Literati fans, please don't be turned off by the beginning of this story, I think if you continue reading you'll be pleasantly surprised (I hope). Anyway thank you for reading and please review. I also appreciate criticism. The beginning of this story takes place in season one, 'Rory's Dance' if you didn't catch that while reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls.

Chapter: 1

She'd insisted on walking herself home, respectfully declining his offer to accompany her. He'd been hesitant to acquiesce, rubbing her elbow with his palm and looking at her worriedly. She'd forced a smile, reassuring him in a whisper that she was fine and would continue to be fine, and gently reminded him that it was already one, an hour past her curfew. Once she added the possibility of both her mother and grandmother lurking in the entryway, he reluctantly agreed. He'd pulled her to him sweetly, wrapping his arms around her frame and resting his chin on her head. The now familiar smell of her hairspray and shampoo had clouded his mind as he'd breathed in softly, closing his eyes.

She'd wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. She let out a nearly silent shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut, willing her emotions to lay dormant. She tried to swallow but her throat wouldn't cooperate, causing her larynx to bob uncomfortably. After squeezing him firmly, she'd released her hold and stepped back, looking up at his face. She'd forced another smile, this one a little less convincing.

He'd opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shut it again. He looked at her face and sighed a little, asking if she was really fine. He looked at her skeptically.

She'd nodded and said yes before quickly reaching up to kiss his cheek. He'd turned his head and pecked her on the lips. She'd stepped back again and waved a little before turning to begin her walk home.

Her legs had felt like lead as she walked, each step she took echoed against the pavement, the streets long deserted. She looked down as she moved, cautiously avoiding patches of ice. Her dress swished against her calves, billowing out every so often with the cold winter air.

When she'd finally reached home, she'd crept to the back door, entering as silently as possible and cringing when the kitchen floor groaned with age under her nylon covered feet. She'd removed her heels on the porch. However, no one had appeared and she breathed easier as she shuffled into her bedroom.

She was currently seated on her bed, shoes dangling from the fingers on her left hand, her right clenching and unclenching the fabric of her comforter. She was thinking. Thinking about everything. Everything that had happened over the past few hours, starting with the dance and ending with her silent walk home.

She let her shoes drop to the carpet, making a dull thud as they landed. She reached her hands up to her hair, feeling mounds of disheveled curls and an endless number of bobby pins. Her head felt itchy and tight, the bobby pins and curls pulling and scratching at her scalp.

She remembered as his hands had traveled to her hair, but finding it securely shellacked in place with ungodly amounts of hairspray, he'd only succeeded in rumpling it.

Her hands trembled and she breathed sharply as she began to pull at the pins, yanking and twisting, flinging them onto her nightstand each time she successfully dislodged one. Her throat felt tight again as she felt herself grow towards some form of hysteria, ripping at her scalp almost viciously, frantically straightening the curls and trying to smooth her hair into submission.

She breathed deeply and let her hands drop, trying to calm her anxiety. She looked to the left, at her bureau mirror, and stared at her reflection. She looked crazed; having only been mildly successful in her attempts, now her head was in a disarray of half-up-half-down curls, frizzy and disheveled.

She turned away, grinding her teeth. She looked down at her nylon covered legs and noticed a horizontal snag that ran down her calf for about three inches.

She remembered his dilated pupils as he looked at her, his chest heaving and hands shaking slightly as they moved under her dress, grasping the band of her nylons and pulling down. She vaguely remembered the sound of ripping as he clumsily attempted to pull them over her feet, not accustomed to the fabric's delicate nature. She hadn't given it much thought at the time, her head had been far too fogged to notice.

Her stomach clenched painfully as she stared at the tear. She should have noticed. She should have noticed everything. She should have noticed when he put her book down and looked at her with dark eyes, she should have noticed when he kissed her gently and placed his hand on her arm, she should have noticed when she felt her back pressed against the mats, bobby pins painfully pushing into her head. She should have noticed when he pushed the jacket from her shoulders before removing his own, she should have noticed when he molded his body against hers, pressing into her in a way that made her breath come in short gasps.

She let out a quiet sob as she looked down at her body and noticed dark spots on the blue satin of her dress. She watched as two more spots formed before she realized that she was crying.

During, she had felt incredible. Her mind disengaged, unresponsive, but her body automatically reacting to every touch, every kiss.

