A/N: I can relate to Lorelai in this story, because something equally freaky happened to me on the day I began writing this.

First, though, let's talk about the inspirations for this one-shot. Two of my favorite movies are "Peggy Sue Got Married" and "It's a Wonderful Life," and this story definitely has elements from both of them mixed into it. I was a young mother when "Peggy Sue" was first released and I understood immediately that if she spurned Nic Cage in high school, those beloved children of hers weren't going to exist. Anyway, that's where the title comes from. I figured that if Peggy Sue was known as the girl who got married, Lorelai was probably "the girl who got pregnant." I set the story at the beginning of Season 6, hoping, as I always do, to fix that whole mess before it all goes bananas.

Now on to the freaky element. The first day I got this story idea, back in 2014, it set me on fire. I spent the entire day writing an outline for it. Even though I was working on something else, I had to get the details of this one down on the page, as quickly as I could. I even wrote out some dialogue, not just a summary. At the end of the day, I felt satisfied that I'd nailed down the essence of what I wanted the story to be. Pleased, I went to FF, looking to see what goodies might have posted that day…and discovered the first chapter of a story that could have been the twin (or at least a close sibling) to this one. I was flabbergasted. Freaked out. How could such a thing happen, outside of a mind-meld? It was written by Broadwaygirl21, entitled "Call Me Crazy." Hers had more of a "Freaky Friday" vibe at the beginning, at least, and seemed to be going in a somewhat different direction than mine, but still, a lot of the little details were eerily similar. I PM'ed her immediately because I just couldn't believe it. I sat mine aside, because I didn't want to step on her toes. However, even after four years, I've never been able to completely forget the story idea. Hopefully it's been long enough and she won't mind if I go ahead and finally post mine.

So, without further rambling…

Lorelai Victoria Got Pregnant

Something was chiming insistently, very close to her ear. It was a pleasant tone, almost dulcet, but the ceaseless repetition was getting annoying.

Lorelai stretched, preparing to wake up and face the day. Soon she'd open her eyes, then she'd deal with whatever diabolical device was chiming.

But first, another luxurious stretch against the soft-as-a-baby's-butt sheets. How did that happen? She didn't remember buying new fabric softener or anything like that. The silky sheets felt as gentle as bathwater swirling over her toes.

She raised a hand to her face, ready to push her hair out of the way, same as she did every morning of her life. Only today, her fingers slipped easily through what was usually a mass of tangled curls. She paused in surprise, and then ran her fingers once more through the smooth, straightened layers of her hair, just for the sheer pleasure of it. What the…? Was today one of the two magical days of the year when humidity levels and the proper conditioner suddenly combined to allow her the enjoyment of perfect hair?

Smiling at that prospect, she finally opened her eyes.

Only to discover…It wasn't her room.

"Holy…!" In complete terror, she jumped out of the bed, and instantly, something cold and metallic hit her foot. She shrieked and jumped around again.

The cold metallic thing was a phone, still chiming. A phone that wasn't hers. A phone, sleek and new; one that cost so much she hadn't even bothered to consider it as an option when she traded in her old one.

Shaking, she picked it up, and after a few attempts, managed to silence the insistent alarm.

Trying not to panic, she slowly looked around the room, and discovered that her initial observation was wrong.

It was her room. Just not the one she should be in.

It was her old room, the one in Hartford where she'd grown up. The one she'd left years and years ago, when Rory was just a baby. What the hell had happened? Had she gotten drunk last night during Friday night dinner and crawled up here to sleep it off? Except…she hadn't been here last night, had she? And now that she thought about it…wasn't today Wednesday?

Blinking hard, she looked at the room again. It was definitely her old room, but completely transformed. The walls were now papered in a soft dove-gray stripe, with subtle fleur-de-lis winking back at her between every other stripe. The heavy curtains, pulled to block out the light, were a pale peach. The décor was so tasteful it could have only been masterminded by Emily Gilmore. The single thing remaining from her years of imprisonment was the dollhouse, sitting shrine-like on a pedestal in the corner.

"What the hell?" she whispered, still trying to make sense of it all. When had her mother redecorated? And why didn't she remember what had happened to her? How did she end up here?

She went to the window and pulled back the elegant curtains. The balcony and the pool house and the gardens all looked just the same. Good, then. She wasn't completely crazy. Just maybe 98, 99 percent insane, tops.

Resolutely, Lorelai began a systematic search of the room. She pulled open the closet doors and stared at the line of power suits and the shelves of sensible heels. She opened drawers full of lacy underwear and cashmere sweaters.

A Coach bag was sitting on a desk against the wall. She grabbed it and dumped the contents out on the bed, searching for any clues.

She found tons of receipts, all from top restaurants and high-end stores. There were business cards from an advertising agency, with her name on them. And, in the immaculate eel skin wallet, she spied a driver's license.

With her name.

Her picture.

Her parents' address.

Her heart thudded to a horrified stop as she stared down at the piece of plastic in her hand. "What the hell?" she muttered again.

She'd had enough. She threw down the license and ran to the door, flinging it open. She sailed down the steps. Her mother had some explaining to do.

"Lorelai! What in the world?"

Speak of the devil. Emily Gilmore was at the bottom of the stairs, a fresh bouquet of flowers in her hand.

"Lorelai, you're still in your pajamas! Go upstairs and get dressed before Clarissa or the gardener see you like this!" she scolded. "Barefoot! The very idea!"

"Mom." For once, Lorelai was almost glad to see her mother. She put a hand to her racing heart and tried to take a deep breath. "What is going on?"

Emily frowned. "Besides the fact that you're almost certainly going to be late for work and embarrassed in front of the household staff? What's gotten into you this morning?"

"What's gotten into me?" Lorelai wanted to laugh hysterically, but she was still too frightened. "That's what I'm trying to find out! Was I drunk last night? One too many martinis? Did you make me stay over?"

