Notes: Every now and then I have to write a fix-it story like this one or I think my head might explode. This idea has been kicking around in my brain for most of the summer, and finally getting to write it is my reward for catching up on "A Year in the Hollow." It takes place at the end of the summer after "Partings."

Dear Jmaka, thanks for providing the perfect gazebo memory to include as part of this story. I still miss you every day, too.

After 100 years, the gazebo had seen it all.

It had stood proudly for all of those years, trying to give the small town of Stars Hollow a sense of decorum so sadly lacking in many of its residents. It had held up its rounded roof with flair, hoping to spread a patina of historical importance over the town. Maybe its structure alone would be enough to catch the eyes of road-weary travelers, encouraging them to stop and peruse the town instead of passing it by. Occasionally, every decade or so, the gazebo would shift the bricks around in its foundation, trying to stay flexible enough to absorb all of the changes experienced in a century's worth of existence.

One thing the gazebo had observed was that although the faces visiting it continually changed, basic human nature never did. As all of the seasons of all of the years passed by, the gazebo watched a steady stream of new lovers huddle beneath its roof, exchanging first kisses. Every now and then it would spy a sparkly band being pushed onto a finger and hear words of promise. Friends, sometimes old, sometimes young, would sit on its benches and whisper secrets, oftentimes long into the night. The gazebo had witnessed the opposite side of human interactions as well, when faces reddened in anger and furious words were tossed about as hurtfully as blows. These same events occurred, over and over again throughout the decades.

But occasionally through the century, things had transpired that were completely different. One time the entire graduating class of Stars Hollow High managed to stuff themselves into the gazebo, with a few of the more adventurous climbing up to sit on the roof, their legs dangling down over the edge. And there had been one night when a young woman came to the gazebo to smoke aromatic weeds behind one of the benches, but instead burned a hole right through the floor. Also, there was that really odd fellow who had once formed a months-long bond with a squirrel beneath the gazebo's rafters. He was certainly unique among the humans who had visited the structure over the years.

Now, as people began to gather before it in the square, the gazebo sensed that this day was definitely going to be one to remember for the next one hundred years to come.

"People, can we stop dilly-dallying and come together, please? We're on a schedule. People, please!"

"We're not on a schedule, Taylor." Miss Patty's rasping voice reprimanded the over-eager Town Selectman. "You'll talk, I'll talk, the band will play, and we'll cut the cake. Don't get your knickers in a knot."

"The band can't stand there in those uniforms forever, Patty. Don't forget how many of them keeled over two years ago during the Summer Solstice Battle of the Bands. The last thing the town budget can handle is another massive dry cleaning bill to get the grass stains out of those wool pants. Besides, I'm suspicious about that cake. It's possible that Weston's used whipped cream instead of buttercream to ice it. If you don't want to deal with a salmonella outbreak, that cake needs to get eaten before the sun beats down on it much longer."

"Fine, Taylor." Patty's eye roll was almost audible. "Everybody, move in!" she yelled, and her husky shout was more successful in getting the crowd to listen.

"Sounds like everyone's in fine form today," I said to Rory. "You're sure you want to do this? Salmonella is something on your summer bucket list?"

"Well, I was hoping for E. coli, but if salmonella's the best I can do…" Rory grinned back at me. "We just won't tell Grandma that I went slumming for my stomach ailment."

"Yeah, don't tell Grandma," I repeated. "There's a sentiment I can always get behind."

Rory, my hyper-sensitive, always tuned-in kid, suddenly looked at me with more scrutiny. "You're OK, right? I mean, with being here in the square today. It's not a problem that we're here, is it?"

"Me?" I tried to laugh in a carefree, offhand way, which meant it came out sounding stressed and staged. "Sure, I wouldn't miss this!" I added, striving for some note of sincerity. At the same time I slightly turned another two degrees to the left, guaranteeing that not even the smallest part of the diner would be visible to me, not even from an accidental glance in my peripheral vision. "You've barely been home this summer to partake in any of the famed Stars Hollow buffoonery. How could we possibly skip Gazebo Day?"

Rory was giving me that look, the one that always clearly said, Can the crap, Mom. She bit the side of her bottom lip while swiftly glancing over my shoulder, back across the street, over at the diner that neither of us had been to in months. Well, at least I hadn't been there, and if Rory had, she hadn't mentioned it. So neither of us had had patty melts or chili fries or a decent cup of coffee since May. Not since that night I'd decided I was tired of waiting for my life to fall apart by steady increments and had instead blown it to kingdom come in one spectacularly explosive ultimatum.

You know, that night.

