Disclaimer: I own nothing. It is all Amy Sherman-Palladino.
Howl
She cried that night. Who could blame her? Graduating from Yale was suppose to be her crowning achievement, yet she felt like her heart was so heavy that she was drowning. Her grandmother couldn't understand why she would turn down being a Huntzberger, but that was her grandmother for her. She knew Lorelai was right when she alluded to the fact that there would always impasses between them and her grandparents.
She wanted to talk to him. They spent so much time each day talking, texting, and leaving cute messages for each other that it was embedded in her routine and even instinct. Every time she picked up the phone she had to stop herself from accidentally dialing his number. When the call came for her to be on the most talked about campaign trail… her heart broke into so many pieces. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to share her excitement, her joy, and her fears, but most of all to thank him for supporting her. It was then she realized. It was not Logan who had pushed her back to Yale. It was NOT Logan who kept her writing. Only one person had ever given her the push, the inspiration to keep going, but she had thrown it all back into his face.
After her amazing party in the rain and the morning after at Luke's, she was off to see the world. She said her final goodbyes and boarded the bus. She found a good seat that wasn't too drafty and settle down with a good book. As typical to her fashion, she had several books ready to go in her bag. She had her fiction (Ayn Rand), a biographical (Henry VIII), and the smallest book in her bag, Howl by Allen Ginsberg. She opened Howl to the first page, and that is when the tears started to come down. She could see the attitude filled letters of his writing in the margins. She knew she shouldn't be angry or sad, but yet it plagued her. How many times did he break my heart? She thought. She put the book away and pick up Rand. Once again, she was hit with the heartbreak she felt before. This was book she had begged him to read. This was the book that was the cause of her ever having to reading Hemmingway.
She stared out the window, as the bus began to move. The thoughts began the flow as the countryside came into view. I just broke up with Logan. What I am I thinking? He would just blame me for loving Logan, and just crawling back to him, because Logan doesn't want me. He told me that he would hurt me… but I didn't listen.
It wasn't long until the bus reached her first stop. She was to unpack and report for her first day as a reporter in only two hours. She quickly picked up her keys, found her room, and began to unpack. As she pulled out her books, clothes, and other necessities, she spied upon two white words on a black binding "Truncheon Books", tucked away in an unused pocket. She had no idea how that book made it into her bag. Did she subconsciously put it in there? She wondered then sighed. She did not have time for this right now.
She left the book there, and proceeded to clean up and change. She made her way to the reporter's area and waited for all it to begin. Her mind drifted Logan. She wondered what he was doing right now. How the weather in San Francisco must be like. Just as that thought crossed her mind, she remembered Jess and the first time they met. He was punk ass of a teenager with no respect for anyone. He even stole her book, she fumed, but yet, even then she wasn't mad…instead she had dubbed him "Dodger." As the introductions were made and the speeches begun, she put all her effort into focusing on her job. It would do her no good to be fired on the first day of her job. She asked as many questions as she could, and look forward to writing her first official piece. As the day and excitement all finished, she was congratulated by some of her fellow reports for the questions she asked and was invited to have drinks. However, she declined on the drinks. She just wasn't ready to meet new people yet.
She returned to her room, and let all her pain out for Logan. When she stopped, she laid on her bed looking at the jagged surface of the ceiling, it suddenly dawned upon her to call Paris. She would be able to have the impartial insight that she needed, and would be excited by her news. She speed dialed her number and after the second ring, Doyle answered the phone.
"Hey, Doyle. Is Paris around?"
"Hi Rory, this is really not a good time," he answered in panicky voice. "Paris just got a hold of all her new syllabi for all her new courses, and needless to say the crafts are NOT helping this time. She currently believes she is going to flunk out of Harvard Medical School, and even claims she doesn't even understand why they let her in."
"I am sorry, Doyle, let me see if I can help?"
"Thanks, I owe you," he answered as he got Paris to the phone.
"What, Rory?" Paris demanded.
"Paris, calm down. You will do fine. You got through Yale, for crying out loud."
"But, everyone there are all from Harvard, Yale, Princeton. What makes me any different?"
"Because you always rise to the top. You are Paris Gellar!"
"Okay…," She relented. "I am Paris Geller," she repeated.
"That's right, so go get them!"
"Thanks Rory."
"Not a problem."
"Bye."
"Bye."
The phone clicked, and she closed the phone. So much for Paris being helpful. You know what? She thought to herself. What is the worst that could happen? He could say no. He could refuse to talk to her, but that would be old Jess. New Jess loved her. He kissed her, last time she saw him. Would he really accuse her of running back to him with her tail between her legs?
I gotta try though, she finally decided.
She didn't have his new number, though. She could ask Luke, but then Luke would tell Lorelai, and she just was not ready to have that conversation, yet. Instead, she just called information, and asked for Truncheon Books.
After several rings, "Hello," came a male voice. She could hear loud voices in the background. It sounded like they were having one of their famous artist nights.
"Hello," she responded. "I am looking for Jess Mariano."
"Who?" screamed the voice.
"Jess!"
"Hold on," he ordered. She could hear in the distance yell for Jess. "Hey, Jess. There is someone on the phone for you."
"Who is it?" He replied.
"I don't know. Just some chick," he answered with some minor aggravation in his voice.
The shuffle of the phone could be heard, and a familiar voice spoke, "Hello?"
She couldn't speak. She didn't think it would be this easy to find him.
"Hello? Hello?" Repeated the voice twice more. "I am going to hang up now."
"Hello," she responded meekly. "Hello, Jess."
A/N: Let me know what you guys think. Reviews = Love. Constructive Criticism is welcomed, but no flaming. This is my desired form of reality.