"Lorelai, I simply don't have time for one of your bits this morning. I've got the garden club coming over this afternoon and I've got a million things to do first." She shook her head at Lorelai. "As for being drunk…I should hope not! You've got an image to maintain, young lady."

"What do you mean, I've got an image to…Gah!" She screamed and pointed with a trembling hand at a framed photograph displayed on the mantel. "Mom! What in the hell is that?"

"Hush! What is wrong with you today?" Emily chastised her. She turned and looked at the picture. "It's the same picture that's been there since your wedding day. I refuse to put it away just because you lost your mind and divorced Christopher. Some day you'll return to your senses."

Dumbfounded, Lorelai walked gingerly to the fireplace and stared at the photo. Chris looked much as he usually did, with a big grin on his face, and exuding his particular brand of boyish charm. But she looked…posed. The gown she wore was sophisticated and form-fitting, the bouquet of lilies were artfully arranged, her hair had been swept into a classic French twist, with nary one wayward curl out of place. In short, the woman in the picture was a stranger to her.

"I married Chris?" she whispered, shocked beyond belief.

"Finally," Emily sniffed. "And let me remind you, he's not going to wait forever for you a second time. You need to snatch him up while he's still available. I know you keep insisting that everything's fine, but you can't tell me that you're happy, Lorelai. No woman your age wants to still be flitting from man to man, and still living at home with her parents."

"I live here," Lorelai repeated, trying to somehow make sense of it all.

"Since the divorce, yes." Emily stopped and turned to regard her. "Are you all right? You are not sounding like yourself today."

She felt the hysterical laughter again begging to be let out, but she managed to tamp it down. "Wow, Mom, way to state the obvious."

Emily looked at her sharply, but then shrugged. "I'm going into the kitchen to get these in water. Do you want me to tell Clarissa to start your breakfast?"

Breakfast. Something about the word triggered a sense of the real world. Slowly she turned completely around, examining the whole room. "Where's Rory?"

"What?"

"Rory," Lorelai said impatiently. "Where's Rory?"

"What are you talking about?" Emily sounded dismissive. "Is that one of those alcoholic brunch drinks? If so, that's definitely not something you need today."

"No, Mom. Rory. Where's Rory?" Her voice was beginning to rise with fright. She took a few anxious steps towards her mother.

"Lorelai, I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Emily said firmly.

She'd never had a panic attack, but she grasped that one was about to erupt inside of her. She couldn't catch her breath and her heartbeat was thundering in her ears. Fear threatened to overwhelm her. "Rory!" she yelled, not knowing what else to do. "Rory!"

"For goodness sake, lower your voice!" Emily demanded, looking back over her shoulder.

Out of ideas, Lorelai ran to her father's study and threw open the door. Richard was behind the desk, enjoying a second cup of coffee. A splash of it sloshed to the mahogany surface as his daughter's entrance startled him.

"Lorelai? Are you ill?"

Lorelai had been brought to a standstill. The large painting behind her father's desk was the same one that had been on the wall when she was a child. "Rory," she whispered helplessly.

"Emily, what's this about?" Richard wanted to know, looking from his daughter to his equally confused wife.

"I have no idea. It's like she's having a fit of some sort."

Richard pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, wiped the coffee from his hands, and took charge of the situation. "Come, my dear. Let's have a seat." He gently led Lorelai to the divan off to the side of the room. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

She drew in a breath of air, surprised at how nice her father was being to her. She swallowed hard, then pointed to the painting. "That should be Rory."

"I see," he said gravely. "And who is Rory?"

"Rory is…your granddaughter. My daughter. The best kid in the whole world. Mom had her painted holding a book, because we both knew you'd love it. You love her more than anything in the world. More than finding a deal on a Martha Vineyard's rental. More than flying first class. You both do," she added, including her mother in the conversation. "She's the daughter you always wished for."

Richard's eyes flicked over her attire. "Lorelai, is it possible you've been dreaming?"

"No," she said flatly. "Rory's my kid. She's been my kid since I was 16. I didn't make her up!" she insisted, feeling the skepticism rolling in from her parents.

"Of course not," Richard said, placating her. He got up and picked up a leaded-glass decanter sitting on a long table behind the small couch, and poured a healthy shot of the liquid inside of it into a matching glass.

"Richard," Emily said disapprovingly.

"No, Emily, this might be just the thing." He brought the glass to Lorelai. "Go ahead. See if that cuts through some of the cobwebs," he encouraged her.

The glass was heavy in her hands and the smell of the Scotch tickled her nose. She took a gulp of the liquid and it burned down her throat, comforting in spite of the eye-watering heat.

"Now." Richard sat down beside her again. "If you want to know what I think, I think that Daniel McCain has been working you way too hard down at that agency of his. He relies on you far too much. I know you're very good at what you do, but I think it's time you learned to tell him no. I suspect that your troubled sleep and disturbing dreams are all because of too many projects and too many deadlines. You've burned yourself out, Lorelai. You need to take a break. Maybe a real vacation. You work far too hard."

In spite of her terror, Lorelai chuckled. "Dad? Are you really saying that to me?"

"Of course I am. This isn't the first time I've warned you about taking on too much, you may recall. Balance, Lorelai. You need to find a balance between work and your personal time."

Emily scoffed. "You're a fine one to talk, Richard."

"I'm trying to do better, Emily. And I don't want our daughter's life to suffer the way ours did when we were younger and I was too ambitious." Richard leaned over to pat Emily's hand.

Lorelai felt herself wavering. She knew what was real, and she wanted to fight for it, but yet…Sitting here with her parents, feeling valued and loved by them, was a nice change. She'd never known what it was like to be accepted by them.

"You're sure…you're sure you don't know who Rory is?" She twisted the glass around in her hands. "I didn't get pregnant at 15?"

"Are you insane?" Emily cried out, horrified. "That would have ruined your life!"

"No, of course you didn't," Richard reassured her, but he looked troubled.

