Author's Notes: I guess that this one is a Christmas present to me. (Or actually a birthday present, since I inadvertently had it start on my birthday.) In any case, I can't think of a nicer gift than living in a universe where Merry Fisticuffs and Santa's Secret Stuff doesn't exist. Although it was supposed to be a one-shot, I ran out of time to finish it up, so here's the before Christmas portion and the after Christmas chapter will be coming along later. Happy Holidays!

It was the day before the day before Christmas, or, as it was better known to Luke Danes, Wednesday. That's because Luke was the type of guy who didn't care how many shopping days were left, or if the stockings were hung by the chimney with care, or if there were still enough whole Christmas cookies in the jar to fill a tray for the carolers. The only reason he might count down the days at all was so he'd know when he'd be able to walk up to a table without tripping over a mass of loaded shopping bags lying on the floor. Or because the end of the holiday season would mean the partial removal of some of the town's overabundance of twinkle lights and the blessed stopping of the piped-in Christmas music in the square. As far as Luke was concerned, January couldn't come fast enough.

Luke concentrated on bringing out plates of food and refilling coffee cups. He ignored the wearing of Christmas sweaters of questionable taste and the hyperactive youngsters being allowed to chug down mugs of cocoa by overindulgent parents. December, he often griped to himself, was nothing but a month of excuses.

Had Luke been more tuned into the diner's atmosphere on that day, he might have sensed an anxious undercurrent beneath the genial Christmas buzz. If he hadn't been so focused on merely trudging through the day, he might have picked up on the fact that something – or someone—in their normally cheery little town had gone astray. Even though he often wondered if he shouldn't in fact be the freakin' poster boy for things going south, once again it was proved to him that he rarely had a clue when lives were going to pieces around him.

In fact, it wasn't until the door opened early in the evening and everyone abruptly stopped talking at the same time that he took notice of it at all. Even then it was only because he finally looked up and registered who was standing in the doorway.

Christopher Hayden was standing there in a suit that probably exceeded even Emily Gilmore's expectations, which was in turn mostly covered by a long woolen coat that was perfect for the day before the day before Christmas. A tartan plaid scarf, tucked around his neck with just the right air of carelessness, added to his holiday flair. Luke hated Christopher for an ever-changing variety of reasons, but today he hated him for that coat. And the scarf. And for his gall to be standing there at all, daring to breathe in the diner's air.

On some level Luke heard the noise the coffee pot made as he chunked it down on a nearby table. He even spared a wince at the sound, hoping the carafe didn't break and scald some poor diner with the coffee still in it. But he was focused solely on getting to the interloper at the door.

"You've got some nerve," he growled, getting as close as he dared to the pretty boy's face. It was a careful judging of distance, getting close enough to make the dapper Mr. Hayden feel intimidated, yet not so close that Luke couldn't control his desire to deck him. "You've got some nerve, coming in here."

Movement at knee-level caught Luke's attention. An elfin blonde child peered out behind Christopher's legs, yellow curls tumbling over a blue snowsuit. She spotted Babette at a table and waved to her, excited in the way small children get when they see a familiar face in a strange place.

Now Luke had another reason to hate the jackass. Now he was going to have to be civil to him because his little girl was there. Coerced into silence, Luke continued to glare menacingly.

Christopher appeared to be having some control issues as well. "Do you know where she is?" His jaw unclenched just enough to let the words seethe out.

Just further proof that the guy is a moron, Luke thought. Scornfully he dipped his head down, indicating Kiki or CeeCee or whatever the kid's name was. Seriously, the guy couldn't even keep track of his own daughter? But then, look how well he'd kept up with Rory through the years. 'Nuff said.

Christopher's attitude changed over to sneering contempt. "I'm talking about Lorelai," he disdainfully explained.

"Lorelai?" Confusion made some of Luke's ire dissipate. "What about her?" he asked testily.

"She's…" Christopher broke off the staring contest with Luke and visibly struggled with what to say next. His left hand sought the security of his daughter's shoulder. "She's, uh…She's not around. You haven't seen her, then."

"Not since last month. At the hospital. With April." His stomach automatically twisted, remembering how that ring on her finger had punched him in the gut. "What's that supposed to mean, she's not around?"

Even though he tried to give a careless shrug, worry seemed to be overpowering all of Christopher's actions. "I came home from a quick trip to Boston with G.G. and Lorelai doesn't seem to be…anywhere."

