Disclaimer: I have no ownership of any of these remarkable characters. I just thought it would be fun to mix them together.

A/N: In case there are any Firefly fans hovering about, yes, the use of 'shindig' and 'special hell' were deliberate word choices.

The bells jingled and the excited whisper of voices started at once.

"Oh, goodie," Luke muttered, knowing immediately who had walked into the diner.

"Rick!"

"Mr. Castle!"

Rick swiped off his sunglasses and greeted everyone amiably as he tucked them into his jacket pocket. It appeared that he'd learned the names of nearly every resident. He acted as though this was his town, that these people were his followers, and he was their benevolent ruler. Apparently all of the acclaim flowing his way was nothing more than what he believed he was due.

Luke tucked his arms across his chest and watched, the counter nudging into his back. The last thing he wanted to do was to wait on the smug guy. Especially not after he'd seen the cozy atmosphere at the Inn last night. He wasn't that dense. He didn't need to have it rubbed in his face. It was obvious that Lorelai was crazy about him.

He braced himself against the counter and then shoved off from it. He'd done this before. He'd watched them come and go. He could do it again, if he had to. And apparently, he'd have to.

"Good morning!" Rick settled onto a stool at the counter and gave Luke that easy-going smile. "Quite the shindig last night, wasn't it?"

"Lorelai's good at anything she does," Luke said immediately, sticking up for her the way he always did. But then his words replayed in his head and he cringed.

Rick grinned as if he could read his mind, but then shrugged and slapped his hands down flat on the counter.

"I am a man on a mission this morning. I am here specifically to have the Monte Cristo."

Luke couldn't hold back the disbelieving bark of laughter. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, no I am not," Rick said confidently, smiling at Luke. "The moment I read it in the menu, I knew I was going to have to try it."

"No one's ever ordered it," Caesar chimed in from the other end of the counter. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," Rick confirmed, nodding his head. "Creating the ultimate breakfast combination is sort of a little hobby of mine, and I consider this to be research." He pointed a finger at Caesar's doubtful face. "You just wait. Someday there's going to be an omelet with my name on it."

"Well, it's good to have a goal in life," Luke said, trying to tamp down the sarcasm as much as possible. "You want coffee?"

"You have to ask?" Rick sounded offended. "Of course I want coffee. That stuff's the real black gold. Fill up one of those huge mugs for me, will you?"

Caesar got the coffee while Luke went into the kitchen to fix the Monte Cristo. He tried to make a lot of noise, but it didn't work. He was still able to hear the author bantering with everyone out in the diner.

The conversation died out when Luke brought out the platter and sat it in front of Rick. Everyone held their breath, waiting on the verdict.

Rick eyed the golden brown creation warily. He cut off a bite and blew on it before taking it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully. His eyes closed.

"This," he decreed, "is fantastic!" He cut off another bite and shoved it in his mouth. "Seriously, this is great." He spoke around the food in his mouth. "It could maybe use some more powdered sugar, though. Or ― Oh! You know what would be perfect? Syrup! Maple syrup!"

Luke shook his head, watching as the Swiss cheese oozed out. His stomach was turning not only from the disgusting food in front of him but because he could so easily imagine someone else saying the same thing. No wonder Rick and Lorelai were so cozy together. It was like they were separated at birth.

"I should have taken it off the menu years ago," Luke said. "It's nothin' but a way to transport cholesterol into your body."

"Oh, but it's a good way," Rick protested, shoveling in another bite.

"Geez," Luke sighed, turning to go.

"Wait," Rick said, grabbing a quick gulp from his coffee mug. "I wanted to talk to you, if you've got the time."

"You want to talk to me?" Just the sound of that made him nervous. He looked around for some reason to bolt. Besides Caesar, two other of his staff were on the job this morning. He really wasn't needed anywhere, so there wasn't any excuse to get away. He gave up and shrugged. "Sure. Go ahead," he said, his voice decidedly unenthusiastic.

Rick wiped the grease from his fingers. "I need to talk to you now, because we're leaving today."

"Oh?" Luke found that part interesting.

"Yep." Rick quickly got another sip of the coffee. "I just need to go and pick up Alexis, and then we're heading home to the city. I figure I've got enough material to keep Derrick Storm trapped in a small town for weeks." He shot Luke one of his confidential smiles, like they were the best of friends. "The trick is going to be in getting Alexis away from Rory. You would not believe the way those girls have bonded. It's like they're practically sisters. I'm know Lorelai and I are going to be pestered to death until they get to see each other again." He pretended to sigh. "I guess that means I'll be forced into the lovely Ms. Gilmore's company for the foreseeable future."