"Then maybe…maybe…" She closed her eyes, feeling the alcohol smoothing away the edges of her fear and confusion.

"It was a bad dream," Richard said firmly. He put a steady hand on her shoulder as he stood up. He went to stand beside Emily, and the two of them proceeded to have a whispered conversation behind her back.

Lorelai stared at all of the familiar components of her father's study. Everything was exactly as it should be, minus the portrait of Rory. Behind her, she heard occasional words. Breakdown. Doctor. Hospital. Richard, be sensible, what will the neighbors think?

She roused herself and stood up. "You're right. It must have been a dream." She realized she needed to take control before the situation spiraled even farther from her grasp. "Weird one, huh?"

"Are you sure you're all right?" Richard asked with concern.

"Yeah, I'm peachy," Lorelai said staunchly. Her hand shook as she sat the glass back down, and she hoped neither of her parents noticed. "You know, now that I think about it…I think I watched some sleazy TV movie last night about a teen mom. That's probably where this all came from."

"Lorelai, if you need to take some time –" Richard began to say.

"You're going to be late for work," Emily cut in.

"Then I…should get going!" Lorelai said, putting on a brave front. With a strained smile plastered to her face, she nodded to her parents, and hurried out of the study and up the stairs before either of them could suggest calling the men in the white coats again.

Back in the safety of 'her' room, she tried to analyze her options. This – whatever it was – this had to be the dream, right? She had to be asleep in Stars Hollow, and for some reason her brain was leading her down this nightmare path of crazy. Since she didn't seem to be able to wake herself up, she might as well go along with it, right? Maybe…maybe she'd even have some fun.

"Fun," she whispered, not very convincingly.

Well, why not? Goodness knows she'd watched enough movies and TV shows with this sort of theme. She'd just go along with it until it the ol' cerebral cortex got it all straightened out.

Lorelai soon learned that having such an immaculate bedroom and well-organized closet made getting ready a breeze. The perfect hair alone shaved a good thirty minutes off of her getting ready time. However, she probably spent at least that long squealing over the miniature Sephora store she found tucked away in the bathroom cabinets, so she didn't really gain anything after all.

"If I'm still here tomorrow, I'm trying out everything," she vowed to the lipsticks and eye shadows.

She couldn't abide the dull business suits, though, and searched the shelves for anything to add some personality to the basic black. Finally she unearthed a storage container full of concert t-shirts, and picked out a David Bowie one to break up the monotony. She checked the full-length mirror after tying a bright floral scarf around her neck, and decided the overall effect wasn't half-bad.

Downstairs, her father was leaving the house at the same time. "You're sure you're feeling up for work today?" Richard wanted to know, still looking at her with concern.

"Oh, yeah, fine and dandy!" Lorelai insisted, striding towards the Jeep parked off to the side of the garage.

"Lorelai, what are you doing?" Richard called out to her, sounding surprised.

"Um, going to work?" Lorelai continued on to the vehicle.

"Lorelai! That's the gardener's car!"

She stopped short and stared at the Jeep that had seemed so familiar. Slowly she turned towards her father.

Richard pointed to a very sensible black sedan. "Company car, remember?"

"Oh, uh…yeah." She laughed hollowly. "Just trying to keep you on your toes!" she said, pretending to joke, and backtracked over to the car that matched her power suit. She tried not to notice how her worried dad watched her until she was safely out of the driveway.

Luckily, she at least knew where she was headed. Daniel McCain's ad agency had been a fixture in Hartford since she was a child. When she turned down the busy street, she spied a dedicated parking lot with a number that matched the tag hanging from the mirror in her respectable company car. The lot attendant waved her through the gate and pointed to a spot that seemed to be reserved just for her.

She took the elevator up the eighth floor. "Here we go," she whispered to herself, stepping into the lobby. "Ready to go full-on Working Girl. Where's Harrison Ford when you need him?" she wondered, looking about cautiously.

"Miss Gilmore! There you are!" A woman about her age, in functional shoes and a proper sweater set, rushed up to her. "They're holding the meeting for you, but Mr. McCain is not pleased. Go, go, go!" She urged Lorelai down a hallway that eventually lead to a conference room.

Conversation halted when she stepped through the doorway. "Who called this meeting?" she joked, flustered.

She recognized Mr. McCain sitting at the head of the table. He'd been part of her parents' neighborhood for as long as she could remember. He didn't look pleased to see her today, though. "Can we get on with it then?" he said curtly, frowning at her.

Lorelai slipped quickly into the one remaining seat at the table, resolving to keep her mouth shut. She didn't want to make trouble for this world's Lorelai when she returned. She would just smile and nod, no matter what was being discussed.

She was able to keep her vow until a team presented a storyboard for a bank ad.

"Seriously?" she commented, when they'd finished. "This is it?"

Again, everyone went silent and turned to look at her.

"I mean, it's…it's pretty dull, isn't it?" she floundered. "Probably every bank since eighteen-aught-something has had the same ad. Why should anyone pay any attention to this one?"

"You have a better idea?" one of the presenters asked with a sneer.

"This is the information the client wants us to showcase," the other one protested.

"Well…" With all eyes on her, Lorelai felt that she had no choice but to throw out something. "What if…they were animals?"

"Animals?"

"Yeah, you know, what if the teller was a giraffe, and the guy behind the desk was a mynah bird, and the security guard at the door was a zebra?"

People exchanged wary glances. "So what? The bank is staffed with animals? What would that do?" someone challenged her.

"I think it would be funny," Lorelai said with a shrug. "Especially if the bank's customers are real people, and no one acts like it's weird that the whole bank is staffed by animals."

More silence, and then the man sitting opposite her started to chuckle.

"What?" someone else asked him.

He tried to stop chuckling, but couldn't. "Well, I went to my bank yesterday during lunch, and…" He looked over at Lorelai and gave her a big smile. "The teller actually did look like a giraffe, now that I think about it."

