GG fic: The Scenic Route 2b/b
Dec. 5th, 2008 02:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
faye_dartmouthprevious parts here
-o-
Time passed slowly, probably for a lot of reason. First of all, she was sitting in a waiting room. It was pretty hard to distract oneself in a waiting room because, well, they were waiting rooms. It was pretty obvious why she was there and the whole concept of a room for waiting made the waiting all the more interminable.
Not to mention the fact that she was babysitting someone else's teenager. Teenagers shouldn't need to be babysat and she certainly had no overwhelming desire to babysit someone else's. She'd waited with her own through various and sundry activities and Clara wasn't a bad kid by any stretch of the imagination, but it was awkward. As they didn't know each other at all. And as Clara was clearly a little nervous, a little restless, and a little snotty, all while being scared out of her mind about her brother.
Which was really the part that made it the worst. Not knowing what the heck was going on with Dean.
How had she ended up here anyway? From Dean's first attempts to date Rory, to his frustrations about Rory's commitment to him, to him falling off the marriage bandwagon, to...this? From his first I love you to Rory to his last I don't belong here, do I, what had happened to him? From the kid destined to community college to a delayed college to a full-ride student? That mixture of pure manliness and uncertain childishness.
And all she'd done was talk with a little too much zeal and now she was trying to psychoanalyze her daughter's very hot, though perhaps damned with low self-esteem, ex-boyfriend.
So involved were her thoughts that she hardly realized that Dean's parents were there until Clara was up and out of her chair. "How's Dean? Can I see him? Is he okay?"
Randy put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Dean's going to be fine," he said. "He's got a bump on his head, but all the scans came back clear. He's got a concussion and they want to keep him overnight for observation, but he's going to be fine."
Clara's face lighted. "So can I see him?"
"Well, he's pretty groggy," her mother said.
"A few minutes would be good for both of them," Randy said.
"Well," May said, sounding reluctant.
"Come on," Randy said, rubbing Clara's arm. "You can help Dean stay awake for a little bit."
Clara smiled, bright and relieved.
"Let's go," Randy said. He looked at his wife. "Just for a few minutes. It can't hurt."
May didn't look so certain, but she didn't protest as her husband led Clara away. The woman looked tired, a little old with it.
"Well," Lorelai said, standing awkwardly. "Glad to hear he's okay."
Looking distractedly down the hallway, May finally turned to her. "Thank you," she said. "For watching Clara. We worry about her immensely these days. Especially with Dean being back."
"Oh," Lorelai said, looking for something to say to that. "Kids her age--they're very impressionable."
"Exactly," she replied. She leaned in a bit. "Dean's my son, and I love him, I do, but I can't figure out sometimes where I went wrong with him. I just want to make sure that Clara ends up on the straight and narrow. Explaining why Dean didn't go to college--"
"He's going now," Lorelai interjected.
"Finally," his mother amended. "And he does seem to be working hard. Pulling off the grades, but there's the rest of it. Trying to make Clara understand why what Dean did was wrong. I'm just so afraid of her getting attached to him again only to see him screw up. I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall. Things have been going so well."
"Well, that's good, right?" Lorelai tried. She wasn't sure what this conversation was about. How she’d ended up defending Dean, defending him to his own mother, the one person who should stand by her son through thick and thin. Rory had disappointed her, that was true, but that had never changed her faith in Rory. Her love of her. The one thing Rory needed above all else was the love and approval of her mother, and Lorelai had made plenty of mistakes in her life, but that had never been one of them. Rory had always known she was loved.
"It is," May conceded. She sighed a little. "I've just watched him screw his life up so often. It's so hard to hold my head up in town, sometimes. They all remember what he did to Lindsay. What he did to himself. Not to mention that stupidity at the diner. And now this."
"This wasn't his fault," Lorelai assured her quickly. Not unless being polite and the victim of surreal circumstance could be blamed on him. Which, at this point, she wasn't so sure.
The other woman smiled benignly. "He said the last time wasn't his fault either," she said.
There was nothing to say to this, nothing Lorelai could say. She hadn't witnessed the last time, and all she knew were the rumors around town. She had to admit, even she hadn't been surprised. A little concerned, of course, because she had liked the kid overall, but given everything...well, it just wasn't surprising. He had made a rather large mess of his life, and she wasn't naive enough to think it was all his fault, but a large part of it was.
But him going to school--that was a good sign, she'd thought. Out of left field, but a good sign. And if things were going as well as Clara said they were...well, then it certainly was unnerving to sit here and listen to his mother pretty much predict doom and gloom for her not-so-little boy.
Kids were kids. They made mistakes. Even Rory--her perfect, precious Rory--had succumbed to more than one youthful indiscretion (as in, stealing a boat). And if what Lorelai had learned about Dean today was any indication, Dean was making every effort to conquer his.
And that, no matter how she looked at it, was noble. It was good. It said something about his character. And why wasn't his mother saying these things to her?
"Well," Lorelai said. "Kids."
May gave a little laugh. "Yeah," she agreed. "Kids. How much easier my life would have been..."
She didn't finish the sentence. Lorelai was glad. Because she was pretty sure that if May had finished the sentence, she would have been forced to bitch-slap the woman. Because no one deserved to have that said about them. Not that most parents didn't think it from time to time, like Lorelai herself hadn't thought it from time to time. But the tone of May’s voice, the look on her face, like Dean was some degenerate beyond all hope, like he'd committed rape and murder and a whole host of other horrific, unforgivable crimes.
And she meant it. She meant it. Like if she could trade Dean in, she would in a heartbeat.
No wonder Dean had self-esteem issues. At this point, the kid was lucky if he wasn't suffering irreparable damage.
"Yeah," Lorelai said. "Damn them for being born. Who'd a thought, right?"
