"Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely" Edna St. Vincent Millay

The apartment was quiet, still, the three occupants frozen as they stared at the closed door. Rory felt a burning in her throat, the regret of this fight haunting her already with the look of her mother's face and the soft click of the handle echoing in her mind. She stayed there, in that space, eyes swimming in the brown panels, and then a hesitant "Rory?" entered her ears.

She turned her head and saw Jess staring at her, a sad tilt to his mouth that looked ready to speak. She shook her head, cause there wasn't anything he could say at the moment, and his eyes dimmed in recognition.

Her hands itched to reach out and smooth the crease of worry in his forehead, but she couldn't, not while Lorelai was on the other side of the door.

She had to fix this.

In seconds, she had turned the handle and rushed down the steps and out of the apartment. She scanned her surroundings and saw her mother, a small dot in the distance towards the direction of their house. She bit her lip and quickened her steps, passing the small strip of business fronts of the town square until she got to the rows of residential houses, all identical with angled roofs and front porches and landscaping. Seeing her mother still a ways away, Rory pushed her steps slowly to a light jog to close the gap.

"Mom!" she yelled, already slightly out of breath from the exertion. Damn it. Gimores don't run.

No response.

Rory doubled her steps. A light came on in the window from a nearby house. She ignored it, her mind focused on catching up. "Mom!" she called while stumbling over her feet as she struggled to overtake Lorelai's quick strides.

Again, no response.

"Mom! Can't we talk about this? Please?" She was close now, her legs heavy and her chest heaving.

Lorelai kept walking, steps purposeful and fast, eyes focused front.

Rory felt a flash of irritation at her stubbornness and reached out, grabbing the sleeve of her mother's jacket to get her to stop. "Mom!"

Lorelai ripped her arm away from her daughter's grasp with a glare.

Rory shrunk back from the aggression. Lorelai's face was rigid, and her eyes were a storm of whirling waves churning with… she couldn't quite identify. The anger she recognized, the fiery black undercurrent of cobalt, but there was something else in her gaze, a muddled tinge of gray that she had never seen before. She knew she had hurt Lorelai, but this cut deeper, and she didn't know what to call it.

Rory opened up her mouth to apologize, again, but Lorelai was having none of it. She set her shoulders, strode through the neighbors' yards and up the rickety steps into the Crapshack.

The resulting slam of the door reverberated through the silent air, a slice of a knife through the veil of idyllic memories, the reality of separation suddenly made clear with her and Lorelai on opposite sides of… well, everything.

She had broken something here. That much was clear. For as long as she could remember, it was always her and Lorelai, mother and daughter – two best friends against the world. Boys weren't allowed, how could she forget? It's why Christopher was never around, why Max got left at the altar. Dean was there for a moment, sliding in next to her like a well-worn sweater, someone who knew better than to come between her and Lorelai. But when things made a turn for the serious, she hesitated, and he was gone.

And now there was Jess.

There was a reason she kept him separate because she knew – she knew – this would happen. She knew what her mother would think the second she met Jess, how she viewed him throughout the entire dinner that night – a threat, to their relationship, to the future that they both had worked hard to achieve one day. He was someone destined to get her into trouble, a representation of Lorelai's biggest fear, the catalyst that would cause Rory to turn exactly into her, to fail where she had once failed.

But that was just the persona of him. It wasn't the real him, the guy that breathed literature deeper than she did, that threw out quips as fast as she could and countered when she attacked, the guy that had all the same interests but a different opinion and an intellect that kept her curiosity engaged constantly. But sharing that information with Lorelai meant losing him, and she couldn't do that. She wants them both, and now the whole situation had blown up in her face.

Gain Jess at the same time she loses her mother. Had this always been the path of maturity?

Rory gave a shaky sigh as she stood in the empty street watching the light from the street lamp encase her body every few moments, flickering like a candle in the wind. She huffed through her nose, bitter. Light a candle, cast a shadow. To think that just an hour ago, she was weightless under smoldering kisses from the guy she hadn't stopped thinking about for months, and now – now she was the broken half of a duo, jagged and frayed at the edges of her lies.

She swallowed the guilt that wanted to pour, clamped her lips at the sob that was desperate to get out. Crying wouldn't help right now. Her legs started to shake, her knee gave a quick spasm, heavy from exhaustion, and she whimpered, suddenly wishing for her bed. Crying wouldn't fix anything, but sleep would certainly make her feel better, right?

