Lover's Rock
Part I
He's losing her.
A week after they make up (get back together, whatever) she stuffs everything Emily Gilmore ever bought her in garbage bags and takes them to Goodwill. She fills the empty spaces in her closet with thrift store t-shirts, and cotton blouses, and jeans she stole from her mother; one good dress she wears to every function he takes her to. "Honor can take you shopping," he suggests, because they're friends and they did it all the time, before. "That's okay," she says, and laces up a pair of five-year-old shoes.
Two weeks later she's organising her CDs by genre, surrounded by a tangle of Ikea wire racks. The week after that, he comes over and she's gluing the shade on an ugly floral lamp. Soon, he never knows what he'll find when he visits her: Liza from community service peeling a nicotine patch in the kitchen or Lorelai borrowing jewelry; Luke fixing the radiator, or Marty watching Duck Soup, or Lane's band arguing over who has to crash on the floor. Sometimes it takes him a full minute to get through the doorway, forcing himself to fit.
Tonight she's alone, wearing sweats and an old Distillers tee. She's covered the kitchen table in textbooks and an open bag of marshmallows. Her hair is up. Something loud is on the stereo.
"It's Friday night, Ace," he says, sitting across from her.
"I know," she mumbles, scribbling on a notecard.
"So stop working and come out! You're done with your grandparents for the week, midterms aren't for another month—come on! We could meet Finn and Rosemary in New York, it'll be fun."
"I have to study."
"Ace."
"It's ten o'clock, Logan."
"So?"
Her hand freezes for a second, the tip of her pen digging in to the card. When she finally moves it, the period is big and dark. "You know I'm taking a five class load this semester, and I lost time last weekend when I went to Stars Hollow to meet April, and I have to do this so I can graduate on time."
"I know."
"I can't go out like I used to."
"I know, Ace."
"I'm sorry, I just—" She scratches her head, loosening her hair. There's ink on her knuckles. "I'll finish this in a half hour, and then we can do something."
He frowns and shifts in his seat. He nods. "What the hell is this, anyway?"
"The Clash."
"You've never listened to them before."
"I did. I always did."
She turns a page, her brow furrowing and she grabs her phone, shooting off a text message. She fills more notecards, and eats six marshmallows, and he reads two New York Times articles before a reply chimes. A smile flickers on to her face, and an ugly part of him wants to ask who she's talking to because her eyes are never that bright when she talks to Paris or Lane or her mom. She never blushes when she's dealing with Glenn from the Yale Daily News. When she pins her hair behind her ear and reaches for her pen, he swears her hand trembles.
He stands. "Rory, come on."
She makes a note and closes her textbook; she sets down her phone. "There's a video store around the corner. I was thinking a nostalgia tour; Grease, Back to the Future, Almost Famous, Dazed and Confused. And Chinese, I'm craving Kung Pao chicken."
"What?"
She pulls on sheepskin boots and a jacket and a fraying scarf. Grinning, she jingles her keys. "Come on, Huntzberger."
Tomorrow he'll wake up and Doyle will be doing tai chi in the living room. On Wednesday, Zach will drop off an end table and spend an hour arguing the merits of Joan Jett. But today, he follows her.
Oh, guns of Brixton.
Disclaimer
I own nothing.
Author's Note:
This fic is set somewhere between "Balalaikas" and "The Real Paul Anka", and obviously AU. I just wish we got to see Rory becoming herself again. The title is from a Clash song.