Rory brought her focus back to me, now with a frown. "You're doing town stuff again, aren't you? I know it was rough for you, back in the spring, but you haven't turned into Howard Hughes have you? You're not hiding away in the dark, scared to go outside? Doing nothing but watching movies, ordering in your food…" Rory's eyes began to glimmer mischievously. "Oh, wait…"

"One has nothing to do with the other," I declared. I fluttered my neatly manicured nails, flipped my recently trimmed hair as proof that I had nothing in common with the ill-kempt, late Mr. Hughes. "Of course I'm in attendance for all noteworthy Stars Hollow activities. How could they possibly be noteworthy without moi being there?"

My baby's blue eyes grew more serious. "I hope that's true, because I know you would be the last person in the world to let a guy determine how you live your life."

"Damn right," I scoffed. Tried to scoff. Scoffed to the best of my ability, which to tell the truth, actually wasn't so hot anymore.

"Because you are Lorelai Gilmore," Rory said, bumping her elbow into mine, in an attempt to offer encouragement. Because of course she could tell how I really felt. She could always tell. When was I ever going to concede that it was impossible to keep anything a secret from her?

"I am indeed Lorelai Gilmore." I meant to say it staunchly, an acknowledgement of the strength embedded in our shared name. But it didn't come out that way. It sounded sad. Defeated. Almost as if I was still distressed over a name-change that hadn't taken place. Which…I wasn't. I'd moved on. Accepted what had happened. And also what had not happened. I mean, it'd been since May. Many, many months ago now. Like four, at least. That was more than enough time to go back to being me.

Just…me. By myself. Alone. Forever…

Then my kid – my great kid – put her arm around my back and turned us an imperceptible amount, just enough so that neither of us could see even one ray of sun reflecting off of the diner's windows.

I gave Rory a squeeze of thanks. She squeezed me back, an infusion of love meant to get me through the next hour. Then we gave our attention to the Stars Hollow High School band as they attempted to play Five for Fighting's 100 Years. Even though we knew what they were supposed to be playing, it was still hard to make out the tune through the screechy, ill-timed notes.

The music groaned to a stop. All of us assembled gave a round of encouraging applause.

"Because maybe if we applaud enough, they won't play an encore," I whispered to Rory, heartily clapping my hands together.

"Isn't that the opposite of how that works? Don't we scream and stomp our feet until the band comes out and plays one more song?"

"Drat. A flaw in my logic."

Taylor stepped up to the front of the gazebo. "Citizens of Stars Hollow, today we gather to pay tribute to the lasting influence of our gazebo, to the structure that has grown to be the symbol of our fair town."

Someone piped up from behind us. "I thought that was the old bridge. Why have we been trying to save the thing for years, if it's not the symbol of the town?"

"Nah, it's the old mill," Gypsy declared, pointing off to the west.

"I thought it was the valley right outside of town," Andrew offered. "You know, because it's a hollow."

"People, please," Taylor huffed. "The gazebo is in the center of the square, in the center of our town, and thus in the center of our hearts. It's stood here for a hundred years, and with any luck, and the perseverance of some skilled craftsmen who cost a pretty penny per hour of restoration work, it will continue to grace our small village for many, many years to come. With that in mind, I ask our noted librarian and history buff, Eugene Potter, to step up and enlighten us with a bit of background about our beautiful gazebo."

Eugene started up to the gazebo's steps and Rory led the applause as he took his place. That girl surely loves librarians. And olden times in general. And dry, mind-numbing facts.

Eugene started us off with a bit of a history lesson, repeating yet again the fairy tale about the star-crossed lovers finding each other in what became our little storybook village. Yeah, right. Try telling that fib to someone who hasn't had her heart stomped into the dirt…Never mind. Then he went on to list the founders of the town, and the details of the town's incorporation, and the decision to make the square, amazingly enough, in the center of the town. Wow, talk about forward thinkers. After that I think he may have read off every single person living in Stars Hollow at the time the gazebo was built, but I was mentally absent by then. My mind was drifting over to the cake, wondering what flavor lay underneath the salmonella-infused icing, and how many pieces of it I could get away with eating…

Applause brought me back. Eugene was done, and Taylor was once again taking charge.

"At this time, since the gazebo has been such a presence in this town and to those of us living it in, we'd like to open the floor to any of you who have a story of significance to share. Personally, I can remember when I was just a boy, watching Mayor Teddy Lawrence address the town right from this spot after a particularly disastrous street resurfacing. It was at that moment, as some of the more vocal members of the town threatened to scoop up the lumpy asphalt and dump it on his head, that I felt the call to public service. For me, this gazebo and civic pride go hand-in-hand. A lesson that should be shared by all of you, by the way." He sent a stern look around the assembled group. "Now, who else has something to share? Patty?"

