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Chapter Text

- 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕦𝕟𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘

"In the words of Georgia O'Keeffe 'I've been absolutely terrified every minute of my life - and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do.' Rory, there is never a single point of the day that I'm not scared, but I push on. I have a 4.0 GPA, I teach a class with Miss Patty on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I cook with Sookie at the Inn after school, taking flowers to the graveyard every week to leave at the graves who have been forgotten over the years. Every time I bump into a person, I have two thoughts - ew, I've touched another person and I need to wash my hands, and secondly, I am going to vomit because I'm so anxious that I have to interact with another human being. What if I say or do the wrong thing? What if I look horrendous and have horrible bags under my eyes and acne everywhere? You just gotta grin and bear it, and basically, fake it till you make it."

~ Matilda Lenore Gilmore

They keep saying that beautiful is something a girl needs to be. But honestly? Forget that. Don't be beautiful. Be angry, be intelligent, be witty, be klutzy, be interesting, be finny, be adventurous, be crazy, be talented - there are an eternity of other things to be other than beautiful. And what is beautiful anyway but a set of letters strung together to make a word? Be your own definition of amazing, always. That is so much more important than anything beautiful, ever.

~ Nikita Gill

watching the show

(fem!oc x jess mariano)

(eventual fem!oc x tim bradford)

(gilmore girls x the rookie)

by ©-depressed_sparrow

n the realm of life's unfolding page, twin sisters rise in a coming of age. A teenage girl, with courage unfurled, finds her path in a vast changing world.

- Matilda Lenore Gilmore

daughter of lorelai victoria gilmore, daughter of emily gilmore and richard gilmore, and chistopher hayden, twin sister of lorelai leigh gilmore.

<< synopsis >>

Matilda Lenore Gilmore was a genius. She had an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, she could read 20,000 words per minute, which was 24 words per second, by the way, has a severe case of germaphobia, though is able to push through it as well as she could to work at the kitchen at the Independence Inn after school three days a week - it helped that everything was cleaned religiously by the staff thanks to health guidelines drawn up by Tilly that Sookie and Lorelai made everyone follow.

She taught a class of ballet to children twice a week at Miss Patty's, and once a week would by flowers from Gabby's Flower Shop and leave some at old graves, ones that had started to fade or crumble, that had been forgotten to time.

Then suddenly, she and her sister are accepted into Chilton and everything changed. Weekly dinners with the grandparents. New school. Boys.

or

The Gilmore family and some of their closest friends are swallowed by a bright light and dropped into a theatre with a group of cops... from the future? And they know Tilly... Somehow?

or

Where Stars Hollow and some from Chilton are shown the future while the Mid-Wilshire Division group are shown the past. The one thing they have in common? Matilda Gilmore. They watch her grow from a kind, studious, unsure of herself, germophobic little bookworm who could never say no to those she loved, no matter how badly she should, into a fierce, determined, proud, woman who knew what she wanted to do in life, though she still loved to read and still hated germs. She had learned how to assert boundaries and in no uncertain terms, own that shit.

COMING SOON...

DISCLAIMER

I took inspiration for this layout from @robbcanownme. Go read her books; they're fantastic!  This story is a work of fanfiction crafted against the backdrop of Amy Sherman-Palladino's Gilmore Girls and Alexi Hawley's The Rookie.  All known characters, settings, and locations belong to their rightful owners; I am just using them for entertainment purposes.  In this fanfiction, I have introduced the plot lines of original characters and taken some creative liberties with specific things to create a new chapter in this (hopefully) compelling story.

Warning: A heart attack is shown briefly. Some hospital scenes, however, as most know, nothing graphic is ever really shown. However, the scenes where fights happen in them can be very intense. Anxiety and OCD will be present. Later, in The Rookie era of the story, it will include violence, crime and intense situations due to its police procedural format. It will depict shootings, murders, physical altercations. Offenses which include drugs and more, which can be triggering to some. Life-and-death situations will arise, and addiction will be present. This might be too much for some readers.

Please approach this book with full knowledge of what you're going into. I do NOT want to send somebody into a panic attack or downward spiral because of a story.

Be mindful of what harms you as you continue; your comfort level is more important than a story.

If you choose to continue, thank you, and I'll see you in the next chapter.

Chapter Text

The squeals of Lorelai, Sookie, Rory, and Tilly could be heard throughout the entire bottom floor of the Independence Inn as they celebrated the twins' acceptance into Chilton Preparatory School. It's a prestigious co-educational prep school in Hartford, Connecticut, known for its academic rigor and discipline.

It was the steppingstone for Rory to get into Harvard, her dream since diapers.

Tilly, on the other hand, had no idea what she wanted to be when she grew up. She knew that she loved to help people, and that she was a social butterfly, but she also knew that people were gross and dirty and covered in germs, so...

It was as the celebration began to come to an end that they were engulfed in a brilliant white light, and then everything went black.

⁂

Tilly awoke to an aching feeling in her head and to the indistinct rumbling of chatter surrounding her.

She grimaced and lifted a delicate hand to her forehead where she rubbed a firm circle in the center directly above her nose, "Ow," she pouted.

She opened her electric blue eyes—something she inherited from her mother and shared with her twin sister—and she realized something horrific. She was lying on the floor.

Her face screwed up and her breathing began to pick up when she was quickly huddled in from both sides, "Upsy-daisy, Til." Lorelai smiled as she with the help of Sookie pulled the almost hyperventilating teenager up to her feet. Tilly raised her hands before herself which were practically vibrating, they were shaking so bad, but her mother, bless her, knew her so well that she was already two steps ahead. Lorelai already had a sanitary wipe ready and began to wipe down one hand slowly and meticulously, then the other. "Breathe with me, babe. In," Lorelai sucked in a long breath and held it for a few seconds, "and out," she blew the air out threw her nose. It took a couple tries but Tilly eventually was calm enough to copy her mother. "In. Out. Good," she praised as she bundled up the used wipes, glancing around for a trash can but unable to find one she stuffed them in her pocket. Her mother ran a soothing hand through Tilly's hair as the teen girl finally chanced a glance at their surroundings, only to freeze as she saw strangers staring at them. 

She felt anxiety claw at her throat, and she just knew that they thought she was a freak because what kind of person had a melt down over touching the floor? She looked down and bit her lip, the carpet didn't even look dirty, but it was the fact that people—and who knew how many—would have walked all over it, dragging all kinds of dirt from all kinds of places all over. Even the thought made her shiver.

Tilly glanced over her shoulder and noticed that Rory was with their grandparents—their mother's parents—and that their best friend, Lane Kim was standing awkwardly beside her, swinging side to side in place of having anything better to do.

She mentally took stock of who was in the room with her. There was mom, Rory, Lane, Grandma, Grandpa, Sookie, Luke, Michel, a girl and boy, both teenagers and both with straw colored hair, another boy who was almost freakishly tall, another teen boy who was about the same height as Tilly with curly brown hair and brown eyes, and a man around her mother's age with dark fluffy hair wearing a suit.

Across the room was a group of cops. Five women and five men, though one of the women wasn't in uniform, but in a pretty blouse and nice pants and heels, and one of the men was in a suit and holding a briefcase. Uncannily, three of the cops were looking at Tilly like they were looking at a ghost and it was really starting to freak her out.

Tilly grasped her mother's hand—she could hold her mother's and sister's hands without issue—plus Sookie who she thought of as an honorary aunt—she had grown used to them over time, but she had to be the one to initiate contact. She hated being touched without permission or warning beforehand—and shuffled towards her sister, dragging her mother awkwardly along with her. Lorelai stumbled in her heels, tripping over herself and almost dragging Sookie down with her as she reached out to stabilize herself, as she followed her youngest daughter.

Once Tilly had reached Rory—who was huddled up with Lane—she bent slightly because even though Tilly was the younger twin she was three inches taller than Rory, which she liked to use to win arguments. Rory would use the fact that she was older, Tilly would quip that she's taller, they'd storm off, both still miffed, and because she was petty, Tilly would put things she knew Rory would need to use on shelves too high for her to get to without climbing on things—then she'd feel bad when they'd make up and whip something up in the kitchen special, just for Rory, in recompense.

"Why are those people staring at me like that?" Tilly whispered, drawing the attention of her mom, twin and Lane.

The three followed her line of sight. Lane gulped slightly—her mother would kill her if she got involved with the police for any reason that didn't have to do with her receiving a medal for valor and bravery. She slyly slipped behind Rory who had stepped beside Tilly and narrowed her electric blue eyes at the trio. Lorelai on the other hand, had decided to go for a slightly less subtle tactic.

She began to make her way towards the cops, who, upon noticing, started to gesture at each other wildly, before they pushed the obviously eldest male of the trio towards the approaching Lorelai like a sacrifice.

He glanced back at his friends, betrayed.

Tilly scratched her chin and muttered to her sister, "Uh-oh, mama-bear mode activated,"

Rory nodded; this could get ugly, fast.

"Why are you staring at my daughter? She's fifteen, and I'm seeing not one, but two grown men and a woman watching her from across a room that we've randomly woken up in." Lorelai began as she waved a hand towards the trio of cops, causing the rest of the group in blue to glance at them in question. "So, my question is, do I need to do something crazy about it—because I have to let you know now, every single person over there," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the group that had moved to surround the two youngest Gilmores, "would help me, if I called them in the middle of the night to move a dead body."

The blonde teenage girl raised her hand quickly and stated, "Uh, no, I would not." 

"Okay, everyone but blondie would help me hide a dead body if it meant protecting my girls, so why are you being creeps?" Lorelai demanded. 

John Nolan, an L.A. rookie cop who had been about to start his first day on the job after going through a divorce and totally reinventing his life after moving across the country—he was also man enough to admit that he was slightly older than the average rookie—cleared his throat awkwardly. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  

Lorelai cocked an unimpressed brow his way.

He cleared his throat once more and glanced over his shoulder at his buddies who gestured for him to keep going, mouthing at him that 'he was doing great,' and giving him thumbs up. His shoulders slumped and he turned back towards the mother protecting her young. 

"Uh, ma'am," she seemed even less pleased than before; she was younger than this guy and he was calling her ma'am? "Miss Gilmore," Nolan quickly corrected, only to be interrupted by Rory. 

"How do you know that?" she asked, freaked out. "She never said her name!"

Lorelai seemed to be even more inclined to believe that these police people were stalking her daughter now.

Nolan shook his head rapidly and raised his hands quickly in a sign of surrender, "No, no, no," he rushed. "Um, I don't know how to say this in a way that you'll believe me."

"Try me." Lorelai challenged.

"I know who you are because we," he gestured between himself and the younger Asian woman and man with beautiful umber skin—Tilly wanted to ask about his skincare routine so bad—behind him, "know your daughter." 

In sync, Tilly and Rory's brows furrowed, "I don't know you," they chorused, freaking out those who didn't know them.

Nolan mumbled to himself with wide eyes, "Yeah, she mentioned that," he scratched his cheek before he tried again. "Um, I mean, that I am a rookie cop of the L.A.P.D. and I know Matilda Gilmore because she is also a rookie cop of the L.A.P.D." 

Everyone from Stars Hollow looked at him as if he was nuts.

"Dude, are you high?" Tilly exclaimed with wide eyes. "I'm fifteen!"

He nodded a lot and blinked hard, "Yeah, that's been mentioned. Um, you look younger than you usually do but mostly the same; your name is Matilda Lenore Gilmore, you're a Libra, your favorite color is blue—any shade of blue—you hate germs but have gotten better as you've grown up, and you didn't know what you wanted to do with your life until you were in college." Nolan told her.

Seeing where he was going with this, Lucy stepped forward and added, "You love spicy food, and can't stand Feta cheese because of the texture. Your favorite character of all time is Spencer Reid because you and he share the same IQ of 187. You love both cats and dogs but if you had to choose one you would choose dogs because you think litterboxes are gross. You joined the police academy because even though you didn't know that you wanted to become a cop until college, you knew that you wanted to help people all your life."

Jackson knew it was his turn once Lucy had finished. "You have a competitive streak—but weirdly, just with yourself." he huffed a short laugh. "If you do something more than once you must always do it better than when you did it the last time. You are obsessed with coffee but won't drink energy drinks because the caffeine 'tastes fake.' Your idol is David Bowie. You love to listen to music like Duran Duran, Eurythmics, Billy Joel, Aerosmith, Queen, The Rolling Stones, but especially Fleetwood Mac; you would love to see Stevie Nicks in concert if you could. You share a love of old music with Nolan, here." Jackson patted the older rookie on the shoulder who offered a slim smile—he and the Tilly from the future had an ongoing agreement that it wasn't old, just not new. 

Tilly looked at these people wide-eyed. It was clear that they knew her, but how? She slowly shook her head as she asked, "How?"

"Well, let's rip this band aid right off, shall we?" Nolan chuckled awkwardly as he placed his hands on his hips. "We met about six months ago." He paused, contemplated for a second, and then added as if in afterthought, "In 2018."

Those from Connecticut looked bewildered—and a little scared, like maybe these people shouldn't have guns, and should be in straitjackets instead, you know, that kind of look?

But despite wanting to claim that they were crazy and that was absurd, hadn't they proven that they knew Tilly? Quite well, too. The Tilly of 2010 didn't know these people, but they clearly know her.  

"You haven't been stalking me, have you?" Tilly asked carefully, electric blue orbs passing from Lucy, to John, then to Jackson.

The trio chuckled and shook they heads in the negative.

She nodded relieved. "But what does that mean, then? How do you know me?" 

The trio exchanged wary glances, but the blond male cop seemed done with all this lollygagging—he wanted to leave this room and find out who put them there in the first place. Tim Bradford stepped forward and snapped, "All right, enough. Based on your reactions, that's not the year you people are from?" When he got head shakes in confirmation, he continued, "Then what year do you people think you're from?" 

"2010." Richard Gilmore answered. He was holding that morning's paper, tucked into his elbow against his side, he handed it over so that the group could check the date. They exclaimed in surprise upon seeing the date. As he said, September 2010.

Seargent Wade Grey figured they could hash out the whole 2010/2018 fiasco later. For now, they needed to try to find a way out. "Let's spread out and find a way to leave. See if you can find any doors, windows, vents that could fit a grown person, anything."

The groups did so, though they learned quite quickly that the rectangular room they were in was just the main room. It had several extra-large dark red couches—with chenille fabric, they were softer than anything Tilly had ever felt in her life--that were stuffed so full they looked close to bursting, plus some recliners and loveseats. The walls were black and paneled and there was flush mounted wall sconces placed strategically on the walls, a soothing orange glow emanating from below and above them, offering light that wasn't overpowering—which was good because Tilly's headache didn't seem to be going away anytime soon, in fact, it had only gotten worse since she'd woken up in this place

There were blankets made of cashmere, microfiber, wool, cotton, velvet, fleece, sherpa, chenille, silk, polyester, bamboo, down, and down alternative. They came in all colors, from blue to yellow, pink to green, orange to purple, in all shades, too, from cyan to canary, peony to sage, sunset to eggplant, and so many more. Pillows, some small that you could hug and others larger that you could snuggle into were also lined against the wall.

There were six doors, all at least eight feet tall made of heavy bloodwood that came to a full radius arch at the top on each door. The passage doorknobs were made of solid brass and set into antique plates with intricate swirl patterns.

There were two doors on the far left with a sign above that was quite familiar to the Gilmore girls and their friends, it read Stars Hollow & Co. Residents.

On the far right were two doors that had a large sign that read L.A.P.D. & Co. Residents hanging above them as well.

In the middle were two doors, each had a sign that indicated they were bathrooms, each with multiple stalls, one for women and the other for men. They were nice, too, with black marble flooring with white veins, deep hammered brass sinks with matching faucets, dark red doors and walls to separate the stalls that went all the way to the floor and all the way up to the ceiling for maximum privacy. The lighting was still that same soft orange placed in round bulbs that surrounded the six mirrors on the wall that sat above the sinks. There was a nice scent, like sandalwood and juniper berries that floated around.

With a quick check behind each door, they found out that there were bedrooms assigned to people in the halls based on where they came from. One door led to rooms which had been assigned to the single ladies of the room, the other the men. Richard and Emily had two assigned rooms, one in each hallway, though they decided to stay in the hall that Lorelai, Rory and Tilly would be staying in.

Unfortunately, because they couldn't get out, there were bathrooms and bedrooms provided, along with entire kitchens inside each room fully stocked with everything they would need to survive, they all came to the sad but true conclusion that they were not going anywhere.

On the bright side, while they were checking things out, Luke met up with his nephew Jess. It was uncomfortable to experience and to watch. 

The four strangers introduced themselves as Tristin Dugray, Paris Geller and Max Medina. Both Tristin and Paris attend Chilton while Max teaches English there.

The tall boy with the floppy hair is Dean Forester. Rory blushed when he introduced himself causing Tilly to bite her cheek to keep from smiling.

Eventually, after all the introductions were out of the way, everyone got to know everyone's name, age, job—Captain, Seargent, T.O., rookie cop, detective, lawyer, student, teacher, executive manager of an inn, chef at an inn, concierge at an inn, diner owner, executive vice-president of the Gerhman-Driscoll Insurance Corporation, and last but most certainly not least, corporate wife.

It made Tilly feel like they were making their very own version of The Breakfast Club. A less iconic version. Matilda Gilmore was no Molly Ringwald, that was for sure. 

Everyone decided to take a seat and get comfortable, having nothing else to do, which is when the lights dimmed down until there was nothing left but pitch black.

"What's happening?" Rory questioned, freaked out, as she grasped her mother's hand—Lorelai was sitting between her two girls, all three sharing an extra, extra-large blanket that was burnt orange and made of spun wool and so soft that it made you just want to rub your face on it all day long.

Before anybody could respond, the far wall ahead of them lit up. Turns out, it wasn't a wall at all, but a screen.

Words appeared. 

For some, you are here to watch the past to better understand someone who becomes very important to everyone who hails from L.A.

At this, those from 2018 turn to look at Tilly who offered an awkward wave. She felt like Ted when he waved at Robin at the end of their date; like she should have done something different, but she didn't know what else to do.

Angela's lips twitched into an amused smile. 

For others, you are here to watch the future in hopes to avoid some heartache and fix some mistakes.

That sounded ominous as hell.

With that, the words disappeared, and the screen began to hum to life.

Tilly turned towards her twin and stated, "So, magic is real."

Rory nodded. "Yep."

"That's new." Tilly noted.

Rory sighed tiredly as if she were already defeated by the knowledge. "Yeah,"

"That sucks!" Tilly huffed with a pout as she crossed her arms. Rory offered her sister a confused squint, so she elaborated, "I turned eleven and never got a letter to Hogwarts. Do you know what that means? That magic exists and I'm not a witch!" 

Her sister just laughed at her, and when Tilly turned towards her mother seeking comfort from her twin's mocking, she noticed Lorelai trying to hide a grin.

Tilly gasped, outraged, "Et tu, Brute?"

Though she couldn't remain mad for long and began to giggle with her mother and sister, before she cuddled further into the blanket, ready to watch what was to come.

At least, that's what she thought, anyway. 

(A/N: Tilly and Rory were born in 1995 to align the timelines of the shows. Gilmore Girls season 1 will take place in 2010. Tilly will be 23 in season 1 of The Rookie.

I'll post chapter one sometime next week!) 

Chapter Text

ℙ𝕀𝕃𝕆𝕋

The La's singing There She Goes began to play as the screen lit up with the familiar view of Stars Hollow, a two-hundred-year-old town in Connecticut. It was picturesque with mom and pop shops lining the streets, the town sign a blue life raft that always made you feel better on a bad day because you knew as soon as you passed it, you were home, with good people, great food, and, to the Gilmore girls, most importantly, amazing coffee. 

It was early morning, and the air was crisp, a pale-yellow glow highlighted everything from above. Lorelai Gilmore, a thirty-two-year-old woman who could easily pass for mid-to-late twenties with electric blue eyes and medium length black hair that shone blue in some lights and auburn in others, though it was currently covered in a knit cap. She was wearing a long blue coat—her youngest daughter, Tilly, had helped pick it out at the store. She said it was because she knew it would keep her warm and that it was long enough to cover Lorelai's bottom, but the mother knew it was just because it was blue that the younger Gilmore had even given it a second glance. Her neck was wrapped in a soft wool scarf, and she was carrying what must have been the world's largest purse on her shoulder. 

She moved to cross the road, having to stop to let a car pass her before she could continue her way into the diner, Luke's, across the way. The building used to be a barn in the eighteen-hundreds, and the pig pens and troughs were still standing outside, though instead of slop, they were now full of flowers. 

"So, we have music in this. That's nice to know. Gives ambiance, could add suspense, maybe." Rory said.

"Enhancing emotion is always a plus," Tilly added. 

Just as Lorelai made it to the door to the diner, another patron about to leave pulled it open for her. Lorelai offered a thankful smile as she passed them, eagerly moving towards the closest table, dropping her purse on a chair. She quickly began to unravel herself, singing a little tune in her head akin to the Queen of Hearts: Off with her coat! 

The thought brought a quirk to the corner of her mouth. She scooped up a glass bistro mug, a deep cream color. She held it to her chest and felt a hopeful grin flit across her lips as she practically sprinted her way towards the counter where the owner of the diner, Luke Danes, was pouring another customer coffee.

Luke is a scruffy though handsome man in his thirties, with the body of a fireman underneath that apron.

Luke offered her a pointed glare as he turned his back on her to rummage underneath the counter.

"Please, Luke." Lorelai begged. "Please, please, please." 

He sighed, as though already tired of the conversation—though, to be fair, he had this conversation thrice a day for the past however many years the Gilmore girls had been coming to his diner to drink his coffee. "How many cups have you had this morning?"

With wide eyes hoping to convey honesty that wasn't there, she chirped, "None."

Not convinced, he simply quipped, "Plus?"

She winced and admitted, "Five," 

Those unfamiliar with the coffee-addicted Gilmores felt their eyebrows raise in surprise.

Those from L.A., especially the police officers were even more so. They were officers of the law, and even they didn't drink that much coffee—and they worked twelve hours per shift.

Wesley Evers turned towards the Gilmore mother and hedged carefully, correctly deducing that any advice on this topic would not be taken well—or at all, given what they've already seen. "I don't think that's healthy."

Lorelai, Tilly and Rory all shrugged, unbothered. "It's also not healthy to try to take it away. Luke would know." Tilly waved an unbothered hand the man's way. She leaned closer to the lawyer and in a conspiratorial whisper, told him, "Dangerous." Wesley's lips quirked into an amused grin as she leaned back into her seat. "Coffee is life." Tilly told them so matter-of-factly that everybody found it hard to argue.

Luke released a groan from his recliner nearby; his navy wool blanket and black neck pillow wrapped around his collar making him look a lot less intimidating than usual. By the look on his face, you'd think he was having war flashbacks.

"But yours is better." Lorelai told him honestly.

He set down a plate—probably a little harder than he needed to—and leaned towards the woman, slightly over the counter as he told her, "You have a problem."

"Yes, I do," she agreed, even as she held out her mug to be filled with the bitter, steaming brew that must come from Heaven, Valhalla, Paradise, whatever anybody believed in, Luke's coffee came from there.

Luke reluctantly gripped the mug by the lip and pulled it down towards the counter where he poured the black liquid into it. Lorelai positively beamed. "Junkie." Luke toned monotonously.

"Angel." Lorelai quipped as she took the mug back and began to retreat, tugging her cap off her head as she told him, "You've got wings, baby."

Luke nodded seriously. He was an angel for having to deal with all the crap that came with this town—especially Taylor Doose.