She tested her weight on the knee, gingerly applying more force until she felt confident her leg was solid again. She lifted her head back up. She saw the old house, saw the peeling layers of paint, the stripped look of the wooden stairs, the dark and dreary windows, and the imposing closed door. She swallowed the tendrils wrapping around her throat again, and like mother like daughter, squared her shoulders and walked in.

Lorelai couldn't sleep. She had tried, desperately, for the last six hours. She had tried counting her breaths, counting the amount of times the tree branch scratched against her window, counting sheep. She tried reading her copy of Rolling Stone with Axl Rose on the cover that she kept on her bedside table. Even looking at his rock hard abs couldn't help her fall asleep. Nothing was working and that didn't happen often.

She tried to think back to the last time she had trouble falling asleep, but her mind came up with nothing. She figured it had to have been a time when she and Rory still lived in the shed by the Inn, a night when she was fretting over Rory being sick or when she was stressed about money. The closest time she supposed would have been a few months ago when she had run away from her and Max's wedding, flinging clothes into suitcases in a panic as desperation clawed its way through her chest. But Rory was there, quick to follow her lead, ever the perfect copilot, the Thelma to her Louise. Rory was always there, until now.

She had heard her daughter come in, a few minutes after her, and quietly get ready for bed. The bathroom door squeaked when Rory went in, and again shortly after she left, and she heard the bedroom door shut behind her. Secretly Lorelai was glad that her daughter hadn't pressed the issue, that she hadn't followed her upstairs into her room and continued her pleas to make her listen. Lorelai knew that she was perhaps being childish, doing an adult version of putting her hands over her ears and screaming, but she couldn't listen to anything Rory had to say. Not when Rory hadn't been bothered to share some very important news with her. Not when she had lied to her.

She could see Emily's smug face in her mind and she scoffed at the picture, wanting to punch it from her mind and out of existence. We aren't like that. I'm not like you. But she couldn't say that anymore. Not when Rory had kept something this big from her.

Her heart clenched in pain, like it had all night, at she struggled against the tears that were fighting to be released. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry.

They didn't listen as they started leaking from the corners of her eyes. Damn it.

She rubbed her face, attempting to remove the evidence of her heartbreak, and felt slightly rejuvenated at the action. Perhaps she should get up. Make some coffee. Her joints groaned at the idea.

However making coffee would mean going downstairs and into the kitchen. And going into the kitchen meant she'd have to pass by Rory's door, and since she had trained her daughter to have the same kind of palette as her, there was a chance that as soon as the coffee started percolating, her daughter would wake up and find her and insist on talking, and that was something she couldn't do.

She glanced at the clock, the red numbers glaring back that it was 4:43 in the morning. 4:43 am. She was never up this early. She rolled over onto her stomach and let out a groan into the pillow. After a moment's deliberation, in which she seriously considered staying in her bed until her limbs shook from the lack of caffeine and sleep, she begrudgingly kicked the covers off her body and dragged herself out of bed.

She opened her door, tiptoed to the top of the stairs and waited, looking for a sign that Rory had heard her. When she was convinced her daughter was still asleep, she gingerly made her way down the stairs, taking care to step away from the spots that would cause the stairs to squeak loudly. Still, she couldn't stop a small groan that let out on the final step. Lorelai froze, held her breath as she stared at Rory's door. Seeing no movement, she continued into the kitchen, turning on the light over the sink and grabbing a mug from the cupboard. She had just grabbed a packet of coffee from the cabinet when she heard a door open. Shit.

She heard padded footsteps a few seconds until silence. Lorelai tore the packet of coffee open, dumped it into a new filter, before slowly turning around.

Rory was standing at the edge of the kitchen, shifting from foot to foot, looking as tired as she was sure she did. Rory gave a weak smile in greeting.

Lorelai stared back before turning and grabbing another mug from the cupboard.

"Well that's nice," she heard Rory say behind her. She froze at the edge in her daughter's voice.

Rory continued. "Let's just pretend I'm not here. Hey, let's just pretend I was never born, and then you wouldn't have to deal with how disappointed you are in your daughter."

At Rory's tone, Lorelai seethed. She slammed her hand against the counter before turning around. "No," she spat, her voice low. "You don't get to be the one upset here. I didn't lie to you, keep something big from you for months. So you don't get to have that kind of attitude with me."

"I wouldn't if you weren't freaking Stonehenge here," Rory cried. "You're completely freezing me out."