Something very close to panic shot through Luke's chest and he gulped. Actually gulped. He couldn't help it.

He didn't see the pleased look on Rick's face as he observed Luke's reaction.

"I'd like to tell you a story, if I could." Rick's voice was already sliding into storyteller mode.

"Me?" Luke sputtered, trying to think of a reason to flee.

"Yes. I have just a portion of the story in my mind. I often like to get people's unbiased opinions when I'm first starting something new, you know, just to see if I'm completely going down the wrong path. OK if I use you as a guinea pig?"

"I'm really not much of a literature guy. But, uh, sure. I mean, I don't know what I can tell you." Luke scanned the diner again, still desperate for an excuse to escape. "Go ahead," he finally sighed in resignation.

"Well, the story takes place in a sort of a storybook village, pretty much like this one. A scenic place, where everyone knows everyone else. A place where there aren't many secrets. And in this town, there's a quiet man. Someone strong and dependable. Someone who's able to blend into the background, but who, at the same time, is an important part of the makeup of this town." Rick paused, taking another sip of the coffee. "I was thinking of calling him 'Duke Lanes,'" he commented wryly.

Caesar chuckled from the end of the counter.

"Go on," Luke said, glaring at both of them.

"Also in this town, there's a beautiful woman. She's every man's dream girl. She's smart and funny, witty, clever, kind … Did I mention the beautiful part? And sexy. Oh, so sexy. Legs like you would not believe. Every man in town would kill to be with her." Somehow Rick was able to put a certain sort of chill on the word 'kill' as he uttered it. "Our quiet guy, of course, is in love with her, too, but he doesn't pursue her. He knows that a quiet guy doesn't have a chance with someone like her. But it's a small town, he's a dependable guy, she's a kind girl, and eventually they become friends. And friends, he thinks, is all they'll ever be. He decides he can live with that. He watches the boyfriends come and go, and he makes peace with that. He believes that by being her friend, he'll be able to keep her forever, unlike the lovers she so casually tosses aside."

"Do they stay just friends?" Luke was startled to hear Gypsy's voice at his elbow. She had climbed onto a stool next to Rick, unnoticed, and appeared to be enthralled by the story.

Rick inclined his head towards Gypsy and smiled. "Yes. For a time, anyway. Until a stranger shows up in their small town. A ruggedly handsome, charming stranger. Someone that our Quiet Man hates and distrusts on sight. Someone that our Beautiful Girl is attracted to at once."

"Uh-oh," Kirk intoned, from the table right behind the counter.

"Uh-oh indeed," Rick confirmed. "It doesn't take long before the Handsome Stranger and the Beautiful Girl are an accepted couple in the town. Our Quiet Guy can't go anywhere without being bludgeoned by the sight of them together. The small town becomes a sort of special hell for him."

"Why doesn't he do something about it?" Taylor fumed, taking a seat beside Kirk. "He should do a background check on the stranger. I'll bet anything he's up to no good!"

Rick smiled as murmurs of agreement rose up from all corners of the diner. "Our Quiet Guy is able to smother his mistrust of the stranger. After all, he's seen her flit from guy to guy for years. He doesn't expect that this will be anything but another fling. He's prepared to bide his time and wait this one out, too. But one night, he finds himself in the bar in town, listening in disgust as the Handsome Stranger, drunk, brags all about his conquest of the town's Beautiful Girl. He can't bear to be in the same room. He leaves the bar, but once outside, he lingers in the shadows. Just, he thinks, to talk to the Stranger. Just to let him know that he shouldn't talk about her the way he was. Just to make sure that the Stranger understands how special this girl is. That's all, he thinks. Just to talk."

"Oh, this ain't gonna end good," Babette groaned to Miss Patty at their table.

"No. No, it's not," Patty murmured back, her eyes glued to Rick's profile.

"Finally the Stranger stumbles out of the bar, puffed up from the stories he'd told, reeking of the whiskey he'd consumed. Our Quiet Guy stops him, tries to tell him he'd appreciate it if he'd not talk about the Beautiful Girl that way again. The stranger laughs at him. Tells him he's fool and that this is no concern of his. He orders him to go away. Our Quiet Guy grabs him, just to try and talk to him a little bit more, just to convince him again of how exceptional this girl is. But the Stranger is drunk and belligerent, and isn't about to let anyone put hands on him. He swings out and lands a punch. The Quiet Guy deflects the next one and tries to push the Stranger away. He has no intention of fighting this intoxicated blowhard. But it turns out that the shove was enough to defeat the drunken Stranger. Already unbalanced by the whiskey, he stumbles and falls, cracking his head on the granite hitching post supposedly once used to tether General Washington's horse."