The phone rang, drawing Luke's attention. He turned towards it, grabbed it off the receiver held it to his ear and answered, "Luke's?"

Lorelai sat back down at her table and happily smelled her coffee, her eyes almost rolled back into her head at the ambrosiac aroma that emanated from the—in Tilly's words—bean juice, in her hands. 

The Gilmore woman did not notice the man in his twenties, attractive but not that attractive, that had turned to watch her from his seat at the counter. He exchanged a couple words with his friends before he moved towards Lorelai's table where she was happily drinking her coffee. 

"You make that look really good." the man said, drawing the noirette's attention.

"Oh," Lorelai hummed, surprised at being interrupted. She glanced back down at the mug of nirvana in her hand, before her blue orbs flitted back towards him, "it is really good. It's the best coffee in town." 

"Oh, yeah?" he asked as he shoved his hands casually into the pockets of his slacks. "I'll have to get a cup."

"Good plan." Lorelai nodded, her words delivered in a perfunctory manner. 

Talia Bishop almost snorted, though she stopped herself just in time, "You are so uninterested, and he's just not getting the memo." 

Angela felt a smirk slither across her full lips. She felt like Lorelai was going to mess with this guy just for inconveniencing her by interrupting her time with her cup o' joe because he wanted to get into her pants. The Lopez officer knew it was going to be glorious, and she couldn't wait. 

"Yeah, I've never been here before," the man began as he passed a cursory glance outside the large windows that made up the front wall of Luke's Diner. "Just, uh, passing through on my way to Hartford."

Lorelai nodded, feigning interest as she quipped with a smile, "You're a regular Jack Kerouac." 

He blinked. He didn't know who that was, but he powered through, "Yeah."

Lorelai almost laughed but she controlled herself, though she couldn't stop her brows from raising as he asked, "Hey, you mind if I sit down?"

"Oh, you know what, I'm actually meeting a couple of someone's, so I..." she trailed off as he dragged a chair out from under the table, turned it so it was facing backwards and sat, totally disregarding her words, wants, and personal space.

"I'm Joey," he introduced.

She offered a fake smile that stretched just a little too wide. "Okay."

"What, you don't have a name?" Joey asked.

"No, I do have a name, I just really am meeting a couple people, so..." Lorelai told him.

"So, I guess I should get going." Joey said slowly, obviously wanting her to tell him to stay.

With a straight face, she asked, "So soon?" 

Angela guffawed, echoed by Lucy's hearty giggle.

"What?" Joey asked, baffled.

Lorelai nearly cackled. It was very clear that this Joey character didn't have all that much going on upstairs. "I'm just screwing with your mind, Joey." Said man scoffed a laugh. "It's nice to meet you. Enjoy Hartford." 

"Enjoy your coffee," Joey pushed himself up, "mystery woman."

Lorelai hummed thoughtfully, "Hm. I like that." 

The door jingled as it was pushed open, Tilly and Rory stepping through in a flurry of color and biting wind.

"Hey," Rory greeted. "It's freezing."

"Yeah, bad day not to wear a bra," Tilly laughed as she took a seat at her mother's table, pushing her backpack underneath the table as she did so, her twin following her lead. 

The women in the room laughed, though the men—that weren't teenage boys—felt a little uncomfortable laughing about a teen girl joking about cold weather and a human bodies' natural reaction. 

Lorelai shot her youngest a grin, before offering her oldest a sympathetic wince, "Oh, what do you need?" she asked. "Hot tea, coffee?"

"Like you even have to ask." Tilly scoffed playfully.

Rory, however, had a different answer, "Lip gloss."

"Aha!" Lorelai cheered as she pulled her gigantic purse onto her lap and began to search through it. She pulled out a clear makeup bag, filled to the brim with cosmetics; primer, foundation, concealer, powder, bronzer, blush, highlighter, mascara, eyeshadow, eyeliner (both liquid and pencil in multiple colors), toner, cleanser, lip stick, lip gloss, nail polish, foam toe separators, sponges, hand cream, and cherry blossom scented lotion. "I have vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, and toasted marshmallow." Lorelai placed the bag in the middle of the table.

Rory raised her brows, "Anything in there not resembling a breakfast cereal?"

"Yes," Lorelai answered as she reached into her purse once more and pulled out yet another clear bag, this one slightly smaller but no less full. "It has no smell, but it changes colors with your mood." The eldest Gilmore there proudly placed the bag on the table beside the other.

"God, RuPaul doesn't need this much makeup." Rory scoffed. 

"Wow, you're crabby." Lorelai noted.

"I'm sorry," Rory sighed as she began to unzip the smaller makeup bag. "Someone," she shot a pointed look at her twin, "took my Macy Gray CD and I need caffeine."

Tilly threw her head back and groaned, "Rory, I don't know how many times I have to tell you, I don't have your stupid CD." 

Lorelai looked inside her purse once more and pursed her lips sheepishly as she reached inside and slowly pulled out a familiar CD case. "Ooh, I have your CD."

"Thief." Rory squinted as her mother handed it over.

Tilly loudly cleared her throat, drawing both her mother and elder twin's attention towards herself. She made gestures with her hand, which Rory quickly caught on to, causing the older twin—by 11 minutes—to fondly roll her eyes. "I'm sorry, Til, that I blamed you for taking my CD."

"And?" she prompted trying to fight off a smile, though failing terribly.

"And, in recompense, I'll take you to see a movie this weekend."

"Deal!" Tilly cheered as she threw her arms up in the air in victory.

Lorelai laughed, "Sorry about your Macy Gray. I'll get you both some coffee." 

Lorelai grabbed a random baby blue mug for Rory and stepped up towards the counter, drawing an unimpressed look from Luke.

"What?" Lorelai asked. "It's not for me, it's for Rory, I swear, and Tilly wants some, too."

Behind them, Rory was putting on the lip gloss, once done, she offered it to her twin who took it and put some on herself before she replaced the cap and placed it back in the bag, rezipping it and stacking it atop the larger makeup bag on the table. Just as she finished, the man who had been flirting with Lorelai before, Joey, approached the table. 

Emily felt bile get lodged in her throat as that—that homeless-looking man meandered towards her helpless granddaughters—looking to steal them away and ruin their futures, no doubt. She gripped Richard's forearms so hard he lost all feeling in his fingers.

 You're shameless." Luke scolded, even as he turned to grab Tilly's special mug from under the counter. Tilly has a thing about germs, so she can't do the sharing mugs with strangers thing like her mother and sister, no matter how many times she's been assured that the dishware is washed after every use, so Luke bought her a mug of her own to use whenever she came into the diner. It was a dark blue with pale yellow stars painted all over. The blue was fading, and the stars were wonky, but Tilly loved it, she said it was her cup of stars, and that whenever she drank out of it she made a wish—she refused to disclose this wish (she's only ever made the same wish, over and over), siting that if she did so that it would never come true.

"Look, Officer Krupke," Lorelai began, "they're right at that table," she whirled around, "right over there."

Her eyes widened as she noticed the familiar man now hitting on her underage daughters—who looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

All officers felt their hackles rise as they saw how hunched Rory and Tilly's shoulders were; as if they were trying to become as small as possible so that this man would leave them alone. It wasn't a new sight, unfortunately, but it was one that always set their teeth on edge. 

"Ah," she gasped, not noticing as Luke filled up both mugs behind her, "he's got quite a pair, this guy." Lorelai shook her head, turning when she realized she was no longer holding the mug, finding both Rory's mug and Tilly's cup of stars full of coffee. "Thanks," she mumbled, distracted by the scene happening before her.

She walked back, overhearing what Joey was saying as she got closer.

"Yeah, I've never been through here before."

"Oh, you have, too." Lorelai interrupted as she squeezed between him and the wall, putting herself as a physical barrier beside her kids.

"Oh, hi." Joey said.

She smiled falsely. "Oh, hi." Tilly and Rory watched, eager to see where this would go. "You really like my table, don't you?" 

Lorelai set their respective mugs down before each girl as Joey began to try and squirm his way out of the situation.

"I was just, uh..." Joey fumbled.

Lorelai shrugged and placed a hand on the back of each chair that was occupied by a Gilmore child. "Getting to know my daughters."

"Your..." Joey trailed off, dumbstruck.

Tilly leaned forward with a mischievous grin, a twinkle in her eye that matched her twin's that came from their mother. Rory and Tilly asked in sync, baby-voices locked and loaded and rearing to go, "Are you our new daddy?" 

Some couldn't help but laugh, especially at how freaked out the guy looked, though, others had a harder time finding the humor in the situation. How many times had something like this happened for them to have such a routine down by now?

"Wow," he blurted. "You do not look old enough to have a daughter, let alone two."  

Lorelai offered a nod, used to hearing this. It was something that came up whenever they introduced themselves to new people.

Tilly's brows narrowed, "You do know that people can have more than one kid at a time, right?" she asked, genuinely curious. This guy seemed like he didn't even know his right from his left. 

Rory snorted beside her while Joey kept rambling.

"No, I mean it." Joey turned towards the twins. "And you do not look like daughters."

"That's possibly very sweet of you. Thanks." Lorelai told him with a bland smile.

"So..." he blew out a breath, "daughters." Lorelai nodded with wide eyes, waiting for him to get the hint and leave. Joey blinked, and then his eyes lit up as if a lightbulb just went off inside his head, "You know, I am travelling with a couple friends."

Two guys at the counter turned to look over their shoulders, obviously having been eavesdropping the entire time.

"They're sixteen." Lorelai stated through a smile that was more threatening than anything else.

Without missing a beat, he said, "Bye," and hightailed it out of there, his friends scurrying after him.

"Drive safe." Lorelai cooed.

The trio of Gilmore girls began to laugh as Lorelai squatted down to be knelt between them, sharing a genuine moment of happiness, that, though while not rare in their house, was welcomed all the same. 

⁂

At the Independence Inn, a beautiful old building with tall white columns and a wraparound porch that Mark Twain could've written on, Lorelai scampered up the front steps and made her way inside where she handed over a key to a bellboy. "Oh, here you go," she told him.

"Thanks," he said as he passed by.

The lobby was bustling and alive. It was a happy environment, full of carved wood, elegant oil paintings, soft lighting filtered through crystal chandeliers, hardwood flooring underneath a scattering of hand-woven Persian rugs, tasteful furniture placed throughout creating an easy flow.

"Independence Inn, Michel speaking." Michel answered the phone. Michel Gerard, the concierge, an attractive, extremely intolerant man with umber skin in his late thirties. Michel spoke with a beautiful French accent—some would say that it was the only beautiful thing about the man, especially when confronted with his personality—which helped with his pursuit of the ladies. Michel was leisurely flipping through the mail, the registration book open before him, but he offered it no attention. "No, I'm sorry, we're completely booked. We have a wedding party here."

Lorelai stepped up beside him, moved his stack of mail he'd made aside and opened her black leather folder where she kept her to-do lists, receipts, notes, memos, phone numbers in cases of emergency, fires, floods, plumbing drama, the whole shebang. It helped her keep organized and run the inn, no matter how messy it looked to people that weren't Lorelai Victoria Gilmore. 

"No, there really is nothing I can do." Michel said emotionlessly beside her, placing another letter on the pile he'd already gone through. "Yes, I'm sure," his voice was bordering on snapping. "Positive." Michel paused. "No, I don't have to look, ma'am, I—yes, of course, I'll look." The French man placed the phone face down on the register book and continued to sort through the mail for a couple of moments, then picked it up once more. "No, I'm sorry, we're completely booked." 

Behind him, Lorelai was whispering with another member of staff, keeping everything in order for the wedding that was being held that weekend.

Suddenly, a loud voice—especially for a place that had the foreboding presence that made you feel as if you were in a library and like you weren't allowed to speak louder than a quiet whisper—exclaimed from across the room, drawing the attention of everyone there. "Oh, no, don't move! Just ignore the tiny woman pushing the two-hundred-pound instrument around. Oh, this is good, I like this." Drella, the harpist, pushed her harp on a dolly, trying to get it into the proper place so she could play.

Lorelai quickly slipped out from behind the desk to make her way towards the shorter woman.

"After this, I'll, uh, bench press a piano, huh?" Drella began to push forward but had to pause as a guest was bent forward retying her shoe. "Oh, that's it, lady, tie your shoe now." Drella drawled sarcastically. "Don't—don't worry, I'll wait." The lady, a redheaded older woman in a turquoise velvet pantsuit offered her a dirty look, though the short woman didn't appear bothered. 

The more sarcastic folk allowed smirks to appear on their faces. The ones on the police force weren't allowed to speak this way at their jobs—at least, not to anybody that wasn't a crook or a rookie—so to see someone doing it so openly was quite refreshing.

Tim took a liking to the woman immediately.

It was at this moment that Lorelai finally made it to the harpist.

"Hi, Drella, hi" Lorelai offered a hesitant grin as she placed a stabilizing hand on the harp drawing both the woman and the stringed instrument to a stop. Drella looked up at her boss with a question shining in her brown orbs. "I was just wondering, um, could you be, uh, nicer to the guests?" 

"I'm—I'm sorry, did you not want a harp player?" Drella asked slowly.

"Yes, I did." Lorelai answered.

"And did you not want a great harp player?" Drella led. 

Lorelai huffed slightly. She knew where this was going, but she was going to be a fish—a stupid fish because she knew what was going to happen once she took the bait—and bite. "Yes, I did."

Drella smiled widely and nodded as if relieved, "Okay. I," she gestured towards herself with her thumb, "am a great harp player. And this," she hugged the large instrument that was as tall as she was, "is my great harp, okay?" Lorelai glanced around hoping nobody was watching. "So, if you're looking for someone to just be nice to the guests, get a harmonica player. Maybe some guy who whistles through his nose. Okay? Capisce?" 

Lorelai raised her hands is surrender and backed away allowing Drella to continue pushing her harp through the busy lobby, complaining loudly all the way. "Oh, that is a great spot for a table. Decorator's a genius!"  

Emily turned judging eyes on her daughter, "Honestly, Lorelai, how can you let your employees talk to you that way?"

"I don't know, mother, the same way I let you talk to me this way, I guess." Lorelai sniped. 

Back at the front desk, Michel had ceased sorting the mail and was cradling his head in his hand as he argued with the woman on the phone. "Madame, you have no idea how desperately I would like to help. But see," Lorelai appeared at his side and began to go through her notes that she had organized for the wedding. "I'd have to build a room for you myself and I'm not a man who works with his hands." Lorelai allowed an amused huff to escape at her concierge before a blonde woman approached the desk and drew her attention. "The best I can do is suggest that you please, please try for another weekend. Any weekend." Michel went to speak again when he practically lit up. "Ah, good, fine. The twenty-first. Hold on, I'll look." He began to flip through the pages, first to the right, then he had to go back two pages until he eventually found September twenty-first. "No, I'm sorry, we're completely booked."

He pulled the phone away with a gasp as the woman on the phone hung up on him. 

Lucy laughed, joined by Nolan and Jackson. They'd been told about Michel by Tilly, and now, seeing him in person, they completely understood what she was talking about. He was hilarious without even trying. 

Lorelai shook her head from beside him but deciding not to say anything as he placed the phone down. Instead, she focused her attention on a different matter. "Has the plumber attended to room four, yet?"

"He was here, he did nothing, it's a hundred dollars." Michel answered as he held the phone out for her.

She groaned as she swiped it from his hand. She pressed the number in and then held it to her ear. She didn't have to wait long for an answer, unconsciously smiling as soon as someone picked up—it was something she had learned to do from her job, always smile when speaking to someone, even when they can't see you, because they can hear it in your voice. "Hi, Marco, Lorelai. Talk to me about room four. What was wrong with it?"  

Tilly and Rory approached the front desk, where their mother whispers, “Kisses?” at them. They both stepped up behind the desk—they were obviously very comfortable back there—and pressed a kiss to her cheek, one on each side. 

“Uh-huh? I thought you replaced that already?” Lorelai quizzed as her twins began to poke around behind the desk, searching for bits and bobs—Rory wanted stamps, and Tilly was searching for the wipes that her mother always kept back there for her. Once she found them, she quickly pulled one out, swept up the letter opener and began to obsessively clean it before she even thought of touching it with her bare skin. “Well, because you told me you did, and I never forget anything. So, this one’s on you, right?” Lorelai grinned, triumphant. “Pleasure doing business with you.” She hung up the phone.

Michel pointed at the girls, then interlocked his fingers on the desk as he demanded of his boss, “What is your offspring doing?”

“I need stamps.” Rory replied. “Can I have these?” She waved the ones she found around.

“No,” Michel drew the word out but was quickly interrupted by Lorelai.

“Take them.” She told her daughter. Behind her Michel rolled his eyes. 

Lorelai offered Michel a playful glare, though he didn’t react further than glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s with the muumuu?” Lorelai asked as she gestured towards her oldest daughter’s extra-extra-large sweater that practically swallowed her upper body whole.

“Stop,” Rory told her.

“No, I’m just saying you couldn’t find one made of metal in case anyone has X-ray eyes?” 

“Ugh, stop it. Not you, too!” Rory threw her head back with a groan. “I’ve had to listen to Tilly all the way here, ‘Ah, embracing the, ‘I swallowed a small Yeti’ look? Bold fashion choice!’ and ‘Trying to single-handedly keep the sweater industry in business, Ror?’ or, my personal favorite, ‘Is that both a sweater and a flotation device? Expecting to fall into any large bodies of water today?’ Mom, stop laughing, it’s not funny!” 

Lorelai cackled as she reached out a hand to high-five her youngest. Tilly happily slapped her palm against her mother’s.

“And now, we say goodbye.” Rory said as she tried to steer her sister away from their mother. 

“Ooh, hey, have Michel look at your French paper before you go.” Lorelai reminded. Rory would have asked Tilly to do so—she had a thing with languages, she could read, speak, and write English, Spanish, French, Italian, Portuguese, and Latin, and she was beginning to learn Korean to be able to converse better with Mrs. Kim—but she already had enough on her plate that neither she nor Lorelai wanted to add more to it.

“Excuse me?” Michel drawled as he began to shuffle through the inn’s mail once more.

“That’d be great.” Rory smiled as she rounded the desk to be closer to the Frenchman.

“No.” he denied.

“Come on, Michel.” Rory pled, “I’ll tell all the ladies what a stud you are.” Rory bribed.

“Hm.” Michel hummed and smirked. “I believe that message has already been sent.”

Tilly smirked and leaned forward. “If you don’t, I’ll tell all the studs what a lady you are.” 

That startled a laugh out of everyone that wasn’t Michel, Emily or Richard. In fact, he turned irritated eyes on the girl responsible once more. She returned his glare with a winning smile and a happy finger-wave. 

He paused and glared at the youngest Gilmore. “You wouldn’t.”

She rose a challenging brow back. “Try me.”

Lorelai interfered before Michel lunged over the counter to strangle her child. Instead, she began to plead in an abysmal French accent, “Oh, please, Michel. Pretty please with sucre on top. I will stop talking like this.”

All three Gilmores stared imploringly at him, identical eyes gleaming.

He drew in a long, steadying breath before finally conceding. “Leave it. I will look at it if I get a chance.”

“It’s due tomorrow.” Rory told him as she placed the stapled papers on the desk’s counter. “And pay special attention to the grammar.” She commanded.

Both Rory and Tilly offered their mother beaming smiles and then, in sync, turned and left.

Lorelai, feeling victory singing in her veins, turned her electric blue orbs on Michel as a content smile drew her lips up at the corners. 

“I despise you.” Michel drawled as he kept his eyes on the mail, sifting through it swiftly.

Lorelai hummed, unbothered, as she spun on her heel and sashayed towards her next stop in her day.

Michel offered her leaving form a defeated glare, tossing the mail huffily on the desktop as he did so. 

⁂

Rory, Tilly and Lane are walking to school, passing by teenagers of all shapes and sizes, passing a football around, zooming by far too close on a scooter, cheerleaders running through routines one more time.

Rory was holding Lane’s jacket while Tilly was holding Lane’s backpack while said Kim was pulling a pink tie-dyed Woodstock ‘99 T-shirt on over her Mrs. Kim approved wardrobe she’d left home in.

“When are you going to let your parents know that you listen to the evil rock music?” Rory asked with an amused smile as Lane tugged the shirt down over her head. “You’re an American teenager for God’s sake.”

“It would be nice to be able to listen to Eurythmics or Duran Duran the right way, you know, at top volume, instead of,” Tilly leaned closer and lowered her voice until she was barely heard, “a teeny-tiny whisper.”

First, Lane turned towards the eldest twin as she pulled her sleeves that had ridden up down back over her wrists. “Rory, if my parents still get upset over the obscene portion size of American food, I seriously doubt I’m going to make any inroads with Eminem.” Lane reached out to take back her denim jacket, sliding her arm into one sleeve, and then the other as she turned her attention towards the youngest Gilmore. “And we can always rock out to Eurythmics and Duran Duran at your place, make it so loud the windows vibrate.”

Tilly contemplated for a second, “That’s true, I just wish you could be open with your parents, that you didn’t have to hide your true self.”

Lane slowly reached out, waiting for Tilly to give her permission to close the distance. Once Tilly had nodded, Lane closed the distance and patted her lightly on the arm, “Thanks, but so not gonna happen any time soon.” 

“Here,” Tilly said as she held out Lane’s backpack.

Lane grabbed one strap, looping it around her shoulder, her eyes sliding up towards the bulletin board that showcased an orange flyer for the teen hayride.

“I have to go to that,” she gestured with a frown.

“The hayride?” Rory asked. “You’re kidding.”

“My parents set me up with the son of a business associate, he’s gonna be a doctor.”

Tilly and Rory exchanged a glance and asked together, “How old is he?” 

Those unused to being around twins, especially twins as close as Rory and Tilly, felt a shiver run up their spines as they spoke together and mimicked each other’s facial expressions. It was eerie.

Jackson leaned closer to John and Lucy and muttered, “I feel like I’m watching a less traumatizing version of The Shining.”

Lucy shot him a look, appearing amused, “You thought that movie was traumatizing?”

He huffed, “I saw that movie for the first time when I was like ten, okay! It gave me nightmares for a month! I’m pretty sure seeing that naked granny is at least part of the reason that I’m gay.”

Lucy and Nolan shared a quiet chuckle. 

Lane, seemingly used to them talking at the same time, didn’t react. “Sixteen.”

“So, he’s gonna be a doctor in a million years.” Tilly summed up as they stepped off the curb and wandered across the street.

“Well, my parents like to plan ahead.” Lane said as she adjusted the collar of her jacket, the cream sherpa lining keeping her warm.

“God,” Rory suppressed a laugh, “you have to go to the hayride with him?”

“And his older brother.” Lane added.

Rory and Tilly wore matching expressions of dread. “Oh, please tell me you’re kidding.” Tilly begged.

Lane somberly shook her head. “Koreans never joke about future doctors.” She adopted a chirpy attitude and a wide smile as she asked, “So, I guess you’re not going?”

They began to climb the stairs that led into their school.

“No, I’m still fuzzy on what’s fun about sitting in the cold for two hours with a bundle of sticks up your butt.” Rory told her as she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t expect me to clear it up for you.” Lane retorted as they reached the middle of the staircase.

“And don’t even get me started on the diseases that you could catch just by being on that hayride. First, there’s the common cold from the freezing air, then there’s all the mono that’s gonna start going around from the freaks that play tonsil tennis on the hayride, hay fever from the nature of it all.” Tilly listed. “I think I’ll pass.”

Rory and Lane laughed. 