"Like you did, you mean?" Lorelai said accusingly.

"I wasn't freezing you out."

"No, just conveniently forgot to mention that you've been in a long distance relationship for the past five months. Omission is still a lie, Rory."

"I know! I know I lied. I know I messed up. If you'll just let me fix it—"

"How are you going to do that?" Lorelai retorted, feeling the shattered pieces shift inside her chest. "Huh?" she pressed. "By talking to me? Like you should have, oh I don't know, five months ago?"

"Yes!" Rory yelled. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to. I was going to—"

Lorelai felt a yank on her chest. "Why didn't you?!" The words had left her mouth before she realized, hurt and desperate. She took a breath to calm down. "I'm the cool Mom, remember? Your best friend? Or at least I thought I was."

"You are!"

Lorelai closed her eyes. "Then why, Rory?!" Her voice cracked in her throat.

There it was, the broken look that had replayed in her mind all night. Rory shrugged helplessly. "I just didn't want to fight about this," she said quietly.

"And yet, here we are. Mick Jagger is somewhere singing I told you so."

"That's not fair."

"Tell me about it."

"I just hate fighting with you."

"Why are you so convinced that we would have?" At Rory's eye roll, Lorelai amended her statement. "Present circumstances excluded."

"Because we always fight about boys. We fought about Dean."

Lorelai shook her head. "No, we fought about you trying to give up Chilton for Dean. Are you planning on giving up Chilton for Jess?"

Rory reared her head back. "What? No!"

"Cause remember what I said. If you're going to give that up, he'd better have a motorcycle."

"I'm sure he's got the jacket."

So am I, Lorelai thought, picturing the teen decked out in all black with a thick jacket thrown around his shoulders. "But if you're still going to Chilton, still planning for your future, then there shouldn't have been a problem." She paused, thinking back to Rory's words earlier, the words that hurt the worst. "He's supposedly one of your best friends, right?" she asked, swallowing the hurt. "Like me and Lane?"

"Yes, but—"

"You think I wouldn't have wanted to know that? Wouldn't have wanted to meet someone my daughter obviously cares for? Hell, I could have even driven you to New York. Let you guys have a date night or two."

Rory was stunned in surprise. "You would have done that?" she asked in a somewhat hopeful tone.

Lorelai thinks of the surly teen in baggy jeans with unruly hair. Hell no, she thought, before shrugging and turning back to the coffee machine. "Too late to find out now." She grabbed the coffee pot and filled it with water before bringing it over and pouring into the water filter.

"I'm sorry," Rory apologized again. "But it's not like you haven't done the same."

Lorelai froze and shifted back towards her daughter. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked in an offended tone.

"You and Mr. Medina? I had to find out from Paris and the rest of Chilton that you guys were dating."

Oh. She remembered how angry Rory had been with her when she had found out, how she had ignored her the entire day. "So since you've gone through this, maybe you can imagine how I feel right now."

"I do," Rory replied, regret clear in her voice.

Lorelai took another breath, letting the anger slowly release. "What I would have given to find out from Paris instead of—" she grimaced at the memory.

So did Rory. "I'm sorry. That's not how I wanted to tell you."

"I certainly hope not…" she trailed off, a sudden thought forming in her mind. "Wait, Paris doesn't know, does she?"

Rory shook her head. "No. Paris doesn't know."

"Okay."

"Okay."

They're quiet for a few minutes. The silence is awkward, stifling, a complete contrast to the home that's usually filled with quips and laughter. Lorelai pivoted back to the coffee machine, giving her hands something to do. She slid the filter into place and turned the machine on. It sputtered to life in front of her, groaning low as drips slowly fell into the glass pot. She picked at a dry mustard spot on the counter.

Rory fiddled with her hands until finding the courage to ask "Are we okay?"

Lorelai took a deep breath, trying to ease the sadness she had wrestled with all night."I don't think we'll be okay for awhile, Rory," she answered truthfully. She turned and looked at her daughter's face, now crestfallen and on the verge of tears. "But," she forced herself to continue, "I won't fight with you on this anymore. You're still my kid, but you're growing up." She sighed as she thought too fast. "Besides," she said, her torso turning back to the counter. "It's about time for a Jess in your life."

"What does that mean?"

Lorelai let out another sigh and looked at her daughter again. "It means that there are certain things life can teach that I can't."

Rory stared at her mother in disbelief. "You really think he's going to hurt me," she said in a halting tone.

