke, "you can't go any further." He blocked Luke from taking a step further, his hand pressed against Luke's chest.

"Liz Danes is my sister!" Luke told the officer, his eyes scanning the scene, trying to spot Jess or Liz, "The woman in there is my sister!"

The officer gave look a hard look up and down before nodding. The cop lifted the tape up for Luke and he ducked under, the officer flowing swiftly behind.

"Is she alright?" Luke turned and asked the officer. He was hoping for a good answer, he didn't want it to be bad. He didn't know what he would do if Liz was gone.

There was a pause before the officer spoke, "I'm sorry, she didn't make it."

Luke felt like he had been hit by a truck. Those six words almost made his heart stop. He couldn't believe it, Liz was his little sister. She wasn't supposed to die before him. His mind quickly went to Jess and the frantic phone call that brought him here.

"Jess," he spoke, his eyes darting around him, trying to spot the kid, "where is he? Where is my nephew?"

"This way," The officer led him towards the ambulance, "he's being treated for shock." The officer led him to the back of the truck. Jess was resting on a stretcher, an oxygen mouth covering his face. Luke entered the ambulance and made his way over to his nephew. The boy looked so pale, his skin almost taking on a bluish tint. Jess had a blanket wrapped around his skinny frame, protecting him from the cold. Luke ran his thumb over Jess' nephews skin felt clammy and sweaty.

"It's going to be alright, Jess," he assured his nephew, the boy's eyes finally locking with his uncle's. Jess gave a weak nod in response. Luke grabbed his nephew's hand and squeezed it tight. Jess squeezed back. God dammit, Luke cursed, this wasn't supposed to happen. None of it.


Thank you guys so much for reading. I hope you liked it.

I don't know when the next update for this tory will be. Soon perhaps? This is the first story that I've ever posted before actually finishing.

But in the meantime, please review! I really would appreciate it.