Author's Note: This is a missing moment from episode 6x01 "New and Improved Lorelai" when Lorelai's crying in Rory's empty bedroom, and Luke shows up to shout that it's a full moon and the moment's here. The episode cuts off right there (horribly) but this story does not.

Dedicated to Petit97, who writes lovely reviews, and who was excited for this story.

The Moment

LUKE POV

I pretend not to notice the tear streaks on her face, and she pretends not to notice the ring-box-shaped bulge in my pocket.

I know why she was crying. She says she's fine, which means I'm supposed to pretend I believe that, but we both feel the absence of Rory like an abscess in a tooth. Just out of sight but no less painful for it. Impossible to ignore.

When we get to the lake I whip the truck around and back the trailer into the water. I give Lorelai a crank to turn, and a rope to hold while I row the boat off the trailer and pilot it up to the bank. While I do it, I look around a little more than necessary, hunching my shoulders under my old green coat.

It takes her longer than usual to catch on, but for Lorelai, that just means she's a step quicker than a normal person, instead of three.

"If you thought the swan was dangerous, maybe you should have brought a weapon. A fly swatter, or maybe a nice bazooka or something," Lorelai suggests.

I jump off the bow of the boat, the old stiffness in my right leg rocketing up into my hip socket with the impact.

"Hmph," I grunt, throwing another look up the shadowy bank as I usher her into the boat. She seems distracted from the dried tear streaks on her face, so I'm happy to ham it up as much as I need to about the supposedly homicidal swan who lives at this pond.

Though considering what he did to Jess's face, if that waterfowl comes within a mile of Lorelai, I'll tie its neck in a knot it would take three orthopedic veterinarians to unfurl.

I park the truck and grab a blanket from behind the seat.

Lorelai says nothing as I untie the boat from the tree on the bank. Not a single ass joke, which is not good. Well, bad for Lorelai's mood. Good for my dignity.

By the time I'm rowing out across the lake, not a Notebook movie reference in sight, I'm starting to sweat. Maybe tonight isn't the right night for a moment. When she proposed, she said she just wanted to be happy, and I could feel the truth of that in her kiss. In…other things that night in my apartment.

I could tell that even if she was using us to cope with the loss of Rory, it wasn't getting in the way of what she genuinely felt. I've never been a happier man. Not that night. Not the next morning, either, at least until Patty and Babette reminded me I'd slacked off on my masculine duty.

The moon glistens slickly over the surface of the water. That bright silver gleam women find inexplicably romantic. But Lorelai's still staring all unfocused at the bottom of the boat. When I pause, water dripping quietly off the oars, she finally looks up and smiles.

"Aww, I get it now. You're popping my fishing cherry!"

"It's not your first time."

It takes her half a second, then she laughs. "That's right, the kiddie pool."

Those wader garters. Ridiculous, and still reminiscent enough of lingerie to make me glad my coat was long, because the snowy air wasn't enough to counteract the effect of Lorelai Gilmore with the charm on full-blast.

Her smile starts to slip. "You taught me to fish so I could go on a date with another guy and the whole time you had my horoscope in your wallet." She shakes her head. She's a little subdued tonight, more sentimental than usual. It's how she always gets after she's been dumped, though that's usually by a guy instead of her only daughter. Which means it's never cut this deep before. "Why would you do that, Luke?"

I answer the question she asked, not the deeper one beneath it. "Because I knew something that guy didn't." I haul on the oars, sending us shooting closer to the center of the pond. "I knew you'd name the fish, and never hurt them, and then go home and eat something made out of dead cow with pig on top." I shift the oars, the wood rough against my bare hands. "And I knew you'd have more fun with me."

The light comes back into her eyes. "Aren't you the cocky one?"

"You did though, didn't you?" I push her, because this is supposed to be our moment, and I want her in the right frame of mind. Plus, selfishly, I want to hear her admit it.

She smirks prettily. "I plead the fifth."

I smile, because I know that means I won. "I did, too." I remember the cork I knew she'd never take off her hook, and her relentless teasing, and her beautiful hair.

I lean a little on the right oar to turn, because the pond is small but I want to keep rowing a little longer, and Lorelai won't notice if we make an extra circuit.

"It's funny with you," I say. "You know when you have that crush on the pretty girl in high school, and you get her, and then she's boring?"

Lorelai flutters her eyelashes. "Occupational hazard of being a jock in short shorts that are easy on the eyes and hard on the ego, Butch."

I give her an I'm serious look.

"Must have been just you," she says. "All the cheerleaders I dated in high school were far from boring."

I row harder and grind my teeth, because Lorelai Gilmore is as straight as the New Jersey turnpike, and for as much time as she spends digging for compliments, she dodges faster than a hockey goalie when she sees truly genuine praise coming her way. "What I was trying to say," I growl, "is that it's not like that with you. You're…better than I thought you would be."

"Aww, you sure know how to flatter a girl."

"Lorelai, I was in love with you." I stop rowing because I don't want a single sound she can focus on to deflect my words. "Have been in love with you for eight years. Being with you is better than that."

She's smiling exactly like she did when she proposed, the emotion behind her eyes growing big, big, so big even Lorelai seems to have trouble talking around it. But this time, I'm the one doing the talking, because I prepared for this.