Lorelai smiled back. "They can still present the same exact information that the client wants to highlight, but at least this would be fun. It might be memorable enough to get viewers to recall the bank's name, the next time they need one."

"My loan officer is a jackass, I can vouch for that," someone said further down the table, and suddenly everyone was chatting, comparing experiences from their own banks.

"Work it up."

Everyone stopped talking again and looked at Mr. McCain at the head of the table. "I agree, Ms. Gilmore, the initial presentation, although conforming to the client's directive, was as dull as the proverbial dishwater. Clay, Justine – work up Ms. Gilmore's idea as an alternative. We'll let the client decide how avant-garde they want to be." He nodded at Lorelai.

A moment later, someone tapped Lorelai's shoulder and she turned enough to see a young woman with a refreshment cart. "Coffee, Miss Gilmore?" she whispered.

"Do you have to ask?" Lorelai immediately replied. "Oh my God, yes. I didn't have time for any this morning."

Soon a cup of steaming java goodness was in her hand. Eagerly she raised it to her mouth.

A split-second later she was on her feet, the coffee spilling across the table.

Luke.

"I'm…I'm sorry," she stuttered out, as everyone pitched in to dam the coffee flood. "I'm…It's just…" She looked around blindly, back in panic mode.

"Lorelai, are you well?" It was Mr. McCain again, but this time he looked more like the kind neighbor she remembered while growing up, the one who always kept back a cherry-flavored marshmallow Easter egg during the annual hunt, just to make sure she got one of her favorites.

"No. No, I'm not," she admitted. "I thought I could make it through today, but –"

"Go home," he sternly directed her. "Go take care of yourself."

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and swiftly exited the room. She ran down the hall to the elevator, where she leaned weakly against the wall after pushing the button. Her poor heart was pounding once again. Luke. Initially she'd been freaking out because there wasn't a Rory, but how could she have forgotten Luke? It had taken her years to find him, no way was she losing him now.

While dashing to the car, she could barely contain her fear. This world didn't have a Rory. What if Luke was missing from it too?

She'd never driven the route to Stars Hollow at a faster clip. About halfway, the fear bubbled up that maybe the town itself didn't exist. Maybe it was the Connecticut version of Brigadoon, only popping up once a century or so. She pushed harder on the gas pedal, and felt a vague sense of relief when the exit sign for the town did appear alongside the highway.

Stars Hollow was just where it should be, but it looked drab. The welcome sign needed a coat of paint, and the gazebo looked neglected. Everything that was supposed to be there was there, but somehow seemed to be lacking any of its usual charm.

Slowly, she drove by the diner. Although thrilled to see it, she was too apprehensive to stop. Instead, she drove to her own house.

She pulled to a stop and killed the engine, looking in disbelief at the bland tan house with brown trim. Where was the wisteria? Where was the chuppah? Where was her life?

Suddenly she saw Babette pulling weeds in her yard, and Lorelai jumped out of her car without thought. "Babette!"

Babette stood up cautiously, frowning at her. "Sorry, Toots, do I know you?"

Talk about having the wind taken out of your sails. Lorelai halted immediately, devastated. "Um, no – I said I was babbling," she fibbed, nervously trying to cover up her impulsive shout.

Babette cackled, and Lorelai's heart thrilled at hearing the familiar sound. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I do the same thing all the time. You should ask Morey, my husband, about babbling!"

Lorelai smiled briefly, happy to know that at least Morey still existed. She looked next door at what should have been her house. For the first time she noticed the mile-high privacy fence between the two properties.

"I thought I heard there was a house for sale down this street?" She was amazed at how smooth her lie sounded.

"Nah, wish there was. Wish it was that one." Babette waved her hand next door. "Why? You movin' here?"

"Just looking, for now. Seems like a nice little town."

"Could be, I guess. Sometimes I just think we need someone with a little more spirit to motivate us."

"Nice gnome collection," Lorelai observed with a grin.

"You like them?" Babette beamed. "Too bad the neighbors don't. He kept tryin' to run 'em over with the lawnmower. The kids keep tryin' to steal 'em. That's why the Great Wall of China is there," she added sourly, pointing at the gigantic fence. She gave Lorelai a friendly smile. "Hey, you want me to let you know if anything does go up for sale?" she offered.

"Yes, please." Lorelai found one of the strange business cards in her purse and gave it to Babette. "Call anytime," she added, hating to walk away from her old neighbor, but no longer having a reason to stay.

Next she drove to the Dragonfly. But there was no Dragonfly. Well, the old tumbledown building was probably still there, but she couldn't get to it. The property was overgrown and a heavy chain kept anyone from even attempting to turn down the lane.

Curious, she drove to where the Independence Inn used to be. For a moment she was overjoyed to see it white and shining, still standing proudly. But then she noticed the changes. There was a big neon sign and tacky colonial touches scattered about everywhere she looked, and she realized it had been taken over by some sort of hotel chain. Nevertheless, she parked her car and went inside.

It took her a minute to recognize Michel behind the counter, because instead of being nattily dressed, he was in a t-shirt printed to look like a colonist's shirt. To top it off, he had on a tri-corner hat. She bit down on her lips, not wanting to giggle.

"Welcome to the Independence," he greeted her, sounding as if he was ready to gag on the staged words. "Where every day is the 4th of July. Do you want the Ben Franklin package or the Thomas Jefferson?"

"Oh, I'm not staying today," Lorelai said, still trying not to laugh at the poor man cringing before her. "I'm just gathering up some info for a tour group."

Michel waved at the brochures available in a stand against the wall. "You could have found this all online," he told her, his haughty tone making her feel nostalgic.

"Yes, but I'd heard how pretty the place was. I wanted to see for myself." She grabbed a few brochures from the rack.

Michel sniffed and went back to perusing a magazine. Lorelai looked around, as discreetly as possible. In spite of her fear and confusion, it was nice to see the dear old building again.

