For all Luke knew, the truck steered itself to Skinner.

One minute, he was walking out of the diner and the next he was pulling into a parking space near the emergency room entrance.

He wrenched the truck door open, got out, and slammed it behind him. This burst of violent energy helped somehow. It felt like a small release of the pressure that had been pushing down on his chest since Babette had walked into the diner.

Calm down. You need to calm down. He told himself, working his fists in and out of tight balls as he neared the sliding door entrance to the hospital.

The emergency room was quiet, the waiting room nearing empty. He scanned the room, looking for anyone he might recognize and feeling the tiniest bit of hope when none of the faces were familiar.

They'd be there by now, wouldn't they? If it was her? Luke tried to reason as he walked up to the information desk.

Be calm, be calm, calm down.

"Excuse me," Luke said, and the small blond woman working behind the desk looked up from the book she was reading and smiled.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"I'm looking for someone...Someone that might be here. I was hoping you could check to see if she was. Here, I mean."

"Are you family?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

The blond receptionist repeated herself slowly, "Are you family of the person you are looking for?"

Luke stared at her blankly for a second before shaking his head. "No, no, just a friend."

The receptionist reached over and tapped a key, bringing her computer to life. "I can look up to see if someone is here, but if they are, then I am not allowed to give you any details on condition." She looked up at Luke and smiled reassuringly, "Sorry about that, but it's policy."

Luke nodded brusquely, "Sure. Fine. Whatever. Her name is Lorelai Gilmore. She would have come in maybe two hours or so ago."

The receptionist tapped more keys, typing in Lorelai's name while Luke shifted his weight back and forth impatiently.

"No, it doesn't look like we have anyone by that name checked in here." The nurse smiled up at him, happy to give him what seemed like good news.

Luke felt a little shot of relief at her words, but didn't allow himself to revel in it.

"What about Hayden?" Luke asked with a grimace, "Lorelai...Hayden?"

Tilting her head questioningly, the receptionist stared at him for a short moment before returning to her screen. She typed in the new name.

"No, I don't see that one, either."

Luke grasped the edge of the counter, bent over slightly and let out a huge breath. He looked up at the blond, gave her a small, tight smile. "Good. Thanks. I guess that's it then."

"Anytime." She replied, smiling at him shyly. "Really, I'm glad to help."

Luke just nodded, oblivious to her flirtatious look, and turned back toward the waiting area. The raging panic had left him and in its place was a nervous, jittery energy that electrified his body. He passed a chair and decided to sit and collect himself before attempting the drive home.

There was nothing about this level of relief that was relaxing.

He took his cellphone out of his pocket and stared at it for a minute before snapping it open and pushing speed dial option number one.

There wasn't even one ring before his call went to voicemail, her voice filling his ear.

"You've reached Lorelai Gilmore and you can't talk to me right now because I finally hotwired that Delorian and I'm having a very hot dinner with a young and gorgeous Andrew McCarthy. Or, it could be that I just can't get to the phone. Either way, leave a message."

Luke smiled and closed his phone, not sure if he was just happy to hear her voice, or to hear her say, 'Gilmore'.

His hand was still shaking as he put his phone back in his pocket. He leaned over his knees, put his head in his hands, and closed his eyes.

She's fine, she's fine, she's okay, Luke repeated over and over to himself.

He took a few deep breaths.

I need to get back to the diner, he thought, wondering if Babette had locked up for him after he walked out. I'll need to call her and apologize, he realized.

Two more breaths and his shaking had mostly subsided.

"She's okay," he said quietly to himself, trying to make the words feel more real by saying them out loud.

"Luke!"

It was the familiar voice more than the sound of his name that brought his head out of his hands. Her beautiful face was so completely wrong. Her eyes shouldn't be that red, her pale skin shouldn't be streaked with mascara and her mouth should absolutely not be twisted in a way that held back a sob.

Rory rocketed toward him, pushing him back in his chair with such force that it nearly toppled backward. Whatever tears she had managed to hold on to on the drive to the hospital let go on his shoulder.

And Luke let go, too. He felt the earth fall away until he was floating in stasis, his body somewhere below his mind. He was in some other plane of existence where the only sound he heard was his voice as it formed one word very quietly.

"No."

Hours later, they still didn't have word on what was happening.

All they knew were the basics. Lorelai had been in a roll-over accident. She was still in surgery and had been for hours. There had been some head trauma, some broken bones, a punctured lung, and, in the doctor's words, a concerning amount of internal bleeding.

Luke had listened to all of it distantly. A part of his brain, the part he hadn't managed to silence, was telling him to pay attention, to focus on the prognosis, to feel grateful that she wasn't dead.