Before May could process what she was saying, Lorelai smiled blandly. "I think I'll just run by and see Dean before I head on out. If you know, you need something, just let me know."
And she walked away, hoping that the woman got the message, but somehow doubting that she would.
-o-
Finding Dean's room wasn't as easy as she thought it should be. Sure room numbers were in, well, numerical order, but it took her about two minutes to realize that she had no idea what room Dean was in. She figured that he was in a regular room by now, but she couldn't be sure. And if he were awake, he wouldn't be in any special kind of ward, would he? And Randy and May, despite their apparent lack of pride in their son, weren't especially concerned, so she hedged her bets and wandered the floor, hoping that no one would stop her and ask her what on earth she was doing. Because she could give them an answer, a long one in fact, but it wasn't one she was sure would get her very far.
But, luck was with her. Finally. After knocking Dean into the path of Kirk's bike and having him pass out cold on her couch, she was finally get the stroke of luck she'd been sorely lacking all day.
The door was ajar and she could sight of his floppy brown hair.
And double her luck. He was alone. Apparently a short visit for Clara was quite short indeed. She could imagine the girl was sulking all the way home. Not that Lorelai could blame her. Her parents treated her like she was five and Clara didn't even have the pathetic look of a five year old going for her like Dean did. Not to mention her parents appeared to be utter asses.
Still, Clara’s misfortune would work to her favor. Lorelai really wanted to check in with Dean by herself. Lingering by the door, she hesitated, feeling suddenly out of place, watching him. More luck going her way--she saw him long before he noticed her. Head injuries perhaps made people vaguely oblivious to their surroundings. But at least he was awake this time. Floppy Dean was not really something she wanted to repeat.
He was propped up in the bed, which was positioned so he was mostly upright. He still sported the IV and there was a nice array of monitors by his side, but they all seemed to be silent. He was in the far bed, but the one closest to the door was vacant, and the curtain between them was mostly open. Sunlight was filtering through the window, falling on Dean, and the kid, for his part, was staring wistfully toward it.
Not really wistful. More sad. Depressed maybe. Trapped.
Okay, he looked downright miserable.
Before, he'd looked pale. He'd looked sick and weak and everything that stirred her maternal instincts full force. But this? This was making Lorelai’s heart break in a whole new way.
Because he looked withdrawn and desolate, a look she recognized all too well—from herself, when she had first moved to Stars Hollow, alone and jobless and pregnant. "Hey," she said, gently, her smile tentative, as if she was afraid of appearing too happy.
His eyes lifted and she saw him visible resolve himself, straightening in the bed and a smile crossing his face. "Hey."
"You're looking better," she offered, moving slowly inside. She'd been in hospital rooms before, but they weren't her favorite places. They ranked up there with cemeteries and Friday nights at her parents' house. "Less, you know, limp and unconscious, which is a hard look for anyone to pull off."
"Yeah, sorry for giving you the scare," he said. "I didn't realize how bad off I was."
She raised her eyebrows. She hadn't been looking for an apology and it really did seem rather ridiculous. Him apologizing for a concussion that he was in no way responsible for. "Oh yeah, since you should feel terrible about sustaining significant head trauma. That was simply terrible of you. I'm not sure I can forgive you. You know, not until you change my water jug fifteen times."
"It's a small price to pay," he said. "And really--I am sorry. They say I sort of passed out on your couch."
"You don't remember?" she inquired.
A hint of blush colored his cheeks and he looked at his hands. "Things are a little fuzzy."
"So you don't remember breaking into song and performing the whole first act of Guys and Dolls?"
His eyes widened slightly. "I'm pretty sure I'd remember that," he said.
"Don't be so sure," she said. "If this whole engineering thing doesn't work out, I think you may have a very good shot a Broadway. Or at least community theater. In an off year."
His lips quirked into a smile. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "And I hope...I mean, I hope I wasn't too much of an imposition."
"Dean!" she said. "Really! Enough with the apologies. You got run over by the only motorized bike in Stars Hollow. Probably in all of Connecticut, for all we know. It's not your fault. It was an accident and you hit your head. You are not responsible for that or for whatever random and crazy things that may have ensued afterwards. If I hadn't tried to play the good nurse to you, then we could have avoided all this entirely."
"You tried to play the good nurse?" Dean asked, surprised. "Really?"
"Hey, I have my moments," she protested.
"You can't even kill a spider."
"First aid skills are not related to arachnids," she pointed out. "Surely a kid with a full ride to U Conn would know that."
He paled at that, his jaw clenching. "How did you know about that?"
She smiled awkwardly. Her cover was blown. She'd held it up for all of thirty seconds. To her credit, Clara hadn't said it was a secret, so therefore there was no breech of trust. She could hope. "Your sister is rather proud of you," she explained. "Your parents had me do a little babysitting while they checked on you and Clara started spilling all your accomplishments."
This time he blushed again, a deep red burning up his neck.
"You know, most people are proud of that kind of thing," she noted pointedly. "And yet you act like it's some awful secret that must be kept under wraps."
He shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly. "It just doesn't seem like that big of deal."
"That big of deal?" she asked, incredulous. "That big of deal? Dean, what do you think is a big deal. I mean, what, you're waiting to win a Nobel before you let people in town know about what you're doing?"
"Well, it's not like it's their business," Dean said. "And I've made the town gossip in enough ways; no sense in keep trying to make it."
Ah. There it was. The hurt behind it all. She should have guessed, because it was pretty obvious in retrospect. The kid had always been sensitive in that way, not that he liked to show it, but he cared about doing the right thing. He'd always tried to do right by Rory--tried, anyway. And all of that respectability, all that dependability--well, it kind of went by the wayside when he got married far, far too young and then abandoned those vows before they even had a chance to mean something.