As they passed the doorway leading into the school, the new student, Dean Forester, found his eyes drawn to a certain Gilmore, even going so far as to crane his neck to keep her in his line of sight longer before eventually she turned the corner. He faced forward once more, an intrigued look on his face. 

Lorelai did not like the look this boy had when watching her daughter. Not mention, why the hell was he watching her in the first place? That's creepy behavior! The Gilmore mother squinted her eyes as she thought, if he behaves in a creepy manner, does that make him a creep? After a moment of quiet contemplation, she decided, that yes, yes it does, and she was going to be keeping a very close eye on this kid. 

⁂

Mrs. Traister, a tall, thin sharp-featured American literature teacher was pacing the front of a packed classroom. Only some of the students were paying attention.

“For those of you who have not finished the final chapters of Huckleberry Finn, you may use this time to do so. For those of you who have, you can start on your essay now.” There was a quiet shuffling as students began to either pull out their books, or notebooks and pens. There was a group of girls in the middle of the classroom sharing a bottle of nail polish, basically encapsulating Tilly on all sides, who was trying to work on her essay. Each girl would paint a single finger, then pass the bottle on to the next girl. Mrs. Traister either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Whichever task you choose, do it silently.”

As the girls passed the bottle of polish, a pink that was tinted so much it looked faintly purple, they noticed the single-minded determination of Rory Gilmore as she worked, her hand practically moving at the speed of light as she wrote. One girl drew the rest of the group’s attention towards the eldest Gilmore twin’s direction.

“Maybe it’s a love letter.” An icy blonde whispered softly.

“Or her diary.” A redhead with a pixie cut guessed next.

“Could be a slam book.” The girl holding the nail polish chimed in.

Tilly rolled her eyes, “Here’s a wild idea—it's the assignment.”

The other girls allowed their disappointment to show as they almost immediately lost interest, going back to their nails.

From her seat, Rory allowed a small, amused smile to flit across her lips, she glanced over at her twin and stretched out her arm, interlocking her pinky with her twin’s. Tilly grinned and gently tightened her grip before releasing her sister, focusing once more on her essay. 

Lorelai allowed a loving smile to flit across her face; sometimes, it amazed even her how close her kids are.

⁂ 

At the Independence Inn, Drella was sat, playing a peaceful melody on her harp. The lobby of the inn was full; a quiet chatter could vaguely be heard from those who loitered around, sat in the lounge area provided for the guests.

A woman with short red hair was stood, admiring the music with an impressed smile.

“Nice, huh?” Drella asked.

“It’s beautiful.” the woman answered immediately.

Drella finished her note before she bent, plucked up a soup can she had peeled the label off, and plopped it on the table beside her, “Yeah, well, tell it to the tip jar.”

“Take Mrs. Langworthy’s bags up to 314. Make sure the drapes are closed and there’s extra soap and she wants her pillow mints now.” Lorelai instructed a bellboy, only to be interrupted by a large crash from the kitchen. Her eyes widened, and she hurried towards the ruckus as fast as she could in her heels.

“Sookie!” Lorelai exclaimed as she pushed the swinging door open and entered the kitchen.

The kitchen was huge and chaotic with fabulous things cooking and bubbling, with the most delicious aromas wafting through the air. On the floor, underneath an avalanche of pots and pans was Sookie St. James, the chef and Lorelai’s best friend. She's a brilliant cook but she had absolutely no hand-eye coordination whatsoever. Right now, her forehead is bandaged, there’s a splint on her left little finger, and Band-Aids all over her hands and arms. The sous-chef, Salvador, and a couple of the kitchen helpers were already surrounding Sookie, trying to untangle her.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Sookie laughed.

“What did you do now?” Lorelai asked as she hurried to her best friend’s side. She knelt beside her on the floor and turned her attention towards Salvador, “Oh, why aren’t you watching her? ¿No la estabas observando?” (Weren’t you watching her?) 

“Eh, no, she this, bad food in the head.” Salvador replied, tapping his temple.

“Oh,” Lorelai scoffed as she put her attention on her accident-prone chef once more. “I need you to be more careful.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Sookie told her as she wiped her hands with a kitchen towel. She allowed a glowing smile to spread across her face. “Hey, I fixed the peach sauce.”

“That’s blood.” Lorelai noted. “You’re bleeding. Why are you bleeding?”

“Oh, my stitches opened.” Sookie waved off—that was less important than her sauce! “I was using too much maple syrup. It strangled the fruit.” she giggled as she placed a sheepish fist before her mouth to hide her shy grin.

“When did you get stitches?” Lorelai asked, concerned.

“Friday night, radish roses.” Sookie answered absentmindedly as she reached above her head for a pot that was sat with a boiling substance inside on a hot stove.

“Okay, stop moving.” Lorelai instructed as she hurriedly grabbed the towel off the floor and wrapped it around the hot handle that Sookie had grabbed with her bare hand.

“You gotta taste the sauce.” Sookie implored. 

Talia’s eyes were wide. She could not believe someone could be so accident-prone. She was like a walking-talking baby; everything was a threat to her, and even worse, she didn’t even realize it! She could only imagine the amount of paperwork that would come with having that woman on the force. Best to keep her in the kitchen with the fire and knives and away from the tasers and guns.

“You have to try it while it’s still warm.” Sookie told her as Lorelai took hold of the handle with the towel as a barrier and Sookie used the wooden spoon to quickly stir the sauce inside before scooping a small bit onto the large utensil.

“Okay. Oh, Sookie, I need you to be more careful.” Lorelai told her, though Sookie was too busy blowing on her spoonful of sauce to pay any attention to her boss/best friend. “I need there to be fewer accidents.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sookie mumbled as she shoved the spoon in Lorelai’s mouth, cutting the noirette off before she could say anything else.

Lorelai swallowed and then licked her lips. She threw her head back with a wide grin as she breathed, “Oh, dear God Almighty. That's incredible!” Sookie nodded—she knew she was a genius; you didn’t have to tell her. 

“I want to put it on the waffles tomorrow morning for breakfast.” Sookie hummed, excited as she bent at the waist to get a taste of her own.

“I wanna take a bath in that sauce.” Lorelai moaned. “Don’t tell Tilly she’ll write a dissertation about how unsanitary that is.” Lorelai quickly told her. 

Truth was told as Tilly looked vaguely green and nauseous at the mere idea. She turned imploring eyes on her mother, “You won’t, right? ‘Cause I can list all the reasons why that’s icky!”

Before her youngest could get too worked up, Lorelai quickly intervened, grabbing her wrists gently and pulling them into her own lap, before wrapping an arm around the younger girl’s shoulders. “No, I promise. It'd be far too sticky, and I’d probably have to shave all my hair off, and I just can’t do bald the way others can.”

Rory smiled fondly from Lorelai’s left. 

“I will make more!” Sookie cheered. “And noted.”

“Well, considering we’ve double dipped a spoon we’ve both licked, you would have had to make more if you wanted Tilly to try it anyway, but she is going to love learning how to make this.” Lorelai smiled from ear to ear as she adjusted her weight on her knees which were starting to hurt from the hard tile she was kneeling on. “Someday, when we open our own inn, diabetics will line up to eat this sauce.”

Sookie gasped as her eyes lit up. “Won’t that be great?”

“Yeah.” Lorelai said as she lifted herself up slightly to place the pot back on the stove. “But the key to someday achieving that dream is for you to stay alive long enough, so we can actually open an inn. So, you must be careful, and follow Tilly’s cleaning manual, and we just might make it. You understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” Sookie mumbled, trying to be serious and keep her laughter in check.

“All right. So, now, let’s get you up and to the doctor on three.” Lorelai held out a hand that Sookie clapped her own into. “One, two, three!” Lorelai stood easily, but when Sookie put pressure on the ground she exclaimed in pain.

“Ow!”

“What?” Lorelai asked as she stopped moving immediately.

“Stepped on my thumb.” Sookie answered. “I’m fine. On three.” She reached out and Salvador took hold of her free hand and helped her off the ground. “Okay.” 

⁂

Tilly twirled as she, Lane and Rory giggled together as they moved down the sidewalk, the trio shared the happenings of their day. “Was it a good color at least?” Lane asked as they approached the front gate of her house.

“It was pink.” Tilly stated. For her, that was answer enough—pink was her second favorite color. “Did you know that sharing nail polish, even though it can lead to fungal infections, it’s not a common concern due to the antimicrobial properties of nail polish solvents? Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my mouth shut.” 

Rory and Lane shared a fond, exasperated glance as Rory elaborated on her twin’s answer, “It also had sparkles in it and smelled like bubble gum when it dried.” 

“Oh, well, there’s no way Mark Twain can compete with that.” Lane gibed as they climbed the stairs of her house, the sign out front reading KIM’S ANTIQUES. There were lots of chairs and statues on the porch and decorating the front yard, but it was nothing compared to what the inside looked like.

Lane pushed the door open with the familiar ringing of the bell to welcome her, calling out as she stepped inside, “Mom, we’re home.” Lane paused for a moment, turning towards her best friends to ask, “Did you hear something?”

“I’m not sure.” Rory said as Tilly shook her head in denial.

They moved further in on the enclosed porch, stopping just by the front door, as Lane yelled into the house again, “Mom, you here?”

“We’re open! Everything’s half off!” Mrs. Kim’s voice was heard faintly from somewhere on the first floor of the house/shop.

“We have contact.” Rory joked.

“Take us to your leader.” Tilly joined earning a smirk from Lane and a nudge in the side from her twin.

The Kim’s have devised a very interesting living arrangement for themselves. The family lived upstairs except for the kitchen, the downstairs is their antique store. It’s crammed from top to bottom with antiques. Tables are piled on top of each other; chairs are piled on top of tables; sofas are hung from the ceiling. There’s not an inch of open space anywhere, nor is there a clear path to walk through. The whole place is an elaborate, dusty maze—the kind of place that, to a child, would be the perfect place to play Hide-and-Seek, until you knock something over that was “priceless” and you have a terrifying Mrs. Kim yelling at you in Korean until you’re a blubbering mess with tears dripping off your chin and snot running down your nose. 

Rory, Lane, and Tilly enter, maneuvering through the labyrinth with the ease of people who have done so for years.

“Mom?” Lane exclaimed.

“Lane?” Mrs. Kim’s voice sounded closer now, less faint.

“Mom, where are you?” Lane asked, her voice loud.

“Lane, where are you?” Mrs. Kim shouted.

“Back here.” Lane declared as the twins followed their best friend.

“Over here!” Mrs. Kim sang.

They came to a crossroads, unsure which way to go. Lane hesitated.

“I think she’s that way,” the twins states as they pointed to the right.

“Are we closer?” Lane asked as she followed the Gilmore twin’s instructions.

“I’m by the table!” Mrs. Kim divulged, her voice sounding fainter than before, as if she, too, were moving around trying to find her daughter.

At her words, the three teenagers glanced around at the multitude of tables of all sizes, stacked on top of each other all the way to the ceiling.

“She’s kidding, right?” Rory asked.

Tilly shot her twin a look, “Mrs. Kim is only funny on accident, Ror.” Lane shot her best friend a fake glare. She smiled sheepishly and rubbed her arm slightly in embarrassment, “Sorry,”

Lane waved her apology off, “Don’t worry about it, you’re right.” The Kim daughter then contemplated for a moment, before declaring, “Look, we’ll meet you in the kitchen!”

“What?” Mrs. Kim cried, confused.

“The kitchen!” the twins chorused.

“Who’s that?” Mrs. Kim asked, her voice now less welcoming.

“It’s Rory—”

“Oh,” you could easily detect the dislike in Mrs. Kim’s voice.

“Tilly’s here, too, mom!” Lane revealed. 

“Oh, okay!” Mrs. Kim blurted with much more cheer than before. Mrs. Kim—despite the vase incident of 2002—adored Tilly, especially because the youngest Gilmore didn’t mind staying around to help clean the shop—for free. 

Tilly shot her twin a triumphant grin which Rory returned with a roll of her eyes.

“Wow, I could hear the disappointment from here.” Rory commented drily.

“Oh, come on, stop it.” Lane waved her off.

“You know, it sucks that after all these years your mom still hates me.” Rory expressed sadly. “She likes Tilly because she offers free labor for the shop, but I don’t know what more I can do.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” Lane denied.

“She hates our mother.” Tilly chipped in.

“She doesn’t trust unmarried women.” Lane defended half-heartedly. 

All women who are either single or unmarried felt their hackles rise slightly. It was their choice to be single and unmarried. It's not like their hags and spinsters. This isn’t the 1800s; women were allowed to choose whether they wanted to tie the knot. The fact that some people felt that it was okay to judge others based on their marital status was heinous. It didn't make you a psychopath if you're single just as it doesn't make you a saint if you're married, and vice versa.

“You’re unmarried.” Rory told her, brow furrowed.

“I’m hay riding with a future proctologist. I have potential.” Lane tapped her chest just as they turned into the doorway that led to the kitchen.

“Go upstairs,” Mrs. Kim said by way of greeting. “Tea is ready. I have muffins with no dairy, no sugar, no wheat.”

Tilly grimaced, “No flavor,” she whispered to her sister. 

Lorelai giggled.

Nolan grinned—that was the Tilly he knew. 

“Have to soak them in tea to make soft enough to bite, but they’re very healthy.” Mrs. Kim told them as she grabbed another piece of clothing out of the laundry basket and began to iron it. “So, how was school?” Mrs. Kim moved around the table, towel hanging between her fingers as she stepped closer to the three girls in the doorway. “None of the girls get pregnant, drop out?” 

Those who weren’t familiar with Mrs. Kim felt their jaws drop at the obtuse, phlegmatic way of thinking the older Korean woman expressed so openly. She seemed either unaware or uncaring of how horrible her words were, the stereotype they were pushing, or what her views could be doing to the impressionable minds of the young girls she was speaking to.

“Not that we know of.” Lane told her mother with a straight face.

Mrs. Kim nodded, and turned to get back to her ironing, only for Rory to step in with a joke.

“Though come to think of it, Joanna Posner was glowing a little.”

Mrs. Kim’s head shot up so fast her hair whipped her in the face. “What?” she seethed.

“Nothing, Mama, she’s just kidding.” Lane hurried to smooth any ruffled feathers.

Mrs. Kim set unkind, serious eyes on Rory, and told her in a stern voice, “Boys don’t like funny girls.”

“So untrue.” Nolan scoffed. He then turned towards Lane, and with sincere regret shining in his eyes, he told her, “Your mother is a little... intense.”

Lane nodded, “I get that a lot.” 

Rory's eyes widened at the tone her best friend’s mother had taken with her. “Noted.”

“Hello?” a man’s voice called from the front of the shop, drawing Mrs. Kim’s attention away from them. “Is anybody here?”

“We’re here! We’re coming!” Mrs. Kim hollered. She stepped closer to the girls, stopping by them to instruct, “Have the muffins made from sprouted wheat. Only good twenty-four hours.” She pushed between them, knocking into Rory as she did so. “Everything’s half off!” she shrieked.

“Where are you?” the man called out.

“Over here.” Mrs. Kim called, trying to peer over the many antiques they had stacked on top of each other.

“Where?”

“By the chair!”

“What chair?”

Tilly, Lane and Rory exchanged a knowing look, allowing slow smiles to grow as Mrs. Kim’s voice got further and further away. Same old, same old. 

⁂ 

Sookie placed a yellow bell pepper on the cutting board and raised her knife, Salvador tugging her—bandaged—hand out of the way just in time for the blade to sink into the tender flesh of the vegetable with a cry of, “Careful!”

“I’m okay.” 

Paris jumped when the blade audibly hit the wood, a wince barely concealed. This woman was a walking danger magnet, and she needed to stay as far away from Paris as possible. 

“Pepper, peppers, peppers!” Sookie chanted to herself happily as she scooped up the chopped up yellow and green bell peppers in her hands and moved around the kitchen, Salvador and two other guys are following her closely, moving hanging pots she almost backed into out of her way. “Okay, hello little vegetables, come with me.” Sookie cooed as she plucked up the plastic cutting board and swiftly turned, trying to use her foot to close the oven before her, one of the kitchen staff hurried to do so for her before disaster struck. “Okay, where’s my glaze?” she called out to everyone.

“In the counter.” the same man who closed the oven answered.

“On the counter. On, not in, not in the counter.” Sookie corrected gently as she handed him the empty cutting board after pouring the cut vegetables into the pan to be sautéed. She wiped her hands together and bent at the waist to check inside the oven, “All right,” she said as she went to reach inside with no protection on her hands. 

She was cleanly pulled away from doing so, and a male employee knelt to do just that with a kitchen towel. “My sauce,” she hummed, as she went to grab at a boiling pan of red sauce, the same man had to toss the towel he was going to use to protect his hands over the handle, so Sookie didn’t burn herself. She lifted it to her face and sniffed, seemingly pleased as she let out a happy hum, she dipped a finger into the hot liquid, uncaring of the burn or possible injury it could cause and tapped the finger on her tongue once. She smacked her lips and rolled the flavor around on her tongue.

“Oo-oh, that’s pretty good.” The chef reached up for some diced parsley and added a pinch of that. She turned on her heel, hot pan still in her grip and moved around the kitchen, a member of her staff having to duck out of her way to avoid being struck with the pan and its scalding contents.

“Okay, okay. Hello, my little babies.” Sookie greeted as she stirred something in a large pot, rocking from foot to foot in a dance to a song that only she could hear. “You like that? A little bit of juice. Okay. You're very pretty. Okay.” She dumped the sauce into the pan, stirring as she did so, shoving the now empty saucepan onto the shelf before her at eye level, knocking a metal jug off and onto the floor with a clang! Sookie did not react, and neither did anyone else. 

She stepped to the left—right into the personal bubble of her sous-chef—and stretched to reach the highest shelf above the stove, gritting her teeth in concentration as she did so. Salvador gripped her shoulders, keeping her steady, calling for the other man, “Mike! Mike!”

Mike hurried over and grabbed the pan that she was reaching for, handing it over without a word and moving on his way.

Lorelai ran into the kitchen, a beaming grin on her face as she exclaimed, “Sookie!”

Said woman turned, pan in hand, and thus, struck Salvador right in the face with the iron cookware. 

An audible intake of air was hissed through many teeth as everyone winced at the sound the pan made when it encountered that man’s skull.

Apparently, Rapunzel had it right. Who knew, huh? 

Salvador dropped straight to the ground, out like a light.

“O-oh,” Lorelai grimaced but otherwise didn’t react. Sookie just brushed it off—it was just another accident, anyways. 

 There was a small battle of whispers between Lucy and Jackson, before, with a roll of her eyes, Lucy swapped places with Jackson, putting her beside Sookie who was in a recliner with a lavender cashmere blanket and a brown stuffed bear.

Lucy offered a confused Sookie a smile and told her with no secret amount of glee, “He’s scared of you,” while pointing at Jackson with her thumb.

Jackson shook his head quickly and corrected his friend, “I just don’t want to be nearby when you inevitably have something hot or sharp in your hands.”

Lucy’s laugh slowly tapered off as she realized that West had a point. Damn. Too late. 

“It’s here. It happened. They did it.” Lorelai said, barely containing her happiness as she gripped the straps to the gift bags, she was holding that contained the skirts to their new uniforms.

“Okay, I’m gonna need a little bit longer sentence.” Sookie said with a smile as Salvador dizzily stumbled to his feet behind her, his hand pressed to his aching forehead.

“The Chilton School. The twins got in.” Lorelai announced. 

Paris felt her heart drop. She didn’t want these girls to go to her school. They seemed nice enough, sure, but she could already tell that everyone that they met fell at their feet, singing the duo praises—they might or might not deserve—and they were both pretty and smart, it wasn’t fair. Not to mention with it already being a month into the school year, they will be so far behind everybody else it would be almost impossible for them to catch up. Adding all these new students to Chilton was just screwing with the curve that had already been established by her and the student body that had been at the damn school since the beginning. She ground her teeth and set her jaw, determined not to like them, knowing that would be the case even if she hadn’t been brought to this stupid theatre. That gave her pause. Why was she brought to the theatre? 

Emily felt pride surge through her chest at the news that her granddaughters got into Chilton Preparatory School. She knew that it wasn’t an easy school to get into, you needed to have impressive grades, recommendations, attendance, a powerful essay detailing why you should be allowed into the school and what it could do for you and your future, and money. Emily stopped short. Her daughter didn’t have money—at least, not the kind of money it would take to enroll two children into Chilton. She had a sudden hunch, and she was almost desperate—not that she’d ever admit that—to see where this would go. 

Sookie started to bounce in place, clapping her hands together excitedly, as she cheered, “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“I know! Look!” Lorelai raised the letter as her best friend stepped up beside her and started to read from it, “Dear Ms. Gilmore, we are happy to inform you that we have two vacancies at Chilton Preparatory starting immediately due to your daughters’ excellent credentials and your enthusiastic pursuit of their enrollment.” Lorelai sucked in a breath for the first time since she began to read as she informed the chef, “I offered to do the principal to get them in.” They shared a giggle. “We would be happy to accept them, once the first semester’s tuition has been received.” 

Lorelai lowered the letter and turned her eyes on a glowing Sookie who was practically vibrating in place she was so happy for her friend’s girls. “This is so exciting.”

“Yeah,” Lorelai agreed.

They shared a hug, both giggling non-stop until Lorelai’s face fell as she took in a smell that was, unfortunately, all too familiar. “Is something burning?”

“My bangs, earlier.” Sookie told her nonchalantly. “Go on, go on, go on.”

“This is it.” Lorelai tried to contain her enthusiasm but wasn’t doing that great a job at it as they pulled away from the hug. “Rory can finally go to Harvard like she’s always wanted, and Tilly can figure out what she wants to do in her life, and they’ll get the education that I never got, and they’ll do all the things that I never got to do, and then I can resent them for it, and we can finally have a normal mother-daughters relationship.” The Gilmore mother word-vomited so fast Sookie looked faint just trying to keep up.

“Oh, good.” Sookie smiled as they shared another happy giggle. 

“Mom?” Rory’s voice called, drawing their attention.

“Mama?” Tilly’s voice was heard soon after.

Sookie and Lorelai shushed each other and forced their smiles off their lips just in time, as the twins came in through the back door into the kitchen.

Tilly and Rory shared a glance at the weird way the best friends were standing, staring at them as if they’d just given birth to Madonna herself, and she’d come out of the womb singing Like A Virgin.  

“You’re happy.” Rory hedged.

“Yeah,” Lorelai agreed as the smile she tried to suppress won the fight she was trying to put up and slid right back onto her face, brighter than ever.

Tilly smirked. “Did you do something slutty?” 

Angela snorted. If she ever spoke to her mother like that she’d get beat with her slipper.

“I’m not that happy.” their mother answered slyly as she shared a knowing chuckle with Sookie. “Here.” Lorelai sighed eagerly as she held out the bags, one in each hand, for each girl.  

They hesitantly took the bags. “What’s going on?” they asked in sync.

Sookie shivered, looking disturbed, but Lorelai, used to it, just insisted, “Open it.”

Tilly and Rory shared a dubious glance before they both reached inside and pulled out a blue plaid skirt.

“We’re gonna be in a Britney Spears video?” Rory guessed.

Tilly swayed her hips, raising her arms in the air, the skirt still in one hand, and sang, “Oh baby, baby. How was I supposed to know? That something wasn’t right here? Oh, baby, baby.”  

It was a surprise to everyone that didn’t know the youngest Gilmore twin well that she could sing so beautifully. Her singing voice could be categorized as light and airy, delicate, almost ethereal in quality. It was easy to tell that if she put her heart into it, she could easily convey emotion and vulnerability through her vocals.