"Being with you is better than all of that. Easier and more interesting and funnier and infinitely more irritating because I can't believe the crap you can talk me into." I hesitate, but even if she teases me for it, I want to say it. I need to say it, like you need to exhale when you've been holding your breath far too long. "But I feel…better. All the time, I just feel better."

Lorelai visibly softens, like she's too touched to even manage a joke. "Me, too," she murmurs. "You're always behind me, these days."

"Sounds kind of creepy."

She tucks her palms between her knees and even in the blunted colors of a moonlit night, her eyes are the bluest thing I've ever seen.

"All those years it was just me," she said. "When my porch rotted out or I didn't know why my car wouldn't start. Or Rory was sick in the middle of the night and I didn't know when she was sick enough to have to go to the hospital, and I knew even if she was that sick we couldn't afford it…"

I grit my teeth. Did that happen? Had she been alone and scared, just a few blocks from me and not sure if she could afford a doctor?

"In those moments I'd panic because I wouldn't know what to do, but it was just me. I had no choice but to do something, even though a lot of the time it turned out to be wrong."

I ship the oars, because I want to go to her, but she's still talking. Her voice a little wistful and achy.

"When I lost Rory, I had somewhere to go. Someone who I knew would really understand what it meant to have lost everything I'd worked for my whole life and the most important person in my life. I don't know if I could have made it if it weren't for you."

"You would have," I say hoarsely. Because it's true. Lorelai cracks sometimes, but she never breaks. She always gets out of bed and keeps trying, no matter how bad she feels.

"But I didn't have to face it alone, for the first time." Fresh tears snake down the dried streaks on her cheeks and I hate that she's crying again, tonight in a boat when I was supposed to make her happy. "I never thought I'd have that. Luke, you really want me."

I come off the seat, onto my knees, the boat rocking dangerously as I pull her into my arms.

"I always want you. I always have." I grip her tightly enough to crush the idea of her alone with a sick Rory and no money for a doctor. Scared and uncertain like I've so rarely seen her in the eight years we've known each other. "Maybe I should have said it sooner. I didn't think you…worried about that stuff."

"You know I did!" she burst out, shaking even in the circle of my arms. "That one night when I told you I didn't think I'd ever have it all, the whole package. I practically begged you to tell me how you knew it would be all right and all you did was growl at me and buy me off with a doughnut."

"You did. You did tell me. Hell, Lorelai." I pull back and cradle her face in my hands, clumsily wiping away her tears with my thumbs. "I'm so sorry."

She just shakes her head, looking forlorn and miserable, like she did when she came out of Rory's empty room tonight. I hate that she's ever worried that she wasn't wanted. I should wait to say this until she's happy again, but the words pour out of me like they need to be close to her as much as I do.

"Lorelai Gilmore, will you marry me?"

Her next breath falls silent in the middle, and her eyes go round.

"I love that you proposed to me," I tell her honestly. "I've never been happier, not once. But I didn't want you to think that just because you chose me first, that doesn't mean I wasn't choosing you back just as hard. There has never been another woman for me. There never will be."

"Yes," she choked out. "Wait, did you ask? You asked, right?"

"I asked."

"And I said yes. I said it out loud, right?" She pauses. "Why doesn't it ever feel real?"

I crack a smile. "Probably because you're used to the movies and you're waiting for the soundtrack to change." I glance around the quiet lake. "I should have gotten trumpets." Suddenly, I remember and dig in my pocket. "I got you this. Maybe this will help." I hold up the ring for her.

"You're on your knees." Lorelai seems to finally notice. "In a boat, with a ring." Her hands fly to her mouth. "Oh my God, I finally got my grandchildren story! Nothing in my life has ever come out clean enough, perfect enough for a grandchildren story! Even the Dragonfly, I basically had to wait for a dear friend to kick the bucket before I could even buy the place and it was your freaking ex-girlfriend who showed me it was there, and how unromantic is that? Moments like this just…don't happen for me. I screw them up, or God screws them up, or a freaking marching band screws them up—"

"Did you see the ring?" I interrupt.

She's rambling, which means she's dodging something. The emotion of the moment, maybe, or the fact that she hates the ring or recognizes it from an elderly neighbor and she's too sweet to tell me she hates it. It's a small town. If Kirk knew the lady, Lorelai probably did, too.

"I know it's dark, but I waited for the full moon so you'd be able to see it without me getting out a flashlight or whatever, because I thought that would be more romantic. If you don't like it, you don't have to say anything. Just knock it into the lake or something and we'll pretend like it was an accident."

I swallow, desperate now. There's nothing more vulnerable than holding up a ring to a woman who isn't taking it.

"I'll even let you go along to pick out one you'd like better, if you promise never to tell Babette and Miss Patty, because they're disappointed enough with my manhood as it is."

"I like your manhood," she whispers, and her gaze falls from my face to the ring, finally. She gasps. Not a big, dramatic movie gasp but a tiny little hiccup of breath like she forgot to school her own reaction for a second. "It looks like me," she breathes. "Where did you get a ring that looks like me?"

I shift my weight, the bottom of the boat digging into my kneecaps. "Tell you on our twentieth wedding anniversary, okay?"

She slides off the seat so she's sitting in the bottom of the boat with me, her face more beautiful than its ever been. "Do I have to tell our grandchildren I cried? I mean, our grandplants?"

"I won't tell 'em if you promise to say I got trumpeters."

"Deal." She puts her hand out, and I slide my ring onto her finger.