She'd always suspected that his own guilt was part of the reason he'd never made it work with Rory. Rory's Ivy League ways were certainly part of the problem, even if Rory hadn’t been ready to see that, but the kid had been too weighed down with his own failures to be able to make it work. He didn't believe he deserved Rory or happiness or anything--no more than Luke had, no more than her own parents had. Dean was his own worst enemy, and Lorelai hadn't realized just how pervasive it'd been until now.
Because it was years later. Rory had grown and changed. Dean had grown and changed. Yet, when he was confronted with his past, when he was in this town, his self-esteem plummeted to near non-existent levels. That accounted for the kicked puppy look. It accounted for his sudden desire to keep all his success a secret. The kid still didn't believe he deserved anything.
"Aw, come on, Dean," she said, keeping her voice light. "You know people like good news as much as they do bad news. In Stars Hollow, anyway. I mean, why else would people still be talking about Miss Patty's award winning pie venture?"
"Because she won't let anyone forget about it."
"True," Lorelai said. "But you don't think it's worth a try?"
He sighed a little. "I keep thinking it'll get better," he admitted finally. "Like this will all get easier. Because when I'm at school, it's different. I'm different. I get to be someone else. I get a fresh start. But every time I come back home, every time I even talk to my parents, it's like I go back to being that same screw up I was back then. It's been nearly four years, and I still feel like I can feel Lindsay's ring around my finger and Rory's hands in my hair. I can't escape it, no matter what I do."
She sank down to the chair beside his bed. There was truth to that. About how people didn't forget and even more rarely forgave. Stars Hollow was many things, but a great place to fall from grace wasn't among them. Because everyone knew about everything--and no one wanted to let it go. Apparently not even parents. "Hey, that's just Stars Hollow. It doesn't mean anything. We exist in a microcosm here, you know? And they don't know the real you. They don't know about what you've managed to do."
He glanced up at her, just for a moment, and his eyes were sad. "I don't deserve it," he said. "Their forgiveness. A second chance. Coming back here, suffering the stares, the gossip. It's like a penance, you know? I keep thinking that if I live it long enough then maybe that'll make it right."
"Dean, you're clinging to your scarlet A like it's going to make things better," she said. "It didn't work for Hester. It's not going to work for you."
"Living without it didn't work for Dimmesdale either," Dean said with a strangled laugh.
"Yeah, well, your mistakes didn't spawn a demon child either," she countered. "You've paid your dues, Dean. It's time to forgive yourself. If you want to let the whole town believe you're a screw up, that's one thing. But it's about time you started believing something better for yourself. You've got a good thing going for you, and it's not just Stars Hollow that's the problem. It's the fact that you can't let it go."
He was looking at her through half-veiled eyes, his head turned a little away defensively, but his eyes drawn to her in hope. The five year old was back--in full force. But this time it was just hurt and dejection of a child swatted on the butt and told to learn their merry business. This time it was almost hopeful, but almost afraid to be. "Lorelai," he said finally. "You're not...mad at me?"
It was a question she'd clearly thought about for herself ever since the whole marriage debacle. She'd put it well enough aside while he and Rory had given it another go, but she couldn't deny the lingering feelings of distrust she'd felt for the kid. Even now, all these years later, she could still see him, out of breath in her kitchen, looking guilty as hell. She could see Rory's bed, hear Rory's excuses, and yeah, that made it hard to take. She wasn't a conventional mother in many senses, but ever the most lenient mothers would have issues with Dean Forester.
But...it'd been Rory's excuses as much as his. It'd been her choice as much as his. Lorelai didn't know the details, but she didn't have to. She knew that Dean had been unhappy and that Rory had been lonely. Rory's slightest inclination, and Dean had always, always loved her. Didn't make it right. Didn't make Lorelai feel better about it. But it was human.
And really, looking at Dean now, he wasn't that kid. Wasn't even the kid who’d watched videos with them. He wasn't the kid who went with Rory to bookstores for hours on end. Wasn't the kid who would rearrange his entire schedule to see Rory. Wasn't the kid who got married too young and divorced too soon. It wasn't him. This was...different. He was different.
"Dean," she began. "I've probably been mad at you a few times over the years. What happened with you and Rory...I don't even know anymore. But it doesn't matter. Rory moved on. She grew up. She learned. And even with all of it and how much of it I wish hadn’t happened, you knowing her gave her more good than bad. More than she'll ever know. And I'll always be grateful of that."
"But I--"
She sighed. "Dean, really. You were just a kid. No matter what happened then, no matter how anyone feels about it, it's not unforgivable, you know? I don't think people lord it over you as much as you think they do. They just see you, sad and withdrawn, and figure that's why. That you haven't gotten over it. You remind people of it because you think you deserve it. No one deserves that. Well, maybe some people, but not most people. Especially not you."
He was looking down again, his shoulders almost painfully hunched. It was remarkable how a guy so ridiculous big as he was could make himself look so small. Could revert to that five year old at a moment's notice. He was hearing her, listening to her, but she could see that he wasn't quite willing to believe it yet.
"You know," she continued, a little tentative. "I understand this better than you think."
Dean snorted a little at that. "You lost your first love and then cheated on your spouse and didn't get the one thing you wanted anyway?"
"Well, obviously not exactly that," she conceded. "But I don't know if you've done the math recently, but just how do you think Rory came into this world?"
He finally looked up, a little startled. "Well I assumed, you know, a man and a woman..."
"Ah, indeed," Lorelai said. "But consider the ages. I mean, I know at this point you probably still see people over 30 as all the same age--old, but I'm not nearly as old as I should be."
"I always figured you had a really good skin care secrets," Dean said.
"Ha! I wish!" Lorelai said. "It's all headed downhill pretty fast, but the fact that I'm about eight years younger than all of Rory's classmates also kind of gives me an edge."
Dean sighed. "You told me once you were sixteen."
"Yep," Lorelai said. "I was barely able to drive legally when I had Rory."