Miss Patty sauntered to the front, the handkerchief hem of her floral skirt dancing around her legs. She nodded and smiled at the crowd. "When you get to be my age – Ha, not that I'm that old! – you have too many memories to sort out just one. This gazebo has been instrumental in many, many of the days I remember. I can look out here right now and spot dozens of you who used to be my students. It makes me wonder, how many celebrations have we staged in this gazebo? Hundreds, maybe? I have no idea what the true number is, but I do know I've had students dancing every possible genre right here on this old wooden floor. Beautiful little ballerinas. Scarecrows doing the square dance. Strong, manly bullfighters doing the paso doble, swinging their capes about. Hip-hop, contemporary – you name it, we've performed it on this public stage. Possibly my all-time favorite was a sensual cha-cha I once performed with…" She stopped, smiled naughtily at us all. "On second thought, maybe that's a memory I'll keep to myself. Let's just say it's a good thing this gazebo can't talk!" With a hearty laugh she turned and stepped away, leaving the space available for someone else.

"Who's next?" Taylor boomed out. "OK, yes, Kirk. Very well." He sighed in resignation as Kirk haltingly moved into center position.

Kirk nodded solemnly at us all. "Some of you may recall that I had a rough time when I first adopted Cat Kirk. We had some issues about boundaries for a few weeks. And possibly some confusion over who was the dominant one in our relationship. That's all been resolved now, of course, but it was dicey at the beginning. Because of Cat Kirk's need for unshared space, I was temporarily displaced from my bedroom. I found that the gazebo was an acceptable place to sleep. Granted, it's not as homey as Rory Gilmore's bedroom –"

"Ewww," Rory squeaked, from next to me.

"—or as concave as Luke's boat, or as luxurious as Michel's RV, but still, I can attest that the gazebo offers a very suitable place to bed down, at least for a night or two. As long as you don't mind the cold. Or leaves blowing over your face. Or squirrels picking your pockets. But it's still –"

"Thank you Kirk," Taylor broke in. "But let's remember that we have a fine inn, the Dragonfly, just down the road should anyone need overnight accommodations. And several other motels and bed and breakfasts in the immediate vicinity. No one should have to sleep in the gazebo. In fact, no one is actually permitted to sleep in the gazebo." He sent another stern glance around at all of us, while encouraging Kirk to quickly descend the steps.

"Who's next?" Taylor asked, trying to sound welcoming, for Taylor. Unfortunately Kirk's usual weirdness seemed to be hampering anyone else's desire to answer the call. "Anybody?" he asked again, with a small degree of anxiousness.

"Come on, people, you must have memories!" Patty encouraged.

"Mom, you should go!"

"Me?" I looked at Rory in confusion. "Why me?"

"Because no one else is stepping up," she reported in an urgent whisper.

"So?"

"So this is what you do!" Rory nodded, firm in her belief. "You save the day. Go up there. Be charming. Help everybody out."

She pushed and I was forced to take a few steps forward, just to catch my balance.

"Lorelai!" Patty sounded grateful. "Come right on up here, darling."

"Lorelai." Taylor sounded dour, his normal tone when I was around. "Please. Share your memory with us."

I smiled and nodded, and dragged myself to the gazebo's steps. Once I turned around, I saw how awful this idea truly was. The diner was now right in front of my face. I was sure that the yellow coffee cup was taunting me. I could just spy what had been my favorite table, beckoning to me from the wide front window. And was that…Oh God, was that his head…?

Panic seized my head and stomach. Blindly I looked around, trying to focus on anything but the building across the street. I tried to recognize the faces of everyone standing in front of me. In a public speaking situation such as this, you were supposed to pretend the audience was in their underwear, right?

Yeah, about that. To quote my daughter: ewww.

I took a deep breath. I fought to ignore what was right in front of me. And then I did what I always did when I needed help.

I found Rory.

She smiled at me. To anyone else, it was probably just a smile. But to me, I could see she was saying 'Be brave, Mom. You can do this.' And also, 'Sor-ree.'

I took another breath. I studiously avoided looking at the diner, at the black-hatted head that might or might not be there. I looked at Rory and smiled.

"A lot of you probably know that when I first came to town I was really young and really poor." A few people chuckled. "When you have a little kid, though, and you're broke most of the time, you have to get pretty creative with entertainment options. And for us, this gazebo was the best entertainment in town. Rory watched a million old movies on TV with me, so she knew what you did when you had a platform like this gazebo. You performed." I smiled fondly at my once-little girl. "I can't tell you how many times I sat on one of these benches and watched Rory put on a one-girl show for me. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Dog Day Afternoon…" I paused while the crowd laughed. "And let's not forget how many times she did the Rocky theme while running up these steps." More laughter, even Rory was smiling tolerantly. I thrust my fists above my head. "Yo, Adrian!" That brought out a few more chuckles. I put down my arms. "She also gave many a speech from right here too, practicing for the day when we both knew she'd be the first female president. Now, it seems like she might be the one watching the president's speech and reporting to all of us about what he or she said. I have no doubt that her days of pretending here in the gazebo helped her to figure out her role in the world. I'm glad such an imaginative place was available. You're right, this gazebo has had a big impact on us all." I nodded and patted the gazebo's railing as I exited.

