A/N: Okay, so I wrote half of this chapter over a year ago, and recently found it on my laptop, so I thought I'd finish it off and see what the reaction was to it.

It is based on the book by Sophie Kinsella, also called 'Remember Me'. I have changed it to fit Gilmore Girls characters, and the plot will alter quite a bit of the way through. The first chapter however, is very like the one in the book, as I was setting the scene, so f you have read her book, you will recognise it. Some of the phrasing will also be English, as both I and the book is English, and although this may not be 100% accurate to where the story is set, I wanted to include it.

Important Info: Rory grew up in Star's Hollow with Lorelai, and had the same relationship she had with Chris in season 1 throughout the show. Lorelai marries Luke around when she was originally going to in season 6. Rory went to Chilton on a scholarship, but so did Madeline and Louise. Paris was rich but what happened to her parents in the show still stands here. The only guy Rory has been with from the show was Jess through high school and collage, but she has never met Tristan, Dean or Logan before (though she went to Yale). Everything else should become clear in the story, but if not PM me or ask in a review.

Hope you enjoy it, it short for now, but it's just the prologue.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners and the basic plot belongs to Sophie Kinsella. I own nothing.

Prologue

I was cold.

That was one of the main thoughts in my head right then. I was cold and wet, and all I wanted to do was go home and curl up in my own bed, all nice and warm.

But no. I was standing in the rain outside a club, at one in the morning, waiting for a cab to come around the corner and take us all home. My feet are aching in the too small shoes that I bought the other day in the sale. The way to cheerful shop assistant insisted that they would stretch out with wear and that they made my legs look longer. Me, being my usual gullible trusting self, believed her.

I could just imagine my mothers face when I told her about it all. I'm pretty sure that she would be pleased that I'm finally going out, and I'm not spending my time holed up in my apartment studying anymore. Still, that was collage, a whole lifetime away now.

How I longed for those days when I would be able to sleep in late and spend my days in the vast library that Yale had to offer, drinking coffee and attending lectures all the time. Taking calls from my eccentric mother and bantering with my crazed roommate.

That was a long time ago. Since then I've been around the country on the Obama campaign trail, following him across the states at the different press conferences. I was only there about six months when I realised that it wasn't for me. I didn't like the patchy hotels, the long hot bus rides, and the other stand off-ish reporters. So I came home and looked around for a job here.

That's how I ended up at the Hartford Magazine. Its part of the big Hartford Press publishing group in our area, and is a small magazine which holds lots of different sections of articles. I currently write the section called 'people', and they include different stories about what happens in the local communities, and other key features about what is going on in the local area. It's not too bad in the long run, but the pay isn't particularly spectacular.

That is another reason for my bad mood. It was my roommate from collage, Paris, who helped me get the job there. She writes articles on medicine and health, as she studies medical science as a minor, and suggested I get an interview with her editor. She was currently standing in the only dry doorway behind me, in an embrace with her long time boyfriend Doyle. The two of them met in collage and have been together ever since. I frowned looking away, not particularly pleased with the sight of the two of them together; it was bringing old memories to the surface.

Madeline and Louise, my other two best friends, were also there, sheltering from the rain under a newspaper, singing 'Raining Men' at the top of their voices. Louise is tall and blonde, with a raspy voice that could get any man to do what she wanted at anytime. It's true, I've seen it happen. She writes a section on 'style' each week. Madeline is slightly smaller and dark haired, with a tendency to ask stupid questions. She is however, unbelievably talented at keeping up with the office gossip and writes a section of the magazine on that.

Paris was smart. Really smart. We hated each other when we first started high school, I was the new girl, the only one that could threaten her top of the class record, and she made it her personal vendetta to ruin me. But eventually we became friends, and were roommates all through collage. She's tall and blonde, with pretty brown eyes, and a confidence and demeanour that even has the best politicians shaking in their boots. I've seen it. But despite her scary persona, she was the best friend a girl could have, when you got used to her habits of course.