Emily felt her breath catch in her throat but pushed the feeling aside quickly. 

“You’re going to Chilton!” Sookie exclaimed, unable to bear keeping the secret any longer. It was too exciting!

Upset her surprise was ruined, Lorelai lightly slapped Sookie’s arm in reprimand.

Cowed, Sookie bowed her head in shame. “Sorry,”

Tilly immediately stopped dancing, dropping her arms and focusing her full attention on her mother. “Mama?”

Lorelai nodded. “You did it babe. You both did.” Lorelai said. “You got in.” She showed the twins the acceptance letter as proof.

“How did this happen?” Rory asked, baffled. She just couldn’t believe it. This was too good to be true. She had to be dreaming. “Ow!” Rory hissed at her twin.

Tilly smirked as she pulled away from where she’d pinched her sister’s bicep. “You’re not dreaming, sis.”

“With you around, it would have to be a nightmare,” Rory teased back.

Tilly stuck her tongue out in reply like a classy lady. 

Lorelai, eyes wide, denied with a singular laugh, “No, honey, that was a joke. They have a couple open spots. You’re going to start on Monday.” 

“Really?” the twins asked as hope started to bleed into their souls for the first time since finding out.

“Really.” Lorelai assured.

“I don’t believe this. Oh my God!” Rory hopped in place before lunging at her mother to draw her into a tight embrace, “I’m going to Chilton!”

“Yeah,” Lorelai hummed as she wrapped her arms around her oldest.

“Sookie, we’re going to Chilton!” Tilly squealed as she hugged the woman she thought of as an aunt. 

“This is when we got brought here, so everything from beyond this point, hasn’t happened.” Tilly stated to the room. She glanced towards the group from 2018 and added, “For us, anyway.” 

The twins exchanged who they were hugging, as Tilly tangled herself up with her mother, Rory giggled hysterically about Chilton to a beaming Sookie.

“I’ll make cookies. Protestants love oatmeal!” Sookie declared.

The twins shared a look, “We have to call Lane.”

They squeezed through their mother and Sookie to make their way out of the kitchen, only to double back and pull their mother into a group hug. “I love you,” Rory mumbled.

“Times infinity.” Lorelai and Tilly returned in unison, something that they had been saying to each other since before they could remember.

The twins pulled away and hurried out of the kitchen, giggling together about Chilton as they ran to the nearest phone.

“My girls are going to Chilton.” Lorelai stated, as if she needed to hear it said aloud for it to come true. She stepped towards the door, Sookie cheering behind her as she left.

“I know, right, Chilton, yeah! Girls are going to Chilton! Girls are going to Chilton!” Sookie chanted as she did a little dance through the kitchen, tossing a kitchen towel over her shoulder onto what turned out to be a hot stove. It quickly caught fire, but Salvador was there to save the day as he put a nearby metal lid to a pot overtop the flames to smother them without blinking an eye. 

⁂

Michel stood at the front desk at the Independence Inn, ignoring the phone as it continuously rang.

Lorelai appeared at his side, “Michel, the phone,” she hinted as she passed him to set her leather folder on the shelf behind him.

“Mm-hm, it rings.” he responded as he continued to go through the registration book and edit through the reservations that had already checked out and those which would be arriving that day.

“Can you answer it?” she asked as she swept by him once more.

“No.” he answered simply. “People are particularly stupid today. I can’t talk to any more of them.”

His boss appeared at his side, a saccharine smile on her face. “You know who’s really nice to talk to? The people at the unemployment agency.” She slit the envelope she was holding with the letter opener threateningly and stared at him pointedly. 

He put down his pen and reached for the phone almost immediately. “Independence Inn, Michel speaking.”

Lorelai, satisfied, unfolded the letter she just opened, and upon reading it, she released a horrified gasp, even as Michel walked away from her, huffily informing the person on the other end of the line that they were completely booked. 

⁂

At Lorelai’s, Rory and Tilly’s house, mommy Gilmore was on the phone in the dining room, waiting to get in touch with somebody from Chilton.

The Gilmore home in Stars Hollow was a tiny old, two bedroom—though the attic had been renovated into a large bedroom with an en-suite when it became clear the twins could not continue to share a space—clapboard house, with a huge porch and tons of potted plants and flowers all over the front yard, sitting happily on a hill.

“I’m holding for Miss Bell. I've been trying to get ahold of her all day.” Lorelai explained into the receiver. She sighed, waiting for the other person to stop speaking before answering, “Lorelai Gilmore,”

She impatiently passed from foot to foot, releasing a happy gasp once she heard a new voice echo down the line, “Hi! Oh, hi, hi. Yeah, uh, my daughters Tilly and Rory have just been accepted—yay.” Lorelai babbled as she paced from the dining room, down the steps and further into the house. She released a laugh, “Thank you. I, uh, got the invoice for your enrollment fee, wow,” her shoulders hunched, and she felt small inside as she continued, “that is a lot of zeros behind that five—and that’s per kid, right? Yeah, I—I thought so.” 

Lorelai circled in the living room, a small space but full of warmth and life. Old rugs, lived-in furniture and antique quilts were everywhere. There was most definitely not a set color scheme—just the organized chaos of three young women living under the same roof. There's a fireplace much smaller than the elegant ones at the inn, whose mantle is crammed with photos in frames of all shapes and sizes of Lorelai and Rory, Lorelai and Tilly, the twins, the twins with their mother, the girls individually, and their friends. It was a happy home, where the Gilmore girls felt most at peace.

 Emily felt her breath hitch. This was the first time she was seeing her daughter’s house. They'd never been—Lorelai never invited them, and they weren’t the type of people to show up uninvited or unannounced. She glanced at her husband to see if he was feeling something akin to what she was, and she noticed his eyes were a little misty. She didn’t say anything, just stared forward once more.

“Uh-huh. Okay, well, I guess what I’m wondering is if you couldn’t take, say, part of it now, just to get them going?” Lorelai asked as she fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut onto a nearby fainting couch. “Well, but they’re supposed to start Monday.” Lorelai told Miss Bell as she carelessly tossed the letter with the enormous enrollment fee on the couch behind her. “It just doesn’t give me much time to pull a bank job.” Lorelai joked lightly. She died a little inside when the woman on the other end didn’t get it.  

Emily felt her eye twitch. Her daughter, always the jokester, even during serious matters; she never learned.

“Well, never mind, I was just kidding.” Lorelai grimaced as the woman thought she meant something vulgar. “No, a bank job is robbing a bank, but...” she trailed off and sucked in a deep breath as the woman on the line cut her off. “Uh-huh,” she huffed with a far-away look in her eyes, though, quickly, Lorelai's face appeared panicked and she shot up from her seated position, exclaiming, “No, no, no. I don’t want you to give up their spots,” her jaw worked, moving without any words coming out for a moment, “I’ll just... have to figure it out.”  

“Mom, if we can’t afford it—” Tilly began but her mother gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t worry about that, honey. I’ll figure something out.” Lorelai told her.

“Are you sure?” Rory asked, hesitant.

Lorelai nodded resolutely, though on the inside she felt a lot less confident than she was portraying herself to be.

“Okay,” Tilly murmured, sharing a dubious glance with her twin before focusing once more on the screen.

 She sucked in a soothing breath as the call began to wind to a close, “Okay. No, thank you. It's been a real treat talking to you.” Her fake smile fell as she breathed, “Yeah, bye-bye.”

She hung up the phone, pressing the END button with more aggression than needed before tossing the handheld onto the armchair nearby.

Lorelai sighed, defeated. 

⁂

Later that night, it appeared as if all the lights were on inside the Gilmore home, lighting up the house, marking it as a beacon of hope and comfort.

Lorelai tread the rickety wooden floorboards of her porch anxiously, passing back and forth ever few steps, mumbling—mostly to herself, “What do I do? What do I do?” The Gilmore spread her arms in a helpless gesture. “What do I do?”

Sookie, who had been watching this downward spiral like it was a telenovela on television that she didn’t quite understand but found supremely fascinating anyway for the past hour, sipping on a glass of red wine every time Lorelai would make a plea for help as if it were a drinking game. “You can have anything I own.” Sookie offered from her seat on the outdoor couch. Her seafoam green eyes lit up as she gasped, practically jumping in place as she exclaimed, “My car! Sell my car!”

“Oh, sweetie,” Lorelai uttered softly, “no one wants your car.”

It seemed harsh, but it didn’t even take a second for Sookie to agree, “Yeah,” she groaned.

“There’s something I haven’t thought of, I know there is.” Lorelai stated as she made another pass by the railing of the porch. “There’s something out there staring me right in the face, I just—I haven’t seen it.” Lorelai enounced, frustrated as she leaned against a wooden post, staring out into the darkness.

Sookie stood from her place on the sofa and stepped up slowly beside her best friend, a cunctatory tactic to gather her drunken wits and courage to suggest the best course of action Sookie—and Lorelai, though the latter was being willfully blind—knew. “You know, you might consider calling you—”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before Lorelai interrupted her, “Nope.”

“But I don’t think you have—”

“Stop.” Lorelai ordered.

Sookie gave her an unimpressed glare. “You can at least go—”

“Uh,” Lorelai grunted, interrupting her friend once more.

Sookie blew out a frustrated breath, but she was not a woman who gave up. “Okay. Can I say one more thing?” Lorelai’s continued silence was permission enough for her, so she powered through, “I think it’s your only option.”

Lorelai wagged a finger, stating, “Sookie, there are several chapters from a Stephen King novel I’d reenact before I resort to that option.” 

An uncomfortable silence filled the theatre, but neither one of her parents outwardly reacted.

There was a strange hacking sound as someone forced themselves to swallow their laugh. 

Sookie, defeated, slumped and agreed, “Okay, dropped. Dropped.”

“Thank you.” Lorelai straightened against the post, eager to start brainstorming ideas once more now that they had moved past that pain-filled hurdle, when Rory’s voice echoed from the entryway.

“Mom?” Rory came skipping onto the porch, a beaming smile on her face that stretched from ear to ear as she modeled her new Chilton uniform skirt. It was far too long, going way past her knees, and very baggy. It also did not match her striped red and white button up she was sporting on her top half. “So, what do you think?” Rory swished from side to side, showing how the skirt flowed with the movements.

“Wow, it makes you look smart!” Sookie exclaimed as she lightly patted the younger girl on the arm.

Rory chuckled, “Okay, no more wine for you. Mom?”

Lorelai, in typical Lorelai-fashion, answered honestly—with a joke thrown in. “You look like you were swallowed by a kilt.”

Rory huffed, “Fine, you can hem it. A little.”

“Ooh.” Lorelai clapped her hands together excitedly. “Where’s Til?”

“She was right behind me.” Rory answered as she stepped to the side, making room for her sister to showcase her own skirt. “Tilly, are you coming out or not?”

“Not!” Tilly’s voice sounded from the entryway where she was hiding behind the door.

The three women on the porch shared a small laugh and an amused glance. “Why?”

“Because I look hideous!” the youngest Gilmore cried. “I can NOT wear this in public!”

“Oh, babe, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Lorelai cajoled. “I’ll hem it, anyway, so nobody will see it how it is now.” 

“So much for that,” Tilly huffed as she crossed her arms, miffed.

A few amused smiles flitted across lips.

 “Okay...” Tilly sighed. “I’m coming out. You can’t laugh!” Tilly declared as she slowly stepped out from behind the door and made her way onto the porch. It was far too long and trailed down her legs like a gown. It reminded Lorelai of when Tilly was younger and would dress up in her clothes because she wanted to look ‘like mommy.’

It nearly brought tears to her eyes, and she couldn’t resist cooing, pulling her youngest baby into a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Well, this is almost worse than laughing.” Tilly joked.

“You look good, I don’t know why you are freaking out so much.” Rory told her.

“Rory, I look like a Hobbit dressed in human sized clothes.” Tilly told her blandly. 

Those that liked to read appreciated the literary reference, while others laughed openly.

Tilly pouted.

The youngest Gilmore turned towards her mother and pleaded, “You’ll hem it, right?”

Lorelai nodded, “Yes,”

“A lot?” Tilly added hopefully.

Lorelai cackled. “You are definitely my kid.”

She wrapped her arm around Tilly’s shoulders as they moved into the house as a group—Sookie making sure not to forget her half-full wine glass—the St. James woman being the last one in, closing the door on her way.

“I can’t believe tomorrow is our last day at Stars Hollow High.” Rory daydreamed.

“I know.” Lorelai commented as she led the girls to her sewing corner.

“Today I was so excited, I dressed for gym.” Rory told them.

Gym was a double-edged sword for Tilly. She liked the sports she could play by herself; track, tennis, cycling. Dance she’d done since she could remember, which eventually led into gymnastics, which she took for twelve years, only this year deciding to drop it to have more time for school. Group sports, though, she avoided like the plague.

Lorelai gasped dramatically. “You’re kidding!”

“And I played volleyball.” Rory added.

Lorelai and Tilly gasped and shared theatrical expressions of horrified wonder. Rory rolled her eyes with a smile. 

“With other people?” Lorelai asked, almost sounding scandalized as she scooped up her tape measure.

“And I learned all this time I was avoiding group sports?” Rory stepped up on the stool so her mother could get her new measurements since she’d grown since they were last taken.

“Yeah?”

“Was very smart because I suck at them.” Rory stated.

“I avoid them because people are gross, and I hate them.” Tilly added from her place on the couch where she was now reading The Secret History by Donna Tartt. 

“Yeah, well, you got that from me,” Lorelai told Rory, “Silly-Tilly got her thing just by being herself.” Lorelai shot her youngest a loving grin.

“Where’s your pâté?” Sookie asked as she appeared in the archway that led to the kitchen. 

“At Zsa Zsa Gabor’s house.” Lorelai answered without missing a beat.

“Right,” Sookie laughed as she swiped up her bag and hooked it over her shoulder, citing, “I’m going to the store because you have nothing. You feel like duck?” 

“Ooh, if it’s made with chicken, absolutely.” Lorelai smiled.

Sookie nodded, “I’ll be back.” She waved and shot out the door.

“Bye,” Lorelai called before the it closed behind the chef. “All right, this will give you an idea.” Lorelai patted Rory’s knee and stood from her kneeling position, wagging her brows at her daughter as she commanded, “Go see how you like it.”

“Okay,” Rory giggled, jumping off the stool and running towards her bedroom, stopping by the railing next to the staircase, turning towards her mother and declaring, “I love being a private school girl.”

She twirled on her heel and sprinted away.

“Okay, your turn.” Lorelai called, motioning for Tilly to put down her book and take her position on the stool.

Reluctantly—because she could barely put the book down, it was so good—she placed her bookmark between the pages and stepped up, her mother quickly getting to work.

“Now that you have all that free time without gymnastics, what are you going to do?” Lorelai asked, her fingers fumbling with the measuring tape, she mumbled a silent curse.

Tilly shrugged, “I don’t know. I might wait and see what kind of electives Chilton offers first before I decide on anything concrete.”

“Good plan.” Lorelai nodded.

“So, how short are we talking? Here?” Lorelai pinched the skirt at the knee, but Tilly plucked the fabric and pulled slightly higher, showing about an inch more skin. “Okay. You're the boss.”

Tilly smiled and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m asking to go mid-thigh.”

“You know, I think my mother would have a heart attack if she saw you dressed in anything that went above the length of your fingertips.” Lorelai joked.

“Best not then, I love Grandma.” Tilly stated distractedly as she plucked a random string from her top.

Lorelai missed where she was aiming and stuck herself with the needle instead on accident, shocked by what she just heard. 

Emily was shocked as well, but a swell of affection grew in her heart for her youngest granddaughter. She knew that her girls loved her in the way you love family—almost as if by a sense of duty if nothing else—but to hear one of them say that they just loved her as her grandmother made Emily’s heart feel like is grew two sizes in her chest, almost making her ribcage feel too tight.

She quickly shook it off, finished up, and patted her daughter on the knee, declaring, “Go check it out, my dear.”

As Tilly turned and headed up the stairs towards her room, she didn’t notice the resignation that filled her mother’s face as she came to the realization that she would have to go to her parents for the money for Chilton.

Sam Phillips began singing ‘Where The Colors Don’t Go’ as Lorelai turned her attention towards the mantel where she focused on a photograph of herself when she was a child, barely six-years-old, looking miserable in a black velvet dress and hat standing before a grand stone estate with an elaborate iron gate.

The camera zoomed in on the picture. 

⁂ 

A crossfade to the next scene, where we see the exact same estate with the gatehouse, grand windows, ivy crawling up the sides, stone courtyard, and intricate ironwork on a mahogany door that is sentineled by two stone lions.

Lorelai was sitting on the running board of her jeep, a blue scarf wrapped around her neck, leather gloves encasing her hands which tightly gripped a to-go coffee cup that she frequently brought to her painted lips. She shivered as the bitter bite of the frosty wind hit her skin; the knitted cardigan she was wearing didn’t do much when it came to protecting her against the Connecticut fall weather.

She was trying to gather the courage to walk up to the front door and knock—she was also trying really hard to not talk herself into getting into her jeep and high-tailing it out of there before she was spotted loitering on the property by any of the numerous staff employed by the Gilmore matriarch. 

The music cut off abruptly as the sound of a doorknob turning was heard, followed by the view of a dark threshold being pulled inward and Lorelai’s awkward smile as she greeted, “Hi, mom.”

Emily Gilmore stood, holding the ornate door open, an astonished look on her pretty features. Emily was a distinguished looking woman in her early sixties. Her dress was impeccable, her hair perfect, and the pearls are real.

“Lorelai,” she greeted after a blink, “my goodness, this is a surprise.”

Lorelai offered a wide grin to replace the one that wasn’t offered in return.

“Is it Easter already?” Emily jabbed expertly.

Lorelai released a laugh that felt both heavy and hollow all at once. Somehow, her mother always left her feeling that way. “No, I just, uh, finished up my business class and thought I would stop by.”

“To see me?” Emily seemed supremely surprised.

Lorelai couldn’t blame her mother—after all, she wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for her girls. So, she would have to grin and bear it. “Yes,”

“Well, isn’t that nice?” Emily forced a smile, stepping belatedly to the side as she offered, “Come in.”

“Thanks.” Lorelai mumbled as she shuffled inside, trying to ignore the judging eyes of her mother as they roved over her body, picking apart her clothes, her hair, her makeup, everything she’d done wrong with her appearance that Emily Gilmore always did right.

“The place looks great.” Lorelai stated, in lieu of anything else to say as she unwound her scarf from her neck and stuffed it into the pocket of her cardigan.

Emily’s brown orbs flitted around, “It hasn’t changed.”

“Well, there you go.” she weakly chuckled as she slipped her gloves off, stuffing them in the other pocket. “How are the, um, girls at the bridge club?”

Emily led her estranged daughter into a sitting room that was all done in cream, white and gold. “Old.” 

That would have gotten a chuckle but the watchers could sense the tension of the scene and so they kept silent.

“Well...” Lorelai didn’t know what to say to that, so she stalled by taking off her cardigan and dropping it onto the ornate couch that was painted gold with cream cushions that had barely visible swirl patterns embroidered into the fabric. “Good.” She finished lamely. She took a seat, balanced precariously on the very edge, sitting straight with her hands placed between her knees—her mother always critiqued her posture if she sat any other way in her presence.

They stared at each other in uncomfortable silence for a moment, the chasm between them felt by both, unseen but cavernous and commodious, a rift so large that it felt like an entire world of darkness all its own where there’s nothing but emptiness, despair and regret.

“You said you were taking a business class?” Emily asked, wondering if she heard correctly.

“Yeah, mm-hmm, yeah.” Lorelai nodded as she nervously tugged on the bottom of her shirt and shifted slightly in her seat. “I, um, I’m taking a business class at the college twice a week.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and made a vague gesture towards her mother with her hand, “I’m sure I told you.”

“Well, if you’re sure, then you must have.” Emily replied pointedly. 

Another moment of silence lapsed into another and another, the only sound being the ticking of the clock before Emily finally broke it, offering, “Would you like some tea?”

As soon as her mother had stopped talking, Lorelai had answered, “I would love some coffee.” 

Luke huffed and shot an unimpressed glare at the Gilmore woman who ignored it the way she usually did—she wasn’t going to give up coffee. Ever! Not to mention it would be a cold day in hell before he convinced either one of her children to do so, either. So, take that, diner guy! 

It was then that Richard Gilmore’s voice sounded from the foyer, “Emily? I’m home!”

“We’re in here.” Emily replied, watching the entryway to the sitting room like a hawk, waiting for her husband to grace them with his presence.

He soon did so, his focus on the mail and newspaper in his hands, he didn’t glance up once.

“Hi, dad.” Lorelai greeted.

Richard stopped, shocked. His head lifted from his perusal of the day’s bills and junk from the mailbox and focused on his estranged daughter he only ever saw on bank holidays.

“What is it, Christmas already?” Richard asked, plucking his reading glassed off his nose. 

This comment cemented just how disaffected and divided this family had become, to see that Lorelai’s parents were surprised to see her on a day that wasn’t a holiday was as depressing as it was mysterious. What had happened to make people treat their own flesh and blood so coldly? It was unfathomable to those who were so bonded to their family that they felt like they shared the same brain some days. 

“Lorelai was taking a business class at the college today and decided to drop in to see us.” Emily informed her partner pointedly.

“What business class?” he asked.

“Well, she told us about it, dear, remember?” Emily replied sweetly.

Richard frowned and slowly returned his specks to his nose as he stepped further into the room, “No.”

“Well,” Lorelai nearly swallowed her tongue as she started to get down to the part that she came to this hellscape for. “Actually, I came here for a reason.” Lorelai sucked in a steadying breath, watching as her father tossed the mail onto the bar cart and began to prepare himself a whiskey on the rocks. “Dad, can you sit down for a minute?”

“You need money.” Richard surmised, not turning around.

“I have a situation.” Lorelai tried to explain.

“You need money.” he repeated. 

“Dad, just please will you let me get this out, okay?” Lorelai gritted her teeth and tried to remain cool, calm and collected, like she’d planned in the car—like a total dweeb, she’d even practiced in the mirror to ensure her fake smile still looked sincere enough to fool—of course, there was no fooling Emily Gilmore. Richard continued to make his drink, though he remained silent, allowing his daughter the chance to speak. “Um, the girls have been accepted to Chilton.”

“Chilton?” Emily gasped, elated. “Oh, that’s a wonderful school.” The Gilmore matriarch glanced over her shoulder at her husband before focusing once more on her anxious daughter. “It’s only five minutes from here.” 

“That’s right, it is.” Lorelai fumbled her words—she was nervous, and damn it, she wished she could steal that damn bottle of bourbon from her father, but she didn’t need them thinking she was a drunk, too, on top of all their other opinions. “They can start as early as Monday. Um, the—the problem is that they want me to put down an enrollment fee plus the first semesters tuition—for both girls—and I have to do that immediately or they lose their spots.” 

“So,” Richard began crisply, “you need money.” 

Lorelai watched her parents for a moment before deciding to hell with it all, slumping slightly and breathing, “Yeah.”

Emily glanced at her husband searchingly.

“But it’s not for me, it’s for the twins.” Lorelai insisted. “And I fully intend to pay you back every cent. I don’t ask for favors, you know that.” 

“Oh, yes,” Emily drawled, “we know.”

“I’ll get the checkbook.” Richard announced.

Lorelai released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding this entire conversation, “Thank you,” she gasped, relieved, placing an emotional hand to her chest. “You have no idea. Thank you.”