Not one patron in the diner spoke or moved. Everyone was mesmerized by Rick's story.

"Our Quiet Guy is stunned by the huge pool of blood that soon envelopes the body on the ground. He's dumbfounded by how quickly one life was taken and how quickly his own life has shattered. He takes a few faltering steps backwards, desperate to get away from the gruesome sight before him. And then, he makes a decision in a split second. This good, dependable man; this man that has always done the right thing, suddenly makes a decision that will haunt him for the rest of his life. He turns and walks away."

A few people gasped. Luke swallowed hard.

"He wants to run towards the safety of his home, but he doesn't. He doesn't want to call any attention to himself. He breathes a sigh of relief once he's safely inside. A logical man, he goes over all of the ways he could be linked to the body one street over and comes up with nothing. There's no reason anyone would suspect him of waylaying the Stranger that evening. They'd had no interaction and everyone in the bar saw him leave much earlier. He thinks that he's probably just gotten away with murder, but he feels sick.

"Just as dawn begins to make the statue in the town square visible, he hears the sirens. The Stranger's body has been found. He goes outside with most of the rest of the townspeople, fearful that if he doesn't it would appear odd. He quickly hears a half-dozen variations from his neighbors about what has happened, but as he has figured, no one looks at him suspiciously. Why would they?

"Later in the morning the local police stop by his place of business to question him. 'Just a formality,' the deputy tells him, respectfully. They're talking to everyone who was in the bar that past evening, and all of the patrons have confirmed that the Quiet Man left long before the Stranger staggered out the door.

"The small town doesn't have any high-tech medical center. It barely has a police force. The body of the Stranger is transported to the nearest large town with a coroner, who confirms that the Stranger's blood alcohol level is off the charts. His death is determined to be just a sad, drunken accident. Our Quiet Man is off Scot-free, just as he calculated."

"Whoa," Kirk breathed out.

"The Quiet Man tries to ignore what has happened. He tries to ignore the way his heart is still beating in fear of being found out. He tries to ignore the shame that haunts him every night as he tries to sleep."

"But … But he didn't mean to!" Babette cried out in protest.

"Then he becomes aware of something he hadn't put into his calculations, and that's how the death of the Stranger has affected the Beautiful Girl. She's grieving over the death. As much as he tries to ignore that fact, he can't. She's hurting. He needs to help her. It's the rhythm they've perfected together, and he can't break it. So finally one night he gathers up a bottle of brandy and goes to her ―"

"It'd be tequila," Luke broke in, his voice strained.

Rick looked like he was trying to hide his satisfied smile. "Tequila, then," he said, agreeably changing his story. "So he picks up a bottle of tequila and a bag of … Limes?" he asked Luke, lifting an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah. Limes," Luke muttered.

"OK," Rick nodded. "He goes to her house and before he knows how it happens, she's crying in his arms. She tells him, with tears running down her pretty face, that she's so lonely. The people in town don't know what to say to comfort her and so they've been avoiding her. 'But,' she says, 'I knew you'd come. I knew I could always count on you to be here when I needed you. You've always been my best friend.' Her words soothe his heart that's been shrouded in fear. They sit down together and have a drink or two as they talk and reminisce. Somehow his arm stays around her shoulders. Her head finds a resting place on his chest.

"As the evening wears on, the most remarkable thing happens. The Beautiful Girl tells him that she never loved the Stranger at all. He was just somebody she was passing time with. It turns out that her heart is already taken. It turns out that she's been in love for years. The Quiet Man thinks he must be dreaming when she finally reveals that she is, in fact, in love with him."

Miss Patty let out a cry of triumph. "I knew it!"

Rick turned and gave her a sad smile, before looking back at Luke. "The Quiet Man has never felt such jubilation. Every dream he's ever had is coming true. The woman he's been longing for has just told him she wants him. It should be the happiest day of his life."

Rick paused, and everyone went very still, anxious to hear what happened next.

"But in the next moment, he realizes he could never have one happy day with the woman of his dreams, because his guilt over the Stranger's death would never allow him to live a joyful life with her. He sees his choices clearly. He could admit what had happened and watch her despise him, or he could pretend to live blissfully with her and let the guilt eat him up. Either way, he was doomed … to live the rest of his life … in misery."