Louise was stunning, always had been. The raspy voice and perfect figure that has guys drooling, she knows everything there is to know about guys and fashion, and always looks perfect. Her make up is always flawless, and her long shoulder length blonde hair has never a strand out of place, looking like a shampoo adverts. She's the girl that you walk past in the street and you think has walked right out of a magazine.

Madeline is gorgeous too. He black hair cut into a sleek and stylish bob, with pretty bangs and a tall slim figure. Like Louise her, her whole image is always perfect. She was never the smartest girl around, but she has a heart of gold and a savvy sense that gets her a long way.

Then there's me. Rory. The quiet, bookish one, that never seems to be noticed as much in the group. I've had guys, and I'm not saying I'm not smart, I went to Yale, and was valedictorian in high school. But I don't have the confidence of the others. I have relatively normal looks, my brown hair lightened and is now more a mousy than the chocolate brown it was, and is slightly frizzy looking more often than not. I also have crooked tooth at the front, because I could never stand braces. Like I say, It's not like I've never had guys either. I was with Jess for years, through high school and college, but that ended particularly badly. There were a few guys after that, and then Loser Dean. I don't know where to begin to explain Loser Dean, especially right now.

But that makes up our girl group. We all went to high school together, then split up to go to different colleges, Paris and I at Yale, and the other two at multiple different ones. We all now work at the Hartford Magazine together, and tonight we were supposed to be out to celebrate our bonuses for the year.

The other three were all so happy in the office, and so was everyone else. All around me there were people jumping around and planning to go on sunny holidays and buy new designer make up. Everyone except me.

It wasn't that I hadn't worked hard, oh no, I'd worked my ass of for the entire time I'd been at the company. That was the thing though. You had to have worked there for a year to qualify for the bonus, and I'd missed out by one week. One bloody week.

"Rory!" Madeline's voice cut through the sound of the heavy rain and I turned to see her holding her hand out to me, her dark hair starting to get wet. "It's raining men!"

"It's not raining men!" I snapped "It's just bloody raining!"

I turned back to the road and scowled up at the sky. Normally I wouldn't snap like that at anyone, but tonight I just wasn't in the mood, especially to talk about men. Another point to add to the list of shit that's happened tonight.

After we all decided to go out, it was supposed to be an all girls night. Then Paris invited Doyle so I ended up inviting Loser Dean.

Loser Dean is my boyfriend. My ever faithful, reliable boyfriend. Not. It seems that all those luv u rory texts meant nothing after all. He had promised to be here at ten, and as I waited at the bar for him, ignoring the others telling me it was a waste of time. I watched the doorall night, as it became more and more obvious that he wasn't coming.

Loser Dean worked in construction. When you think of a construction worker a lot of people think of tall strapping guys with lots of muscles. That however, is most definitely not Loser Dean. He's a pasty guy who's way too tall, and he doesn't seem really acquainted with it as he generally stoops. He often sweats a lot as well, but not in a good way, and whoever said that sweat was sexy was also wrong.

He isn't all bad though. He can be sweet and he's often there, its normality. I'm not lonely anymore. The nights we spent together were comforting, familiar.

I don't call him Loser Dean to his face, it's just his nickname. Everyone calls him it, though the reasons why he isn't too keen to share; and he's constantly trying to change it to other things. At the moment he's promoting 'butch', but needless to say it's not catching on.

He was probably at home with some leggy blonde girl, who called him 'butch' and loved the smell of sweat.

A cab suddenly appeared down the road and I held my arm out, trying to catch the driver's attention. Miraculously, he saw me and the cab pulled up to the side of the road.

"Hi, umm, can you take me to…"

"Sorry Love I can't do that." The moody taxi driver snapped.

"What! Why not?" I hissed, what the hell was his problem?

"No karaoke." He stated, glancing at Madeline and Louise with distaste.

"What? What do you mean 'No karaoke'?"

"My cab, my rules." He said "No Druggies, No Drunks, and No Karaoke."

Before I had the chance to say another word he was pulling away from the curb.