He'd already known it of course, but it seemed like he thought about it for the first time. What it meant. And not even the inherent gentleman in him could hide it. "Sixteen years old. Still in high school. You can imagine just how thrilled my parents were with that one."
The kid looked a little awed at that. "They didn't even like me for not having concrete college plans."
"I know," Lorelai said emphatically. "I tried living with them for awhile. You know, being a kid and all, it's not like I had a lot of other recourses. But it was impossible. The way they looked at me. The comments. It was like every time I turned around, there they were, just looking at me. Judging me. Sometimes I still feel that way. Like I'll never live up to anything in their eyes."
His face softened. "You get along with them now."
"Now, sort of. Sometimes, anyway. I mean, it's never going to be perfect, and I ran to Stars Hollow to get away from them. Because it seemed like, if I stayed there, I would be nothing but their problem child. But here, in Stars Hollow, I didn't have to be. I could be someone else and people wouldn't just see the screwed up Gilmore girl. They'd see me, which in some ways isn't always much better, as you can imagine."
Dean smiled at that, shyly, ducking his head back down. "I can't imagine anyone truly thinking poorly of you. Maybe exasperated with you from time to time, but never poorly."
Very diplomatic of him, she had to hand him that. Not that it surprised it. It was so typically Dean. "And that's what makes you a gentleman," she said. "And the point of this story, believe it or not, isn't about me, no matter how self-centered it may have seemed. It's about the fact that I get what it's like to try to get over something. I get what it's like to feel the stares. And I also get what it's like to let go and start over. I'm able to walk into my parents’ house now and I don't like it always, but I'm able to look them squarely in the face and feel like I have a place there. Because one mistake didn’t ruin me for life. And it doesn't ruin you, either. Hold your head up high and face the world. Or, rather, Stars Hollow. They'll all come around and forget it when you do."
His smile faded, a little sad. He had that look, that look that he knew she was right, but that it was just so hard to accept. Which was, she remembered, part of the process. The self-doubt, trying to pull yourself inward to insulate yourself. Becoming an emotional Eskimo because that was the only way to protect yourself. It was also the only way to keep yourself from living. And it wasn't like she had it all figured out. Because she may be alone and she may not really be sure how her story was going to end up, but she knew that she'd be okay. And she didn't owe anything to anybody and if she wanted to be a dirty old woman, then the critics be damned.
But she was older, maybe not an old woman quite yet, but experienced. She'd had time to grow and learn and put her past behind her where it belonged.
Dean was only 25 and he hadn't had a chance to get away, not long enough to make it last, anyway. He was still controlled by expectation. Loyal and dependable to the end, this kid was, even when the people around him used that dependability to make him the town screw-up for the rest of his life.
He lifted his eyes again. "Thanks," he said. "I mean, for everything."
She had to smile. His thanks was genuine, even if he wasn't ready to accept everything she said. But she couldn't change that, no more than she could change Rory's decisions or the town's perceptions. "No problem," she said. "I'm always looking for a little excitement in my life, and you passing out certainly qualifies for that. Plus, I'm sure I'll have spectacular stories to tell. I'll be the star at the diner all week. Don't worry, though, I'll leave out your Broadway tryout. I'd hate to ruin your macho image that you're so clearly working these days."
A flush once again raced up his cheeks. "I can't believe you had to see me like that."
"Oh, I've seen much worse," Lorelai promised him. "Though, seriously, what workout are you doing to get your chest like that?"
This made the flush overtake his entire face, which she took real pleasure in.
"Aw, don't worry, Dean," she said. "I was just appreciating the scenery. There's a silver lining in every situation."
"And what is it for me?"
She smiled brightly, cocking her head. "Getting to reconnect with me, of course," she said. "Which, I mean, by the way. I know things are, well, weird between us with what happened. But there's no reason to be a stranger, okay? I mean, I don't want you to pass out on my couch every day, but if you walk by again, you don't need to linger on the sidewalk. The house is much safer."
"True," Dean said. "And I've had quite enough of hospitals for the time being."
"But it's like your summer vacation thing," Lorelai cajoled. "The weather gets warm, Dean Forester needs a trip to the hospital to keep him sane. Or insane. Whichever you prefer."
This brought out a real smile, dimpled and all, which was what she'd been going for. "Yeah," he said. "Let's just hope it's at least a year before I end up back here."
"You think maybe they'll give you a frequent user card? You know, like so many visits and you get stitches for free? Or maybe a free surgery of your choice. And if I were you, I'd pick the appendix. Those damn little organs, no good for anything."
"I'm rather anti-gall bladder," Dean said. "From what I've heard, you can live quite well without one of those."
"Good choice," Lorelai said. She rubbed her hands on her thigh and stood up. "And I think I'll go before the nurses come to offer you a sponge bath. I mean, I'm sure that'd be a very fun thing and all, but I already feel dirty enough as it is, so I'll spare us both that immodesty."
It was just too easy to make him blush; if anything, he'd become more respectful and dutiful since his teenaged years. "Thanks, Lorelai."
It wasn't just a thanks for stopping by or a thanks for bothering with me or even thanks for picking me up off the ground. But it was a thanks for caring, for seeing something else. "Hey, anytime," she said lightly. "I'll see you?"
"Yeah," he said, stronger now, and she believed him. "We'll see each other."
She gave him one more smile, one more once over, taking in the long hair, the bulky build of his body in the bed, the weariness on his face that made him look far, far too old. And all she could think was how much he'd grown up, how well he'd grown up, and if other people couldn't see it, that was their fault.
Then she turned on her heel and made her way out into the hallway, and couldn't help but wonder why it'd taken her so long to see it.
No, why it'd taken her so long to care.
Well, maybe Dean wasn't the only one taking the scenic route in Stars Hollow. Lorelai was just glad that he was getting there in the end and that maybe she was, too.
