What's Next?

Anywhere

The wedding was over, and it was an amazing one. The church was decorated with dancing ornaments of glory. It was absolutely magnificent; one of the prettiest weddings Rory had ever seen. She was thrilled for her mother, finally getting the happy ending she deserved. Lorelai had been through so much and this wedding was a blithe event.

---

"Hey, mom?" Rory asked as she made her way down the stairs.

"Yes, hon?"

"I'm ready to tell Luke..."

"Tell Luke what?" Luke furrowed his eyebrow and leaned in.

"Umm.." Rory turned around, surprised. "That..uh.." She was stuttering now and it was obvious to Luke that something was wrong.

"You don't have to tell me it's okay-"

"I'm pregnant." Rory blurted out.

"Oh?" Luke's face turned pale. He still saw Rory as a little high schooler. "Congratulations." He finally managed to say.

"Thank you." She felt a sudden wave of nausea hit her and she ran to the bathroom emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She failed to close the door and Luke ran to her side. He wasn't quite aware that it was pretty normal for a pregnant woman to get sick often; he also didn't know how he felt that his now step-daughter was pregnant. He didn't know whether to find the guy and kill him or torture him in till he would beg for death anyway. No one hurts Rory. He thought.

"Sweets, you okay?" Lorelai kneeled close to her daughter as well. She looked so helpless and fragile. Lorelai's heart broke for her.

"Uh, yeah I'm fine." Rory lied again. "I just need a nap." She hated lying to her mom and Luke but didn't want them to worry about her. She made her way up to the bedroom where she collapsed over the bright green, flower splattered sheets. Sleep came quickly to her, as did dreams.

White walls surrounded them. Rory and Logan that is. In the distance there was a small child, maybe 3 years old, sucking her thumb and repeating something over and over.

Rory stepped closer to the child. She had golden blonde hair like Logan's and her eyes were a mix of green and blue.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Rory reached a hand out to her.

"Mommy!" The child kept crying.

"Mommy's here!" Rory coaxed.

"Daddy!" The little girl now pointed past Rory.

"Oh, that's not Daddy. That's the man who left us when I was only 16. Let me tell you the story." Rory lifted the girl and sat her down on her lap. "I was 17, and you were 8 months old. I came across this town and we lived in the Inn together. Remember?" As she nodded, her golden curls swayed. Rory laughed, there's no way a 3-year-old would remember being 8 months old, but her eagerness was cute. "Then, we finally got our own house-"

Rory was jolted awake by a loud bang. She looked beside her where a copy of The Great Gatsby had fallen along with her phone. "Damn." She muttered. Rory sat and thought about her dream. She was telling this child the story of her mother. Was she simply reliving her mother's life, but with a little variation? Was everything her mother didn't want her to be what she was becoming? Would she alone with this baby...alone with no one...to raise a child?

To make things more clear, Rory had a dream that was like she was Lorelai. It was symbolizing that she's following somewhat in her footsteps.