"Wait! Hey! You can't just…" It was too late, he was gone.

I stomped my foot in frustration. This night was just getting worse and worse.

I watched as the cab turned the corner at the end of the road and sighed. This really wasn't my night.

I turned back to the girls, noticing that the singing had stopped and saw that Madeline and Louise were in conversation with a couple of guys I had seen them chatting to inside the club. I watched as Louise flipped her hair and Madeline innocently laid her hand on the guys shoulder. Their iconic flirting moves.

I glanced back to the road with a sigh, scanning the street for any more cabs that would lead to me being able to curl up in bed anytime soon. Everyone else was enjoying themselves, despite everything, while typical me was that boring one, the one who was sheltered and never did anything particularly dangerous, or exciting.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and glanced around to see Louise waggling her long red nails at me.

"Hey," I said, glancing behind her to where Madeline was now stood alone under the umbrella. "Where're those guys?"

"Gone to tell the girls they came with that they're leaving."

"Louise!"

"What?" Louise asked, pursing her lips and sounding unrepentant "They neither of them were an item…or much of one." She pulled out a compact from her purse as Rory rolled her eyes.

"I'm getting a whole new load of new make up when this bonus comes through." She said, glancing woefully at the end of her red Chanel lipstick, that had been almost all the way worn down. "I can afford it now."

"Yeah, you should." Rory murmured, misery washing over her again.

"Oh, crap, sorry Ror." Louise said, surprisingly tactful for once "I don't want to rub it in your face."

"It's fine." I muttered, putting on a fake smile "Next year."

"Yeah." Louise said, nodding slowly, her perfect hair not even going a strand out of place. "Anyway, I came over here to tell you that Madeline and I are going home with Chris and Mike, so you can just get the cab with Paris and Doyle."

"Right, okay. That's fine" I said, putting on another fake smile. That was all I needed. More expensive cab fare and being stuck in a car with a love struck Paris and Doyle.

"Great, thanks babe." Louise said, waggling her fingers again, "Good luck tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks." I said, waving back at Madeline as she cheerily got in to one of the guys warm looking car. That was another thing.

Tomorrow.

My Dad's funeral.

I had never had the closest relationship with my dad, but when he started getting sick last year, I got to know him better than I ever did before. Mom was distraught; her childhood love was gone for good. But she had Luke now, so she was going to be okay, eventually. Tomorrow I was not looking forward to. It'd be a ridiculous society event that he would have hated, and it'd be the first time I would have seen his parents, my grandparents, since high school.

It wasn't helping that I was standing outside in the poring rain the night before. There was still no sign of any cabs, and Paris was still lip-locked with Doyle. The traffic was rushing by, drenching me with spray, my feet were killing me in these shoes, and Loser Dean was probable in bed with a girl moaning 'Butch' right this second. I was going to be stuck here forever, there was never going to be a…

"Hey!" I yelled, spotting the familiar shape of a cab. "Over here!"

I ran down the street towards it, determined to get this one. I had been waiting forever, after a really crappy day, and I needed that cab. I had to get that cab.

"Over here!" I yelled "Don't turn, over here!"

"Yes!" I said, as I saw it staring to pull up to the curb.

I suddenly spotted a man in a pin stripped suit walking along too, and started running even faster.

"No!" I yelled "That's my cab! I've been here for ages! I hailed it, don't' you dare- Argh! Arghhhh!"

Even as my foot skidded I wasn't sure what was happening. Then, as I was falling , I felt disbelief fill me. I had slipped on my stupid, too small, shiny-soled boots. I'm tumbling right over, down the steps like three year old. I try to stop myself, the paving painfully scratching my skin and wrenching my hand, grabbing for anything. But I can't stop myself-

Oh Shit.

The grounds coming straight towards me, there is nothing I can do.

This is really, really going to hurt.

A/N: Well that was it, I hope you liked it. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue yet, so I'll decide based on the response and the views I get. Please Review! I really want to know what you think, and I will reply to as many as I can. Again, ask me if you have any questions.

Thanks for reading.