After, she remembered sinking. The deep, heavy, dark weight that had settled over her body as she lay on the floor, naked and panting. It had started in her chest, a paralyzing feeling, it had spread to her stomach, making it twist and knot, her organs felt like snakes writhing inside her. It had moved through her legs and arms, making her fingers tremble. The paralysis finally overtook her entire body and she was still. For a few short moments she felt nothing. Her eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling and the only thought her mind could form was you are your mother's daughter, you are your mother's daughter, you are your mother's daughter.

And then she felt his arm snake around her stomach and his lips press onto her neck and it took all she had not to scream. Scream out in anger, shame, sadness, disappointment, guilt. But she couldn't, not with this boy beside her who was still gently kissing her neck and whispering soft nothings into her ear. Because none of these emotions were directed at him. They were directed at her. She could have stopped it. She wished she had stopped it. She wanted to take it back. She wanted herself back, because now he had that part of her and she realized she wasn't ready to give it away. But it was done. Final. No second chances, no redoes.

So she'd bitten her lip and closed her eyes, willing these feelings away. Because she didn't want to hurt him. Because this wasn't his fault. Of course he had initiated it, but she had allowed it. She couldn't even claim that he'd pressured her because she'd given him no indication that she felt pressured. She'd made no protest, no signs of discomfort, hadn't said I want to wait or we shouldn't or I'm not ready. Not even a halfheartedly mumbled no.

She'd let her body take over while her mind sat on the back burner.

She looked at her body in disgust and anger. She hated her body. She hated that it had responded. She wished it had said no, that it hadn't been able to override her good judgement and common sense. But she'd let her senses overwhelm her, focusing on how his hands and mouth felt on her skin, the new and exciting feelings that coursed through her. Her skin didn't have the ability to think about consequences.

Her hands lay limply in her lap as she cried, tears slowly running down her cheeks to mix with the saliva in her mouth each time she opened her lips to let out a shuddering breath, her jaw trembling.

She winced when she pulled her nylons off, her legs feeling sore. She slowly stepped out of her dress, letting it glide past her shoulders and drop to the floor in a crumpled heap. She stepped on it with both feet, her toes digging into the fabric as she ground her teeth in resentment. Goddamn dress. The sudden anger that coursed through her was unexplainable but she continued to stamp on the dress, clenching her hands each time satin met skin. If I hadn't worn this dress, maybe he wouldn't have…

She remembered as he'd fumbled with the zipper, looking at her sheepishly when he could only unzip it halfway. She had reached behind her wordlessly and finished it for him.

She breathed sharply and stepped away from the dress, walking over to her bureau. Standing in her underwear, she stared at herself. She figured she looked the same, pale skin, soft undefined curves, round face, thin limbs.

His eyes had scanned her body, looking at her lustfully but with a hint of trepidation. After all, this was new to both of them. She had blushed furiously, choosing to stare at his shoulders rather than his face.

She pulled on a pair of pajamas and crawled into her bed, lying on her back. She stared at the ceiling, feeling exhausted. Her face felt itchy and tight, and she rubbed her cheeks with the palms of her hands, feeling the partially dried trails the tears had left on her skin. Well that's good. At least she wasn't crying anymore.

Then it was as if all the air had left her body. Her skin turned ice cold before quickly accelerating to burning hot. Her heart pounded in her ribcage and her breathing was shallow.

She squeezed her eyes shut. They had, they had, they had, they had.

It was impossible. Unconscionable. They couldn't be so irresponsible. Her mother had prepared her for this, she was a smart girl, she had a future to think of, she'd taken Sex Ed. two times for God's sake.

She whispered her mantra, "We did, we did…" She opened her mouth to repeat it before she opened her eyes, words dying on her tongue.

No. They hadn't.

Oh god…

Two Weeks Later

It was three thirty on a Sunday afternoon. She hadn't seen Dean much recently, only allowing him a chaste kiss if he stopped by her house or waving at him through the market window. She avoided his phone calls, asking her mother to take a message or making up an excuse about really needing to go to the bathroom, saying she couldn't possibly answer the phone when she was in such a hurry. She felt guilty for doing it, but she couldn't muster the courage to face him. She knew it was hurting him, she could see it in his expression when he would watch her crossing the street or when she ushered him out of her house, claiming she had unbelievable amounts of homework.

But sitting on her floor, leaning against the side of her bed, she wasn't really concerned about his feelings at the moment.

It was somewhat comical, really. How ten dollars, a cheap piece of plastic, and some urine could change the entire course of her future. It was a rather random assortment of items when you looked at it in the broad sense.

She stared at the test in her hand, the two pink lines swirling together as her eyes became unfocused, clouding with liquid.