"Someone mentioned the lady who owns the place. Mia, I think?" she ventured to ask Michel. Wouldn't it be something, to see Mia here again?

"Oh, she died," Michel said casually.

Lorelai went cold. "Oh, no," she whispered. "When? How?"

Michel looked up, registering her distress. "A few years ago. She was too run down, I think. Poor lady. She kept hoping to find someone to help her with the place, but never did. I think it finally just got to be too much for her."

"That's…that's awful," Lorelai murmured, her heart breaking.

"Yes." Michel looked around the lobby, with evident disgust. "And now we have to pretend to be patriots, with fake hats." He stared coolly at her. "You should come back on the weekend, when we all have to march around with our muskets. It is so much fun, let me tell you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Lorelai said grimly. She turned abruptly and left the building, not able to take any more.

She drove into town, desperate to find someone or something to pull her back into reality. She found she still wasn't brave enough to face the diner, so she began to walk around the square. Finally, she discovered a pleasant surprise. Where Weston's Bakery should have been, she saw that the sign instead proclaimed St. James' Bakehouse.

"Oh, Sookie!" she gasped, delighted. She rushed inside the shop.

She found another disappointment. Obviously, the Bakehouse hadn't been successful. There are no goodies for sale inside of the display cases. Instead, a sign stated 'All fixtures must go – inquire with owner.'

Sookie emerged from the back of the shop, looking defeated. "Sorry, we're closed," she told Lorelai. She took a closer look at Lorelai's suit. "Oh, are you here from the bank?"

"No, I was hoping for a cookie. Or a cupcake maybe. At the very least, a scone…" She couldn't stand seeing the dull eyes of her best friend, as if she'd lost all hope.

Sookie managed to find a chuckle left somewhere inside her. "Well, at one time I could have provided you with anything you wanted. I'm a helluva cook. Unfortunately, it turns out I'm not much of a businesswoman. I thought I could do this on my own. Boy, was I wrong. Guess I needed a partner, someone to keep me on track with the financial side, so that all I had to do was bake." She looked around at the bare space, and was soon forced to wipe her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm spilling my guts here. It's rough to see a dream die."

Impulsively, Lorelai walked over and gave her a hug. "Maybe it was the wrong dream," she suggested.

"Maybe," Sookie acknowledged sadly.

"Maybe the right one is still out there. With the right partner."

Sookie smiled through her sadness. "That's a nice thought."

"We all need nice thoughts," Lorelai told her, and gave her one more hug, just in case. "I could use some of those, too." Reluctantly, she tore herself away. "Listen, don't give up on your dreams. I bet they all come true yet."

A real smile lit up Sookie's face. "You know, I'm just going to pretend that you're my fairy godmother, and everything's going to be OK from here on out."

"I'm going to do my best," Lorelai promised her. "For both of us."

Sookie looked confused, but Lorelai decisively walked out the door, across the square, and straight to the diner. She was still terrified, dreading what she might find. On the other hand, she felt a little hope too, and that hope made her hurry her steps. Because if anyone still knew her, surely it would be Luke?

The familiar name and logo were still on the windows, but the place itself looked…neater, somehow. More put together. Not as many leftover hardware items were scattered around.

She made her way to the counter, her heart pounding. A woman was standing behind it, seemingly in charge. Lorelai was relieved, in a way, that Luke wasn't there. One step at a time.

Lorelai sat down on her usual stool.

The woman turned around.

"Oh, my God! Rachel?" Lorelai was stunned.

Rachel looked tired, and much older than the last time Lorelai saw her. She stared at Lorelai, a little perplexed. "Yes?"

"Sorry," Lorelai said, trying to school her features so she wouldn't looked too shocked. "I just heard – someone told me that the woman behind the counter was Rachel."

"Oh. Well, yeah, that's me. What can I get you?"

"Um, coffee." Might as well go with her normal order.

"Sure. What size?"

"What size?" Lorelai looked in vain for the coffeebowls that should have been stacked on the shelf. "Uh, as big as you've got."

As Rachel poured the coffee, the light bounced off the wedding band on her finger. Lorelai's heart broke a little bit more. To hide her reaction, she took a sip. "Ugh, different," she said, without thinking.

"No good?" Rachel asked, sounding worried. She sniffed suspiciously at the pot.

"No, no, it's fine. Just not…what I expected."

Rachel nodded and turned to leave, but Lorelai suddenly felt the need to dig a little deeper. "They told me that you're a photographer."

Rachel laughed, a bit bitterly. "Used to be, I guess."

"But not now?"

"Not for years."

"Could I ask why?"

Rachel folded her arms, and looked somewhere off in the distance. "I came back here to prove myself, I guess. To prove something to someone. And then I guess…I got stuck. I couldn't leave without tearing down what I had tried so hard to prove. But sometimes I think…I was wrong to come back, and he was wrong to believe me." All at once, she looked horrified and self-conscious. "Sorry. Don't know why I'm saying all of this to you."

"Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger," Lorelai suggested.

Rachel's smile this time was grim and determined. "I've always said that people see this counter and think it's a bar. I'm just not used to being the one who's doing the over-sharing."

There was a slight pause as the two women regarded each other. Lorelai took a deep breath, ready to ask the hard question. "I noticed…it says Luke's on the window. Is there…Is there still a Luke?"

"Oh sure, he's out there somewhere." Rachel waved an arm out towards the square and beyond. "There doesn't seem to be enough space in the diner anymore for both of us to be here at the same time."

Rachel went to check on another customer. Lorelai got up, and quickly left enough money to pay not only for her cup of mediocre coffee, but to provide a big tip, as well. She didn't want to talk to Rachel any more. She didn't want to be in the diner without Luke.

She slipped out the door, tears collecting in her eyes as the familiar bells chimed over her head. She looked at Doose's as she walked past; listened to Miss Patty encourage her little ballerinas to stop picking their noses. She didn't want to try to talk to anyone else, though. She was already too forlorn. She didn't want more encounters with people who should know her but didn't.