-o-
Time passed slowly, probably for a lot of reason. First of all, she was sitting in a waiting room. It was pretty hard to distract oneself in a waiting room because, well, they were waiting rooms. It was pretty obvious why she was there and the whole concept of a room for waiting made the waiting all the more interminable.
Not to mention the fact that she was babysitting someone else's teenager. Teenagers shouldn't need to be babysat and she certainly had no overwhelming desire to babysit someone else's. She'd waited with her own through various and sundry activities and Clara wasn't a bad kid by any stretch of the imagination, but it was awkward. As they didn't know each other at all. And as Clara was clearly a little nervous, a little restless, and a little snotty, all while being scared out of her mind about her brother.
Which was really the part that made it the worst. Not knowing what the heck was going on with Dean.
How had she ended up here anyway? From Dean's first attempts to date Rory, to his frustrations about Rory's commitment to him, to him falling off the marriage bandwagon, to...this? From his first I love you to Rory to his last I don't belong here, do I, what had happened to him? From the kid destined to community college to a delayed college to a full-ride student? That mixture of pure manliness and uncertain childishness.
And all she'd done was talk with a little too much zeal and now she was trying to psychoanalyze her daughter's very hot, though perhaps damned with low self-esteem, ex-boyfriend.
So involved were her thoughts that she hardly realized that Dean's parents were there until Clara was up and out of her chair. "How's Dean? Can I see him? Is he okay?"
Randy put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Dean's going to be fine," he said. "He's got a bump on his head, but all the scans came back clear. He's got a concussion and they want to keep him overnight for observation, but he's going to be fine."
Clara's face lighted. "So can I see him?"
"Well, he's pretty groggy," her mother said.
"A few minutes would be good for both of them," Randy said.
"Well," May said, sounding reluctant.
"Come on," Randy said, rubbing Clara's arm. "You can help Dean stay awake for a little bit."
Clara smiled, bright and relieved.
"Let's go," Randy said. He looked at his wife. "Just for a few minutes. It can't hurt."
May didn't look so certain, but she didn't protest as her husband led Clara away. The woman looked tired, a little old with it.
"Well," Lorelai said, standing awkwardly. "Glad to hear he's okay."
Looking distractedly down the hallway, May finally turned to her. "Thank you," she said. "For watching Clara. We worry about her immensely these days. Especially with Dean being back."
"Oh," Lorelai said, looking for something to say to that. "Kids her age--they're very impressionable."
"Exactly," she replied. She leaned in a bit. "Dean's my son, and I love him, I do, but I can't figure out sometimes where I went wrong with him. I just want to make sure that Clara ends up on the straight and narrow. Explaining why Dean didn't go to college--"
"He's going now," Lorelai interjected.
"Finally," his mother amended. "And he does seem to be working hard. Pulling off the grades, but there's the rest of it. Trying to make Clara understand why what Dean did was wrong. I'm just so afraid of her getting attached to him again only to see him screw up. I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall. Things have been going so well."
"Well, that's good, right?" Lorelai tried. She wasn't sure what this conversation was about. How she’d ended up defending Dean, defending him to his own mother, the one person who should stand by her son through thick and thin. Rory had disappointed her, that was true, but that had never changed her faith in Rory. Her love of her. The one thing Rory needed above all else was the love and approval of her mother, and Lorelai had made plenty of mistakes in her life, but that had never been one of them. Rory had always known she was loved.
"It is," May conceded. She sighed a little. "I've just watched him screw his life up so often. It's so hard to hold my head up in town, sometimes. They all remember what he did to Lindsay. What he did to himself. Not to mention that stupidity at the diner. And now this."
"This wasn't his fault," Lorelai assured her quickly. Not unless being polite and the victim of surreal circumstance could be blamed on him. Which, at this point, she wasn't so sure.
The other woman smiled benignly. "He said the last time wasn't his fault either," she said.
There was nothing to say to this, nothing Lorelai could say. She hadn't witnessed the last time, and all she knew were the rumors around town. She had to admit, even she hadn't been surprised. A little concerned, of course, because she had liked the kid overall, but given everything...well, it just wasn't surprising. He had made a rather large mess of his life, and she wasn't naive enough to think it was all his fault, but a large part of it was.
But him going to school--that was a good sign, she'd thought. Out of left field, but a good sign. And if things were going as well as Clara said they were...well, then it certainly was unnerving to sit here and listen to his mother pretty much predict doom and gloom for her not-so-little boy.
Kids were kids. They made mistakes. Even Rory--her perfect, precious Rory--had succumbed to more than one youthful indiscretion (as in, stealing a boat). And if what Lorelai had learned about Dean today was any indication, Dean was making every effort to conquer his.
And that, no matter how she looked at it, was noble. It was good. It said something about his character. And why wasn't his mother saying these things to her?
"Well," Lorelai said. "Kids."
May gave a little laugh. "Yeah," she agreed. "Kids. How much easier my life would have been..."
She didn't finish the sentence. Lorelai was glad. Because she was pretty sure that if May had finished the sentence, she would have been forced to bitch-slap the woman. Because no one deserved to have that said about them. Not that most parents didn't think it from time to time, like Lorelai herself hadn't thought it from time to time. But the tone of May’s voice, the look on her face, like Dean was some degenerate beyond all hope, like he'd committed rape and murder and a whole host of other horrific, unforgivable crimes.
And she meant it. She meant it. Like if she could trade Dean in, she would in a heartbeat.
No wonder Dean had self-esteem issues. At this point, the kid was lucky if he wasn't suffering irreparable damage.
"Yeah," Lorelai said. "Damn them for being born. Who'd a thought, right?"
Before May could process what she was saying, Lorelai smiled blandly. "I think I'll just run by and see Dean before I head on out. If you know, you need something, just let me know."