The crowd clapped and cheered as I made my way back to Rory. I heard what had to be Sookie's encouraging shout, but I didn't dare look over at her right then.

"Good job," Rory whispered, tucking her arm around my back again. "OK?"

"Fine," I agreed, hoping she couldn't feel me trembling.

"Who's next? Come on folks, don't be shy!" Taylor demanded.

Several other people took their turn on the steps, but I couldn't tell you for certain who they were or what they said. I was too busy concentrating on restoring my composure and trying not to over-analyze that head in the window. Trying to pretend I wasn't hyper-aware of what was hidden so precisely behind my back.

I was brought back to reality by a stir that filtered through the crowd. A few people gasped. There were murmurs of alarm. I was conscious of the feeling of lots of eyes shifting over to me, then just as quickly looking away.

I looked up and saw Luke lurching – there was really no other way to describe it – towards the gazebo.

I gasped too.

"Mom!" Rory grabbed my elbow, worried as only she could be.

Luke tried to climb the steps, lost his footing the first time, and almost fell. The crowd gasped again. The next time he grabbed hold of the railing and stumbled up the steps to the top. He turned to face us all, extra-scruffy and disheveled in a way I'd never seen before.

"Mom! Is Luke drunk?" Rory asked, horrified at what she was seeing.

"Yeah, I think so," I whispered back, unable to tear my eyes away from that sweet, stoic, bleary-eyed face.

"I've never seen Luke drunk ever," Rory continued, watching the man who was still one of her idols in abject fascination.

"I have," I murmured, my eyes glued to him as well. "Three times. Once when Jess broke his heart. Once in a limousine on a night when he was proud of me. And once on a night when he said yes." I bit my lips and swallowed hard. Seeing him like this was shredding my heart all over again.

Both Taylor and Patty were trying to gently persuade Luke that he didn't want to speak, but he was shaking them off and the more they tried to convince him to leave, the more belligerent he got.

"Mom, do something!" Rory gave me another shove, but this time I kept my feet planted. I couldn't go. Not this time.

"No, you!" I turned, grabbed her arms, and tried to fling her towards the path to the gazebo. "You go!" I encouraged her. "He still loves you! He'll listen to you!"

She gave me a look of despair, but hesitantly stepped forward, her affection for Luke overriding all else.

But by then it was too late. He stood up as straight as he could and began to speak.

My monosyllabic man. Speaking voluntarily in front of the town. For once not in a spontaneous rant, but telling a tale from his heart.

Rory came back and stood by me again, leaning her weight against my side. I wrapped my arm around her, pretending that I was the one comforting her.

Such a liar, I am.

"You all think you know what's happened here." Luke put his hand around the gazebo's post, seemed to be giving it a shake, to show how solid it was. "But none of you, none of you, know anything. Me, I know." He let go of the post to thump himself on the chest. That motion played with his balance, so he grabbed the post again.

"I'm right there." With his free hand he pointed across the street. He nodded gravely. "I see ev'rything. You unnerstand? Ev'rything."

"Luke, sweetheart, maybe –" Patty tried to stop him. Luke glared at her and she backed off, conceding him his say.

"I bet none of you know about the night me and my old man hadda come out here and fix the floor, 'cause my freaky sister snuck out here to smoke pot. About burned the whole thing down. She came running in, screaming her fool head off. Dad and me came out, put out the fire. Fixed the burned spot so's you couldn't tell."

He waved out behind him, towards the back of the gazebo. Taylor, his mouth open, scurried over to inspect the floor where it looked like Luke was pointing.

"Dad thought she was smokin' cigarettes. I knew better. But I never said. Never told," he muttered. "Never tell. Never. But today…today I feel like tellin.'"

"Oh. Oh, God." I clutched at Rory so hard she whimpered and pulled away. I felt sick. I was convinced I knew what Luke was going to tell. It was something about him and me, something intimate, something…OK, something dirty. But on that hot summer's night in the gazebo, while the rest of the town slept, it hadn't seemed dirty. It had been done out of love, a gift from me to him. It became a sweet, sexy memory between the two of us, one of those touchstone moments that brought about knowing smiles and quick kisses when we thought about it. But now I suspected he was going to expose what had happened on that sultry night, to expose me. To pay me back for how I'd betrayed him. To show the town just how much of a slut I was. To embarrass me in front of my daughter.

Payback time. And nothing I could do. Just stand there…and listen.

"It was…it was…what shoulda been…the best day of my life."

Wait. Best day? Then maybe I was wrong about what he was going to say. Maybe he was going to talk about when we got engaged? But that happened at night, too, so that couldn't be it. Could it? I felt a small helping of hope start in the pit of my stomach. Maybe this wasn't about me –or us – at all. Not everything's about you, Lorelai, I reminded myself. I waited, along with everyone else in the square.