Then, on the other side of Gypsy's garage, she spotted a flannel-clad back. A backwards baseball cap. In spite of her intention to stay calm, she ran to him.

"Luke!"

"What?" he snapped, sounding angry. He whirled around, ready to fight, but his irritation vanished when he saw her. "Sorry. I thought you were…never mind." He shook his head, but then peered closely at her, looking slightly confused. "Can I help you with something?"

"I don't know. Um, maybe?" She could barely stand still because of her nervous energy.

He frowned. "Do I know you?"

"I don't know. Do you?" The words sounded flirtier than she'd intended because she could barely breathe. She stepped closer to him, and tilted her face so he could get a better look at her. Her heart was again pounding, but this time with hope.

He took his time looking her over, and even spared a surreptitious glance at her legs, but finally he shook his head regretfully. "No, I don't. Should I?"

His denial was too much for her, more than she could withstand. As her hope disappeared, her shoulders slumped and her eyes brimmed over. "No. No, there's no reason for you to know me. Sorry I bothered you." She turned to leave, but he caught her arm.

"No, wait. Obviously you're upset. I know I'm not much good at this stuff, but you're sure I can't do something to help?"

Hearing the usual gruff Luke-kindness broke her. She could no longer keep the tears back.

"Oh, hey now…" He led her behind the garage, where there was a bench, conveniently out of sight of the diner.

Lorelai sat down despondently, sniffling back tears.

He patted at his pockets. "Sorry, I don't…"

Although teary, she smiled anyway. "That's OK, I know you don't have a handkerchief. And I agree, giving your hanky to someone else to blow their nose on is disgusting."

He looked surprised, but soon smiled. "Yeah, it is."

She took a big breath, trying to get control of her emotions. "So, you married Rachel, huh?"

He looked at her sharply.

"Does she still move the milk? Does that still drive you crazy?"

His expression changed over to shock, and then slipped towards anger. "Why would you say that? How could you possibly know –?"

"I don't. Sorry." She shifted to the edge of the bench, preparing to stand up. "I should go."

Once again, Luke stopped her. "Do you live here?"

How much sadness could a person take? "I thought I did. But I guess I don't."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I. Sorry. I'm having a really strange day." She pondered how much to tell him, but almost immediately realized it didn't really matter. She would soon leave and he would only scratch his head over the crazy woman he talked to one day. "Have you ever wondered if the whole alternate reality thing could be real?"

"Alternate reality?"

"Yeah, like…like Star Trek! They had tons of alternate reality stories, right?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Or…maybe the Outer Limits did too. You know, it was like the Twilight Zone, but cooler?"

He gave her that sharp look again, tinged with some grudging respect.

"Anyway, imagine this other reality, someplace where Luke and Lorelai…" she trailed off, unable to keep going with the lighthearted recap.

His hand landed on her elbow, trying to comfort her.

She looked at him, her heart in her eyes, and clasped her fingers around his. She hoped he felt the same jolt she did, and judging by the way he drew in a sharp breath, she was pretty sure he had.

"Your name's Lorelai?" he asked, after an intense pause.

She nodded.

"Unusual," he commented. "Pretty," he added, after a beat.

She wasn't going to let go of his hand for anything. "So in this other Stars Hollow, Lorelai loves Luke, the scruffy diner-owner. And she loves her daughter Rory, and she runs her own inn, the Dragonfly, along with Sookie St. James. She has…a really good life. But here…none of that's true. And I don't…I don't know how to get back to the other reality."

There was a long spell of quiet, broken only by Lorelai's sad sniffles.

"You're completely crazy, aren't you?"

His dry assessment made her smile, in spite of the tears. "Probably."

He shook his head, then motioned towards her. "You look like this in the other place?"

She glanced down at herself. "Yeah, I guess. I don't usually dress quite this grown up."

He fluttered a hand around his own head, while nodding towards her. "Seems like your hair should be fluffier, somehow."

"Curlier?"

"Yeah." He nodded emphatically, his eyes darting critically around her face. "Curlier."

Hope bloomed and she stopped breathing. "You remember?"

"No. Sorry. I almost wish I did." He squeezed her fingers quickly, then let them go.

Lorelai sighed, recognizing defeat. "I guess I should get out of here before you decide to call someone to come cart the looney lady away."

They both stood up, trying to find a distance between them that didn't feel too awkward. Luke stuck his hands in his pockets.

"You're OK to drive, right? You're not drunk or on something, are you? Because I could, I don't know, call a taxi, or –"

"No, I'm fine. Heartbroken and devastated, but fine."

She put her purse over her shoulder, steeling herself to walk away, and then thought of one more thing to ask. "Hey, how's the Jess in this world?"

Instantly she knew she shouldn't have asked. "Oh, Luke…no…" She stepped back over to him and wrapped her hand around his arm.

"He…this past fall…Overdose, they said, but they can't tell if it was accidental, or, you know…"

To hell with any sort of propriety. She hugged him then, as tightly as she could, desperate to ease his pain. Briefly, he held her just as tightly, and lowered his head to rest on her shoulder.

He soon extricated himself. "You, ah, knew him? Over, uh…"

"Yeah. We didn't really get along, but I secretly admired his smart-assedness. He loved my daughter. And I'm pretty sure she loved him."

Luke nodded, looking almost gratefully at her. "He tried to stay here, for a while, but that didn't work out. Rachel didn't…Anyway, he got mixed up with a hard bunch, and then, he just left one day."

"And there was no Rory to help him."

"No anybody." His voice broke and he looked away, fighting tears of his own.

Seeing her brave, stoic Luke crumble made her more resolute.

"If this gets back to Rachel, tell her you were attacked by a crazy lady."