“On one condition.” Emily interfered with a pointed finger.

Lorelai winced, she should’ve known it was too good to be true. “So close,”

“Since we are now financially involved in your life, I want to be actively involved in your life.” Emily stated, glancing at her husband as he moved around the couch to take a seat on the cushion beside her. 

“What does that mean, Mother?” Lorelai questioned, dreading the answer.

“I want a weekly dinner.” Emily replied succinctly.

Lorelai blinked dumbly, “What?” 

She did the same in the theatre as well. She and her mother didn’t get along—like, at all. Oil and water. Bleach and ammonia. Dairy and citrus fruits. They did not do well together, basically akin to an atomic bomb going off, to be frank. Why would she want a weekly dinner? It was a disaster waiting to happen and now all these people were here to watch. Oh, God Almighty, kill her now!

“Friday nights, you, Rory and Matilda will have dinner here.” Emily told her.

“Mom,” Lorelai began, but her mother wasn’t done.

“And you’ve got to call us once a week to give us an update on their schooling and your life.” Emily smiled, triumphant. Richard began to open his newspaper beside her, though he kept his gaze on his daughter as she worked hard to keep her smile in place as Emily spoke. “That’s it. That’s the condition.” Lorelai’s mouth gaped open as she glanced between her mother and father, disbelief warring with anger which was fencing with her knowledge that this would be what was best for her girls. “If you agree, you’ll come to dinner tomorrow night and leave here with a check. Otherwise, I’m sorry, we can’t help you.” 

Lorelai hesitated, licked her bottom lip, and reluctantly admitted, “I don’t want them to know that I borrowed money from you.” Richard glanced sideways at his wife. “Can that just be between us?” 

Tilly and Rory exchanged a glance behind their mother’s head before focusing on her face, but she stubbornly kept her gaze locked on the screen.

Emily smiled winningly, “Does seven o’clock work for you?”

Lorelai forced a smile—something she’d learned how to do when she was nothing but a child yearning for the love of a mother and the warmth of a father—and answered, “Perfect.”

Beaming, Emily turned to Richard who returned her smile before he placed his reading glasses on his nose and turned his attention towards his newspaper.

Lorelai huffed quietly to herself, knowing that the tension knot that was building in her spine wouldn’t unwind until she left Hartford and made it back to Stars Hollow. Her electric blue gaze found its way to the family portrait that was hanging on the wall in the large, ornate gilded frame. Emily was smiling—though not showing her teeth—and Richard was staring directly into the camera, little Lorelai looked empty as she sat like a porcelain doll between her parents in a frilly dress. Lorelai quickly forced her eyes away as awful memories tried to pull her mind away from the present.

The music from the beginning of the scene began to play again briefly, before the screen faded to black. 

Chapter Text

ℙ𝕀𝕃𝕆𝕋

🅿🅰🆁🆃 🅸🅸

The screen faded back in, focused on the inside of a very neat locker as a slim, pale hand reached inside and began to pull out the personal books. A large soft leather covered book, well-read and obviously well-loved based on how yellowed the pages had become, The Lord of the Rings; a present from Rory for Christmas when they had been ten. It contained all three books in one, and Tilly loved it. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson, Coraline by Neil Geiman, 2666: A Novel by Roberto Bolaño, Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon were just some of the titles seen as they were stacked inside the cardboard box on the floor in order of size. 

"That's where that went," Tilly muttered to herself as she came across her notes from last years' History class on Westward Expansion, crumpled and torn slightly at the corner but still highlighted, neat, and as organized as ever.

From behind her, she could hear Rory speaking to Lane as she, too, began to unload all her personal belongings into a cardboard box—though she was just tossing things in, unlike her twin who had a place for everything.

"And we get to wear uniforms." Rory told Lane sounding far too excited at the prospect. 

Tilly turned amused eyes on her sister and teasingly poked her in the side—having to reach across their mother to do so, "Maybe you should be the future cop if you like uniforms so much."

Rory squealed as she squirmed away, hiding further behind an amused Lorelai as she laughed, "I'll stick with journalism and leave shooting the bad guys to you."

Tilly rolled her eyes with a smile, "Thanks," 

"No more having people check you out to see what jeans you're wearing 'cause everyone's dressed alike in boring clothes and just there to learn." Rory backed away from her now empty locker with a bright grin, allowing Lane to slam the metal door closed.

Tilly approached with her own box, and it was almost comical how different hers looked from Rory's; where the eldest twin's was overflowing with crumpled papers and old assignments, and even flowed over the top of the box; the youngest had her box organized neatly, everything was in a folder or a pencil case, and all of her books were lined up in order of size from largest to smallest.

"I'm going to hate wearing a uniform. How is anyone supposed to know that I'm a soft, vulnerable girl if I can't wear pink frilly things every day?" Tilly whined sarcastically with a pout as she stopped beside the pair. "Bright side," she shrugged as well as she could with her hands full, "is that our skirts are being hemmed so we don't look like we've been reverse-Outlandered like Claire Fraser."

Lane laughed, "Okay, aside from Tilly's stand against looking like a Scottish Highlander, I just—" she shook her head, "There's academic-minded and then there's Amish." 

"Funny." Rory toned sarcastically.

"Thank you." Lane quipped as her chest puffed up with mock pride. The trio began to move down the hallway, the inane chatter of their classmates echoing around them. "So, I told my mom you're changing schools."

"Was she thrilled?" Rory asked knowingly.

"The party's on Friday." Lane smirked before turning towards Tilly, "And she wants you to know that just because we no longer go to school together, does not mean that you can't come over to the store anymore."

Tilly winked at one of her best friends, "And clean."

"To hang out." Lane corrected.

"And clean." Tilly chirped.

"To ha—" Lane tried only to interrupt herself with a sigh, "Even I don't believe me! She wanted me to remind you that you can still stop by and offer up free labor whenever you like."

Tilly laughed, "Will do," that place could use a good dusting and deep clean at least once a week, maybe every other if you push it.

Rory watched from the sidelines, an amused glint in her electric blue eyes.

"I got to go." Lane groaned as she placed the three books she was holding for Rory on top of the stuff that had already been shoved inside the box; Rory lifted her chin obligingly to offer room. "I have to have a pre-hayride cup of tea with a future doctor."

Tilly's lips downturned. "You don't think she's gonna try to force feed you those awful muffins again, do you? I almost chipped a tooth trying to bite into one!"

Lane whimpered, "God, I hope not." She stepped back and raised her arms to showcase her attire. "How do I look? Korean?"

"Spitting image." Rory and Tilly toned together.

"Good." Lane said, though it sounded anything but—it sounded as if she was off to meet a firing squad, her voice was so resigned. Lane loosely grasped Tilly's wrist as she passed her, "Bye,"

"Bye." The twins called after her.

Rory dropped a couple books, and some crumpled up notes she hadn't thought to throw away. Grimacing, she bent to begin picking everything back up, piling things into her arms, turning a fake glare on her sister as she said, "Thanks for the help."

"Anytime, Ror." Tilly smirked as she stood beside her sister who was still on the floor gathering her things.

Pursing her lips, Rory glanced back down and began to snatch up her notes, one, two, reaching for the third, she turned and reared back in surprise when she came face to giant legs. "God! You're like Ruth Gordon just standing there with the Tannis root. Make a noise." 

"Rosemary's Baby." the legs correctly guessed.

Startled that somebody other than her mother, sister or Lane understood her reference, her eyes slowly slid up the legs covered in loose brown denim. She blinked, and her mouth worked as she tried to find words. She slowly stood up, trying to buy herself time to find something to say. Why wasn't her stupid tongue working? Was she dying? Why did her heart feel like it was going to beat out of her chest? And her palms were all clammy and her tongue has gone as dry as the Sahara. "Yeah," she finally choked out, looking starstruck. 

The camera turned towards the voice to show none other than Dean Forester. 

Lorelai felt her lips twitch into a frown as the boy who had been stalking her child spoke to her oldest daughter—okay, maybe stalking was a little far, but he'd been watching her! The screen-thing showed that, and she wasn't too sure she was keen on the whole thing. She didn't know this kid, didn't know his ambitions, his weird quirks; he could bite his toenails for all she knew. What would she do if Rory completely fell for this kid and then they found out he chomped down on his little piglets before they went to the market? That's not a conversation Lorelai every thought she'd have to have with one of her girls! 

"Well, that's a great movie." he smiled.

Rory almost winced—she was referencing the book, but he was cute, so she'd let it slide.

"You've got good taste." he complimented.

Bashful, Rory glanced down at her hands which were full of books and crumpled papers, a soft smile spreading across her lips.

Glancing between the two, Tilly adopted a sly grin as she announced, "I'm gonna beat my feet." When Rory glanced at her panicked, all Tilly did was offer her twin a conspiratorial wink. "I gotta head to Miss Patty's before I'm late. Bye." Tilly waved and swiftly turned on her heel and marched away, a satisfied smirk on her face as she went. 

Rory watched her sister abandon her; the eldest twin's eyes widening in panic. That traitor!  

Rory turned towards her twin, her mouth dropped in horror, "I can't believe you did that to me!"

Tilly quickly defended herself, placing a hand on her chest as she spoke, "I didn't do anything. This is the future."

Rory rolled her eyes with a good-natured huff. 

Slowly, she turned her focus back on the boy who had been patiently waiting for her to make eye contact with him—it was a struggle, seeing as Rory had never actually spoken to a boy before. Well, that's wrong. She's spoken to boys, but not a boy. This one was a possibility. She could feel it in her bones. 

He shrugged, asking, "Are you moving?"

She stared at him a beat, sucked in a breath, swallowed, before finally answering, "No, just my books are."

"My family just moved here from Chicago." he told her as he nodded, his dark hair sliding into his face as he did so.

"Chicago." She repeated stupidly. "Windy." Okay, are we done with the one-word association game? "Oprah." Guess not. Rory cursed herself for not being more like her mother; charming, affable, witty.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's the place." He nodded with an amused smile. He leaned down—he was over six feet in height, which, wowzah—trying to catch her blue eyes with his hazel and offered her a friendly smile. "I'm Dean," 

She glanced up, and said, "Hi,"

He raised his brows questioningly.

"Oh," she realized, "Rory." She told him. "Me. That—that's me."

"Rory," he repeated, smitten already.

"Well, Lorelai, technically." she revealed.

"Lorelai." He smiled widely, genuinely—it almost took Rory's breath away; she had to look away. "I like that."

"It's my mother's name, too." Rory told him, and then, like her worst nightmare come to life, she began to do what Gilmore girls do best; ramble. "She named me after herself. She was lying in the hospital thinking about how men name boys after themselves all the time, you know? So, why couldn't women?" Oh my God why won't she shut up! She wants her mouth to stop moving but words just keeping spilling out a million miles an hour. This was like watching a train crash; collision was imminent, and she could do nothing but watch. "She says her feminism just kind of took over. Though, personally, I think a lot of Demerol also went into that decision." Her lips thinned as her eyes drifted away before snapping back towards him, horrified by the amount of word vomit that had just escaped her mouth. "I never talk this much." 

The watchers were supremely entertained; some were cringing into their hands, others were laughing quietly, and Rory was trying to sink into oblivion through the couch cushion—she was not successful.

"Why was Rory named after you and not Tilly?" Lucy asked, wondering if there was a favorite-child situation going on.

"Because Rory was born first. I got to hold her a total of two minutes before this one," Lorelai wrapped a loving arm around Tilly's shoulder's, "decided it was her turn to come into the world."

"Is Tilly named after someone as well?" Nolan asked, genuinely curious.

"Kind of." Lorelai laughed. "Matilda is from my favorite book when I was younger. I guess I felt like I could relate to her; she had a difficult relationship with her parents, a horrible headmistress, and she was precocious. Plus, she had magic; I wanted to be her so badly when I was little." Lorelai turned adoring eyes on her youngest and brushed a gentle hand through Tilly's hair, "And I knew when I looked into her eyes she would be just as special as Matilda. That's how she got her name."  

Tilly leant into her mother's embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around Lorelai who returned the hug tenfold.

Those that were close to the Gilmores watched the scene with smiles, while those who weren't glanced away to offer some privacy. 

He nodded and bit his lip to stop an amused smile from spreading across his face. "Well, I better go."

Her face dropped but she tried to play it off. "Oh, sure." Rory began to fiddle with the books in her hands, once again not making eye contact.

"I have to go look for a job." Dean explained.

She glanced back up, and more strictly than she intended, told him, "Okay, good."

He chuckled and stepped around her.

Rory's eyes followed him—she was chewing on the inside of her cheek. Should she go for it? She would make a pro and con list if she had the time but—oh, look, she's already opening her mouth. How lovely. "You should check with Miss Patty."

He whirled around at the sound of her voice, visibly confused. "What?"

"About the job." Rory elaborated. "You should check with Miss Patty. She teaches dance; she taught my sister everything she knows. She was actually on Broadway once." She paused, considered her words, then added, "Miss Patty, not my sister."

"I-I don't really dance much." Dean told her, trying not to sound ungrateful or mean.

"No, no," Rory hurried to explain, "she just kind of knows everything that's going on in town. She'll know if someone's looking." 

"Oh," he blew out a sigh of relief as he placed his hands on his hips, "great. Uh, thanks."

Rory nodded and glanced down at her box on the floor and her handful of books and garbage—she should really throw this away, shouldn't she?

He licked his lips and stepped up to her, "Hey, what are you doing now?"

Rory's eyes widened. "Nothing," she told him, and then realizing that sounded pathetic she added meekly, "much." Rory shuffled in place and avoided looking at his face—it made her too nervous, she felt like she'd break out in hives any second—instead she focused on the crumpled note in her hand, stating, "I should probably throw this away at some point."

"Well, maybe you can show me where this Miss Patty's place is." Dean offered.

Rory smiled—wide and beautiful, enchanting Dean. "Yeah, I guess so. I really don't have anything important to—" she cut herself off, scolding herself mentally for sounding like such a loser. She cleared her throat, "Let's go."

Without prompting, Dean bent at the waist and scooped up the box holding the rest of Rory's things.

Charmed, Rory bit her lip and began to lead him out of the school. 

Tilly smiled from her place on the couch, completely missing the frown that had taken over her mother's usually smiley countenance.

 "So, have you lived here all your life?" Dean asked as he walked beside Rory through the quad, other students rushing to and fro to get where they needed to be, whether that was extra curriculars, home or detention.

"Yes." Rory answered immediately, then she put more thought into her answer. "Well, pretty much. We were actually born in Hartford."

"We?" Dean asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"My twin sister, Tilly. You met her without actually meeting her—I mean, she didn't even talk to you, so I guess that can't really be qualified as meeting someone—" she noticed how amused he looked and abruptly stopped talking. "Anyways, she was the girl standing with me in the hallway."

"Ah." Dean nodded. "She's your twin. Older or younger?"

"Younger, by eleven minutes." Rory informed proudly—she would forever hold those eleven minutes over Tilly's head. She used them as an advantage to win arguments, just as Tilly used her height when she wanted to be petty.

"I can't imagine having a twin." Dean shook his head, seemingly mystified by the notion—he wasn't the only one; it seemed everyone that wasn't a twin always was. 

Rory shrugged, "It's like having an extra limb, just not attached to your body. You can't feel it, but you know it's there. We've always been close—not so close that we don't have separate personalities, though. God knows we drive our mom up the wall sometimes." She laughed.

Dean laughed, too. "I get that. My sister and I can certainly drive our parents crazy."

"You have a sister?" Rory asked.

Dean nodded. "Mhm. Younger; Clara."

They continued walking past the school and further into town, Rory leading the way, somehow circling back around to Hartford. "It's not far, is it?"

"Thirty minutes with no traffic." Rory told him—then mentally scolded herself, because that was a totally normal thing to say. Not! 

"Really?" God bless him, he sounded interested.

She nodded sagely, "I timed it. It was Tilly's turn to drive so I was stuck in the backseat with nothing to do because she wouldn't let me turn on the passenger lights so I could read."

He huffed an amused laugh, "Okay, then."

They passed a sign advertising the 2008-09 Stars Hollow High School Division Champions Minutemen.

Further into town, they passed Weston Bakery, which drew Rory's eye, and since they'd been walking in silence for a while and it was making her anxious, she decided she needed to speak—she felt as if she'd die because of how awkward it was; just walking in silence with cute, Chicago boy. "So, do you like cake?"

"What?" Dean asked, baffled. That was a question that seemingly came from out of nowhere.

She pushed some hair behind her ear and gestured vaguely in the direction of the bakery as they passed, "They make really good cakes here. They're very..." Rory's mouth opened and closed as she searched for a word to describe the cakes. "Round."

He released a startled laugh. "Okay. I'll remember that."

"Good." Rory nodded as she avoided looking at him once more. "Make a note. You wouldn't want to forget where the round cakes are." Her brows furrowed as she thought to herself about how stupid that sounded. Who cares about how round a cake is? What if he liked square cakes instead?

"So, uh, how are you liking Moby Dick?" Dean asked. 

At the mere suggestion of literature, Rory visibly brightened, blossoming before Dean's very eyes. "Oh, it's really good."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, "Yeah, it's my first Melville."

"Cool." Dean toned as he readjusted his grip on the cardboard box.

"I mean, I know it's kind of cliché to pick Moby Dick as your first Melville but—" she sucked in a breath so she could continue to speak but trailed off as a thought occurred to her. She came to a stop as she hesitantly asked, "Hey, how did you know I was reading Moby Dick?"

 He turned towards her, slowing to a stop as well, and for the first time since meeting him, Dean didn't look confident. In fact, he looked quite contrite. "Uh," he drew out, "well, I've been watching you."

"Watching me?" Rory repeated faintly.

 Lorelai's eyes narrowed into slits, and this time, she wasn't alone. Accompanied by her mother, father and youngest daughter.

Rory didn't know how to feel. On one hand, that was weird, but on the other, he was a cute boy, and no cute boy has ever showed an interest in her before. She didn't know how to feel.

The cops in the room almost felt a shift in the air as hackles began to rise and trust began to wither and decay before it was even established. 

"I mean, not in a creepy, like," he adopted a wide-eyed expression as he hunched his shoulders and dropped his chin, looking almost like a turtle, "'I'm watching you' sort of way. I just," he shrugged, "I've noticed you."

Rory glanced down at herself dubiously. "Me?" 

Lorelai turned towards her eldest, and told her in no uncertain terms, "Anybody would be lucky to notice you. You do not have to latch onto the first guy that does it just because you're scared it won't happen again, 'cause, babe, look at you. It'll happen again."

Rory focused her eyes on the burnt orange blanket the mother-daughters trio were sharing, picking at the fabric as she nodded silently.

Lorelai kept her eyes locked on Rory even as the screen began to play once more.

 "Yeah." Dean nodded.

"When?" she asked, seemingly flattered.

His eyes lifted upward, and he inhaled deeply, as if preparing to release life-altering information. "Every day." Overwhelmed, Rory just blinked. "After school," Dean took a step closer, licked his lips, and gestured as well as he could behind her, "you come out and you sit under that tree there and you read. Last week it was Madame Bovary. This week it's Moby Dick." 

Rory watched him with wide, twinkling eyes, "But why would you—"

He interrupted her, "Because you're nice to look at." Then added with a laugh, "And because you've got unbelievable concentration."

"What?" Rory's brows furrowed as she smiled, confused.

"Last Friday, these two guys were tossing around a ball, and one guy nailed the other right in the face. I mean it was a mess, blood everywhere, the nurse came out. The place was in chaos, his girlfriend was all freaking out," he shrugged, "and you just sat there and read. I mean, you never even looked up." Dean chuckled. "I thought, I have never seen anyone read so intensely before in my entire life. I have to meet that girl."

 Rory glanced down, suddenly shy, before she said, "Maybe I just didn't look up because I'm unbelievably self-centered."

"Maybe," Dean agreed with a nod, "but I doubt it."

They shared a smile, Dean's wide and charming, Rory's elated and smitten.

"So," she began as she once more started to lead him towards Miss Patty's. "Did I ask you if you like cake?"

"Yeah, you did." Dean answered with a grin.

"Oh." Rory hummed. "'Cause they have really good cake back there." She told him.

He chuckled as they passed the camera. 

⁂

The notes of classical piano music began to echo from the screen as the scene changed to Miss Patty's dance studio. It was flooded with a golden light as nine little girls and a brave little boy all ran around in their little leotards, tights—or, in Dane's case, shorts—and full-soled leather slippers. Their little feet made barely a peep as they pitter-pattered against the hard wood of the studio.

"Alright, everyone, gather up," Tilly called, shown in the same outfit, her voice steady but warm as hot chocolate on a snow day, as the group of eight to ten-year-olds began to shuffle towards the center.

The soft chatter died down as the girls and lone boy, Dane, sat neatly in a circle, stretching their legs out.

Tilly sat with them at the head and stretched her legs out, proving just how flexible twelve years of gymnastics and even longer of ballet could make a girl. 

Jess watched, intrigued, he didn't know girls could bend that way. Luke glanced sideways and then did a double-take as he noticed how his nephew was looking at the youngest Gilmore. He roughly slapped the back of the Mariano's head.

"Ow!" Jess exclaimed. "Jesus! What was that for?"

"You know what that was for!" Luke sniped, then pointed a stern finger at the younger man, "No!"

 "Let's go over our positions for the Thanksgiving pageant," Tilly said, clapping her hands as she pushed herself up from the floor. She'd been teaching this class for almost a year now, volunteering to do so every Tuesday and Thursday evening. She was still amazed that Miss Patty trusted her with such an enormous responsibility.

Lorelai turned towards her youngest and tsked, "Ah, of course Miss Patty trusts you, Silly-Tilly. You've been her star student since you could walk."

Tilly rolled her eyes with a smile, and turned teasing eyes on her twin, "Unlike Twinkle-Toes here who Miss Patty couldn't wait to push out the door."

Rory gasped, offended, "I was not that bad!"

Lorelai winced sympathetically, "Oh, honey, you were. You were awful."

Rory turned away from her mother and sister, citing dramatically, "Betrayed! I've been betrayed!"

Lorelai mockingly pouted at her eldest, "Oh, however will you cope?"

 "We've got less than five weeks, so it's time to really put the pedal to the metal and bring it!" Tilly announced.

The children responded with a collective, "Yes, Miss Tilly," some more enthusiastic than others. The pageant would feature a variety of dances, and Tilly had worked hard to ensure each child had their moment. A few girls, though, were less excited, their eyes distracted by the idea of the big stage.

Tilly noticed a small figure off to the side near the windows, sitting apart from the others. It was Kyla—quiet and shy, who always had a reserved look about her, with black hair, freckled cheeks and honey brown eyes. Her arms hugged her knees, and she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the class.

Tilly felt a pang of concern, which easily showed on her face and walked over to her. "Kyla?" She said softly, kneeling so she could speak eye to eye with the girl. "Are you alright?"

Kyla hesitated, her gaze flickering up to Tilly's face before looking away again, her fingers tugging nervously on the hem of her tutu. "I—I'm fine, Miss Tilly," she muttered.

"Kyla," Tilly pressed, her voice gentle but firm, "You're hiding over here when you should be practicing. What's going on?"

For a moment, Kyla's lips trembled as though she might say something, but then the words came spilling out, quiet and rushed. "The others... they keep laughing at me. I can't keep up. They say I'm too slow, too clumsy." Her little shoulders hunched inward. "I just wanted to sit for a minute. I didn't want anyone to see me messing up."

