Original A/N: "A Tale of Poes and Fire"―certainly one of my favorite episodes ever. So many funny lines. So many weird vibes. So much to love. A lot of wonderful stories have been written about this episode and now I feel compelled to add one to the mix. A warning: Luke and Lorelai share narration duties in this story, so if that sort of back-and-forth drives you buggy, this isn't the story for you. And as with all of my stuff, I'm using some things straight from the show, while blithely ignoring other bits as it suits my fancy...

8/31/13: Yep, I still love this episode. And over time, this first chapter has remained one of my personal favorites. In fact, there's one paragraph in this chapter that still makes me proud every time I read it. I'll give out points if anybody guesses it! (Disclaimer: Unfortunately the points don't matter...but everything is made up! And no, I have no claim on anything regarding Whose Line Is It Anyway, either.)

A slight warning: This story was deliberately written on the dark and dramatic side. It's a little 'Poe-esque,' if you will. Things may look dire, but please remember who is writing this. Not to give anything away, but there's probably a good chance for a happy ending! Also, I haven't quite decided yet what to do about the rating for the end chapters, since there's a little sexy stuff (Very little - don't get your hopes up!) and a couple of bad words.

And finally...No, I haven't forgotten about Star-Crossed. I just don't have the next chapter ready to go yet but since I really felt like posting, I decided to start this story to satisfy my craving! Star-Crossed soon, I promise!

...I invite you now to "Compare and Contrast!"

A Midnight Dreary

"I'm going to need that pen back," Nicole said with a level of smugness that didn't sit well with Lorelai at all.

She looked down at the expensive silver pen resting lightly in her right hand. She took a moment to appreciate the deep burgundy color on her nails; a shade so dark it could pass for black in Miss Patty's dimly-lit space. She was standing in front of Nicole, and the hand not holding the borrowed pen rested lightly on her leather-clad hip.

Leather?

Yes, leather. Lorelai's forehead scrunched up while she turned her focus on her outfit. A short, tight black leather miniskirt. A clingy black sweater that sparkled when she moved. And insanely dynamite tall black boots that made her long legs look fabulous.

She took her hand off of her hip and used it to flick back her gleaming, straightened hair before bracing herself on the chair next to Nicole. She leaned down to speak softly into the pale woman's ear.

"Oh, Nicole," she said with a malevolent chuckle, "I think we both know that your pen isn't what you're worried about getting back."

Nicole turned her head when Lorelai invaded her space. She grimaced as Lorelai spoke into her ear so intimately. But when Lorelai pulled away with a pleased, triumphant smile on her mouth, Nicole drew upon some inner lawyer-ish reserve of strength and fired back.

"But yet, I'm the one who has him," she said, her voice and face still retaining that irritating smugness that made Lorelai want to scream. She even dared to look Lorelai straight in the eye.

Lorelai confidently put both hands on her shapely hips and looked down at Nicole with something that was almost pity. She felt her mouth purse with a pouty smile. Once again she leaned down to impart her wisdom to this clueless woman.

"You have him for now," she purred, making Nicole flinch. "And the only reason for that is because I haven't―"

"Moooommmm," Rory whined sleepily.

Lorelai tried to ignore the interruption. She focused everything on the rushing flow of confidence fueling her words. "The only reason is because I haven't―"

"Mooommm," Rory said again, and suddenly Rory was right there next to her, the bed still undulating with her added weight. She felt the cordless phone being jabbed into her shoulder.

"No, Rory!" she said desperately. At least, that's what she wanted to say, but in actuality only a muffled groan came out. She clung with all of the dream-strength she could muster to the burgundy nails and the tight leather skirt and that air of self-assurance. She really, really needed to hear what she was going to say next.

"The only reason―" she started to say again, but now she sounded more frantic than confident, and Nicole looked at her with a smirk.

"No!" she yelled out loud, distraught.

"Mom." Rory jabbed her with the phone again. "It's Tobin. He says the smoke alarm is going off."

"That stupid thing is always going off," Lorelai muttered, her dream still seeming more real than anything else. But she took the phone and held it in the vicinity of her ear. "Tobin, you know that―"

She gasped and her body pulled itself upright. "Oh my God. Get dressed, get dressed!" she ordered, pushing at her daughter.

The fabulous boots and whatever she was going to say to Nicole blinked out of her consciousness as a real-life nightmare took center stage.

Luke never dreamed.

He worked hard, all day, every day. When he finally went to bed each night he was ready to sleep. His head hit the pillow and his brain turned off. It was an efficient and logical system, designed to permit him as much rest as possible before the pre-dawn alarm clock made him get up and start his daily grind all over again.