She wanted to kiss him with everything she had, to try to force him to remember, but a flash of insight made her reassess. After all, this was Luke, and she knew how much he'd hate a display like that. So instead she pressed her lips against his tenderly, only allowing a connection between them for the briefest, most gentle of moments. She tried to infuse as much love as possible into the sweet, short kiss.

He surprised her by holding her to him when she tried to step away. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her. "I'm sorry I can't help you." He brushed his lips against her forehead before he released her.

With shaking hands, she reached into her bag and found another business card. She offered it to him. "If you ever want to hear more about that other reality, come look me up."

Luke turned the card over several times, chewing the inside of his cheek. Finally he handed it back to her. "I'm afraid I can't keep this, Lorelai." He looked straight into her eyes. "It would be too much temptation, and I'm not…" He tore his gaze away from her and shook his head. "That's not who I am."

"No. No, it's not," she agreed, unable to get her quivering voice to rise above a whisper. She felt the tears on her cheeks, but she remembered how much he'd always loved her smile, so she forced one onto face.

"Bye, Luke," she said, and then she turned and walked doggedly to her sensible, company-owned car and drove away.

She cried most of the way back to Hartford. After she parked in the drive of her parents' house, she walked around to the back and took a few minutes to stroll through the well-tended rose garden stretching between the patio and the pool house. Finally, she sat down on a bench and closed her tired, tear-swollen eyes.

"Lorelai? Are you just getting home?"

Her father was standing there, looking at her with concern. He sat down beside her, putting his briefcase on the ground.

"Sweetheart, are you all right? You've looked so sad recently."

"I'm OK, Dad." She paused, wondering how she could tell him about her inner turmoil, and this literally out-of-the-world situation in which she found herself. "It's just…I guess I just feel like I don't really fit in anywhere here."

"Ah, I see." Thoughtfully, he patted her knee. "Is it permissible for ol' dad to give you some advice?"

"Of course," she said, although she knew that normally she would have made a smart comment instead.

Richard looked around thoughtfully at the gathering dusk. "You've been such a good daughter, Lorelai."

She snorted in amusement and disbelief.

He turned to her, smiling himself. "You have! Oh, I know we had a rough go there for a couple of years when you were a teenager, but once we got through those, we couldn't have asked for a better daughter. Your mother and I were so proud of the way you dove into your studies. Such bragging we did, with you always right at the top of your class at Yale. And to see you make such a success at every job you've had – well, we're so proud, Lorelai. Very proud. The only thing you need now is to find the right person to be at your side, to help you make your own home. And I could have told you 20 years ago it wasn't going to be Christopher."

"Dad?" She was shocked.

"Well, it's true. He's not right for you. I was happy you held off on him for as long as you did, but I understood, too, why you finally decided to marry him. I'm sure you thought that after the length of time you two had been an item off and on, that there had to be something there. But he's too…insubstantial for you, Lorelai. He always has been."

"Insubstantial?"

"Yes." Richard paused. "You're very practical –"

Lorelai hooted at his choice of words, she couldn't help it.

"Well, you are. Sensible, practical, hard-working. But I remember when you had a reckless streak, when everything was fodder for a joke with you. You found such joy in the world's absurdity. I believe you need someone who's more down-to-earth, more serious, to provide an anchor for you. That way you can let your fun-loving side have free rein again. Some yin for your yang."

She smiled softly, shaking her head slightly, as she thought about her practical, hard-working, sensible Luke. "You might be on to something there, Dad."

"I might indeed." He leaned over and tenderly kissed her forehead before standing up. "Don't be too much longer out here. It's getting cool, and besides, your mother will worry about us both." He picked up his briefcase.

"I'll be there in just a minute."

"Very good. And Lorelai…" He turned back to look at her once more. "The only other thing I can say is that I hope that one day you have a daughter who brings you as much joy as you have to your mother and me."

"Thanks, Dad," she whispered to his retreating back. And then, for just another minute, she let her eyes close…

"Mom?" Someone was shaking her shoulder. "Mom?"

She opened her eyes and there was her daughter, with an anguished look on her angelic face. For a moment she was too confused to move. But then she leaned forward and grabbed Rory with a shout of joy.

"Rory! Oh my God! My beautiful little girl!" She pulled so hard that Rory tumbled into her lap, and then she kissed her cheeks and forehead over and over.

"Mom…Mom, stop!"

"No, never!" Lorelai gave her another smacking kiss, refusing to let go. "I can't do this without you, Rory. I can't! It's you and me through thick and thin, do you understand? Nothing in this world is right if you're not with me, Kid."

"Mom, listen." Rory pushed and scrambled her way out of her mother's lap, then sat back and blew the hair out of her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I ran away. I'm so sorry I ruined everything. I just – you weren't listening, and I had to get away – but I'm sorry. I hurt you, and I'm so sorry –"

"Rory, it's OK. We're going to figure this out."

"I saw you through the window, and I didn't know what to do –"

"The window?"

"Yeah." Rory motioned towards the pool house, currently hidden from their sight by the trailing rosebushes. "I saw you standing outside, looking in at me, and I just froze. I was so ashamed, and I didn't know what to do to make it right." She nodded at the overflowing laundry basket at Lorelai's feet. "Were you bringing some of my stuff over?"

"Yeah…" Slowly, reality was coming back to her. "Yeah, I was. And I peeked in through the window, and then I sat down here for a minute…" She shook some more cobwebs out of her head, so grateful that she had been right and that the alternate reality she'd been trapped in had only been a bad dream. "I guess I fell asleep for a little bit."

"I kept pacing back and forth, listing pros and cons, trying to figure out what to do, and suddenly I knew I had to see you right now, to try and talk to you, so I came running out here, hoping I could catch you before you left – "

"Well, you did. I'm here. And you're here." She ran her hand through Rory's hair, relishing the feel of the silky strands, unbelievably relieved that her daughter was real and sitting next to her. "We're together. What more do we need?"