Tilly's heart visibly ached as she listened. She'd seen the teasing, the subtle glances the other girls exchanged when Kyla struggled with certain movements, but she'd always chalked it up to the competitive nature of little girls. She hadn't realized it had gone this far.

"I'm sorry, Kyla," Tilly said, her voice full of sympathy. "That's not okay, you know? We're all supposed to be here to help each other, not make each other feel bad."

Kyla nodded, her face flushed with embarrassment, but Tilly could see the relief in her eyes—just by saying something out loud, the weight of it seemed to lift, if only a little.

Tilly smiled kindly and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Listen, I want you know something," she said softly. "Every single dancer, no matter how good or talented they are, has moments where they struggle." The Gilmore tapped her chest lightly, "Even me." Kyla looked gob smacked making the older girl laugh. "That's right! Kyla, you might not be the fastest, or the most graceful now, but that doesn't mean you won't be soon." Tilly gently hooked a finger underneath Kyla's little chin and directed her to lock eyes with her own electric blue orbs. "You've got potential, Kyla, and more than that, you've got heart. And that's what matters most." 

Kyla met her gaze, her eyes wide and hopeful, but still unsure.

"Now," Tilly continued, standing up, "how about we show the class that the best dancers are the ones who keep trying, no matter what?" She extended a hand to Kyla, who hesitated for a moment before taking it.

"Come on, let's do this together," Tilly said with a wink, leading her back towards the rest of the class.

As Tilly turned to face the group, she caught the eyes of several girls. They were watching her, their expressions unreadable. She knew she'd have to address the bullying later, but for now, she was determined to keep the focus on Kyla.

"Alright, everyone," she called out to the class, her voice light but commanding. "Let's all take a deep breath and remember: the stage is big enough for every one of us. We support each other, right?"

The children echoed her in unison, their voices a little unsure, but Tilly was confident they'd get there. She glanced at Kyla, who stood tall now, looking just a little more certain than before. Maybe it would take time, but she wasn't going to let any of these kids be left behind—not on her watch.

And as the class continued, the warm, flickering light of the studio seemed to shine a little brighter. 

Paris watched, heart constricting slightly in her chest. She understood that little girl, Kyla. She knew what it felt like to be laughed at and taunted for not being the most athletic person, but unlike that little girl, she didn't have a teacher there to help her up when she was down. She swallowed thickly, but lifted her chin, determined to keep moving forward, unbothered. Harvard was waiting.

⁂ 

Later that same night, Lorelai and Rory sat at a table inside Luke's, more picking at their food than eating it, waiting for Tilly to join them once her class had ended.

Lorelai's light eyes lifted from her plate of salad she'd been continuously sticking with her fork and bringing to her mouth, then putting back down. Something was on her mind, and she could tell by how distracted her daughter was acting that something was on Rory's mind as well.

They've been enveloped in silence since they sat down, and it was slowly eating away at Lorelai's sanity. She had to say something. She glanced at Rory who appeared lost inside her own head. If she spoke, would her daughter even hear her, or would she just sound like the teacher from Charlie Brown? She hesitated, set her fork down with a quiet clang, rubbed her chin, and then, decided, screw it. "So, you were late getting home tonight." 

Rory's eyes lifted from her own salad she had been moving around her plate, uninterested in eating. She appeared startled. "Yeah, I went to the library."

 Tilly, Lorelai, and Rory all audibly gasped. "You lied!"

"I lied!" Rory turned disbelieving eyes on her twin. "To Mom!"

 All those who weren't especially close to the Gilmore girls in the theatre watched, unsure what the big deal was. She lied to her mom, so what? Everybody does it at some point.

"Why are you making this a big thing? She's a teenage girl; she's going to lie to you." Sergeant Wade Grey said.

Lorelai frantically shook her head, "No, not me, Rory and Tilly. We're like Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Or the Powderpuff Girls, Charlie's Angels, even; we're all that beautiful. There is no one without the other two. We don't lie to each other. We've never lied to each other."

Most everyone found it very hard to believe that not one person in that trio had ever lied to one of the other two.

"Never?" Nyla Harper questioned dubiously.

"Not even about Santa." Tilly stated with a shake of her head.

That startled a laugh out of Nolan which he tried to swallow, turning into a hacking cough. "You told them Santa wasn't real? How old were they?"

"When they first asked, I wasn't about to lie to them, so I told them the truth. They were six." Gasps of surprise and feigned outrage echoed around the room. "I didn't want them to grow up still believing, only to wake up and find there were no presents underneath the tree."

Lucy slowly nodded, "While I can commend you on the reasoning, I don't think the age was appropriate."

Lorelai thought about it for a moment before she shrugged and waved a dismissive hand, "Eh, too late now." 

"Oh," Lorelai hummed as silence enveloped the table once more.

The bell above the door jingled as it was pushed open and Tilly raced through, practically melting into her chair beside Rory at the table, where she began to untangle herself from her scarf and coat. "Sorry, I'm late. Miss Patty wanted my help with getting the kids settled before I left so they weren't too rambunctious for the rest of the lesson."

Lorelai smiled brightly at her youngest—she hoped things would be less awkward now that Tilly was there. "No, you're fine." She drummed her fingers against the pottery that held what had to be her hundredth cup of coffee that day. Lorelei sucked in a steadying breath, "I have something to tell you both."

 "Shoot." Tilly told her as she plucked up her Cup of Stars and inhaled the soothing aroma of her favorite bean juice.

"We're having dinner with your grandparents tomorrow night." Lorelai told them, hoping she came off as casual and not suicidal as she took a long sip of her coffee.

Rory's brows furrowed as she sat straighter in her chair. "We are?"

"Mm-hm." Lorelai hummed into her mug.

"But it's September." Tilly stated, confused.

"So?" Lorelai asked as she set her mug down.

"So, what holiday is in September?" Rory backed up her twin.

Lorelai forced a laugh, "Look, it's not a holiday thing. It's just dinner, okay."

"Fine, sorry." Rory mumbled.

"Sorry, Mama." Tilly spoke into her Cup of Stars. 

Luke appeared at the side of their table, two plates in hand and one balancing on his forearm. Three burgers, all prepared how the Gilmore girls like them; for Lorelai, only tomatoes, for Rory, lettuce and onions, and for Tilly, ketchup, mustard, pickles and onions—they've ordered them so much that Luke didn't even need to be told what goes on them anymore. He set the plates down, the clinking of glass the only sound in the uncomfortable silence as he wrote on their bill, ripped it off the pad and placed it between their plates.

"Red meat can kill you. Enjoy." Luke toned monotonously.

Lorelai huffed, amused, as she handed Tilly her plate, before exchanging her salad for her burger. "So, I finished hemming your skirts today." Lorelai offered a big smile in hopes of getting two excited squeals back.

Tilly perked up as she plucked a fry off her plate, "That's awesome! Thanks, Mama."

Lorelai shared a happy grin with her youngest, before turning expectant eyes on her eldest. Unlike her twin, Rory just continued to twirl her fork, her eyes locked on her salad.

"A grunt of acknowledgement might be nice." Lorelai told Rory, which seemed to open the floodgates, as the eldest Gilmore twin opened her mouth to complain and couldn't seem to stop.

 "I don't understand why we're going to dinner tomorrow night. I mean, what if I had plans? Or Tilly?" Tilly froze from in her seat, half-way through a bite of her burger—she didn't want to get caught up in whatever fight was about to happen. "You didn't even ask us."

"Well, if either of you had plans, I would've known." Lorelai stated simply.

"How?" Rory quipped, voice sharp.

"Well, you or Tilly would've told me." Lorelai said as if it was fact—which, to be fair, in their house, it was.

"I don't tell you everything. I have my own things." Rory was one second away from stomping her foot and acting completely like a child.

"Fine, you have things." Lorelai agreed amicably.

"That's right, I have things." Rory snapped.

"Hey," Lorelai drew out, "I had dibs on being the bitch tonight."

Rory lowered her eyes and started to stab her salad with the fork's prongs as she muttered, "Just tonight?"

"Rory!" Tilly chided with wide eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Lorelai asked, voice quiet and serious.

Rory hesitated for a moment, then sucked in a fortifying breath, before she dropped the bombshell of the evening, "I'm not sure I want to go to Chilton." 

"What the hell?" Lorelai exclaimed, half bewildered, half angry. This could not have come at a worse time; she had already gone to her parents and practically sold her soul to get the money for her daughters to go to that uppity private school. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that they would not be attending!

"Rory!" Tilly scolded, rounding on her twin.

Rory, herself, appeared as shocked and startled as her mother and sister. "What am I saying? What am I thinking?" She looked close to having a panic attack. 

Lorelai's face fell. "What?"

From beside her, Tilly, too, appeared seconds from heartbreak. "Ror, what the hell?"

"The timing is just really bad." Rory said.

"The timing is bad?" Lorelai repeated, incredulous.

"And the bus ride to and from Hartford, it's like thirty minutes each way." Rory added, her eyes squinting in a bid to get her mother to just drop the subject.

Lorelai's hands trembled as she actively tried to keep them from curling into fists, "I can't believe what I'm hearing right now."

"Plus, I don't think we should be spending that money right now." Rory shrugged, playing with her fork.

 "God, someone shut me up! Stuff food in my mouth! Do something to get me to stop talking!" Rory shrieked hysterically.

Lorelai, while miffed at the Rory on screen, could see that the one next to her was freaking out as much as she was, and so wrapped an arm around her eldest daughter's shoulders in a bid to comfort the teenage girl. 

"I mean, I know Chilton's got to be costing you a lot, especially with two of us." Rory gestured between herself and Tilly.

Lorelai, overwhelmed with the situation, couldn't help it when she mumbled, "Oh, you have no idea."

 "All of your money should be going to buying an inn with Sookie." Rory told their mother.

Tilly raised her hands in a gesture to keep herself out of this situation. "I'm still going to Chilton." She stated plainly.

"What about college? What about Harvard?" Lorelai tried, grasping at straws here. Where was the child that was prancing around in that ugly plaid skirt, saying she loved being a private school girl? Where'd she go? 

"We don't know that I can't get into Harvard if I stay where I am." Rory argued stubbornly.

"Okay," Lorelai erupted, done with this conversation, "enough. Enough of the crazy talk, okay? I appreciate your concern, but I-I-I have this covered."

Rory's eyes glanced around, searching for another argument. Finding none, she settled on, "I still don't want to go."

"Why?" Lorelai and Tilly asked, exasperated.

"Because I don't." Rory said.

Tilly rolled her eyes, her head rolling on her neck towards her mother, "That means she doesn't have a good argument."

Rory glared at her twin, "Shut up, Tilly!" 

Tilly straightened in her seat and mimicked Rory's voice in a mocking, annoying tone. "Shut up, Rory!" 

"I have to get out of here." Lorelai decided, ignoring her twins' antics.

Lorelai quickly grabbed her jacket, pushing her chair out as she stood with a squealing noise of wood against wood. She marched towards the door.

Rory dropped her fork with a sigh, "We have to pay first." She snapped at her mother's back.

Lorelai stepped back, digging into her back pocket for money. She didn't even count it; she just threw it onto the table—hard enough it bounced and landed on the floor underneath—before she turned and slammed through the door that led out of Luke's.

"Mama, wait!" Tilly called out. She scooped up her scarf and jacket, glared a particularly awful stink-eye at her elder twin and snarled, "Nice going," before running after her mother.

Rory sighed as she stood slowly from her seat and followed her mother and sister from the restaurant. 

⁂ 

The trio of Gilmore girls walked in silence. Lorelai was still in shock, walking arm in arm with Tilly who had assured her multiple times already since walking ten feet from Luke's that she was still planning on attending Chilton, followed by a silent Rory at a more sedate pace with her arms crossed mulishly over her chest.

They slowed to a stop as the horse-drawn hayride pulled up right in front of them. Tilly loved animals and had thought she wanted to be a vet for a hot minute when she was eleven until she was told she'd have to put sick animals down; she cried for a whole day and a half then very solemnly told her mother she would not be studying to become a vet. Lorelai agreed, even if just to bring her bubbly baby back. But that didn't mean she didn't light up every time she came upon a creature, fuzzy or scaled, fanged or toothless, four-legged or no legs at all. Now was such a time.

She made a few clicking noises with her tongue but when the driver of the carriage wouldn't let the horses come her way, even just to say 'hello' she pouted and turned offended eyes on her mother. 

This finally got a smile out of a scowling Lorelai.

The wagon was filled with bales of hay, and kids chatting and laughing during the ride. On the very end of the wagon sat Lane flanked on both sides by two very somber looking Korean boys. She looked miserable.

Tilly caught her eyes and mimed a telephone to her ear, mouthing 'call me.' Lane nodded, even as her expression retained a great impression of Eeyore. 

As the wagon passed the Gilmore girls, they eventually came across the old town hall that had been converted into Miss Patty's that sported a big pink sign out front that read; Miss Patty's School of Ballet, Cheerleading, Gymnastics, Ice Skating, Baton Twirling & Modeling.

  The great door is open, and you can hear Miss Patty inside keeping count to the beat for the little ones to follow, "One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three..."

Inside are about a dozen little girls in black leotards with pink tights in pink tutus, practicing ballet, and standing just outside the door was Miss Patty herself, the woman who taught Tilly everything she knew about gymnastics and dance. A heavily made-up woman of indeterminable age with a great bust, Miss Patty was formerly a professional dancer who at some point decided having a sandwich was more important than working with Bob Fosse. Miss Patty was smoking a cigarette and pounding a cane to help the girls keep time.

"It's a waltz, ladies. Susie, do you have to tinkle?" Miss Patty called toward the back of the room. When she received a head shake in the negative she instructed, "Then uncross your legs, darling." Just then the Gilmores of Stars Hollow appeared right outside the door of Miss Patty's. "Oh, Rory, good." Miss Patty chirped as she stepped forward from the doorway and further into the cool evening air of September in Connecticut. "I think I found a job for your male friend."

Rory's eyes fell towards her shoes as she suddenly found a keen interest in studying every imperfection in her sneakers.

A dawning look of realization lit up Tilly's face and she turned sharp accusing eyes on her elder twin as Lorelai's face fell into a mien of confusion. "What male friend?"

"Really, Rory?" Tilly asked, sounding disappointed.

Rory didn't answer, but Miss Patty continued onward anyway, brave in the face of the wrath of Lorelai, "They need a stock boy at the supermarket. I already talked to Taylor Doose about him. You just send him around tomorrow." Miss Patty lifted her cigarette and inhaled a long drag.

"Okay, thanks," Rory sighed with a strange look on her face. 

"You look constipated." Tilly commented.

Rory slapped her arm. "I do not!"

Tilly shrugged, "Well, you don't look normal!"

Rory went to slap her twin again, leaning over Lorelai to reach Tilly and when Tilly retaliated by hitting her back thus began a slap war with their poor mother stuck in the middle. When she'd accidentally been hit one too many times, Lorelai had enough and intervened. "Okay, okay, okay! Enough! No more. We were told to watch this to change things and I would like to remember what we're supposed to change," she shot a pointed look at her twins, each looked guilty and were avoiding her searching gaze, "that won't happen if I end up concussed because you decide to hit Mommy upside the head one too many times and I end up brain dead."

"Sorry, Mama," Tilly muttered.

"Yeah, sorry," Rory followed. 

"What male friend?" Lorelai repeated, her gaze locked on Rory who avoided looking at her mother.

"Oh, he's very cute." Miss Patty interjected crisply. "You have good taste." Miss Patty lifted her brows and gazed knowingly at Rory who flushed for another reason than the crisp breeze.

Inside the theater, Dean felt his cheeks blush as he sank down in his seat, pulling his heather grey Afghan up to his nose in a bid to hide his burning face.

Rory, too flushed and avoided making eye contact with anyone in the room.

 Miss Patty turned towards Tilly and stated, "Now, my star, we just have to find a boy for you."

Tilly fumbled her words, "No--I mean, yes, but no. Thanks, but—um," she cleared her throat and turned towards her mother, horrified at the thought that Miss Patty might try setting her up with somebody. "Mommy, help me!" She whimpered quietly.

"Not tonight, Patty." Lorelai told the woman as she grasped Tilly's hand and pulled her closer into her side.

"Oh, all right," Miss Patty grinned and with that, turned back towards her class—the one that came in right after Tilly's on Thursdays—and said loudly, "Hands in the air, not in the nose. One-two-three, one-two-three..."

Quickly, before her mother's attention turned back towards her, Rory began to hurry in the direction towards home, but luck was not on her side and Lorelai's eyes quickly found her daughter's form fleeing into the night.

"Ooh," Lorelai scoffed, "you're gonna have to walk faster than that. You're gonna have to turn into friggin' FloJo to get away from me." Lorelai sped up her walking pace, practically dragging Tilly along by the hand behind her. 

⁂

Rory shoved the front door of the Gilmore home open with her shoulder, a sullen look on her face with her mother a step behind her. Uncaring of this fact, she slammed the door shut in her mother's face. On her way through the foyer, Rory switched the light on, illuminating the dark hallway.

Through the window that took up half of the front door, Lorelai visibly inhaled as her jaw locked, taking a deep breath before she twisted the knob and followed after her eldest daughter, leaving the door open for Tilly who appeared troubled on whether to move onward into danger and possibly being pulled into the middle of her twin's and mother's argument, or staying outside in the cold where there was the possibility of all her toes falling off and her never being able to dance again?

Decisions, decisions...

She seemed content to stay out in the cold until her mother and sister both roared in sync, "Tilly!"

She rushed forward. Middle it is. 

She found her mother had cornered her sister by the couch. As soon as Tilly entered the room, the fighters took that as the bell ringing to begin their first round.

"This is about a boy." Lorelai scoffed. "I can't believe I didn't see it." She stalked toward Rory angrily while the teen threw her messenger bag on the couch and began to shed her jacket. "All this talk about money and bus rides—you got a thing going with a guy and you don't want to leave school." Lorelai's piercing orbs remained pinned to Rory's back as she kept it turned towards her sister and mother. 

Richard felt his heart sink to his stomach at the thought that his eldest granddaughter would throw away her education over a frivolous teenage crush. Especially one that hadn't even blown from a kindle into a spark—it was barely a cinder as it was. His lips pursed and he readjusted his tie, keeping his stately composure, but inside his mind was twirling.

Rory herself was embarrassed beyond belief. This was one of her dream schools. The steppingstone to getting into Harvard—her dream since before she could even remember and she was about to throw it all away over a boy she talked to once? 

Tilly, though, had a slightly different thought on her mind. She turned pleading eyes on her closest kin and placed her hands under her chin as if in prayer. "Please, please, for the love of all that is holy and divine—including coffee and chocolate cake," Rory and Lorelai gasped knowing how much Tilly loved chocolate cake and coffee, especially together, "do not drag me into the middle of this fight." 

Lorelai reached over and gently pushed Tilly's long dark hair off her shoulder and gently told her, "Oh, hun, you know that whenever two fight whoever is left is Switzerland." Tilly's hands dropped and she began to pout as he shoulders drooped. "It's the rule of law."

"Sometimes I wonder if my life is a secret television show just for some sicko's amusement." Tilly muttered under her breath. 

"God' I'm so dense," Lorelai scoffed to herself.

"I'm going to bed." Rory announced dully, not even looking at her mother.

"That should have been my first thought," Lorelai continued. "After all," she gestured towards her eldest daughter, "you're me."

Rory had been slowly pulling her bag onto her shoulder, but at those words, she angrily whipped around and snarled, "I'm not you!" 

She moved to leave the living room when Lorelai stepped directly in her way, blocking her path.

Rory sucked in a breath and bit her bottom lip to keep herself from saying something she'd later regret.

"Really?" Lorelai challenged. "Someone willing to throw important life experiences out the window to be with a guy." Lorelai shrugged and nodded, "It sounds like me to me." 

Cut to Tilly sitting on the armchair with her eyes swinging back and forth as if watching a tennis match, nibbling on the pad of her thumb anxiously. The two people she loved the most were fighting; she didn't want to pick sides, but... Mom was right. Rory could still see the guy while going to Chilton. It's not like she was moving to Alaska; Hartford was only a half-hour car ride away.

"Whatever," Rory huffed as she stepped past her mother and rushed from the room with Lorelai nipping at her heels.

From her seat, Tilly roughly ran her hand down her face and then back into her hair. "I'm going up to bed. Love you guys!" She rushed up the stairs and away from whatever was going to happen next. She'd deal with it in the morning.

"So, who is he?" Lorelai asked.

"There's no guy." Rory snapped.

"Dark hair? Romantic eyes? Looks a little dangerous?" Lorelai listed from experience. 

"This conversation is over." Rory mumbled as she moved from the table where she had picked up her schoolbooks and stacked them in her arms to move them into her bedroom.

Lorelai nodded sarcastically behind her before continuing, "Tattoos are good too."

Rory rounded on her mother and hissed, "I don't want to change schools because of all the reasons I already told you a thousand times. If you don't want to believe me, that's fine. Goodnight." She turned and stomped towards her bedroom through the kitchen.

Lorelai's chin quivered with anger as she hollered after her, even through Rory slamming her bedroom door. "Does he have a motorcycle? 'Cause if you're gonna throw your life away, he better have a motorcycle!"

She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself down. 

Wesley rolled his jaw awkwardly in the tense silence that followed, trying not to burst out laughing at the death glare Lorelai was shooting at the kid that was the cause of all the strife in her house. He knew it wasn't the right moment to laugh, but he was the kind of person to giggle in uncomfortable situations like this—when he didn't know how else to react, his body would betray him and decide to turn him into a jackass. He was really trying to keep it in, but it was hard. 

Lane was in disbelief. This was one of her best friends. They had known each other since before they could remember and Rory's dream had always been Harvard. Chilton would lead her there, and for her to throw all that away for a boy—especially a boy she had just met? It was almost like a pod person had shacked up inside Rory's body. They looked like Rory, they talked like Rory, but they weren't Rory. 

⁂

Inside her bedroom, Rory was peeling her jacket off, a peeved expression on her face highlighting her feelings at the present moment when her closed door was shoved open unceremoniously by her mother.

"I think that went pretty well, don't you?" Lorelai questioned as soon as she stepped foot inside.

Rory huffily tossed her jacket atop her bed as she sassed, "Thanks for the knock,"

Lorelai's shoulders lifted as she breathed, looking remarkably calmer than she did before, which was clear in both her tone and demeanor as she suggested, "Listen, can we just start all over?" Without looking at her mother, Rory flopped onto her pillows at the head of her twin-sized bed, flicking her hair out of her face, barely paying poor Lorelai a lick of attention. "Okay? You tell me all about the guy, I promise not to let my head explode," she waited a second for her daughter to acknowledge her, "huh?"

Instead, Rory just pulled her feet before her and began to unlace her sneakers.

Lorelai sighed sadly and took a seat on the edge of the bed before her eldest daughter. "Rory, please talk to me." She pleaded.

Silent, Rory pulled her shoe from her foot and tossed it over the side of her bed.

"Okay, I'll talk," Lorelai decided aloud, "Don't get me wrong." She began. "Guys are great, I am a huge fan of guys. You don't get knocked up at sixteen being indifferent to guys." Lorelai toned sardonically. 

Tim felt his brows raise slightly in surprise but otherwise didn't outwardly react. Who was he to judge, anyway? His wife—whom he hadn't seen in a year—was a junkie who refused to go to rehab, and it was his fault that his buddy, Mitch, lost his leg in Afghanistan. Not to mention all the other things throughout his life that others could judge him for, so why would he judge a woman who got pregnant as a teenager—and, as it was, looked like she made a good life for her and her two girls? 