And she walked away, hoping that the woman got the message, but somehow doubting that she would.
-o-
Finding Dean's room wasn't as easy as she thought it should be. Sure room numbers were in, well, numerical order, but it took her about two minutes to realize that she had no idea what room Dean was in. She figured that he was in a regular room by now, but she couldn't be sure. And if he were awake, he wouldn't be in any special kind of ward, would he? And Randy and May, despite their apparent lack of pride in their son, weren't especially concerned, so she hedged her bets and wandered the floor, hoping that no one would stop her and ask her what on earth she was doing. Because she could give them an answer, a long one in fact, but it wasn't one she was sure would get her very far.
But, luck was with her. Finally. After knocking Dean into the path of Kirk's bike and having him pass out cold on her couch, she was finally get the stroke of luck she'd been sorely lacking all day.
The door was ajar and she could sight of his floppy brown hair.
And double her luck. He was alone. Apparently a short visit for Clara was quite short indeed. She could imagine the girl was sulking all the way home. Not that Lorelai could blame her. Her parents treated her like she was five and Clara didn't even have the pathetic look of a five year old going for her like Dean did. Not to mention her parents appeared to be utter asses.
Still, Clara’s misfortune would work to her favor. Lorelai really wanted to check in with Dean by herself. Lingering by the door, she hesitated, feeling suddenly out of place, watching him. More luck going her way--she saw him long before he noticed her. Head injuries perhaps made people vaguely oblivious to their surroundings. But at least he was awake this time. Floppy Dean was not really something she wanted to repeat.
He was propped up in the bed, which was positioned so he was mostly upright. He still sported the IV and there was a nice array of monitors by his side, but they all seemed to be silent. He was in the far bed, but the one closest to the door was vacant, and the curtain between them was mostly open. Sunlight was filtering through the window, falling on Dean, and the kid, for his part, was staring wistfully toward it.
Not really wistful. More sad. Depressed maybe. Trapped.
Okay, he looked downright miserable.
Before, he'd looked pale. He'd looked sick and weak and everything that stirred her maternal instincts full force. But this? This was making Lorelai’s heart break in a whole new way.
Because he looked withdrawn and desolate, a look she recognized all too well—from herself, when she had first moved to Stars Hollow, alone and jobless and pregnant. "Hey," she said, gently, her smile tentative, as if she was afraid of appearing too happy.
His eyes lifted and she saw him visible resolve himself, straightening in the bed and a smile crossing his face. "Hey."
"You're looking better," she offered, moving slowly inside. She'd been in hospital rooms before, but they weren't her favorite places. They ranked up there with cemeteries and Friday nights at her parents' house. "Less, you know, limp and unconscious, which is a hard look for anyone to pull off."
"Yeah, sorry for giving you the scare," he said. "I didn't realize how bad off I was."
She raised her eyebrows. She hadn't been looking for an apology and it really did seem rather ridiculous. Him apologizing for a concussion that he was in no way responsible for. "Oh yeah, since you should feel terrible about sustaining significant head trauma. That was simply terrible of you. I'm not sure I can forgive you. You know, not until you change my water jug fifteen times."
"It's a small price to pay," he said. "And really--I am sorry. They say I sort of passed out on your couch."
"You don't remember?" she inquired.
A hint of blush colored his cheeks and he looked at his hands. "Things are a little fuzzy."
"So you don't remember breaking into song and performing the whole first act of Guys and Dolls?"
His eyes widened slightly. "I'm pretty sure I'd remember that," he said.
"Don't be so sure," she said. "If this whole engineering thing doesn't work out, I think you may have a very good shot a Broadway. Or at least community theater. In an off year."
His lips quirked into a smile. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "And I hope...I mean, I hope I wasn't too much of an imposition."
"Dean!" she said. "Really! Enough with the apologies. You got run over by the only motorized bike in Stars Hollow. Probably in all of Connecticut, for all we know. It's not your fault. It was an accident and you hit your head. You are not responsible for that or for whatever random and crazy things that may have ensued afterwards. If I hadn't tried to play the good nurse to you, then we could have avoided all this entirely."
"You tried to play the good nurse?" Dean asked, surprised. "Really?"
"Hey, I have my moments," she protested.
"You can't even kill a spider."
"First aid skills are not related to arachnids," she pointed out. "Surely a kid with a full ride to U Conn would know that."
He paled at that, his jaw clenching. "How did you know about that?"
She smiled awkwardly. Her cover was blown. She'd held it up for all of thirty seconds. To her credit, Clara hadn't said it was a secret, so therefore there was no breech of trust. She could hope. "Your sister is rather proud of you," she explained. "Your parents had me do a little babysitting while they checked on you and Clara started spilling all your accomplishments."
This time he blushed again, a deep red burning up his neck.
"You know, most people are proud of that kind of thing," she noted pointedly. "And yet you act like it's some awful secret that must be kept under wraps."
He shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly. "It just doesn't seem like that big of deal."
"That big of deal?" she asked, incredulous. "That big of deal? Dean, what do you think is a big deal. I mean, what, you're waiting to win a Nobel before you let people in town know about what you're doing?"
"Well, it's not like it's their business," Dean said. "And I've made the town gossip in enough ways; no sense in keep trying to make it."
Ah. There it was. The hurt behind it all. She should have guessed, because it was pretty obvious in retrospect. The kid had always been sensitive in that way, not that he liked to show it, but he cared about doing the right thing. He'd always tried to do right by Rory--tried, anyway. And all of that respectability, all that dependability--well, it kind of went by the wayside when he got married far, far too young and then abandoned those vows before they even had a chance to mean something.