"What do you mean, she's not anywhere? She's got to be around here somewhere." Luke was tired of dealing with this idiot already. "She's not at the Dragonfly?"

Christopher bent down and scooped up G.G., holding her close against him, seemingly for comfort. "No. She's not at the Dragonfly. She's not at home."

"She's probably shopping," Luke threw out, still not seeing what the big deal was. "Last minute Christmas things."

"The Jeep's in the driveway," Christopher said quietly, not meeting Luke's eyes.

A cold shadow of fear traced up Luke's spine as realization materialized. "She could have walked into town," Luke insisted, not willing yet to believe anything else.

"No one's seen her today," Chris said, deliberately casual, not wanting to upset his daughter.

Luke turned, scanning over the crowd in the diner, and saw that all eyes were focused on this discussion at the door. No one disputed what Christopher had said. Babette gave him a small, solemn nod of agreement, confirming that this was the truth.

"Sookie," Luke said with conviction, turning back to face him. "Sookie surely knows where she is."

Christopher shook his head.

"Her parents."

"Left for Barbados last weekend."

"Well, what does Rory say?" Luke asked impatiently. Obviously, Rory had the answer.

"Rory left for London on Monday to spend Christmas with Logan." He helped G.G. pull a curl of hair loose from under her collar. "I haven't called her yet because I don't want to trouble her if I don't have to."

"So what are you saying?" The words came out harsh and angry because of the apprehension he didn't want to admit was already present and getting ready to explode in him. "Are you saying she's missing?"

"I'm saying that no one's seen her since sometime yesterday afternoon." Chris nodded grimly. "That's why I'm here, talking to you, because you are literally the last person I want to come to about this. But I also figure if she'd tell anybody about taking off, it'd be you. So do you know where she is or not?"

Luke shook his head slowly, feeling out of sync with what was going on. "Yesterday afternoon?" he repeated, feeling sick.

"She was in Doose's, getting some groceries. She brought them home. There's stuff all over the kitchen, like she was in the middle of putting them away. There was melted ice cream and crackers and boxes of macaroni and cheese." Chris waved one arm vaguely, indicating the extent of the mess. "Tea bags scattered all over the floor."

Luke's mouth went dry. His throat tightened up with a sudden feeling of intuition. "Tea bags?" he croaked out.

"I know. Crazy, right?" Chris put G.G. back on her feet, but kept his hand firmly on her head, holding her in place. "I don't even know why we had tea bags. I mean, Lorelai doesn't drink tea."

With effort, Luke forced himself out of his daze. "Sorry. I haven't seen her. Not for weeks." His mind was racing while he watched Christopher nod and start to turn G.G. towards the door. "What are you going to do?" he felt compelled to ask.

"Look around town for a little bit more, although I have to tell you, I can't think of anyplace else to look or anybody else left to talk to." He gave Luke a somber look. "Then I call the police, I guess."

The significance of that statement chilled its way through Luke. "Yeah," he grudgingly agreed. Christopher opened the door and Luke found himself taking a step closer to him. "Listen, if I can help ―" he began awkwardly.

"Just let me know if you hear from her," Chris said with a curt nod, and nudged his daughter out of the diner's door.

Luke stood for a minute, staring out at the snowflakes swirling through the air outside, his wayward thoughts doing the same. In short order he reclaimed the coffee pot and went about his business, trying desperately to pretend that everything was fine.

"Luke." Patty caught at his arm. "Sweetheart, if you knew where she was, you'd tell us, right?"

"Of course," he muttered, shaking off Patty's hand. "At least, I would if she wanted me to," he added, just under his breath, as he walked back to the kitchen.

The end of the work day. Luke stepped inside his apartment above the diner and stood for a moment in the dark, listening to the silence. Occasionally a gust of wind whipped a scattering of snowflakes around the building, rattling the windows, but otherwise all was quiet. It was late enough that even the recorded carols in the square had stopped for the night.

Luke flipped on the light switch and aimlessly wandered through the apartment. Ever since Christopher's visit he'd been longing to get up here, away from all of the prying eyes. He wanted to hide away someplace where he could think without being interrupted. But now that he was up here, he didn't know what to do. He was afraid that was because, in fact, there was nothing he could do.