Lucy knew her friend's mother was young when she had Tilly, but she hadn't known she was sixteen when she had the Gilmore twins. That was surprising, though it did explain things quite a bit. Their dynamic, for one, was quite a bit closer to being best friends than daughter/mother or child/parent, which could be explained in a few different ways; either Lorelai wanted to be the exact opposite of her mother and what she had growing up, or her age contributed to how she acted and raised her girls. Both could be true at the same time, Lucy supposed, as well.

John could relate to Lorelai. He was twenty when he had Henry. While not being nearly as young as sixteen, he still hadn't been quite ready to be a father and his son—while he loved him dearly and would trade his own life for Henry's in a second if needed—wasn't exactly planned.

Emily's lips thinned. She loved her daughter—despite what Lorelai may think—and she especially loved her granddaughters, but she hated hearing how they came to be in the world. Everything went wrong when Lorelai was sixteen. 

Noticing his wife's expression, Richard reached over and gripped her hand, offering a comforting squeeze. Her face remained impassive, but she ran a soothing circle over the back of his hand with the pad of her thumb in thanks.

Lorelai's brows furrowed as she turned more serious, "Babe, guys are always going to be there." 

Rory sighed as she reached over her nightstand and grabbed her most recent read, finding her bookmark hidden between the pages and starting where she last left off, ignoring her mother.

"This school isn't." Lorelai continued in the vain hope that she would get through her stubborn daughter's head. Unfortunately, that was something that both her daughters had inherited from her. She usually liked that about them, though—just not when it was used against her!

"It's more important. It has to be more important." 

"She's right," Nyla piped up from her seat reclining with a forest green cashmere blanket wrapped around her legs.

"I know that." Rory stated, frustrated with her future self. "My stupid girl hormones have picked the absolute worst time to come out of hibernation and now look at me! Willing to give up my dream school after a single conversation where we talked about round cakes and stalking!" Rory rambled, her words spilling from her lips rapidly, her cheeks a ruddy pink.

Dean piped up from his place on the far right, "I don't think I was necessarily stalking you," 

"The literal definition of stalking is to pursue or approach stealthily—you did that." Tilly told him, lifting a finger to count, "And to harass of persecute someone with unwanted and obsessive attention." She turned piercing electric blue eyes on Dean. "You literally knew what book she was reading the week before, know where she likes to read after school, and had been watching her for at least a week—if not more."

Angela pointed a finger at Tilly and nodded, "She's correct. Like, specifically, on the dot, spot on definition."

Dean's cheeks pinked and he cleared his throat, pulling his heather gray Afghan up to his ears to hide his face. He was a good guy—honestly! This just wasn't painting him in the best light, that's all. Once they all got to know him better, they'd see. 

Rory just pushed her hair out of her face and stated plainly, "I'm going to sleep."

"Rory," Lorelai began as she scooted closer on the bed, "You've always been the sensible one in this house, huh? I need you to remember that feeling now. You will kick your own butt later if you blow this."

Rory sighed, aggravated, as she slammed her book closed and tossed it onto her nightstand, flipping onto her left side to be facing away from her mother, quipping, "Well, it's my butt."

"Good comeback." Lorelai told her sarcastically.

"Thank you." Rory sniped.

"You're welcome." Lorelai snapped, becoming frustrated. "Rory, come on—" Lorelai tried as she reached out to rub her eldest twin's back when Rory jerked away from her touch. Lorelai frowned, wounded.

"I don't want to talk about this. Could you please, please just," the teenager paused briefly, and sucked in a deep breath, "leave me alone." 

"Okay," Lorelai agreed after a moment, looking hurt, though Rory couldn't see that because she was too busy pouting. "Fine." Her mother rose from her seat on the bed, adopted the 'Mom-Power-Pose' with the hands on the hips and the stern glare, and stated clearly, "We always had a democracy in this house." She licked her lips, preparing herself to continue. "We never did anything unless we all agreed. But now I guess I'm gonna have to play the Mom card. You are going to Chilton with your sister whether you want to or not. Monday morning, you will be there, end of story."

Lorelai turned to make her way out of the room.

"We'll see." Rory fired back.

"Yeah, we will." Lorelai hollered as she pulled the door closed behind her. She would force her into that uniform and tie her up for the ride, just to get her to that damn uppity school, whether Rory wanted to go or not. 

"Rory, you will obey your mother whether you want to or not. You are a child and have absolutely no autonomy of your own until you reach the age of adulthood. Eighteen. Nothing less." Emily hissed. "You may choose what haircut you want or what to eat for dinner, but what school you go to, whether or not you have a boyfriend, who this boyfriend is—all of this is to be chosen by your mother."

Lorelai didn't necessarily agree with all of that--she wouldn't choose who her kids dated, but she did lord vetoing power over all possible suitors—as had been decided and written in blood and ink (though not really blood, because Tilly would have had a coronary or otherwise totally turned into that little possessed girl from The Exorcist) in 1999.

Rory nodded, cowed and slightly fearful of her grandmother when she was looking at her with those glaring eyes and sunk into her mother's side, needing the reassurance she still loved her. Lorelai pulled Rory close, raising her other arm to offer Tilly the same option. Tilly did so with glee, snuggling closer into her mother's familiar warmth; where she felt safest and most loved. 

Rory reached over to her nightstand to turn on her CD player. Macy Gray's I Try began to play as Rory lied there, miserable. 

⁂ 

Lorelai needed some reassurance, so she sought out one of her three best friends in the world—Tilly. she climbed the stairs of the house all the way to the attic, where she knocked.

"Come in," Tilly called from inside.

Lorelai pushed the door open and stepped inside. There wasn't an overhead light, just the dim golden glow of fairy lights that were wrapped around the wooden joists of the ceiling. Tilly was lying in her queen-sized bed. It was placed in a small nook in the wall, with light grey blackout curtains hanging before it pushed to the side that Tilly would pull closed when she was sleeping for maximum darkness. The rest of the wall around the nook was made up of white built in bookshelves, filled to the brim with books, color-coordinated, and catalogued by genre, author and likability.

Across from her bed was a round window with a cushioned window seat underneath with a couple of throw pillows, a faux rabbit fur blanket and a discarded book—Anna Karenina—that Tilly had been reading. 

On either side of the window were two doors that didn't match. They were antiques that Tilly and Lorelai had found at Miss Kim's shop that Luke had helped to put up. They now looked great while blocking off her closet and bathroom.

She had a fluffy misty blue rug that covered half of the hard wood floors in the center of the room, and a powder pink velvet solid wood carved French chaise lounge chair in the corner with another blanket, this one made by Lorelai when she was a baby tossed over the side.

"Hey, babe," Lorelai sighed as she stepped further into the room and flopped onto the bed beside her youngest daughter.

"Long day?" Tilly asked.

Lorelai rubbed her face and released a frustrated groan.

Tilly nodded, reached up towards the little shelf that had been built inside her nook on the wall for a reading lamp and her sound machine—she could not sleep without the sound of thunder; she hated the quiet—and pressed play on her CD player.  

The same Macy Gray song, I Try began to play as it did in Rory's room, and Lorelai lied there, beside her youngest daughter, as they cuddled close, sad, but not miserable—not while they're together. 

⁂

A team of burly men were moving an enormous stove out of the kitchen of the Independence Inn; black smoke was pouring from it.

Lorelai stood, signing a clipboard full of papers with a distraught Sookie behind her, both watching as the team of men coughed and heaved as the smoke got caught in their noses and inhaled, hacking up a lung or two in the process.

"I swear I don't know what happened." Sookie promised with a tearful shake of her head.

Lorelai sighed tiredly, "It's not important."

"I made that dish a hundred times." Sookie began, leaning to the side in hopes of looking her best friend/boss in the eye but Lorelai was doing a grand job of avoiding direct eye contact. "It never exploded." 

Jackson felt almost vindicated in his decision to switch seats—and by that he means forcefully relocating—with Lucy so that he was no longer directly next to this woman. She was a fire hazard just by breathing. 

"It's fine." Lorelai told Sookie, trying to reassure the distraught woman that everything was fine. She was not in the mood to coddle Sookie today. She was in a fight with Rory and she was set to have dinner with her parents—the start of many, many to come, she knew—and suddenly the foreign desire to jam a pen into her eye was becoming more and more prominent as the minutes ticked by, drawing seven o'clock closer and closer. She almost felt like she was about to break out in hives, she was so stressed.

"Oh, God, I killed a Viking," Sookie despaired dramatically. Lorelai's shoulders drooped and she slowly shook her head at her friend's histrionics. "You should fire me," Sookie slapped her fist against the metal countertop as she rounded the kitchen rack island to stand beside Lorelai. "Or make me pay the cost of a new stove out of my paycheck." Sookie slumped forward as she advised ways to make up for this blunder. 

"Well, whatever you want." Lorelai said agreeably.

Sookie's eyes widened into saucers and her voice turned high in pitch as she quickly adjusted her tune, "I can't afford a new stove." She gestured jaggedly towards the group of men still struggling to remove the broken appliance. "Those things are expensive."

"Sookie, please," Lorelai implored, "I am begging you, pull yourself together, okay?" Lorelai circled Sookie as she told her, "I got no sleep last night and I think I put my contacts in backwards."

"Rory's still mad at you, huh?" Sookie surmised.

Lorelai turned towards her best friend—not birthed by her—and quipped, "Hey, I'm not so crazy about her, either."

"It was a fight." Sookie stated, barely stopping herself from giggling at the absurdity of the situation, though she could not quite keep the smile off her face. "Mothers and daughters fight."

"No," Lorelai denied, "we don't fight. Tilly and I never fight. Rory and Tilly never fight—and now they're in the middle of a fight, too! We never fight, Sookie." 

Michel appeared at Lorelai's right shoulder, like an overly large French bird drowning in expensive—and slightly nauseating—cologne. "You told me to tell you when your daughters arrived." Lorelai turned her attention towards her concierge. "Well, they're here," Michel smiled thinly, "and Thing One is sitting in my chair." 

The Gerard man was not pouting—he wasn't! 

Lorelai gestured soothingly Sookie's way, and bid, "Hold on just a minute."

With that, Lorelai strutted out of the kitchen, her heels clicking against the tile with each step.

With a mean smirk, Michel stepped before Sookie and drawled, "And you are the one left standing. Life's a funny, funny thing, no?"

She just stared up at him, unimpressed, wondering what his head would look like if she popped it like a pimple. 

⁂

"Hey," Lorelai called as she approached the front desk where Rory was sat in Michel's chair, reading, and Tilly was stood at the corner of the desk, organizing the sticky notes in order of thickness. "No muumuu today." She offered her eldest a teasing smile as she stopped at her side, "You know what's weird? I kind of miss it."

"You left us a note to meet you here." Rory toned monotonously.

"Yeah, I thought you might wanna work the front desk a couple hours, make a little extra cash—and Sookie always loves when you help out in the kitchen, Til. You know she adores how you understand her flow and get everything cleaned perfectly the first time."

Tilly offered her mother a soft smile and opened her mouth to respond when she was cut off by her twin rudely saying, "Fine," Rory's tone both short and abrasive.

"Aw, you're not gonna give me the Mommie Dearest treatment forever, are ya?" Lorelai asked, her voice joking and warm, despite how frigid her daughter was being at the moment. 

"You wanted us here, we're here." Rory told her, turning glaring eyes on her mother. "Should I do something or what?"

Lorelai's jaw tightened. "Yeah," she answered as she slapped a thick packet of papers and her leather folder of everything and anything she needed for her job on the wooden face of the desk. "Go home." She told her, this time her voice just as cold as Rory's. "Dinner's at seven." She jerked her folder open, and it flopped loudly on top of the desk. "Be ready to go."

Rory rolled her eyes as she slipped off the chair. "Fine."

"Fine." Lorelai snapped.

Lorelai huffed softly, only allowing a small smile to flit across her lips when Tilly leant forward and pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek, whispering, "I love you, Mama."

Lorelai grinned, "To infinity." They interlocked pinkies and shared a close embrace before Tilly hurried out of the inn after her sister.

Michel then quickly slid onto his chair, releasing a gratified groan, "Ah, my chair."

Lorelai turned to him, bemused. 

⁂ 

The Gilmore girls of Stars Hollow stood outside on the front stoop of the Gilmore estate in Hartford, all looking far more dressed up than seen previously. As always, Lorelai was clutching an extra-large to-go coffee cup like her life depended on it. The weather was cold, as was made clear by their warm coats, scarves, gloves, and their breath misting in the air whenever they exhaled, but Lorelai still refused to ring the doorbell.

The trio stood there for a beat in awkward silence.

"So," Rory drawled, "do we go in or do we just stand here reenacting The Little Match Girl?" 

Lorelai shook her head, already done with the evening—and it hadn’t even started yet, technically—and her eldest’s attitude certainly wasn’t helping the situation any. She turned towards Rory, tilted her head, and demanded, “Okay, look, I know you and me are having a thing here, and I know you hate me, Rory,” her eyes drifted towards her youngest who offered her an innocent smile, “and you two are in the middle of your own Shakespearean tragedy, but I need you to be civil. At least through dinner, and then on the way home you can pull a Mendendez.” 

Jess almost released a laugh but smothered it into a cough at the last second. He was surrounded by cops; he didn’t think they’d appreciate him laughing about parricide.

Rory twisted to face her mother.

Tilly's face scrunched up, “I don’t think—”

“Deal?” Lorelai interrupted, just wanting to get this evening over with.

“Fine.” Rory muttered, sounding both indifferent and obstinate at the same time.

Lorelai had to physically bite her tongue to stop herself from rolling her eyes—she'd done it so much in the last day she was worried her eyes would get stuck back there—and faced forward once more. She stepped up to the door, her heels click-clacking against the expensive stone underneath their feet as she extended her arm to ring the doorbell.

It took barely three seconds for the front door to be pulled open by none other than Emily Gilmore.

“Hi, Grandma,” Rory said with a smile, sounding less than enthusiastic.

Tilly nudged her twin with her elbow and offered a beaming smile at the elder woman, “Hey, Grandma! I missed you!”

Lorelai didn’t offer a greeting, just smiled awkwardly, uncomfortable already. She could feel her mother’s judging eyes roving over her body, picking apart her appearance. Oh, God, she really hoped she didn’t have something stuck in her teeth!

Emily smiled warmly at her youngest granddaughter, “I missed you too, Matilda,” she spread her arms in offering.

Tilly smiled and bopped inside, happily stepping into her grandmother’s embrace.

Once they’d pulled out of the hug, with her arm still wrapped around Tilly’s back, Emily turned her attention towards Lorelai and Rory. “Well, you’re right on time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lorelai stuttered as she gently pushed—and by that, I mean firmly shoved—Rory inside beside her. The front door of the Gilmore estate was that wide—and offered her mother a strained smile. “No traffic at all.” 

Emily moved to close the door, leaving the Stars Hollow girls to begin relieving themselves of their outer layers.

“I can’t tell you what a treat it is to have you girls here.” Emily said, sounding, if Lorelai didn’t know any better—and didn’t know that her mother’s heart was made of ice and some sort of stone that was resistant to warmth of any kind—giddy.

“Oh, well, we’re excited, too.” Lorelai stated unconvincingly as Emily moved to hang up their jackets and scarves on the expensive coat rack beside the front door, tossing their gloves on a nearby chest of heavy oak drawers.

Tilly stepped up and offered her grandmother a winning smile, “I can’t wait to see what’s been prepared for dinner, Grandma. Last time, the Coq au Vin was to die for.”

Emily positively twinkled, looking delighted at the compliment. “Aren’t you darling?” Emily’s eyes then fell on Lorelai’s extra-large coffee cup, and she asked blithely, “Is that a collector’s cup or can I throw it away for you?”

“Oh,” Lorelai mumbled in realization as she turned to toss the cardboard cup in the nearest trash can when her mother smoothly intervened.

“In the kitchen, please.” 

Awkwardly, Lorelai danced backward towards their little group loitering in the foyer. “Sorry,”

“So,” Emily began as she gently gripped one of Tilly’s hands and reached out to do the same with Rory, “I want to hear all about Chilton.”

Rory offered a small smile as she said, “Well, we haven’t actually started yet.”

As Emily led the twins away leaving Lorelai behind—already frustrated, and she could feel her ass sweating through her good underwear—so, in revenge, she unceremoniously tossed her garbage in the forbidden bin. 

Emily shot her daughter a sharp glare. 

Feeling satisfied just by imagining her mother’s face when she eventually saw the cup in the disallowed garbage can—what made a trash can wrong anyway? A bin is a bin! She smirked and followed her daughters and mother into the living room. 

⁂ 

Emily led the twins into the living room as if they were about to be introduced to royalty rather than the disinterested gaze of their grandfather as he pretended to pay attention while not-so-subtly reading his newspaper.

“Richard,” Emily sang, “look who’s here.”

He glanced up and plucked his reading glasses off his nose to get a better look at his granddaughters. “Rory,” he greeted as his eyes moved from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. His gaze then drifted towards his youngest grandchild, and he inspected her the same way. “Matilda.” He paused briefly before adding, “You’re both tall.”

Rory smiled awkwardly and Tilly blinked, bewildered at his unusual greeting, but she nodded after a brief hesitation.

“I guess,” Rory acknowledged slowly.

“What’re your heights?” Richard asked.

The twins’ eyes connected briefly before they quickly focused once more on their grandfather. “Five-seven.” Rory told him.

Richard hummed and turned towards Tilly, “Five-ten.”

“That’s tall,” he mused before tossing over his shoulder towards his wife who was busy at the bar cart, “they’re tall.”

Tilly nodded and, feeling uncomfortable in the almost stifling silence, added, “One inch taller than Mom.”

Richard's brows rose and he asked, “Really?”

Tilly nodded just as Lorelai appeared at her side with a wide smile that was stiff—probably as painful for her on the inside as it was to hold on the outside. “Hi, Dad.”

“Lorelai,” Richard drawled, “your daughters are tall.” 

Sergeant Grey almost groaned out loud. If he heard the word tall one more time, he was going to shoot something. The wall, the screen, the ceiling—a person—he didn’t care! What was this man’s obsession with height? He ran a frustrated hand over his face and blinked hard in a bid to rid himself of any negative emotion. After all, who knew how long they’d be stuck here; better not to make enemies when one can make friends. 

Lorelai’s eyes lit up as she saw the opening for a joke. “Oh, I know, it’s freakish. We're thinking of having them studied at M.I.T.”

Richard, used to his daughter’s antics simply allowed an unimpressed, “Huh?” to slip past his lips before he once more focused his eyes back on his paper.

Emily, done at the bar cart, spun around carefully holding a silver tray filled with flutes of champagne, the golden liquid bubbling inside the delicate glassware as the Gilmore matriarch strutted towards the sitting area and extended the tray, allowing each person to grab a glass. “Champagne, anyone?”

“Oh,” Lorelai smiled, already feeling tired, “that’s fancy.”

Both Tilly and Rory reached out and accepted a glass of the fizzy alcohol each. 

Talia wasn’t sure she liked seeing fifteen-year-old teenage girls drinking, but there were three reasons she would keep her mouth shut. One, this was the future, nothing she said could change what was happening on screen. Two, they were in a safe environment, being supervised by adults. Three, they appeared to have their mother’s permission.

Talia sighed and leaned back, pulling her muted blue flannel blanket—a color you’d probably find in a therapy office, but she found it relaxing—further in as she crossed her legs underneath herself after kicking off her shoes.

She and the rest of the cops had shed their uniforms and gear in their assigned rooms and locked their firearms in the safes provided—which made them both immensely grateful and severely creeped out—and had changed into the clothes that were hung up in the closets with their names burned into the wood of the doors. The clothes were all in their sizes, as were the shoes. Again, supremely freaky, but when you’re magically transported to a theater to see the future/past and forced inside a time bubble, can you really expect anything less? 

“Well, it’s not every day that I have my girls here for dinner on a day the banks are open.” Emily reminded pointedly and shot a smile at her daughter that was all teeth.

Lorelai just grinned and tried to ignore the sting her mother seemed to always leave behind. She had a lot of practice—practically a whole lifetime’s worth.

“A toast.” Emily began as she regally extended her glass, tilted her chin high and announced, “To Rory and Matilda entering Chilton,” Rory smiled uncomfortably at her grandmother, “and an exciting new phase in their lives.”

From his seat on the couch, Richard cheered, “Here, here,” without taking his eyes off the paper.

The Gilmore girls tilted back their glasses and took a swift sip. Emily released a pleased hum, and ordered, “Well, let’s sit, everyone.”

The standing Gilmores all moved towards the couches; Emily with Lorelai beside her and Rory and Tilly sitting across from them on either side of their grandfather. Both Tilly and Rory placed their glasses of champagne on the heavy wooden coffee table placed between the couches—ensuring to use the coasters, neither wanted to be berated by their grandmother for ruining her expensive coffee table—uninterested in the alcohol.

Lorelai remained standing, stiltedly shuffling from foot to foot.

“This is just wonderful.” Emily breathed through an ecstatic smile. “An education is the most important thing in the world, next to family.” 

Angela wasn’t quite sure that she agreed that education was the most important thing in the world, but she knew that in this day and age, especially in this job market and economy, a good education—and especially a higher education like that of college or university—was a standard that more and more people were failing to meet. College was becoming too expensive, and financial aid and student loans harder to get. 

Lorelai, uncomfortable in this house, in this situation, with her parents, and the usual feeling of her mother sucking all the joy out of the air like a happiness-vacuum, couldn’t resist adding a joke. She always used humor as a mask. “And pie.”

A pregnant silence erupted around the room—even Richard had pulled his nose away from his paper to gaze dazedly at his daughter.

Rory glanced at her mother, confused but far too new to the environment to feel safe rebuking the elder Lorelai as she would in their own home.

Tilly's electric blue orbs glanced from her grandfather to her grandmother to her sister, and, unable to help herself, she released a quiet snicker at just how awkward things had become.

Lorelai flicked her eyes to her youngest and offered a brief smile in thanks for the laugh.

Lorelai slowly took her seat beside her mother and elaborated, "Joke,” her smile far too wide to be genuine and too strained to be comfortable remained on her painted lips. “It was a joke.”

Emily watched her daughter with a judging quirk to her brow as she hummed, “Ah,”

Richard readjusted his grip on the paper and his eyes flicked from left to right as he perused the page.

Both Lorelai and Emily lifted their flutes of champagne to suck down a hearty sip in unison.

The discomfited silence persisted.

Tilly leaned back into the cushion of the couch and caught her twin’s eye behind her grandfather’s shoulders. Her own widened and using their twin-telepathy she inferred to the elder, “Help, this is so forced I’m about to combust!” 

Rory minutely shook her head and with a quirk of her brow and a narrowing of her eyes she was able to communicate, “Just last a couple hours then we’re home free.” 

Tilly released a small pitiful whine but sat upright, determined to make the best of the situation.

Across from them, Emily watched her granddaughters have an entire conversation using just their eyes and facial expressions. It was bewildering to watch. Lorelai barely noticed anymore unless she sensed they were using their twin-telepathy to talk about her.

It was then that Richard reached down and picked up the sections of the newspaper he had put aside as he was uninterested in reading them or had already done so.

Rory searched for the International News before handing it back to her grandfather who then passed it to Tilly. 

Tilly searched for the Travel section and pulled it free, placing the leftover sections on the couch between herself and her grandfather. 

They read in silence, waiting for dinner to be announced.

When the twins finished their selected sections, they switched, passing the papers behind Richard’s back. The crumpling of the newsprint paper being the only sound in the room aside from the ticking of the grandfather clock and the quiet classical music playing in the background.

