Disclaimer: As always, I do not own the Gilmore Girls, or any of the characters, or any of the brilliant plot ideas. Please don’t sue me. I don’t have any money to speak of, so it would be disappointing.
Rating: PG-13, maybe… maaaaaybe R….
A/N: This is a Luke/Lorelai story all the way. Luke is injured, and Lorelai takes care of him. Read to find out more. And, I ALWAYS appreciate reviews :)
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Chapter 1: The Accident
Luke had never trusted weather forecasters. They were usually right about fifty percent of the time. And they always erred on the side of caution, predicting ten inches of snow, instead of one. People panicked, stocked up on canned goods and bottled water as if the world was going to end, and holed up in their houses. All based on what amounted to a guess on the part of a semi-qualified news anchor.
But this time, Luke admitted, they had been right. The weather was terrible. Luke had known as soon as he had merged onto the expressway that the driving would be bad, and that it would probably take him twice as long to get back to Stars Hollow.
When he had left that morning, he had intended to get some quick repairs made on his truck, and to finish up a few other pressing errands. A quick trip, so he could be back at the diner to relieve Caesar before closing time. But his usual auto shop was out of the one replacement part he needed, and the had been forced to drive around Hartford, looking for an auto parts supplier that had a part in stock for a twenty year old truck.
Which had left him with less time to finish his other unpleasant errands.
Which had left him in a really, really bad mood.
Luke squinted, trying to see through the sheets of rain as he drove, in what he sincerely hoped was a straight line, along the expressway.
But he didn't need this. His life was already a mess. His muscles were tense, and his head was beginning to ache from the constant squinting. But the weather did suit his mood at the moment.
Dark.
Dreary.
Depressed.
A year ago, he never would have guessed that his life would turn out the way it had. Married to a woman he didn't love...
In love with a woman he could never have...
The whole situation would have made him laugh, if it wasn't so damned depressing.
Today, he had taken care of one of those problems, at least. He hadn't gone to Hartford just to have his truck fixed, although it had been necessary. No, that had just been an excuse, a cover story to tell everyone in town.
He had gone for a divorce. To finalize what both he and Nicole had seen coming since they had gotten married to begin with.
The whole thing had been doomed from the start... Luke had known it the second he had said "I do" on that cruise ship. He had blamed his doubts on post-wedding jitters—had figured that he would grow into the marriage thing.
But he hadn't.
Although, he admitted to himself, it wasn't the marriage that had bothered him. In fact, marriage was one of the few things that he really, really wanted in his life. Someone to come home to. Someone to talk to. Someone to love.
No. Marriage wasn’t the problem at all. The problem had been the person he had married. Nicole. She was great.
Sweet.
Loving.
Intelligent.
Funny.
Everything he figured he could want in a spouse. She had fit the mold. But something had been missing with Nicole. Passion. Personality. Something...
Luke knew what it was—knew what Nicole had been missing—thought he had never admitted it to anyone. Even to himself.
She wasn't Lorelai.
And therein lay the problem. With him, it was always Lorelai. It always had been Lorelai. And after countless mentions of her caffeine addiction, her daughter, her crazy antics at the diner, Nicole had finally realized that it always would be Lorelai.
So they had decided to call it quits. It had been a mutual decision—friendly. And it was better for both of them. Nicole was free to find someone who loved her the way she deserved to be loved. And Luke... well, Luke was free to continue on as he had, loving Lorelai from afar as she went from boyfriend to boyfriend, without any clue as to his feelings for her. She would continue on as she had.
Falling in love.
Getting her heart broken.
Repeat.
And he would be there for her every time. Just like he always was. The loyal diner man. She would cry on his shoulder, and his heart would break for her. And she would move on, and find someone new—someone who wasn't him—and his heart would break all over again.
But he was Luke, and he would shrug it off. They would go on with their friendly banter every day—Lorelai demanding coffee, Luke refusing, even as he reached for the pot to pour her a cup.
And if that's all he could have—if that's the only role he could ever play in Lorelai Gilmore's life, then he would take it. Because Luke, the guy who didn’t need anyone, needed her.
Luke muttered under his breath as the wind picked up, blowing sheets of rain against the windshield, and making it that much harder for him to see the road. At least, he thought wryly, the bad weather gave him something else to focus on.
Something other than his failed marriage.
Something other than Lorelai.
He recalled in the back of his mind that it was Friday night, and that Lorelai and Rory were probably at their customary Friday night dinner with the Gilmores. He silently prayed that they would spend the night in Hartford—that they wouldn’t drive home with the roads like they were.
And then, he cursed himself for again thinking about Lorelai.
Luke sat forward, trying to decipher a shape he had seen out of the corner of his eye. He shook his head in frustration, unable to distinguish anything more than ten feet in front of the truck in the downpour.
It wasn't until too late that he saw that a tree had fallen and was now blocking two lanes of the highway. Luke slammed on his brakes, his truck fishtailing on the slippery road, and narrowly missing the fallen tree. Luke braced himself as the truck swerved off of the road, plowed through the dense underbrush in the ditch beside the road, and lurched to a stop, the momentum slamming Luke forward, his forehead smacking into the steering wheel.
And then there was silence—nothing but the sound of the rain, lessened by the canopy of trees that bordered the expressway. Luke swore under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. His head was throbbing, and he reached up, touching his fingertips gingerly to his temple, feeling blood.
Lots of blood.
"Damnit," Luke mumbled, fighting back a sudden wave of panic. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he again touched the large cut on his forehead. It wasn't as bad as it seemed, he reasoned. He remembered someone saying that head wounds always bled more—that they usually weren't as serious as they first appeared. Nothing that required a trip to the hospital, he figured. Wincing, Luke pressed his palm to the cut, hoping to stem the flow of blood.
His eyes scanned his surroundings, and he groaned. The front of his truck was smashed in, where it had rammed into a large oak tree. So much for the repairs. Looks like he would be making another trip to Hartford. To buy a new truck.
Even as the initial shock of the accident began to wear off, Luke could feel himself becoming lightheaded. He checked the cut on his head again, and found that it was still bleeding freely. With a groan, he reached into his glove compartment, pulling out an old dishrag that he usually used to clear off condensation from the windshield when he got up early in the morning. Slowly, he folded the rag and pressed it against his forehead. He blinked slowly, as his ears began to ring, and his vision began to blur. He was just starting to rethink a visit to the hospital, when his world went black.
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