She'd always suspected that his own guilt was part of the reason he'd never made it work with Rory. Rory's Ivy League ways were certainly part of the problem, even if Rory hadn’t been ready to see that, but the kid had been too weighed down with his own failures to be able to make it work. He didn't believe he deserved Rory or happiness or anything--no more than Luke had, no more than her own parents had. Dean was his own worst enemy, and Lorelai hadn't realized just how pervasive it'd been until now.
Because it was years later. Rory had grown and changed. Dean had grown and changed. Yet, when he was confronted with his past, when he was in this town, his self-esteem plummeted to near non-existent levels. That accounted for the kicked puppy look. It accounted for his sudden desire to keep all his success a secret. The kid still didn't believe he deserved anything.
"Aw, come on, Dean," she said, keeping her voice light. "You know people like good news as much as they do bad news. In Stars Hollow, anyway. I mean, why else would people still be talking about Miss Patty's award winning pie venture?"
"Because she won't let anyone forget about it."
"True," Lorelai said. "But you don't think it's worth a try?"
He sighed a little. "I keep thinking it'll get better," he admitted finally. "Like this will all get easier. Because when I'm at school, it's different. I'm different. I get to be someone else. I get a fresh start. But every time I come back home, every time I even talk to my parents, it's like I go back to being that same screw up I was back then. It's been nearly four years, and I still feel like I can feel Lindsay's ring around my finger and Rory's hands in my hair. I can't escape it, no matter what I do."
She sank down to the chair beside his bed. There was truth to that. About how people didn't forget and even more rarely forgave. Stars Hollow was many things, but a great place to fall from grace wasn't among them. Because everyone knew about everything--and no one wanted to let it go. Apparently not even parents. "Hey, that's just Stars Hollow. It doesn't mean anything. We exist in a microcosm here, you know? And they don't know the real you. They don't know about what you've managed to do."
He glanced up at her, just for a moment, and his eyes were sad. "I don't deserve it," he said. "Their forgiveness. A second chance. Coming back here, suffering the stares, the gossip. It's like a penance, you know? I keep thinking that if I live it long enough then maybe that'll make it right."
"Dean, you're clinging to your scarlet A like it's going to make things better," she said. "It didn't work for Hester. It's not going to work for you."
"Living without it didn't work for Dimmesdale either," Dean said with a strangled laugh.
"Yeah, well, your mistakes didn't spawn a demon child either," she countered. "You've paid your dues, Dean. It's time to forgive yourself. If you want to let the whole town believe you're a screw up, that's one thing. But it's about time you started believing something better for yourself. You've got a good thing going for you, and it's not just Stars Hollow that's the problem. It's the fact that you can't let it go."
He was looking at her through half-veiled eyes, his head turned a little away defensively, but his eyes drawn to her in hope. The five year old was back--in full force. But this time it was just hurt and dejection of a child swatted on the butt and told to learn their merry business. This time it was almost hopeful, but almost afraid to be. "Lorelai," he said finally. "You're not...mad at me?"
It was a question she'd clearly thought about for herself ever since the whole marriage debacle. She'd put it well enough aside while he and Rory had given it another go, but she couldn't deny the lingering feelings of distrust she'd felt for the kid. Even now, all these years later, she could still see him, out of breath in her kitchen, looking guilty as hell. She could see Rory's bed, hear Rory's excuses, and yeah, that made it hard to take. She wasn't a conventional mother in many senses, but ever the most lenient mothers would have issues with Dean Forester.
But...it'd been Rory's excuses as much as his. It'd been her choice as much as his. Lorelai didn't know the details, but she didn't have to. She knew that Dean had been unhappy and that Rory had been lonely. Rory's slightest inclination, and Dean had always, always loved her. Didn't make it right. Didn't make Lorelai feel better about it. But it was human.
And really, looking at Dean now, he wasn't that kid. Wasn't even the kid who’d watched videos with them. He wasn't the kid who went with Rory to bookstores for hours on end. Wasn't the kid who would rearrange his entire schedule to see Rory. Wasn't the kid who got married too young and divorced too soon. It wasn't him. This was...different. He was different.
"Dean," she began. "I've probably been mad at you a few times over the years. What happened with you and Rory...I don't even know anymore. But it doesn't matter. Rory moved on. She grew up. She learned. And even with all of it and how much of it I wish hadn’t happened, you knowing her gave her more good than bad. More than she'll ever know. And I'll always be grateful of that."
"But I--"
She sighed. "Dean, really. You were just a kid. No matter what happened then, no matter how anyone feels about it, it's not unforgivable, you know? I don't think people lord it over you as much as you think they do. They just see you, sad and withdrawn, and figure that's why. That you haven't gotten over it. You remind people of it because you think you deserve it. No one deserves that. Well, maybe some people, but not most people. Especially not you."
He was looking down again, his shoulders almost painfully hunched. It was remarkable how a guy so ridiculous big as he was could make himself look so small. Could revert to that five year old at a moment's notice. He was hearing her, listening to her, but she could see that he wasn't quite willing to believe it yet.
"You know," she continued, a little tentative. "I understand this better than you think."
Dean snorted a little at that. "You lost your first love and then cheated on your spouse and didn't get the one thing you wanted anyway?"
"Well, obviously not exactly that," she conceded. "But I don't know if you've done the math recently, but just how do you think Rory came into this world?"
He finally looked up, a little startled. "Well I assumed, you know, a man and a woman..."
"Ah, indeed," Lorelai said. "But consider the ages. I mean, I know at this point you probably still see people over 30 as all the same age--old, but I'm not nearly as old as I should be."
"I always figured you had a really good skin care secrets," Dean said.
"Ha! I wish!" Lorelai said. "It's all headed downhill pretty fast, but the fact that I'm about eight years younger than all of Rory's classmates also kind of gives me an edge."
Dean sighed. "You told me once you were sixteen."
"Yep," Lorelai said. "I was barely able to drive legally when I had Rory."