"It was…one of those crazy days. You know. Town's crazy about…crazy things. This time…wassa basket day. You know?" He leaned against the post, so he could use both hands to sketch out the shape of a basket. "Guys supposed to bid on 'em. You know?"

Most of the people in the crowd nodded, so Luke continued.

"'Course, I wasn't takin' part. Nope. Not me. Not my thing." He looked around, looking for confirmation again. "Her thing, though."

Surreptitiously people started to look over at me. I held my breath.

"She comes running in, all inna panic. Says I gotta come buy her basket. 'Cause two other guys were gonna buy it." He shook his head, looked down at his feet. "Was always another guy," he muttered darkly.

I couldn't hold my breath any more. It came out, all shaky. Or maybe my breath was shaking because every other part of me was shaking.

"So she grabs me, drags me out here. I end up paying every cent in my wallet for two dried out ol' Pop Tarts and a Slim Jim. 'Course, it's not enough I bought the thing. Nah, we gotta eat the crap, too. I let her know I wasn't gonna do that. Not me. Nope. I was gonna make her real food. So I go back to the diner and make us real food to eat. But she says, not inna diner. Gotta eat outside. I hate eatin' outside. But I did. Here. In the 'zebo. With…her."

For the first time, he looked at me. And I realized right then that he knew exactly where I'd been standing the whole time. Just the way I'd caught that almost invisible turn of his head before, when he was inside the diner. Whether we wanted to or not, both of us were still completely attuned to the other.

He gave me a long, deep, greedy look, one that turned sad and pensive in another moment.

"Shoulda used that day…to change my life. But I didn't. I crabbed. Grumped. Like always. Told her I hated it. But I didn't hate it. I shoulda used that day, to let her know what I really felt. About her. But I didn't."

Finally he tore his gaze away from me and it was all I could do not to let my quivering legs take me down to the ground. Where was a sinkhole when you needed one? Meanwhile, Luke rubbed a hand across his eyes.

"So…I thought I oughta tell all of you. Don't let things go by. If good things happen, you need to grab 'em. Don't lie about it. Use 'em to change your life. Otherwise, it's just…misery. And…wasted…wasted time." He nodded solemnly, as though he'd had his say.

Luke somehow found his footing enough to navigate down the stairs. Jackson materialized in front of him.

"Hey, buddy," Jackson said, putting a friendly arm on Luke's shoulder.

Luke glared at him suspiciously.

"I thought I'd walk on over to the diner. What do you say? Want to join me?"

For a moment everyone held their breath, waiting to see Luke's response to Jackson's intervention.

After a moment of squinting, Luke seemed to recognize Jackson. He nodded, and the two of them ambled across the square, heading towards the diner, Jackson's arm firmly across Luke's back, guiding him.

I could hear everyone else around me murmuring and whispering, discussing what had just occurred.

"Mom? Are you OK?"

Rory's voice was full of concern. "Of course, Sweetie," I assured her. Because I was the mom. I had to be OK. It was part of the contract I'd agreed to almost 22 years ago.

"Mom," she said gently, disputing me. When I looked at her, she patted underneath her eyes, looking at me significantly.

That's when I realized I was crying. Which had happened a lot, all of those months ago, back in May. Tears suddenly dripping out of my eyes without me even realizing it.

I used both hands to dash away the tears, to wipe off my cheeks. "Hey, kid, I just remembered – I've got something I've got to do back at the Dragonfly. Gotta run. See you later – eat some cake for me, OK?"

And then I ran. Literally. I ran like my life depended on me getting as far away from the gazebo as I could.

And maybe it did.

Hours later, evening was falling. Lengthening shadows stretched across the street.

I was dressed in a black v-neck tee tucked down into dark jeans. Sneakers were on my feet. My hair was slicked back into a ponytail low on my neck. That was his least-favorite way for me to wear my hair, but when you're a ninja, you have to make fashion compromises for stealth.

And that's what I was. A ninja. Prowling through the town, with a nondescript canvas bag slung over my shoulder.

I continued my casual stroll down the street. I glanced around, confirming that no one was paying me any attention. That is, if anyone even saw me. I was, after all, a ninja. I dove for the alley running behind the diner.

Nimbly, I climbed up the three wooden steps leading to the diner's back door. I knew that since it was during the diner's regular hours of service, that door would be unlocked. The door itself was not going to be my problem. I looked behind me once more, double-checking that no one was spying on me. Then I slowly turned the knob.

Once the door opened, I stopped dead. I listened with everything I had. And I heard nothing. Shaking in spite of my ninja skills, I stepped over the threshold.

I paused for a long moment, letting my eyes grow used to the dimmer light in the back hallway. Carefully, I closed the door, trying to minimize the 'click' it made as it shut.

On my tiptoes, I peeked into the thankfully empty storeroom. I continued on down the hall, listening for anyone in the bathrooms, for anyone walking towards the curtain, but all I could hear were some indistinct voices coming from the dining room.