She hadn't even told her mother that she'd done it, much less done it unprotected. And now this…

This. She thought about what this was. What this meant. It meant there was something inside her. A person, to be exact. Probably the size of a single cell at this point, but it was there none the less. And it was growing. Each day it got bigger, more developed. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. She would be a mother at sixteen.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and settled her chin on them, wrapping her arms around her shins. She titled her head forward and rubbed her eyes against her knees, feeling the liquid rub across her skin.

She heard the front door open and heels click across the floor.

"Rory? I only have a minute but I wanted to leave some money for pizza in case I get tied up at the inn. God, I swear, Michel has been nonstop today. Just on, and on, and on about this new skin cream he bought. 'My skin feels so silky, most amazing skin cream ever, I'm going to torture you with my mindless chatter and annoying accent.'" Lorelai imitated a french accent and then finished with an exaggerated huff.

"I swear, I'm about to…" She trailed off when she looked into her daughter's room and saw her huddled on the floor. "Rory?" She asked worriedly. "Honey what's wrong?" She asked as she hurriedly walked into the room and kneeled beside her.

Rory lifted her head and opened her mouth. It trembled slightly as she said, "I…" She let out a sob as she looked at her mother's face. "I'm so, so sorry." She cried.

"Baby just tell me what happened. Are you hurt? Rory, please talk to me, you're scaring me here." Lorelai replied while gentling grabbing her daughter's shoulders.

"You're going to be so disappointed, you're going to scream and cry and I can't, I just can't…" she broke down. "This wasn't supposed to happen! We talked about this. I was supposed to be the responsible one, do the things you never got to do, live life to the fullest, nothing holding me back. I was going to be an overseas correspondent…I…" her body shook violently as she buried her face into her mother's neck.

Lorelai's skin was turning to ice as she listened to her daughter's hysterical speech. She tried to reply as calmly as possible, but her voice was trembling. "Rory, what happened?"

Rory lifted her head and wordlessly unclenched her fist, dropping the test into her mother's lap.

Lorelai fell back into a sitting position; feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her. She stared at the white object in her lap before grasping it with shaky fingers.

"You're…" She managed to say, looking up at Rory with wide eyes.

Rory nodded, her eyes burning and red. "Mommy…" She choked out and reached forward.

Lorelai met her halfway and wrapped her arms firmly around her daughter, squeezing as firmly as she could. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes.

"I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry, Mom. I…" Rory repeated over and over, clutching desperately to her mother's shirt, balling the material in her fists.

Lorelai shushed her gently and pulled her closer, smoothing her hair. "It'll be okay." She said quietly, though she felt like she was suffocating. Everything they'd worked for, everything she'd tried so hard to acquire, trying to secure Rory the best possible future, the biggest dreams, it was all slipping away. "It'll be okay." She repeated, rocking Rory gently. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped onto her daughter's hair.

Nine Months Later: August

She typed furiously at her computer, concentrating on her second Franklin assignment of the year. She glanced to her right, smiling slightly at the sleeping bundle in his crib. She could hear his soft breathing and watched his chest rise and fall. Satisfied that he was all right, she turned back to the screen and continued her work.

She heard a knock on her door and called out, "Come in."

"Hey you joining the festivities?" She heard her mother ask from the doorway.

"In a sec." She answered curtly.

"You sound crabby." Lorelai incorrectly guessed from her tone.

"I'm concentrating." She answered, her eyes never leaving the screen.

"Okay, don't concentrate too hard. Boys like 'em dumb, right Jackson?" She heard Lorelai ask jokingly and she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

She continued typing and could hear muffled conversations in various parts of the house. She faintly heard the door open, but didn't think much of it. A moment later she heard her mother's voice speaking to her again.

"Rory they're here."

"Coming." She replied while clicking save on her document before closing it. She turned when she heard footsteps approaching her room. "Hey." A boy she could only assume was Luke's nephew was standing in her doorway.

"Hey." He replied before walking into her room. He was very cute, in a dark sort of way. In fact, everything about him seemed somewhat dark, Rory thought amusedly. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, olive skin, and to top it off, equally dark clothing, consisting of various shades of blue and black.

"I'm Rory."

"Yeah, I figured." He said with a nod of his head. His voice was deep and rough, sounding bored and uninterested.

"Nice to meet you." She said politely, trying to gauge some sort of reaction.

He didn't reply but continued walking through her room. He stopped in front of her makeshift bookshelf. "Wow, aren't we hooked on phonics."

She stood and grinned a little, seeming to find something that caught his attention. "Oh, I read a lot. Do you read?" She asked conversationally.

"Not much." He pouted his lip in a noncommittal way and shook his head.

