AN: Thanks to the AMAZING Kassandra27 for all her help with this. I've probably been driving her insane, (Sorry) but hopefully I'll be a little less annoying, no promises though.

Also, there will be clues about The Father, and you can all guess as much as you like, but I'm not going to confirm or deny for awhile.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. Except Charlotte and Emma.

As the grandfather clock across the room announced the commencement of the twenty-first hour of the day, Rory Gilmore looked up at her husband sitting in his favorite chair, silently reading a book to himself that he could practically recite from memory.

Their sixteen-year old daughter Charlotte, who everyone simply called Lo, entered the room carrying a bowl of popcorn and a copy of Jane Eyre, found somewhere around the house.

Rory had decided to keep her maiden name as it was the one she had used throughout her career and was the one that most people within her field recognized. Her two daughters however had both d been given their father's name.

Once the room had returned to its earlier quiet, Rory pulled the blanket tighter around herself and continued to read, until a voice at the door called to her.

"Mommy? Can you tell me a story?" Eight-year old Emma asked as she came out of her room and crawled into her mother's lap.

"A story? Daddy already read you a story. You should be sleeping."

"No. I want a new story. Daddy's stories are silly. There's always a princess and she always gets herself into trouble and can never get out of it, so she has to wait for the prince to show up and rescue her."

Across the room Emma's father rolled his eyes as he continued to read. Gilmore women were a lot of work, even at an early age.

"Honey, those are the stories that little girls your age are supposed to like."

"But they're boring! Tell me a story about you."

"About me?"

"You and Daddy. Tell me how you met him."

"Oh! Wait, wait. I want to hear this too!" Lo marked her place in her book and then joined her mother and sister on the couch, pulling at the blanket covering her mom's feet.

"You want a story about me and Daddy?" Rory asked again, trying to think of where to start.

"I can't wait to hear how you spin this one. You'd better be nice to me in these recollections." Warned the man across the room as he too put down his book.

Staring into the fireplace, at the dancing flames warming her home, Rory thought back over the years. The recent discovery of her third pregnancy and the births of her first two daughters. The weddings and funerals she had attended in recent times. The work she had put into her career. And the many obstacles that had stood between her and the man she loved, but they had overcome all that to be together in this house, together as a family.

"Ok. Here are the rules-"

"You don't have rules to tell a story," Protested Emma.

"Hey, it's my story and I'll tell it however I want to. And remember, Grandma has rules for movie night, so why can't I have rules for this?"

"Fine, you can have rules." Lo relented, wanting her to get on with the tale. "What are they?"

"Rule number one is for you," She explained, pointing to her husband. "I am telling this story so you cannot object about the way that I choose to portray things."

"Seriously?"

"Agree or you will seriously disappoint your daughters."

"Ok, fine. I won't object."

"Good and rule number two is... No, I don't have a second rule. That's it. So are we ready?"

All three nodded and Rory settled back, running her fingers through her youngest daughter's hair.

"This is the story of how I met your father..."

AN2: So nothing much happened there, but the fun will begin soon. Review!