Finally I was at the curtain itself. Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I put my hand on the edge of the curtain, pulling it aside just enough for one of my eyes to look out. I could see a few tables were filled. I caught a glimpse of Lane's ponytail swinging by, delivering plates. Even under duress, my mouth watered from smelling the heavenly aroma of the hamburgers.

"Order up!" Caesar's voice came from inside the kitchen, just where I'd suspected he'd be.

I let the curtain fall back into place. Then I turned, preparing myself for the scariest part of my plan.

I started up the steps. All 17 of them. Geez, what a lot of steps. Aware that at any moment someone could push through the curtain and catch me, I hurried up them as fast as I could. But at the same time, I had to be quiet. And nimble. Stealthy. Like a ninja.

I am a ninja, I told myself, placing my feet as lightly as I could on the squeaky staircase.

I reached the top of the stairs. Now, just seven quick steps to the old office door. If I found it locked, I didn't know what my next course of action would be. But I was here. I'd gotten this far. I was resourceful. I'd figure out something.

It appeared luck was in my favor. Or maybe it wasn't. It all depends on how you take the fact that the door was unlocked, and slightly ajar to boot. Was it fate telling me I should go ahead with my plan, or was this the one thing propelling me to further doom and humiliation?

I put my hand on the door. I could feel my heart pounding. No, it was more than that, I could actually hear the blood racing in my ears. It was like I had suddenly awakened and found myself hanging from a shredding rope off of a mountain cliff somewhere. I was utterly terrified at what I was doing. I put my forehead on the frosted glass of the door, right on the letters spelling out 'Office' and 'Private' and took a couple of deep breaths.

I came so close to turning and fleeing right back down the stairs. I mean, what the hell did I think I was doing here? What did I hope to accomplish by this fool's mission? What good was this going to do? What if this did nothing but somehow hurt him more?

All of the times he'd taken care of me over the years flashed through my memory. The least I could do was to return the favor, right? I owed him so much more than this puny effort, but this was all I had at the moment.

I sucked in a big breath and held it, pushing open the door. I stepped inside, then quietly shut the door behind me.

Too late now. For better or worse, I was in.

All in, his voice echoed in my brain, making me cringe.

For several minutes I just stood there and breathed, settling my nerves. My eyes darted everywhere in the dusky room. I could barely see Luke stretched out on his back on the bed. He was snoring away. I relaxed a little bit because I knew that meant he was soundly out. I could safely leave my care package and he'd be none the wiser until he woke up.

An inch at a time, I made my way over to the bed. Yeah, I know, that was a totally stupid thing to do. I should have stayed as far away from him as possible. But I couldn't help it. I ached to see him.

His face…God, his face. It hit me so hard, just to see him up close again. The last time I'd seen him, in the grocery store across town, where he told me we were never meant to be together in the first place…I was so frozen that night, just like the ice cream behind the glass doors. And he was so precise, so carefully determined to make sure I knew it was over. If I hadn't already been turned to ice, what he said would have hurt me so badly. But I was already so broken, so drained, nothing more could register. Not his face. Not his words. It just played out in front of me, as if I was watching some sappy Lifetime movie and not directly involved in the action.

The dim light in the apartment played tricks on me. The shadows hid the years, obscured the lines on his face. Made me believe, for just a moment, that we were a much younger Luke and Lorelai. That maybe we could go back, try again. That the unforgiveable hadn't happened after all. That I could curl up in his arms and wake up happy again.

But then I saw the hat, tossed over to the side of the bed. It was black. Even in the shadows, I knew it was black. No way could I pretend it was still blue.

I stifled a sigh, along with a childish desire to stuff that stupid hat into my bag, take it home, and burn it to ashes in my fireplace. Which I probably couldn't do safely anyway, since Luke hadn't been around to clean out my fireplace in so long.

And…burning the stupid hat would solve nothing. Except to make me feel better.

Impatient with my maudlin longings, I tore myself away from the bed. Stepping in time to his snores, I made my way over to the kitchen. Carefully I set my bag down on the counter.

First I pulled out a small bottle of Extra-Strength Tylenol. He-Man Luke believed that painkillers were for sissies, and that somehow taking a simple aspirin was almost like mainlining heroin. He really knew better, of course, and during bad headaches or the flu season, he'd grudgingly swallow down the pills. But once the crisis had passed, he got rid of the medications, which meant that every single time he truly needed some, he never had any in the house. I knew when he woke up in the morning with a pounding head he'd have nothing to take to mitigate it. I put the bottle front and center on the counter so he wouldn't miss it.

Next I pulled out a package of wide egg noodles, trying to smother the crinkling of the cellophane bag. One thing I'd learned about Luke, something that probably not too many other people did, was that his go-to comfort food was buttered noodles. He liked them cooked in a little bit of chicken broth, with ample butter melted down over them once they were on the plate, and then dusted over the top with some freshly ground Parmesan cheese.