That she wasn't dead yet.

But every other part of him was in self-preservation mode. He was good at self-preservation mode, it had gotten him through his mom's death, his dad's illness and, to a lesser extent, had been very useful over the course of the last several months.

"Hey, you want some tea?"

Luke looked up from the carpeted floor that had held his attention for the better part of an hour.

Logan stood in front of him with a steaming paper cup held out.

"Yeah, sure," Luke said, reaching out and taking the cup. The scent of the tea wafted toward him. "Peppermint. How did you know?"

Logan gestured toward the other side of the waiting room where Rory paced up and down the aisle. "Rory said..."

Luke nodded quickly, "Yeah, of course."

He took a sip of the tea and it burnt his tongue a little. "Thanks," Luke said.

"Hey, listen," Logan began, "Why don't you come join us over there, the nurse came and said the doctor will be out soon with an update."

Luke glanced over to the other side of the waiting area where Emily sat. Rory's pacing had sped up to a level that was dangerous to any that cross her path.

"No, thanks. I'm good here," Luke said, looking back down at the floor.

Luke felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up again.

"Let me know if you want to talk, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks, Logan."

"Anytime," he said, patting Luke's shoulder one more time.

As Logan walked away, Luke noticed a flurry of activity out of the corner of his eye. A grim-faced doctor was walking toward the group. The bottom fell out of his stomach and he felt his body pull him out of the chair and over to listen.

"She's out of surgery now and it went as well as we can hope for. We've gotten the bleeding stopped and she's been given transfusions to replace what she lost. Our next concern is to ascertain the extent of her head injury. For now we have placed her in a medically induced coma while we run our tests. If the tests are encouraging, we'll let her wake up on her own and will assess the situation further from there.

The doctor cleared his throat and continued, "I want to let you know that the next 48 hours are very important. The damage from the accident was severe but we are doing all we can to help her recover. If she can pull through these next few days, then the chances of recovery—"

"She'll be fine," Emily said, cutting him off. "My daughter is strong and she'll be just fine."

The doctor nodded slowly in response. "Does anyone have any questions?"

"Can I see her?" The question flew out of Luke's mouth before he'd had a chance to think. Although now that he'd said it out loud he knew wanted it and feared it in equal measure. He felt all the eyes of the group swing in his direction.

"Lorelai's condition is critical at the moment, so we will need to limit visitation to one person, one ten minute visit, once per hour. And family only at this time." He looked questioningly at Luke, "Are you her—"

"He's not her family," Emily interrupted.

"I'd like to see her now, if I may," Rory said softly. "I'm her daughter."

"Of course, I'll take you to her myself," the doctor said to Rory. Directing his attention back to the group he said, "I'll be back out when there is further news to share." And then he lead Rory beyond the swinging doors and down the hall.

"You shouldn't be here," Emily said to Luke, sitting back down in her chair. "You have no reason to be here. No purpose."

Luke looked away from her, biting back words.

"I'm going to go make a call," Logan excused himself, walking down the hall and away from the mounting tension.

"Her husband will be here soon. Christopher."

The pressures of the day had wound Luke tight and all it took was Christopher's name for that pressure to explode. "Oh, yeah? Well, then, where the hell is he now?"

Emily shifted in her seat, "Rory left him a few messages, I'm sure he'll be here any time now."

"It's been HOURS, Emily. Hours. Face it, he's a no show when Lorelai needs him, just like always."

"Oh, are we going to talk about being there for Lorelai, now? Because I might have a thing or two to add to the conversation."

"What the hell you are talking about?" Luke asked.

"I'm talking about you, Luke, and your propensity for throwing away golden opportunities to get more out of life than you deserve. And I'm talking about the fact that my daughter is going to need strength to recover from this and the last person she needs right now is you."

Emily's voice had never raised itself beyond a typical speaking level, but her words echoed around Luke as if she had screamed them with all the breath in her lungs.

"Go to hell," he said to her forcefully, then stalked down the hallway.

The cold Connecticut wind whipped his face as he made his way back to his truck, jerking open the door and slamming it shut as he had done hours before. His fingers shook with rage as he turned over the engine.

The diner was dark and cold when he entered it. Babette, or someone, had clearly cleaned and locked up.

Luke walked over the counter and sat on the stool Lorelai preferred. The diner smelled like coffee, even when the pots had been washed for the day. It was a smell he used to attribute to his work day, but for years now it made him think of Lorelai.

He lowered his head down to the counter and closed his eyes. He tried not to picture the accident, or think about Emily, or the hospital, or the doctor.

He sat there, his head on the counter, one single sentence repeating in his head.

"He's not her family."