"Guys like Jess always do, babe. You'll learn that eventually."

Rory laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah, let me guess, after he takes my virginity and runs all the way across the country."

"I wouldn't put it past him."

"Well that's just great." Rory threw her hands up. "Really. I tell you he's my best friend, and your response is he's the Yalie from Where The Boys Are."

"Rory—" Lorelai tried interjecting. Rory ignored her.

"Apparently my opinion of him means nothing."

"You're young and impressionable. That can make you an easy target."

"And the fact that he's Luke's nephew?" Rory pressed, irritated. "You remember Luke, right? One of your best friends?"

"I remember—"

"So the fact that Luke's taking him in means nothing either?"

"No, Rory," Lorelai said firmly. "Because Luke's the type of person to do anything for family, regardless of what kind of person they are." She stood straighter. "But what does mean something," she stressed, "is the fact that he never said anything about a nephew or even a sister in the several years that we've known him. What does say something is that Luke has to take him in in the first place."

"His mom kicked him out."

"Exactly."

Rory shook her head, completely exasperated. She started pacing in the kitchen. "God, Jess was right."

Lorelai frowned. "About what?"

"I can't believe I thought about asking you to let him stay here."

"You what?"

"I thought 'Mom would understand. She's been there before.'"

Lorelai felt a prick in her chest. "Rory—" she tried, her tone softer.

"But no, he was right. Cause all you see is a guy being kicked out, and immediately it means he's trouble. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with his mom's drinking or their fights or anything."

Lorelai felt her mouth go dry. "His mom's drinking?" she asked, hesitant. She felt the prick spread to her ribs, and she gripped the edges of the counter to steady herself.

"But what could you possibly know about fighting with your mom, right?" Rory let out a bitter laugh.

Lorelai swallowed, her tongue heavy and thick. "Rory—"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Rory said, putting up her hands, dismissive. "I'm tired, and cranky, and what's taking the coffee so long?"

Lorelai stopped in her retort and spun back to the machine. The filter had stopped dripping, but there was barely any liquid in the coffee pot, not even enough for a cup. Lorelai scowled at the offending machine. She did not have the patience for this. She banged the top of the contraption, trying to use force to get it to start working again, but it stood lifeless. She gritted her teeth and growled. "Come on," she moaned, hitting the sides and toggling the power button. "Don't do this to me."

The coffee machine stared back, completely mute. She leaned her head against the top.

Rory gave a weak smile. "I guess that means Luke's," she said quietly.

Lorelai stiffened before slowly turning and giving her daughter a glower.

Rory passively stared back. "Are you coming?"

Lorelai bit her lip before spinning back and sulking at her usual morning savior. Of course this happened right when she needs coffee the most, and Luke's is the last place she wants to be. She stewed in her frustration before Rory interjected with a sharp "Fine. I'll go by myself."

Lorelai listened as her daughter stomped into her room and slammed the door before letting out a tired sigh. She didn't have the energy for any of this. She thought about skipping the coffee, at least until she got to the inn, but her body shuddered at the impulse, in rejection of the idea. She huffed and pushed her body back upright. No, she needed coffee. Strong coffee. And while Weston's was always a possibility, it wasn't as strong as Luke's. It wasn't as good as Luke's. She silently cursed before walking out of the kitchen. The stairs taunted her as she swayed in her spot at the foot of the stairs, reminding her of her lack of sleep, the reason for the lack of sleep, and the fact that she would have to face the cause of her anger in order to function properly at her job. She grimaced, and while grumbling the entire time, put one foot in front of the other in order to get ready.

A/N: I know, I know. It's been a year. I hate that I let it get this late again, but life just sucks the creativity out of me sometimes. Thankfully, because of certain events happening in the world, I now find myself with more free time than I know what to do with, so I was able to finally get this chapter finished. I hope you're pleased with it. If you wouldn't mind leaving me a review, a favorite, or a follow to let me know how you liked it, that would be greatly appreciated. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Per usual, recognized dialogue is from ASP and the other amazing writers from Gilmore Girls. Do not sue me for using it please. Also slight references to Ursula K. Le Guin and Rolling Stones.

Don't know when Chapter 4 will be up. I've got it all planned out in my head. Just need to sit down and write it. However, my muse wants to work on other projects at the moment. I'm going to tentatively say we should see an update within a month, especially if this quarantine continues.

Thanks so much for reading and for the support. I truly appreciate it.

Until Next!