The bag of noodles and the can of chicken broth went on the counter, next to the Tylenol. Cautiously I opened the refrigerator door and stowed away the butter and block of Parmesan. I was tempted to go ahead and make them for him – I had learned how – but they were better fresh, and besides, cooking would make too much noise.

The last things in my bag went into the refrigerator, too. Six glass bottles of cream soda. Another one of Luke's weaknesses. Another secret I knew. He loved cream soda, a relic of his childhood. Not in cans, though. It had to be in a glass bottle. Something he loved, but not something he'd let himself indulge in, unless he was sick.

Drunk, sick, hung over – all the same, I'd decided. He deserved the indulgence.

And…that was it. Done. I looked around, acknowledging my feeling of emptiness, even though I'd accomplished what I'd hoped. There was nothing else left to do. No reason for me to stay longer.

But then I looked a little more closely at the apartment. It was a mess. Not as bad as when Jess first arrived and the apartment was too small for the two of them, but it was bordering on that level of clutter. It made me think that today hadn't been the first day that Luke hadn't been his usual competent self.

Quietly, I began picking up. Gathering up cans and putting them in the recycling bin, placing them carefully so they didn't rattle as they landed. Putting dirty dishes into the sink. Picking up mail and placing it in a single pile on the desk. Collecting an assortment of flannel shirts and socks, and dumping them into the dirty clothes basket in the bathroom.

As I worked, I noticed the changes. How the bed that had once been Jess's was now obviously April's. I saw new touches, such as flowered pillows and hair conditioner, indicating that a teenaged girl now lived here, at least some of the time.

I tried to be nasty about the April stuff. How nice, I thought with a sneer, that he can change his life around for her. But my heart wasn't in it. Because I knew he'd made changes for me, too, once upon a time. And maybe, maybe if I'd waited, found some more patience and held my tongue, maybe he'd have let me belong here once again. With him. And with April.

Maybe.

I'd been working slowly, to make sure I stayed quiet, and also, to be truthful, to stretch out my stay a little bit longer. But finally I could find nothing else to do. All that was left to do…was to leave.

The lure of the man on the bed drew me close again. The setting sun was casting some dying rays into the room, and I was able to see him more clearly. I studied him, trying to be unbiased. He was a handsome guy, no doubt about that. That was a fact I'd always known, but somehow I'd managed to block that truth away for a lot of years. Just push it aside. I was able to somehow pretend I wasn't attracted to him physically. That he wasn't everything I'd ever wished for, all neatly wrapped up in flannel and smelling like coffee.

God, how could I have been so continually stupid?

I kept on watching him. I watched him sleep, my heart pinging with pain and loss with every breath he took. Getting to see him again was worth the discomfort to me.

Downstairs, there was a shout, a tinkling crash. Luke stirred at the noise and I went perfectly still. The diner settled back down, and Luke slept on, once again peaceful in his slumber.

One of his arms was thrown out across the bed and the other one was folded over his chest. Watching him, my sensory memories slowly awoke. I could remember what it felt like, to be cradled in that safe spot next to his heart. The memory was so real and strong I could feel his arm pulling me closer. My nose was tickling from where his chest hair was rubbing against it. I could recall the contentment that had washed over me every night, making me feel loved and warm as we fell asleep together.

Something wet splashed against my hand. I realized I was doing the unconscious crying thing again. This time it was going to be bad, though. I began to panic because the sobs growing in my chest weren't going to be stoppable. What control I may have had was gone, stripped away by standing here next to him.

I fled towards the bathroom, one ineffective hand held over my mouth in an attempt to limit the damage. I shut the door quickly, not caring so much about being quiet as I was about hiding myself away.

Looking into the mirror, I saw tears already flooding over my cheeks. Never a pretty crier, I looked away and wiped my face. I didn't need to see how much I still grieved. Believe me, I felt it every day.

Then…it all crashed down on me. What I'd said, what I'd felt, the worst decision I'd ever made in my entire lifetime of bad decisions – things I'd managed to suppress for months. It was all there, insistently pounding through my horrified brain.

Worst of all, I could see Luke's face again. The way he'd looked that morning at my house, in the split second after I'd told him what I'd done. His beautiful, sweet face. So hurt. So devastated. Not wanting to believe what I'd told him, but yet somehow knowing it was true, and looking so utterly destroyed.

That morning, I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand seeing him like that. I certainly couldn't bear to remember him like that; to know that I was the one responsible for hurting him so badly. So...I simply didn't remember. I had locked that face away, someplace where it couldn't hurt me.

Until today. Until Harry Houdini apparently came along with a drunken Luke and had forced open the lock, spilling out those wretched memories.

Now I really couldn't control my actions. Tears were streaming out of my eyes and hysterical sobs were choking me.

I grabbed a towel from above the sink and shoved my face into it, hoping to somehow stifle my howls.