Occasionally, life got messy and when his head hit the pillow his brain refused to turn off. On those rare nights he simply got out of bed and paced while his thoughts ran over whatever was bothering him, trying to find a solution. Recently his nephew had caused more of those nights than he cared to admit. In addition there was sometimes his sister and the dire turns her life preferred to take. Finances had made him stay awake a night or two over the years. And of course, there was always Lor―

Never mind.

The point was, he never dreamed. So when his sleeping brain registered the sirens, he woke up already knowing that they were real and not part of some hazy dream.

His brain was awake and functioning but his legs and feet were still insisting they wanted to stay horizontal. He staggered to the window in time to see the flashing lights of every emergency vehicle servicing Stars Hollow racing onto Poplar from Main Street, heading east out of town.

His arms folded over his chest while he watched the lights disappear. The sirens got fainter. He stood there and contemplated every possible destination on that end of town. One in particular made his heart beat faster, and somehow he just knew he was right.

He grabbed the clothing he'd laid out for the morning and hastily started getting dressed. He glanced at Jess but his nephew was sound asleep, his head buried underneath his pillow. If he could sleep in spite of the music he piped into his brain, of course he could sleep through sirens blasting by on the street.

Luke thought about leaving him a note, but he was so anxious to follow the fire trucks and prove himself wrong that he just ran out the door, deciding that Jess probably wouldn't miss him anyway.

The night was clear but still frosty, even though it was practically spring. He needed to run the windshield wipers on the truck to clear the thin film off of the glass.

He turned down a road he knew as well as everything else in this town and his heart beat even faster when his hunch was confirmed.

He parked the truck as far off the road as he could and sprinted up the drive, his nose wrinkling at the strong smell of smoke. Onlookers were already massing behind a line of yellow tape being hastily strung up by Larry Coopersmith, one of the county's deputies.

Luke pushed himself through the crowd, presenting himself to the constable. "Hey, Coop."

The deputy drew himself up, preparing for a confrontation, but relaxed when he recognized Luke. He nodded in greeting, then jerked his chin back over his shoulder. "Hell of a thing."

"What's goin' on?" Luke asked, trying not to sound as agitated as he felt.

"Fire," Coop answered. "Kitchen, probably. Don't know too many details yet."

"Everybody OK?"

Coop glanced at him as he finished tying off the caution tape. "Far as I know everyone's accounted for."

Luke nodded, trying to feel some gratitude for that much information, but he knew that wasn't going to keep him content for long. "Hey, Coop, I really need to get up there." He couldn't keep the urgent note out of his voice.

Coop paused and looked at him sharply. "Why, Luke? That fancy little lawyer you're dating staying here tonight?"

"No," Luke choked out. He gritted his teeth while Coop looked him over. He figured Coop heard as much gossip as anyone else in this inbred town―probably more, for that matter.

After what seemed like hours Coop shot him a tight smile. "You know I can't do that, Luke." He paused, scanning the rest of the onlookers. "But if someone was a local, and happened to already know another way onto the property, I couldn't really stop that, you know?"

"Thanks, Coop," Luke said quickly, and turned at once to rush back down the drive.

He turned to his right at the street and tried to judge his distance while he jogged further down the roadway. After a dozen or so yards he slowed to examine the darkened landscape, finally spotting a plank laid across the ditch in a makeshift footbridge. He raced across, barely breathing as the old wooden board protested his weight. He pushed his arms at the hedge stretching in front of him and finally found a gap that at one time had been a gate. He forced his body through the opening and at last stood free on one of the tennis courts at the Independence Inn.

He followed the slope of the lawn upward, past the swimming pool. The stench of the smoke was overpowering up here, sticking in the back of his throat and making his eyes water. The closer he got to the sprawling building, the more noise and confusion he encountered. Walkie-talkies squealed and fireman shouted to each other over the din, while the yellow and red lights kept up their steady flashing circuits through the dark, illuminating the different clumps of people huddled together.

He kept to the edge of the scene, walking quickly and keeping his head down, careful to stay out of the way. His eyes never stopped searching, however, and his ears were straining to hear one particular voice.

Finally he spotted her. She was standing with Rory, Sookie, and Michel, and her arms were flailing manically as she issued orders. He watched as Sookie and Michel stepped away, obviously being sent on some assignment. He watched as she took a moment with Rory, the two of them sinking into each other's arms, before she sent the girl away, too. He watched as she began to walk away herself, but then stopped abruptly and came back and angrily snatched a cellphone from Michel, giving him a push to get him started on his way.

She raised a hand to her head, pushing back her hair. She turned from one side to the other, apparently unsure of which way needed her the most. And then she just stood there, in the most un-Lorelai stillness he could ever imagine.