⁂ 

The dining room was formal if not a bit Citizen Kane-ish. Expensive China littered the long oak table covered in an expensive cream tablecloth. The silverware was made of real silver, and the napkins were cloth, not paper. There was a large fireplace set in the wall right behind Richard, a roaring flame keeping the room a toasty temperature.

“Rory, how do you like the lamb?” Emily asked, her dark gaze searching her eldest granddaughter’s face for any emotion, but Rory remained relatively blank-faced, as she answered.

“It’s good.”

“Too dry?” Emily probed.

Rory shook her head and swallowed her bite of lambchop, “No, it’s perfect.”

Emily smiled, though she didn’t seem very convinced. She turned her attention towards the youngest in the room, “Matilda, how about you, our budding chef?”

Tilly grinned and sat straighter in her seat as all the attention settled on her. “The lamb is good, but...”

“But?” Emily prompted.

“Well, if I had cooked the meal, I would have made lamb loin chops with mint chimichurri.” Seeing their confused faces, she elaborated. “It’s a recipe where you serve the chops with a sauce of mint chimichurri—a loose pesto of sorts, Argentinian, with fresh mint, parsley, garlic, red wine vinegar, and olive oil. You sprinkle the lamb chops with kosher salt, make the mint chimichurri sauce by finely chopping the garlic, mint and parsley and stirring that in a bowl with the wine vinegar, salt and red pepper flakes and olive oil. Sear the chops on both sides in a cast iron pan on medium heat, sprinkle some black pepper on both sides as well. Once they’re medium rare, they’re done. All you’d have to do is cover them in foil to let them rest some, then drizzle them in the sauce and serve.” 

Max turned amazed eyes on Tilly and asked, “You know how to cook that?”

Her cheeks pinked at all the attention now being on her, but she shrugged and nodded, “Yeah, Sookie’s been teaching me how to cook since I was ten. It started out as a test of sorts, to try to control my OCD, but then I really began to enjoy it, and I started to experiment with things, and now I do my own things. I help Sookie at the Inn every week.”

Sookie nodded her head proudly. 

Richard turned a keen gaze on his wife and stated, “That sounds delicious, we should request that for next week.”

Tilly smiled shyly, “I’ll write down the recipe and instructions for your chef.”

Lorelai smiled at her daughter, and turned towards her mother, telling her, “Potatoes could use a little salt, though.”

Emily blinked, pulling her fork away from her mouth. “Excuse me?”

Tilly and Rory met eyes from next to each other and quickly fell into a small slap-battle under the table. Eventually, Tilly won, in which she did a small happy wiggle in her chair, uncaring how she had thrown her twin to the wolves. The dreaded small talk portion of the evening—ugh! Gag her with a spoon. She’d rather choke on a grape and die. 

“So, Grandpa, how’s the insurance biz?” Rory quickly interrupted before their grandmother could jump over the table and strangle her daughter.

“Oh,” Richard hummed to himself as he chewed, looking for all the world, bored out of his mind. “People die; we pay. People crash cars; we pay.” His fork hovered before his mouth as he shrugged lightly and finished, “People lose a foot; we pay.” 

“Ah, the insurance business: where everyone is the winner except for the people who actually need the coverage.” Angela released a defeated sigh as she slumped further into her chair.

Thankfully, though, Richard didn’t hear her. He was too busy agreeing with himself he saw on screen. 

From her seat to his right, Lorelai watched her father speak so dispassionately about death and amputation while shoving red meat in his mouth. She smiled mirthlessly as she joked, “Well, at least you have your new slogan.”

“And how are things at the motel?” Richard asked with his mouth full.

“The inn?” Lorelai corrected, trying extremely hard to appear unbothered by the fact that her father either, one; still didn’t know what she did for a living, or two; was trying to bait her into doing something or saying something rash or uncouth. She coolly swiped up her glass of wine, “They’re great.” 

“Lorelai’s the executive manager now.” Emily boasted proudly. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Tilly shared a beaming smile with her grandmother that fell as soon as her grandfather opened his mouth.

Completely ignoring his wife, he settled his knife and fork on his plate, finished with his dinner, and plucked his wine glass from before him. “Speaking of which, Christopher called yesterday.”

Immediately, Lorelai and Rory’s eyes shifted towards Tilly as she stilled, her face going carefully blank. “Speaking of which?” Her mother parroted, keeping her concerned gaze locked on her youngest. “How is that a speaking of which?”

Emily seemed to sense the tension rising because she called out, “Richard,” but he ignored her.

“He’s doing very well in California. His internet startup goes public next month.” His gaze turned towards Rory who was watching the occupants of the table awkwardly while Tilly was staring down at her plate with zero emotion on her face. “This could mean big things for him. Very talented man, your father.” 

Jess watched as the youngest on screen seemed to shrink into herself at the barest hint of her father. There was obviously a story there. 

“They know.” Lorelai stated, not wanting either of her girls to have to navigate out of this murky swamp her father had dumped them all in—without even giving them the courtesy of a compass or an ogre to point them towards the way out.

“He always was a smart one, that boy.” Richard reminisced after taking a hearty gulp of his red wine. He turned towards the twins, “You two must take after him.” 

Lorelai bit her tongue, letting the physical pain drown out any emotional distress that comment might have caused.

Tim’s eyes darkened. He didn’t have a great relationship with his father—the man was a monster; an abusive, alcoholic monster—but to see a family that acted this way, where the abuse was so blatant without being physical was almost jarring. He shifted slightly in his seat, feeling antsy without having an outlet to purge his extra energy in a healthy way. 

Lorelai scoffed as she threw her cloth napkin on her plate and scooted her chair out from the table, “Speaking of which, I’m gonna get a coke.” She rounded the table and as she was right behind her father, she added, “Or a knife.” 

Lucy knew it wasn’t the time to laugh, so she tried to swallow her giggle. Instead, she ended up choking on her saliva and hacking up a lung—totally discreet, which is what she was going for in the first place.

From beside her, Jackson gently slapped her back to dislodge anything that might be stuck in his fellow rookie’s throat. 

⁂

The kitchen was huge, with state-of-the-art restaurant quality appliances, there are dirty pots, pans, and dishes everywhere from making dinner and dessert. Tina, the maid, was piping whipped cream on the chocolate cake that had been baked for after dinner.

Lorelai stormed into the kitchen, fuming. She paced around briefly, trying to figure out what to do. Quickly, her eyes caught sight of the sink full of dirty dishes. Breathing deeply, and slightly sniffling, she dipped the green sponge in the warm, soapy water that the dishes were soaking in and began to furiously scrub them.

Tina carried over the silver tea tray that she’d serve coffee in with dessert and placed it by the full, freshly brewed coffee pot. She eyed Lorelai as if she were an alien.

Lorelai glanced her way and gruffly uttered, “Hi, how’re ya doing?”

Tina turned with an amused look on her face as Lorelai went back to scrubbing like a mad woman. 

⁂ 

Richard continued to eat, while Emily watched him, barely picking at her food. Both Rory and Tilly watched the door that led into the kitchen.

The twins shared a look and Rory nodded, “I think I’m gonna go talk—”

“No,” Emily called, stopping Rory from rising fully from the table. She fell back into her seat as Emily dabbed at the corner of her lips with her napkin and placed it gently beside her plate on the table. “I’ll go.” She rose and swiftly rounded the table, patting both girls on the shoulder as she passed, “You girls stay and keep your grandfather company.”

⁂ 

Emily entered the kitchen to find her daughter stood at the sink, scrubbing dirty dishes as if she were the help and not of well-bred, blue-blooded stock. She already looked done with the interaction, and it hadn’t even started yet.

“Lorelai, come back to the table.” Emily bid.

“Is this what it’s gonna be like every Friday night?” Lorelai asked, peeking over her right shoulder, steely electric blue orbs gazing back at her mother. “I come over and let the two of you attack me?” Lorelai’s ponytail whipped behind her as she turned back towards the sink.

Emily blinked slowly as she stated, “You’re being very dramatic.” 

“Dramatic?” The Gilmore daughter repeated incredulously. “Were you at that table just now?” She turned burning eyes and furrowed brows on her mother.

“Yes, I was,” Emily answered as she stepped closer and placed her hands gently on the island standing sentinel between her and her daughter, “and I think you took what your father said the wrong way.” 

“Ma'am, there was no other way to take what your husband said.” Tim toned.

Emily’s chocolate brown gaze slid towards the veteran officer and her lids slit into a piercing glare as she hissed, “Stay out of my family’s business.” 

Tim straightened in his seat and looked her straight in the eye. “Kind of hard to do when we’ve all been abducted and forced to watch your lives.”

Emily reluctantly conceded his point, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She readjusted herself in her seat, crossing her ankles—like a lady ought to do—and placing her hands daintily in her lap.  

“The wrong way?” Lorelai scoffed. She dropped the handled scrubber she had grabbed from the ceramic holder that lived by the corner of the sink into the basin, water being heard splashing as she did so, though neither woman paid it any mind. “How could I’ve taken it the wrong way? What was open to interpretation?”

⁂

The camera switched to the dining room where the twins were awkwardly sitting picking at their food. Their identical eyes caught and exchanged a short, disturbed glance before they quickly focused back on their own plates.

Richard had his elbows on the table and his fingers interlocked, and his hands placed against his lips with his eyes closed as Lorelai and Emily’s voices were easily heard from the kitchen.

“Keep your voice down.” Emily demanded. 

“No.” Lorelai denied. “I can’t take it anymore. Tonight just seems like a nightmare.”

Richard’s hands fell and he glanced towards his granddaughters, offering them a small small which they returned with the same, if not less enthusiasm.

“You’re dripping all over the floor.” Emily snapped. 

⁂

Lorelai snatched a paper towel off the roll hung on the wall by the sink with an air of sophisticated attitude as she prowled towards her mother. “Why do you pounce on every single thing I say?” She rubbed her hands dry, bundling the paper towel into a ball in her hands.

“That’s absurd.” Emily denied. “You’ve barely uttered a word all night.”

“That’s not true.” Lorelai replied.

Emily shrugged elegantly, “You said ‘pie.’” 

Lorelai tossed the used paper towel and placed her hands on her hips as she shook her head and scoffed, “Oh, come on.”

“You did.” Emily insisted. “All I heard you say was ‘pie.’”

Lorelai thrust her hands forward in a frustrated motion as she asked, “Why would he bring up Christopher? Was that really necessary?” 

She knew that her parents weren’t close enough to the girls for them to know how that would affect her youngest, but they had to know that it would hurt her, right?

“He likes Christopher.” Emily excused. 

Lorelai frowned thoughtfully as she began to pace behind the island. “Isn’t that interesting? Because, as I remember, when Christopher got me pregnant, Dad didn’t like him so much.”

“Oh, well, please,” Emily huffed, “you were sixteen. What were we supposed to do? Throw you a party?” She quipped sarcastically.

Lorelai turned eyes that had long-learned how to appear unaffected on her mother.

“We were disappointed.” Emily stated. Her thin brows furrowed as she muttered sadly, “The two of you had such bright futures.” 

Rory and Tilly shuffled downwards in the seats, feeling hurt by their grandmother’s words, as if their grandmother thought they had ruined their mother’s life.

 “Yes,” Lorelai hissed, nettled, “and by not getting married, we got to keep those bright futures.” Lorelai explained.

Emily's eyes fell shut, before she forced them open and she insisted, “When you get pregnant, you get married. A child needs a mother and a father, and you had twins.” 

Lorelai sighed sadly, “Oh, Mom, do you think that Christopher would have his own company right now if we’d gotten married?” Lorelai quizzed pointedly. “Do you think he would be anything at all?” 

“Yes, I do.” Emily crossed her arms mulishly. “You father would have put him in the insurance business, and you’d be living a lovely life right now.”

Lorelai turned away from her mother and pulled a mug from the cabinet as she poured herself a steaming cup of coffee. She needed the energy if she was going to be doing this much longer—she was running low on juice, and her battery can only charge up so much on its own naturally.

Lorelai roughly shoved the coffee pot back on the designated hot plate before she rounded on her mother. “He didn’t want to be in the insurance business, and I am living a lovely life right now.” Lorelai’s voice turned almost pleading as she basically begged her mother to acknowledge all that she had done on her own merit, with only elbow grease, blood, sweat, and tears. 

“That’s right,” Emily muttered bitterly, “far away from us.”

Lorelai's eyes fell closed as the familiar argument came into play. “Oh, here we go.” She lifted the mug and took a large sip of the boiling liquid, the heat not bothering her at all, so used was she to it at this point in her life that it was a comfort rather than a hurt.

“You took those girls and completely shut us out of your life.” Emily spat, her eyes glassy and her voice sounding close to tears—though the day Emily Gilmore let anyone see her less than perfect would be a cold day in hell.

Lorelai carefully placed the full mug down on the island before she turned burning eyes on her mother as she hissed, “You wanted to control me.”

“You were still a child.” Emily expressed, her expression pained.

“I stopped being a child the minute the strip turned pink, okay?” Lorelai rebutted.

Emily's features fell into apathy at those words.

“I had to figure out how to live. I found a good job.” Lorelai explained.

“As a maid.” Emily pointed out with a roll of her eyes. “With all your brains and talent.” 

While the theater had been silent throughout the rather personal argument, Lucy couldn’t help but interject here, saying, “I just want to cut in, and say that, there are plenty of maids that do the work because it’s what's available to them, not because it’s the only thing they can do.”

Emily didn’t even bother to look in her direction or show she heard her, either.

Tilly offered Lucy a smile, though, appreciating what she said. She loved her grandparents, but there were times that they were small-minded, and she felt almost trapped. She didn’t want to turn out the same just because of relative closeness in blood and home. Unlike Rory, she wasn’t scared to disagree with them, either.

 “I worked my way up.” Lorelai said. “I run the place now. I built a life on my own with no help from anyone.”

“Yes,” Emily agreed, “and think of where you’d be if you’d accepted a little help, hmm?” Lorelai rolled her eyes skyward as she shook her head. It was like talking to a brick wall. “And where the twins would have been?”

Lorelai's eyes flashed towards her mother faster than lightning. That was a low blow.

“But no, you were always too proud to accept anything from anyone.” Emily mocked.

Lorelai inched closer to her mother around the island as she snapped loudly, “Well, I wasn’t too proud to come here to you two begging for money for my kids’ school, was I?”

⁂ 

Rory twisted in her seat to face the doorway, stunned. This was news to her. She glanced towards Tilly who looked equally as gob-smacked; so, she hadn’t known, either.

“No, you certainly weren’t. But you’re too proud to tell them where you got it from, aren’t you?” Emily voiced, sounding smug.

⁂ 

“Well, fine. You have your precious pride, and I have my weekly dinners.” Emily beamed widely at her daughter who glowered at her. “Isn’t that nice? We both win.”

With that, Emily’s face turned to stone, and she stormed from the kitchen.

As soon as Emily’s back was turned, Lorelai’s face crumpled into quiet agony.

⁂ 

In the dining room, the camera showed Rory and Tilly sitting quietly, staring down at their plates of now cold food as Rory squished her mashed potatoes with her fork. Tilly ate her lamb—she wasn’t going to allow an animal to be killed just to let it go to waste. Neither twin really knew what to do now.

The camera panned to the left, showing Richard, his head flopped backwards on his chair at an odd angle and his eyes closed. He snored, sound asleep.

They exchanged a long glance before turning back towards their plates, silent in the otherwise still room, the only movement being them as they picked at their food.

⁂ 

The front door opened, Lorelai stepped out first, her long camel colored coat wrapped tightly around her body as she moved onto the porch. Rory followed, her black jacket hung open over her chest, and Tilly took up the rear, pulling the door closed behind herself, her own pale cream peacoat buttoned up all the way.

Lorelai released a heavy sigh as she leaned tiredly against the stone of the estate.

“Mama?” Tilly asked pensively as she pushed her hands that were slowly turning pink in the cold, September air into her coat’s pockets.

Lorelai offered a long-learned reassuring smile as she said, “I’m okay. I just...” she paused briefly, before turning a thoughtful gaze on her daughters. “Do I look shorter? ‘Cause I feel shorter.” 

“Hey, how about I buy you a cup of coffee.” Rory hedged hopefully.

“Aw.” Lorelai smiled, tickled pink at the thought. “Yeah.” She reached over and wrapped one arm around her eldest. “Come over here, Silly.”

Tilly rounded her mother and appeared on her right where Lorelai wrapped her other arm around the youngest’s shoulders.

“One of you drive though, okay, ‘cause...” they stepped off the porch, “I don’t think my feet will reach the pedals.”

All three released a small chuckle, feeling a heavy weight almost fall off their shoulders the further they moved from the Gilmore estate.

⁂

Outside Luke’s, Rory carefully supplied, “So, nice dinner at the grandparents’ house.” 

“Oh, yeah, her dishes have never been cleaner.” Lorelai sniffed derisively.

They stepped onto the stoop that led to the door into the diner and stopped to form a small

triangle. “You and grandma seemed to have a,” Tilly sought the right word, “um, nice talk.”

Lorelai's eyes squinted at them as she asked, “How much did you hear?” 

“Not much. You know,” Rory shared a look with her twin.

“Snippets.” The stated together.

“Snippets?” Lorelai repeated, not believing them.

“Little snippets.” Tilly assured with a nod.

“So, basically everything?” Lorelai concluded.

“Basically, yes.” Rory agreed, while Tilly reluctantly nodded and bit her lip.

“Well,” Lorelai gripped the door handle and pushed it open, the bell above ringing as she sighed, “the best laid plans.”

Lorelai huffed as she walked towards a table closest to the door and took a seat, dropping her purse by her feet. Tilly took the seat opposite her mother closest to the wall, while Rory took the one closer to the door.

“I think it was really brave of you to ask them for money.” Rory told her mother.

“Oh,” Lorelai mumbled, “I so do not want to talk about it.” 

Rory nodded. “So, how many meals is it gonna take till we’re off the hook?”

Lorelai's shoulders fell as she took in a deep breath and exhaled, “I think the deli spread at my funeral will be the last one.” She nodded sagely. She thought about what her daughter said and a slow smile spread across her painted lips. “Hey.” She exchanged an excited glance with Tilly as she asked, “Wait, does that mean...?”

Rory seemed to contemplate the question before she answered, “Can’t let a perfectly good plaid skirt go to waste.”

Lorelai's smile appeared far more genuine than it had the entire night as she stated, “Ah, honey, you won’t be sorry.”

Tilly wrapped an arm around her sister and added, “Not in the least because now I don’t have to change schools alone now!” She cheered.

Rory laughed and hugged her twin back as Luke approached their table.

Lorelai turned her head and gazed at him, shocked at his appearance. He's dressed in a clean button-up shirt and a good pair of 501’s. His hair was freshly washed and combed back and he wasn’t wearing his usual backwards baseball cap.

“Wow.” Lorelai gasped, bewildered.

His gaze lifted from the pad he was going to write their order on towards Lorelai’s bright blue eyes.

“You—you look nice.” She stuttered. “Really,” she paused awkwardly, “nice.”

He smiled bashfully. “I... had a meeting earlier at the bank. They—they like collars.” He excused.

Lorelai chuckled.

Luke offered her a keen gaze as he told her, “You look nice, too.”

Without missing a beat, Lorelai told him, “I had a flagellation to go to.”

Tilly snorted across from her, ruining the moment. They both turned towards her, and she waved them off, saying, “Sorry, I’m sorry, just ignore me.”

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile, unable to help himself when around the Gilmore girls, and he asked, “So what will you have?”

“Coffee, in a vat.” Lorelai answered. 

His lips pursed, but he wrote her order down anyway.

“I’ll have coffee also. And chili fries.” Rory ordered.

“Oooh,” Tilly hummed, “that sounds delicious, make that a double, and some onion rings. And I’ll have coffee, too.”

Luke offered them his usual stink-eye. “That’s quite a refined palate you got there.” With that, he turned and walked away to make up their orders,

Lorelai turned her head to watch him go and then twisted to face her daughters with a brow raised. “Behold the healing powers of a bath.” She joked. 

Luke frowned and raised his arm to sniff his armpit. He pulled away in disgust.

Jess watched beside him and covertly scooted further away.

 Tilly shook her head with a giggle.

“So, tell me about the guy.” Lorelai ordered, quirking a single brow at her eldest daughter.

“You know what’s really special about our relationship?” Rory enquired. “The total understanding of the need for one’s privacy. I mean, you really understand boundaries.”

Lorelai nodded along, and then repeated, “So, tell me about the guy.”

“Mom!” Rory groaned.

“Is he dreamy?” Lorelai batted her eyes.

“Ugh, that’s so Nick-at-Night.” Rory’s nose scrunched up.

“I’m gonna find out anyway.” Lorelai stated. 

“Really? How?” Rory asked.

Lorelai gazed pointedly into her eldest’s eyes as she twisted in her seat to be facing her youngest. “Tilly? Tell me about the guy.”

Tilly leaned forward and began, “He’s tall, really, really tall, and he’s got, like, late ‘90’s Leo DeCaprio hair, but brown. He wears a leather jacket and—” Tilly’s voice was muffled as Rory placed a hand over her mouth to stop her from spilling anymore ‘hot gos’ as their mother would call it. 

Luke appeared at the table at that moment, not looking the least bit surprised at what was happening with the twins. He placed down the two mugs of coffee for Lorelai and Rory and then gave Tilly her Cup of Stars. He then twisted towards the counter and plucked up their plates of chili fries and placed them before the two teenagers and put the plate of onion rings in the middle.

“Here’s your coffee, and fries, and onion rings.” He told them.

“Thank you.” Tilly told him as she reached for a fork to stir up her chili fries to ensure every single fry was coated in chili.

Despite having dropped off their order, he stayed rooted to his spot, watching them as they began to enjoy. Finally, he could take it no longer. “I can’t stand it. This is so unhealthy.” He turned towards the twins, “Rory, please put down that cup of coffee, Tilly place that fork back on the plate. You do not want to grow up to be like your mom.”

“Sorry,” Rory told him as she turned to gaze at their mother with a smile.

“Too late.” Tilly finished as she placed a fry in her mouth. She licked her finger for show and stated, “Yum!” 

Lorelai positively beamed at her girls and turned to gaze happily at Luke, who couldn’t resist the smile that pulled at his lips. 

The people in the theater couldn’t help but feel warmth erupt in their chests as they watched how close the trio on screen were. It was both awe-inspiring and heart-breaking at the same time. Some looked at it and saw it as how they wanted to be with their own mothers/children, others saw it and knew they would never be like that with their own parents/kids and couldn’t help but feel lacking. It was a bittersweet feeling.

He shook his head and turned towards the counter to begin cleaning up the extra menus that would no longer need to be out because he was closing soon.

The camera began to pan away from the diner, through the window and across the street.

“So. tell me about the guy.” Lorelai toned again.

“Check, please.” Rory called.

“No, really are you embarrassed to bring him home?” Lorelai asked.

“I’m not embarrassed.” Rory assured.

“Does he talk at all?” Lorelai asked.

“No, Mom, he’s a mime.” Rory responded.

Tilly's voice chimed in, “Mime’s could be cool. Charlie Chaplin was a riot.”

Their voices faded away as Kit Pongetti’s My Little Corner of the World began to play.

The screen slowly faded to black. 

“How long do you think it’ll be before the next one begins—” Dean started to ask, only to be interrupted by the screen as it lit up. “Never mind.”

They all focused back on the screen, some eager to watch more, and others eager to just get this over with, but one thing was for sure; they weren’t going anywhere any time soon.