She nodded; a little disappointed that she had misread him. She watched as he picked up her worn copy of 'Howl'. "I could loan you that if you want, it's great." She pointed to the book in his hand.

"No thanks." He quirked his mouth in a way that seemed to say 'I just told you I don't read' and shook his head again. He placed it on the shelf rather than inserting it back in its spot.

"Well if you change your mind…" She replied while folding her arms behind her back.

Her mother appeared in the kitchen holding two large bowls in her hands and announced the food was ready.

"Be right there." Rory replied. She turned to look at Jess and noticed him staring at his windows.

"So do these open?" He asked, pushing the curtain aside.

"Oh yeah, you just have to unlatch them and then push." She replied innocently, not catching his line of thought, while doing a 'shoving' motion with her hands.

"Great. Shall we?" He glanced at her as he unlocked it.

"Shall we what?" She asked confusedly, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Bail." He replied casually while nodding his head toward the window.

"No." She said with obvious surprise, a little shocked at his straightforward proposal.

"Why?" He asked just as casually, like he'd expected that answer.

Just as she opened her mouth to explain, she heard a quiet cry to her right and immediately turned to walk towards it.

Jess turned around at the sound and his eyes widened a little as he watched Rory walk over to a large blue crib in the right corner of her room. How the hell he had missed that upon entering, he had absolutely no idea.

"Sorry. I have to…" She apologized for the abrupt way she'd ended the conversation. She reached down and gently picked her son up, cradling his head with her hand as she tucked him into her arms. He was making discontent noises, not fully crying yet, but obviously not happy. "You are so fussy today." She said quietly, gently swaying back and forth as she kissed his forehead.

Jess watched her, still standing awkwardly by the window. "Yours?" He asked lamely, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"Yeah. His name is Rylan." She hesitated in her response, glancing at him and blushing slightly. It still felt weird to say. Of course she loved her son, more than anything, but it was difficult to admit that she had a kid at sixteen. It was even harder to admit to a guy that she'd just met who was the same age as her. She didn't want him assuming anything.

He nodded while placing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "How old?" He asked.

"Almost four weeks." She grinned a little as she bounced Rylan gently, listening to him make content sounds, happy to be in his mother's arms.

Jess cleared his throat and nodded again. He didn't really know what to say. Of course he'd seen pregnant girls before, there was usually one or two new ones each year at his old school. But he'd never actually been around a baby before, seeing as he was an only child and the only family he'd ever lived with was his mother. The entire situation struck him as a little bizarre, actually. The moment he'd walked into this girl's room, he never would have guessed she would be a mother. She just seemed so innocent. Hell, she wasn't even willing to ditch a lousy dinner with him. But, clearly, she had good reason not to.

He watched as she swayed from side to side, gently bouncing at the same time. He had to admit, she looked like a good mom.

"Did you want to see him?" She asked, sort of an immediate reaction after the past couple weeks of constantly hearing 'Oh, he is so precious!' and 'Can I hold him? He is so adorable!'

"Uh, sure." He replied but he kept his hands firmly in his pockets, indicating that he was not holding him. Honestly, he would be scared shitless to hold a baby.

She walked over to Jess and stood beside him. She gently pulled Rylan's blanket back some more to reveal more of his face and head. She adjusted her arms to give Jess a better viewing angle.

"Cute." Jess replied as he looked over the little boy. He was looking at Jess, his large green eyes traveling over his face, obviously not recognizing this stranger. Jess could see he had soft brown hair tucked beneath his blanket, a little of it poking out at the top of his forehead. He couldn't help but muse over how tiny Rylan's features were, his small nose and mouth, puffy cheeks, and little rounded chin. He felt the corner of his mouth turn up a little the longer he looked at him.

Rory watched as Jess looked over her son and couldn't help but smile as she watched his mouth twitch into a barely visible grin. "I like to think so." She agreed and saw him smirk as he glanced up at her.

Lorelai walked back into the kitchen, heading towards Rory's room. She was about to speak but stopped when she looked in. Rory and Jess were standing close together, about half a foot between them. She could see through the gap that Rory was holding Rylan in her arms, elevating him slightly so Jess could see. She watched him grin at the baby and mumble something before glancing up at Rory. Lorelai grinned before saying, "Showing off the baby, huh? I used to be able to do that when you were that tiny. But recently it's been getting kind of difficult to hold you that high. Gotta lay off that junk food, if you know what I mean." She said jokingly, leaning against the door frame.

Rory turned around and looked sheepishly at her mom. "I can't help it, it's almost an automatic thing now."