Rory shook her head. "Mom, I love you. I do, so much. But I need to work through this myself. This isn't something you can do for me."

Lorelai swallowed hard, butting against the truth she had hoped to circumvent. "Yeah. You're absolutely right. You're the one who needs to figure this out."

"But that doesn't mean I don't want you around while I'm doing the figuring out."

Lorelai pushed a piece of hair away from Rory's face. "Yeah. I can accept that, too."

"So can we work out some boundaries here? Are you willing to give me a little space?"

"Yes. But you need to understand that I'm in your corner. I may not agree with whatever you ultimately decide, but I'm not going to ever love you less, Rory. I'm here. Always. You need me, you call me, and I'll be here in twenty-seven-and-a-half minutes."

Rory chuckled. "Wow, that long?"

"Eh, faster, if traffic allows."

Relieved, Rory collapsed against her mother, leaning her head against Lorelai's shoulder. "Thank you. I'm just…I'm so sorry about how I've handled this so far."

"And I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you. Because you're an adult now. You get to make decisions on how to live your life. I'm sorry I forgot that."

Rory chuckled a little bit. "Because after all, I am Lorelai Gilmore too."

"Yes, you certainly are."

They sat in affectionate silence for a little bit longer. Lorelai found herself watching her parents' house, thinking about the confrontations she'd recently had with them, and contrasting their strained relationship with the respectful one the other Lorelai seemed to enjoy. For not the first time, she wondered if she'd take a step back occasionally, and resist her eagerness to fight their every word, if they too could find a happy medium. Maybe mutual respect was too much to ask, but possibly they could at least learn tolerance.

"Do you want to come in?" Rory asked shyly, breaking into her reverie.

"I most certainly do," Lorelai responded, happy to be invited.

"Should you call Luke?"

"That is also an affirmative." She picked up the laundry basket and handed it to Rory. "Here, take this in, and I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

"OK. Tell Luke I say hi."

"Will do." Lorelai watched her daughter walk away, then found her unimpressive, medium-quality phone and placed the call.

"Where are you?" was the tense way he answered his phone.

She winced at the worry in his voice. "Hey, sorry. I'm in Hartford, with Rory."

Even over the phone, she could feel his concern evaporate. "You're with Rory? How is she?"

Lorelai glanced over at the pool house. "OK, I think. Or getting there, at least."

"And how OK are you with that?"

"I'm getting there, too. We talked some. A pretty good talk. I'm going to stay a little longer, talk some more. I'm optimistic, Luke. I think…I think we'll be able to work this out yet."

He let out a noisy sigh of relief. "That's good. You girls shouldn't fight."

"No, we shouldn't. Hey, where are you?"

"At your house."

"Oh, sorry, babe. Did I ruin your night?"

He was quiet for a moment. "No, of course not, although…No, it's fine. My plans will keep."

She grinned. "Will they now? Will they wait until I come home? Are you sure you can stand to wait that long?"

"Geez," he sighed.

"Luke," she began, and then cut herself off, overwhelmed by all of the important things she realized she needed to say to him. Things they should have already discussed. Things he needed to know. "Um, you said you were at my house?"

"Yeah, but it's no big deal."

"Yeah, Luke, it kinda is." She closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts. "I don't think we should call it 'my' house anymore, do you?"

He didn't say anything right away. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean, it should be our house, shouldn't it?"

Again, that pause. "You want me to move in?"

"I'd like it if you did, yes." Suddenly nerves attacked. "Of course, I don't know how you feel, and I know you've got the diner to consider, the deliveries and all. And…I know you're attached to your place there, I know it was your dad's, and maybe you don't want to leave –"

"Lorelai, I'll figure it out." He shut down her rambling. "Every extra minute I get to spend with you is a bonus. If you want me at the house, I'll be there. I'll do whatever needs to be done to make this work out for us."

"OK, good. That's good." She took a few steps further away from the pool house and bent her head lower, thinking somehow that those small alterations made their conversation more private. "And there's something else. Something really important."

"What?" She could hear the nerves in his voice, too.

"I've been worried that maybe you don't know how much…That maybe I haven't told you enough…" She cleared her throat. "I love you. You know that, right? How much I love you? How much I need you to be in my life? I need Rory, and I need you. Equal measures. You do know that, right?"

He didn't say anything for a good long spell and she waited anxiously. "I guess…I hoped that, Lorelai. I mean, I thought I felt that from you, but…it's really good to hear. I know it's hard to say the actual words, or to find the right words to try and explain how you feel. I'm guilty of that, too." He paused briefly. "I love you, too, more than you can possibly imagine."

"I can imagine," she whispered into the phone. "And…did you know? We're getting married."

He chuckled. "That's the rumor."

"I know the way it happened maybe wasn't the best, me just blurting it out the way I did. I don't want you to think that the only reason I did it was because I was in crisis with Rory, and desperate to have somebody else to fill in that gap."

"I don't –" he started to say, but she talked over him, needing to get her whole explanation out.

"I can see how you might think that, but it's not true. I want us together, Luke. I've wanted that for a while now. I want us married and together, as soon as possible. Because of the whole loving you and needing you in my life thing."

"I concur," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Good." She closed her eyes and took a big breath of relief. "I thought I might tell Rory tonight, since I'm here. Unless you want us to tell her together?"

"No, tell her. I want her to know. I hate secrets."

"OK, then I will. I expect you'll hear her shriek of joy all the way from Hartford."

"You think she'll be happy?"

"She will. I know she will, because that Gilmore girl loves you too." Lorelai began to walk towards the pool house, and soon she could see her daughter through the window, watching for her. "I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Take your time. Make your peace with your girl. I'll be here – uh, at home – waiting for you."

"Thank you, Luke. I love you."

"I love you too. Drive safe."

"I will. Bye."

She closed the phone and reached for the door, grateful for the lessons she'd learned in her sleep, and thankful that the little corner of the world she called her own had welcomed her back.