He'd been moving closer to her all along. "Lorelai," he called out to her, softly, and instantly cringed. There was something about her name that always made him feel embarrassed when he said it, as if he'd slipped up and actually called her Baby or Honey. He thought that was why he normally only permitted himself to call her Lorelai when he was angry with her or exasperated, so that his gruffness would counteract the built-in sweetness of her name.

She looked up and spotted him, and he could tell by the slack look on her face that nothing else could surprise her on this night. Except maybe him.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out.

His feet stopped their march to her as his brain scrambled to find an answer. He'd been so focused on getting to her and making sure she was OK he hadn't thought to prepare a reasonable explanation for his presence.

"Heard the firetrucks go by the diner," he said, forcing his feet to move again. "Wanted to make sure everybody was OK." He was next to her now, trying not to stare at her huge, panicked eyes, which were spotlighted each time the strobes from the firetrucks hit her face. "Do you know what happened?"

She shook her head vigorously. "The fire chief said it'll probably be tomorrow before they can even make a guess. They think it started in the kitchen, but that's not even for sure. I just…I can't believe this is happening."

Luke nodded. "But everybody's OK, right? Nobody got hurt?"

"Yeah, everybody's fine. Everybody's accounted for. We couldn't find Julio for a minute, and that really scared me, because some days he comes in early when he can get a ride with his sister-in-law and I was pretty sure that today was the day she normally brings him and I really thought that maybe he was still in there and nobody had thought to look for him and there was still so much smoke, you know? But then I saw him standing back there," she pointed with a quivering arm while she continued to babble, "and I was just so relieved because this is like one of my worst nightmares, ever, but he was safe. Everyone's safe."

He heard her try to take in a huge gulping breath of air, and he watched her whole body tremble with unspoken fears. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked down at the ground. "Oh, God, Luke. What if…what if…"

He put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a tentative squeeze. "It's OK," he told her. "Whatever bad thing you're thinking about, it didn't happen. It's OK."

She looked up at him then, just barely leaning into his touch, and her eyes were huge with fear, her lips quivering as she tried to keep from crying. He couldn't help but step closer to her. He couldn't keep his arms from encircling her. And there was no way he could stop his hand from pushing her head to his chest and holding it there in comfort.

They stood that way for a long moment, an island of calmness amid all of the confusion. His heart was pounding as she relaxed against him, letting him rub her back and massage her scalp under that mass of silky hair. He was tempted to say so many things to her; things that he'd barely allowed himself to even dream. He bit his lips together and concentrated instead on willing a transfusion of strength from his body to hers.

Eventually she pushed herself away and he reluctantly let her go. Her mouth quirked up at him in a slight variation of her usual spunky smile. "You're going to reek of smoke," she pointed out, her voice sounding much stronger.

"Both of us will," he agreed, stepping back into their normal pattern of speech and proximity.

She motioned towards the fire chief. "It looks like I'm being summoned."

He turned to confirm that and then quickly started to move away. "Yeah, I'd probably better be getting out of here. If there's anything at all I can do to help, just call me, OK?"

"Sure, Luke. Thanks." Again she smiled, backing away.

He nodded and headed back into the safety of the darkness.

Lorelai turned away from Luke's retreating back and started walking resolutely towards the fire chief, giving herself a quick pep talk about how she could stand to hear whatever he was going to tell her.

However, as she walked the short distance she noticed she could scarcely breathe. She tried to pretend that was from the smoke. She was also shaking uncontrollably. She pretended that was from the whole shock of the fire. And most disturbing of all, she could still feel his arms around her. She could still feel his body pressing up against hers; his hand tenderly caressing her head. There wasn't enough pretend in the world to make that go away.

Right before she reached the Chief, her whole dream about Nicole flashed back through her brain and suddenly the sentence that had eluded her as she was being pulled back to reality completed itself easily.

"You have him for now," she heard herself say to Dream-Nicole, pure power dripping off the words. "And the only reason for that is because I haven't really even tried yet."

The words echoed in her head and slowed her feet, almost making her trip over nothing.

God help me, she thought, forcing herself to continue on, because I really think I want to try.

Luke yanked open the door to his truck and threw himself inside, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

He was a disciplined man. He'd learned long ago that the trick was never letting down your guard. The first time you allowed yourself two nightly beers instead of the customary one, it just made it that much easier to drink two the next night. The first morning you hit the snooze button and slept in for another five minutes just meant that it would be easier to stay in bed for ten the morning after that. Ignoring the running shoes in the closet for a week just made it easier to pretend they weren't there the next.

And now he'd broken his most steadfast rule. He'd touched Lorelai Gilmore.

He started the old truck and made a three-point turn, heading back towards the center of town. He let out a growl at his own stupidity, slapping at the steering wheel.

He knew there was no way now that he'd be able to keep himself from touching her again.