Rick's words faded away and he took a needed mouthful of his cooled coffee.

"But what happened next?"

"Is that it?"

"What did he decide?"

"Did she still love him?"

"But it wasn't even his fault!"

Rick put up his hands as he spun around on the stool. "That's as far as I've gotten," he told everyone. "I think that possibly the Stranger's death is something that happened in the town's past, possibly a generation earlier. I think that it might be a secret that's been harbored and is just now coming to light when Derrick rolls into town. I haven't figured out all of the details yet."

He turned back around as people groaned and complained about the unfinished story. He smiled at Luke. "So, what did you think?"

Luke had barely moved as Rick had spun the tale. Now he rubbed at his cheek and tried to shake off the image of Rick dead in the street, blood gushing out of his head. "Um, it was … something, all right. It caught my interest. I might … I might have to read it when it comes out. Just to see how it ends."

Rick looked satisfied. "Good. That's good. It hooked you, huh?"

"Uh, yeah," Luke had to admit, staring down at the floor.

Rick stood up from the stool. "Well, as much as I hate to leave the habitat of the Monte Cristo and the best coffee in New England, I need to be heading home."

Luke, his mind still locked on the story, missed the cue to hand Rick his check. Rick smiled and pulled some bills from his wallet, laying them under his plate.

"Luke, this has been quite an experience, staying in Stars Hollow." Rick held out his hand and Luke reached over the counter to grasp it. "I'm glad I got to meet you. And remember, if you ever want to branch out with your coffee, just let me know. I'll have the partnership papers drawn up in a flash."

Luke gave the No-Longer-a-Stranger a thoughtful smile. "I think I'm happy just being here."

"I think you are, too," Rick agreed. He took a moment, checking to make sure he had everything in his pockets. Right before he turned to leave, he looked at Luke seriously again.

"All of that stuff I just spouted, you realize I made it all up, right?" he asked, waving his arm in the air to indicate all of the words he'd just spilled. "That's what I do, you know. That's my profession. I make stuff up."

"Sure," Luke said, frowning. "Uh, sure. Right."

Rick nodded, looking satisfied that Luke understood. He took a step away from the counter, but then paused and stepped back, leaning his elbow on the countertop so that he could direct his next comment more privately to Luke.

"All of it came from here," he said, tapping his forehead. "All of it's fantasy. Except for one line. The part about who's really in her heart? That's a direct quote." He nodded as he scanned Luke's face. "I thought you should know."

Luke didn't notice as Rick kissed Gypsy's hand and clapped Caesar on the back. He didn't notice as Rick walked out of the diner, pausing to hug Babette and Patty. He didn't hear all of the shouted goodbyes or the bells chiming as the door closed. He crossed his arms and stared at the countertop, wondering if he could trust the author's final message.

"Boss? Hey Boss?"

He finally became aware that Caesar, rolling up napkins at the end of the counter, was trying to get his attention. He turned to look at him, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to get back to normal.

Caesar's eyes carefully kept to his chore. "I was just thinking that if you wanted to leave the diner right now, we've got plenty of help." He chanced a quick look at Luke. "I mean, if you had errands to run, or something like that."

"Like if maybe you wanted to tell Lorelai a story, or somethin'," added Gypsy, blunt as always.

He stared at the dark-haired woman as if she was speaking a foreign language.

"Rick's little girl spent the night with Rory at Lorelai's," Babette suddenly piped up. "So that's where he's headin', to go pick her up."

"But Lorelai's already at the Inn," Patty added. "We passed her earlier."

Luke's head swiveled as he listened to one diner after another. "Well," he said, slowly. He took off his hat and studied it for a moment before he tugged it back in place. "Lorelai has been after me to stop by the Inn and look at a patio door that's sticking."

"You should go," Caesar said eagerly, but when Luke turned to look at him sharply, he quickly turned his focus back to his task.

"I guess I will then." Luke tried to stroll towards the door, but his heart was beating with excitement. His strides got longer and he was nearly sprinting by the time he got to the door.

There was a moment of silence as everyone grinned at everyone else.

"They say everyone has a story to tell," Kirk said in his usual serious monotone. "Maybe I should try my hand at writing."

"Yeah, you do that, Kirk!" Babette cackled.

Caesar nodded at Gypsy, a big smile on his face as he stood up, gathering all of the napkins he'd been working on. "I have a feeling that this story is going to have a happy ending," he predicted.

"Oh, honey!" Miss Patty admonished him. "You don't have to be a mystery writer to know that!"