Lorelai was apparently missing and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. They'd grown so far apart that she could be a stranger to him. Once he'd thought they'd shared some sort of nearly psychic connection; that they'd understood each other in their own weird way better than any couple on the planet. But that was before she'd –

No, no, no, he sternly rebuked himself. He'd broken that connection first, when he foolishly refused to tell her about April. All that came later was a direct result of his tunnel vision.

He'd reached the small table in front of the window, where a scaled-down version of a Christmas tree sat. Holiday decorations had rarely made an appearance in his space through the years, but April had brought him this tree. She'd made Anna drive her over before they left to go see her grandmother in New Mexico, insisting that he needed some holiday cheer to tide him over until she got back. She'd picked the location for the tree and had plugged it in, reassuring herself more than him multiple times that they'd enjoy their own Christmas in ten days. It'd be even more special, she'd promised, because they'd be the only ones celebrating then.

The tree was pretty piece of holiday fluff. Even Luke had to admit that. The multicolored lights softened the room. Or maybe knowing that his daughter cared enough about him to bring it to him just softened up his normally Scrooge-like heart.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Luke leaned against the window frame and looked out. The evening had brought only a light dusting of snow, but it was gusty and cold. The idea of Lorelai being out there somewhere — alone or hurt or frightened — sent fear exploding through his chest. He made himself take another deep breath, the same way he probably had a hundred times since Christopher had been in the diner, and reminded himself yet again that Lorelai being missing did not involve him. She was not his wife. She could have been, and she should have been, but she wasn't. Technically that meant it wasn't his place to figure out where she was.

That hadn't stopped him from making a few discreet calls as the night wore on, however. At the first opportunity he'd slipped away and called Jackson. Not Sookie, because he didn't want to risk distressing her, and besides, Jackson was the one with his ear attuned to the rumors that murmured through town. If anyone knew the real story it would be him.

Jackson had efficiently given him the lowdown, which was basically the same story Christopher had offered. Other than a more detailed timeline, the facts remained the same. The one interesting tidbit Jackson threw in, however, was that Sookie didn't seem to be very worried about it. She swore that she didn't know where Lorelai was and didn't know what was going on, but at the same time she seemed to be relatively unconcerned that she was missing. 'She'll turn up when she's ready,' Jackson had quoted Sookie as observing, while blithely hauling out another pan of Christmas cookies.

Sookie's lackadaisical approach to her missing best friend was where Luke was going to hang his hope. If Sookie sensed that Lorelai was OK, he was going to pretend she was too.

Giving up his useless sentry post by the window, he walked over to the refrigerator, pulling open the door and gazing inside, going through the motions of getting a snack, even though his eyes refused to focus on any of the food contained within it. Eating or even grabbing a beer held no appeal. Finally he slammed the door closed and moved over to the couch.

He tried to get comfortable. He picked up the remote but didn't bother pushing the 'on' button. Instead he thought about the other phone call he'd made, this one to Mia. He'd been careful to let her think that this was just a normal Christmas call, wanting to wish her well. It was soon obvious that she hadn't heard from Lorelai, other than from a card sent earlier in the month. In fact, Mia was more concerned about him and how he was faring after the shock of Lorelai's quickie marriage. He knew it was a longshot, but the last time Lorelai had run away, she'd ended up with Mia. It wasn't completely out of line to think she'd do it again.

Eventually he did turn on the TV but nothing held his interest for long. His brain was too caught up in a real-life mystery, too involved in a true-to-life saga of a good love gone bad, to pay any attention to the made-up ones on TV. He gave up and got ready for bed.

Luke turned off the lights, forgetting about the Christmas tree. The muted glow from the little tree made it easy to follow the path over to the plug. But something about the hopefulness of the Christmas lights in his dark space made him pause when he reached the outlet.

It was easy to imagine Lorelai's face, if she could see him with this tiny symbol of everything he hated about the holiday lighting up his dull life. She'd be smiling, that's for sure. One of those shiny ones; the one she'd smile with when she was especially tickled with the ridiculousness of something. Her smile would be so big her eyes would be all crinkled up at the sides. He could almost hear her laughter and the teasing that would follow.

His hand pulled back from the plug. Feeling almost like a kid again, Luke climbed into bed, closing his eyes against the tender rays of blue, green, yellow and red continuing to shoot out insistently from April's tree.

Viewed from outside his window, the lights would probably shine like a beacon. And that could be useful. Just in case anyone needed some help to find their way home.