"I know what you mean. After the first hundred times, you just figure everybody wants to see your kid. Plus, who doesn't like to brag?" Lorelai said with a shrug.

Rory nodded before saying, "So what's up?"

"Just came to see what was holding you guys up. Everybody's already digging in out there, figured you might want the heads up before you were forced to eat scraps." Lorelai said while folding her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, we were about to head out, but I got a little sidetracked." Rory replied as she cradled Rylan close to her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you in here playing babysitter with me or something." She directed her comment towards Jess, giving him an apologetic look.

"No biggie." He replied. "I guess I'm gonna…" He gestured towards the open door before walking out to the dining room.

Lorelai waited until Jess was far out of ear shot before saying, "So what do you think of Jess?"

"He seems nice. Not very talkative, but nice." Rory replied, giving her honest assessment.

"Yeah, I guess. He just kinda gives me this vibe you know? But I guess it's understandable, with things how they are." Lorelai replied thoughtfully. "But I'm glad he was nice to you. He seemed to like this little guy, or at least not be utterly petrified by him." She said while walking over and smiling brightly at Rylan, reaching her hand up to gently touch his cheek.

"Why would he be?" Rory asked in confusion.

"Well, come on Rory. He's a seventeen-year-old guy; I doubt the thought of babies ranks as high as cars and basketball in his mind. He probably hasn't even been around one before." Lorelai said with a chuckle but quickly sobered when she watched Rory's expression fall. "Sweetie?" She asked in a questioning tone, touching her daughter's arm.

"I'm fine." Rory said in a clipped tone, shifting Rylan higher in her arms. She stared down at him, watching his eyes move behind his eyelids. He was finally asleep.

Lorelai sighed, immediately recognizing the reason for Rory's sudden hurt expression. "Is Dean stopping by tonight?"

"I don't know." Rory replied quietly, her voice sounding empty. "He's been working a lot lately, so I haven't seen him much." She carried her son to his crib and gently placed him inside, being careful not to wake him. Once she was sure he was soundly asleep, she turned back to her mother and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, that might be good. It would mean more money for Rylan." Lorelai replied in a hopeful tone, trying to remain as supportive as possible.

"I guess." Rory replied with a shrug. "I mean, I'm glad he's responsible enough to have a job, I just wish he could be here more is all. But, like you said, we need money." She looked down at her feet. She felt a familiar burning behind her eyes and squeezed them shut for a moment to stop the tears. "Sometimes I just feel like…he doesn't…he…" She trailed off and sniffled as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Oh Rory." Lorelai quickly enveloped her in a hug. Rory wrapped her arms around Lorelai's back and squeezed gently, feeling somewhat comforted. "You know Dean cares about you and Rylan. It's probably just hard for him to adjust. Maybe he needs more time."

"It's been four weeks Mom." Rory mumbled into Lorelai's shoulder. "How much more time does he need? I need him here, helping me with this. I mean, I have you, and I am so lucky and thankful that you help me so much but still…I don't want Rylan to not have a dad." She said the last part quietly.

Lorelai looked sadly at her daughter, knowing that Rory was thinking of her own father. Sometimes Lorelai absolutely hated Christopher. "And I'm always gonna be here babe, helping you with anything you need." She reassured her, stroking Rory's hair gently. "But I don't want you to give up. You're strong and we can do this. I need you to remember that." She said firmly holding Rory by her shoulders and giving her a look of confidence.

"I know." Rory said with a nod. "And I know Dean cares and that he's trying his best. I just wish it was a little more is all." She said with a sigh as she wiped her eyes.

"I know." Lorelai replied sadly. "We should probably head out there before they send the search party." She said with a small grin.

"Yeah, they probably think we've resorted to cannibalism by now." Rory couldn't help but smile.

"It's the Donner Party all over again." Lorelai replied with a cluck of her tongue and a dramatic eye roll.

Rory walked over to Rylan's crib and turned on his baby monitor and mobile, trying to ensure he would stay asleep. She turned on the nightlight next to his crib before flicking off her own overhead light and following her mom into the dining room.

As lame as this is to admit, I got this idea after watching an episode of "Sixteen and Pregnant" on MTV. I've seen other 'Rory is pregnant' stories, but never one like this and I thought it would be a completely crazy concept and hopefully a good surprise for people that have gotten tired of the same story lines. I realize Rory would have NEVER slept with Dean that early, but that's the whole point of this being out there and fresh. What's the point of writing fanfiction if you can't mix it up a bit? Anyway thank you so, so, so much for reading and I would love to hear if you like this idea so please review!