The towel – another bad decision. It smelled like him, like his shampoo. His aftershave. Even more memories drowned me. I tried to smother my distress into the terrycloth and sank down onto the floor.

And then, just as I thought things surely couldn't get any worse, I suffered an epiphany while lying on Luke's tiny bathroom floor in agony, sobbing into one of his towels. In my head I could hear myself as I was that night out in the street, begging him to tell me he still loved me. He said yes, he did, but I didn't believe him. I hadn't believed him for a very long time by that point. So I walked away, and did what I did. And then the next morning the completely heartbroken look on his face proved that his love for me did still exist.

Ironic, huh? I finally got the confirmation I so desperately needed by doing the thing that destroyed the love he still had for me after all.

Whatever remained of my heart exploded in regret and shame. I hurt. Pain took over every molecule of my body. There was too much pain to even breathe.

I have no idea how long I laid there, how long I cried, but the tears came until I was simply too weak to cry anymore. There was nothing else left in me to put towards tears. I curled up on the bathroom floor, too drained to get up. I just laid there for untold minutes, listening to my heart thump with pain, my lungs wheeze for air.

Eventually I staggered up because I knew I had to. I washed my face and dried it, avoiding the image in the mirror at all cost. I tossed the towel I'd used into the dirty clothes bin and got out a fresh one to hang in its place. After all, I knew where the clean linens were, and I'd been a good maid. I knew how to straighten a bathroom. Might as well make myself useful.

I pulled out the elastic holding my hair back and fluffed it out – Yeah, like that was going to make any difference in how I looked. I just hoped I could somehow get home without anyone noticing my red eyes and puffy cheeks.

Ninja, I reminded myself, but that thought no longer had any meaning for me.

I knew I needed to leave as quickly as I could. For sure I'd outstayed my welcome. But still, I was desperate for one more look at him, even if the sight triggered another crying fit. If this was the last time I'd be this close…I had to take one more look.

Once more I tiptoed over to the bed. The sun was down now; the room was all in shadows. I peered closely into his face, trying to make out his features.

His eyes blinked up at me.

I gasped in shock and stumbled backwards, frantic to flee.

"Hi," he said, before I could move further away. His voice was thick with sleep and it tore through me, reminding me of countless morning goodbyes.

"Hi," I managed to say back. My voice was still thick with the tears I'd shed.

He looked at me, seemed to spend some extra time studying my weepy eyes. Then he rolled onto his side towards me and put up his arm in invitation, almost as if he was offering me the chance to cuddle with him.

"Luke?" I questioned him, not sure what I should do next.

"Jus'…come 'ere."

"Luke…I can't. You know…We know I can't do that."

He looked confused. "Why not?"

"Because…" I gulped, tried to swallow away yet another sob. "Because you're drunk, and you don't realize what you're saying. I don't think you know…where we are, exactly. What's happened."

He put down his arm and studied me again for some heart wrenching minutes before slowly beginning to speak. "I might still be drunk some, but I know what's going on. I remember…" His eyes tracked over my face, lingered on my eyes. "I suspect I remember every bit as much as you do. And for what I know…I know I miss you ev'ry damn day."

That sob refused to be held back any longer.

"Lor'lai." His voice was gentle, yet full of that impatience I knew oh-so-well. "Just come 'ere. That's all, for now. That's…enough. For now."

I could feel the tears coming back, although how my body could create more of them was beyond me. I plopped down on the bed and reached for the hand that he'd stretched out to me. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I said through the first of the new batch of sobs.

He squeezed my hand. "Yeah," he said gruffly. "I know. And me. I'm sorry too."

"I'm just…I didn't mean…"

He tugged on my hand. "Just come here," he insisted again, pulling harder.

"But…we should talk…we need…"

He was shaking his head. "We will. When we wake up."

I sniffled hard, in what I'm sure was a most charming manner. "When…when we wake up?"

"Yeah. We'll talk then. But for now…" He tugged again, impatiently. "Just come here. I wanna hold you."

I caved. I crawled onto his bed, curled myself against his chest. His arm went around me, holding me close. I smelled the coffee aroma that was permanently embedded into the threads of every piece of clothing he owned. I cried a few more tears into the soft cotton tee smashed against my face.

Comfort flooded over me, in almost the same way that despair had taken me over a little bit earlier. My body was relaxing, letting go of the pain. Drowsy, I realized that I was going to fall asleep in his arms.

Luke sighed contentedly into the top of my head and pulled me closer against him.

For the first time in months, I wasn't dreading what the morning would bring.

Because in the morning…we'd be awake. And together. And talking. And maybe…maybe that second chance at happiness was more than just a trick of the light after all.

Outside in the town square, the twinkle lights wrapped around the gazebo's upright posts came to life, automatically programmed to provide a little illumination in the dark.

And the gazebo serenely settled into another night of watching over the citizens of Stars Hollow, ready for the events of the next 100 years to unfold.