Unexpectedly comforted by that thought, Luke fell asleep.

Parenthood changes people. Even for Luke Danes, who now slept with the cellphone he once ranted against nestled on his bedside table, just in case of an April emergency. When the musical notes from it rang out sometime during the darkest hours of the night, he grabbed it without fumbling and had it pressed against his ear before the fear that something bad had happened to his daughter could even fully form in his mind.

"'Lo!" he barked out, his voice having to navigate through the gravel in his throat.

Silence. But not the silence of an empty line. The silence of someone waiting. Pondering, perhaps.

Luke cleared his throat and tried again. "Hello?"

Silence for a few more seconds. But then a noise, something that could have been some sort of interference within the connection. Or…maybe someone fighting to choke back a sob. He listened intently, not even breathing.

His patience was rewarded with the smallest whisper of words. "Do you miss me at all?"

Luke was standing now beside the bed, the phone pressed desperately against his ear. "You know I do," he said from his heart, not even having to think about it.

That noise again. Sounding less like static and more like the despair of heartbreak. Then, "I'm sorry," she whispered, the few words throbbing with emotion. "I hope you can believe me."

There wasn't a click. Phone conversations didn't end with a click anymore. But he could sense that there was no longer anyone on the other end of the line.

Luke knew that his phone was capable of a whole range of functions, the majority of which he didn't know how to activate or even care about. But the one thing he had learned was how to call back the number of the person who had just called. He punched the buttons and waited, his feet growing cold, listening to the line ringing and ringing wherever she was.

Finally the ringing stopped. He could hear her breathing on the other end, or maybe that was just his wishful thinking.

"Luke?" Disbelief filled her voice when she finally spoke.

All of his worry poured out of him. "Where are you? Are you safe? Do you need me to come get you?"

A few more seconds of silence. Then he swore he could sense her smiling through the phone. "You'd have to be a lot better swimmer than I think you are to come get me."

"Why? Where are you?" He was in no mood for games or teasing.

"I'm in London. Pretty big ocean between Connecticut and here."

"London?" Luke sat down on the edge of the bed. "I thought Rory was in London."

"Yeah, she is."

Luke wondered if he was still asleep, because this was making no sense to him. "Why are you in London? Is something wrong with Rory?"

"No," she said. She was quiet for a little bit, which was fine, because he knew she was deciding what to say. "I think there's something wrong with me."

"Wrong with you? Lorelai, what –" He was back on his feet again.

"No, not like that," she broke in. "I mean, I think I'm going crazy." He heard a desperate chuckle. "That must make you feel pretty vindicated, Luke. All those years you told me I was crazy, and now you just might be right."

"You're not crazy," he insisted. He settled himself on the bed once again. "What's going on?"

Slowly she began to confide in him. "There are people living in my house now, Luke. It's weird. Freaky. For so many years it's been me and Rory. Our castle. Our rules. Our way of living. But now Rory's gone and there are these other people in my house, and I'm supposed to adapt to them being there. I'm supposed to be OK with sharing and compromising and being welcoming, and I'm trying, Luke, I really am. But…Do you remember the milk? Do you remember when Rachel came back and you told me how she was always moving the milk in the refrigerator?"

"Yeah." Luke felt frozen in place. "I remember."

"It's like that." Lorelai paused. "It's like I'm trying so hard to make them fit in that everything feels wrong to me. It's like there's no place for me. It's not my house anymore. G.G.'s in Rory's room. Chris put this huge TV in the living room without even asking me. It's like I'm a hostess at a big fancy party, and I keep going around with a fake smile on my face and saying, 'Oh sure, that's fine, please, help yourself!' But it's not fine, and I'm not OK with it, and I keep waiting for the party to be over and for everyone to go home so I can have my house back, but…" She stopped abruptly, maybe hearing everything she'd just said. Her voice got tough. "I get that I created this mess. I don't get a do-over on this. This is the way things are, and I understand that I need to get used to it."

"So what happened yesterday?" he asked gently.