He'd already known it of course, but it seemed like he thought about it for the first time. What it meant. And not even the inherent gentleman in him could hide it. "Sixteen years old. Still in high school. You can imagine just how thrilled my parents were with that one."
The kid looked a little awed at that. "They didn't even like me for not having concrete college plans."
"I know," Lorelai said emphatically. "I tried living with them for awhile. You know, being a kid and all, it's not like I had a lot of other recourses. But it was impossible. The way they looked at me. The comments. It was like every time I turned around, there they were, just looking at me. Judging me. Sometimes I still feel that way. Like I'll never live up to anything in their eyes."
His face softened. "You get along with them now."
"Now, sort of. Sometimes, anyway. I mean, it's never going to be perfect, and I ran to Stars Hollow to get away from them. Because it seemed like, if I stayed there, I would be nothing but their problem child. But here, in Stars Hollow, I didn't have to be. I could be someone else and people wouldn't just see the screwed up Gilmore girl. They'd see me, which in some ways isn't always much better, as you can imagine."
Dean smiled at that, shyly, ducking his head back down. "I can't imagine anyone truly thinking poorly of you. Maybe exasperated with you from time to time, but never poorly."
Very diplomatic of him, she had to hand him that. Not that it surprised it. It was so typically Dean. "And that's what makes you a gentleman," she said. "And the point of this story, believe it or not, isn't about me, no matter how self-centered it may have seemed. It's about the fact that I get what it's like to try to get over something. I get what it's like to feel the stares. And I also get what it's like to let go and start over. I'm able to walk into my parents’ house now and I don't like it always, but I'm able to look them squarely in the face and feel like I have a place there. Because one mistake didn’t ruin me for life. And it doesn't ruin you, either. Hold your head up high and face the world. Or, rather, Stars Hollow. They'll all come around and forget it when you do."
His smile faded, a little sad. He had that look, that look that he knew she was right, but that it was just so hard to accept. Which was, she remembered, part of the process. The self-doubt, trying to pull yourself inward to insulate yourself. Becoming an emotional Eskimo because that was the only way to protect yourself. It was also the only way to keep yourself from living. And it wasn't like she had it all figured out. Because she may be alone and she may not really be sure how her story was going to end up, but she knew that she'd be okay. And she didn't owe anything to anybody and if she wanted to be a dirty old woman, then the critics be damned.
But she was older, maybe not an old woman quite yet, but experienced. She'd had time to grow and learn and put her past behind her where it belonged.
Dean was only 25 and he hadn't had a chance to get away, not long enough to make it last, anyway. He was still controlled by expectation. Loyal and dependable to the end, this kid was, even when the people around him used that dependability to make him the town screw-up for the rest of his life.
He lifted his eyes again. "Thanks," he said. "I mean, for everything."
She had to smile. His thanks was genuine, even if he wasn't ready to accept everything she said. But she couldn't change that, no more than she could change Rory's decisions or the town's perceptions. "No problem," she said. "I'm always looking for a little excitement in my life, and you passing out certainly qualifies for that. Plus, I'm sure I'll have spectacular stories to tell. I'll be the star at the diner all week. Don't worry, though, I'll leave out your Broadway tryout. I'd hate to ruin your macho image that you're so clearly working these days."
A flush once again raced up his cheeks. "I can't believe you had to see me like that."
"Oh, I've seen much worse," Lorelai promised him. "Though, seriously, what workout are you doing to get your chest like that?"
This made the flush overtake his entire face, which she took real pleasure in.
"Aw, don't worry, Dean," she said. "I was just appreciating the scenery. There's a silver lining in every situation."
"And what is it for me?"
She smiled brightly, cocking her head. "Getting to reconnect with me, of course," she said. "Which, I mean, by the way. I know things are, well, weird between us with what happened. But there's no reason to be a stranger, okay? I mean, I don't want you to pass out on my couch every day, but if you walk by again, you don't need to linger on the sidewalk. The house is much safer."
"True," Dean said. "And I've had quite enough of hospitals for the time being."
"But it's like your summer vacation thing," Lorelai cajoled. "The weather gets warm, Dean Forester needs a trip to the hospital to keep him sane. Or insane. Whichever you prefer."
This brought out a real smile, dimpled and all, which was what she'd been going for. "Yeah," he said. "Let's just hope it's at least a year before I end up back here."
"You think maybe they'll give you a frequent user card? You know, like so many visits and you get stitches for free? Or maybe a free surgery of your choice. And if I were you, I'd pick the appendix. Those damn little organs, no good for anything."
"I'm rather anti-gall bladder," Dean said. "From what I've heard, you can live quite well without one of those."
"Good choice," Lorelai said. She rubbed her hands on her thigh and stood up. "And I think I'll go before the nurses come to offer you a sponge bath. I mean, I'm sure that'd be a very fun thing and all, but I already feel dirty enough as it is, so I'll spare us both that immodesty."
It was just too easy to make him blush; if anything, he'd become more respectful and dutiful since his teenaged years. "Thanks, Lorelai."
It wasn't just a thanks for stopping by or a thanks for bothering with me or even thanks for picking me up off the ground. But it was a thanks for caring, for seeing something else. "Hey, anytime," she said lightly. "I'll see you?"
"Yeah," he said, stronger now, and she believed him. "We'll see each other."
She gave him one more smile, one more once over, taking in the long hair, the bulky build of his body in the bed, the weariness on his face that made him look far, far too old. And all she could think was how much he'd grown up, how well he'd grown up, and if other people couldn't see it, that was their fault.
Then she turned on her heel and made her way out into the hallway, and couldn't help but wonder why it'd taken her so long to see it.
No, why it'd taken her so long to care.
Well, maybe Dean wasn't the only one taking the scenic route in Stars Hollow. Lorelai was just glad that he was getting there in the end and that maybe she was, too.