"I lost it," Lorelai admitted with a sigh. "I don't know if it was a panic attack or a breakdown, but whatever it was, I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I was trying to put away groceries and there just wasn't any room. There was all of this stuff, stuff that I didn't want, but yet I was supposed to find places to stash it. And meanwhile, there was stuff that I did want, stuff that I wasn't ready to let go of yet, and it was being pushed aside like it didn't even matter. And this awful, dark, soul-sucking feeling just sort of drenched me, and I believed with my whole heart that if I didn't see Rory I was going to die. I don't know how else to explain it. My world is just so out of whack. You know Rory's like the other part of me, but last month I did this major life event without her and now it's Christmas and she's not with me again, and I couldn't stand it. I just couldn't stand it."

"So you went to London." He had to admit, in some weird Lorelai-way, it actually made sense.

"Yes." She laughed, but it sounded a little bit on the hysterical side. "I signed a Visa card in blood and flew to London. It would have been cheaper to pay for another semester of Yale."

Luke was trying to just listen and not make any snap judgments. "So did it help, seeing Rory?"

Laughter again, sounding even more panic-stricken. "Here's the real funny part, Luke. I haven't even seen her!"

On the other side of the ocean, Luke shook his head. "Why not?"

"Because it's Christmas! She's planned this trip for months, you know? This is her big romantic holiday get-away with her boyfriend. I can't crash that!" He heard her draw in a big breath, and when she continued she was substantially more subdued. "How can I show up at her door? 'Oh, hey, Sweetie – and Logan – here's your crazy mommy, fresh from the States! Go on with your snogging; don't mind the crazy lady in the corner!'"

"Lorelai," Luke said, his disapproving tone coming mostly from the idea of Rory 'snogging' with the spoiled rich kid.

"Oh, Luke," she said, sighing out his name. "How did it all go so wrong?" She was almost whispering again.

Luke knew he wasn't up for answering that question. He shook his head again, clearing away his own regrets. "You are going to see her, though, right? Since you flew all the way over there?"

"Of course I will. Maybe on Boxing Day. Isn't that what they call the day after Christmas? Maybe by then they'll be sick of each other, and they won't view me as such an interference."

"That's a long time to sit and wait."

She chuckled ruefully. "I'm pretty sure I have plenty to think about. And I'll go out. Do some touristy things. See Buckingham Palace. Eat some Yorkshire pudding. Buy a corgi."

The conversation stalled out while Luke debated whether or not he should go to bat for his rival. Finally doing the right thing won out. "You've called him, right?"

A long pause on her end. "Um, no. Not yet."

"You should." Luke swallowed hard; told himself this was nothing. "He's worried sick."

"How do you –"

"He was in here tonight, checking to see if you'd talked to me about leaving. He's terrified, Lorelai. He's ready to call the cops and report you missing."

"Crap." She muttered some other things he couldn't quite make out. "I didn't mean to…Yeah, I'll call right away." Rustling noises, as though she was twisting around on the bed. "Ah, damn! It's the middle of the night there, isn't it? I'm so turned around on time. Maybe…maybe I should wait a couple of hours, until it's morning there?"

"No. Call now." Luke hated to give credence to Christopher's claim on her, but he had to. "I'm positive he's not sleeping."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" Lorelai sighed gustily. "Looks like something else I've managed to screw up."

"Just call. Let him know you're OK."

"I woke you up too, didn't I?"

"I don't mind. I was hoping to hear from you."

She made a noise of distress. "Is April there with you? Did I wake her up, too? I'm so sorry –"

"No, April's in New Mexico. Anna thought they should go see her mother, because she hasn't been well for quite a while now."

Lorelai was quiet for a few beats. "Does that mean you're on your own for Christmas?"

"Pretty much." He didn't know why his throat was threatening to close up. "You know, except for Kirk," he tried to joke.

She was quiet for another brief spell. "Luke, last year at Christmas…Did you ever imagine then that we'd both be alone this Christmas?"

"No." His throat had gone through with the proposed mutiny and he could barely talk at all. "No, I never thought we'd be alone." He struggled to swallow so he could continue. "But then, I never thought we'd be apart, either."

There was that noise again. The one that almost sounded like crying.

"I should go," she said, the words strained. "Got another call to make, you know."

"Listen, Lorelai, when you get back…" He wasn't quite sure what to say. "Don't be a stranger, OK?"

"Really?" The word tilted upwards, filled with hope.

"You know where the diner is. The door's usually unlocked. And I'm… still here," he admitted.

"Thanks," she said, reduced to whispering again. "And hey, Luke? Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he repeated, and then continued to hold the phone against his ear long after he knew the line had gone dead.