Title: A Lifetime: REM Song
Summary: A stolen urn. A beach. And unjedgemental breakfast club. It's what Rory would have wanted.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Nothing. Song lyrics are Better than Ezra's and characters are Amy's.

Thanks Red! And Sue Moo!

When we arrived late to the wake,
Stole the urn while they looked away.
And drove to the beach,
'Cause I knew you'd want it that way.

Jess stood with his hands in his pockets, looking around the overcrowded living room. They were only ten minutes late for his best friend's wake. She would have wanted it like that. Since when were they ever on time?

A tray on the counter had popcorn shrimp with cocktail sauce in the middle. Dave cringed. Rory hated cocktail sauce.

Lane smiled politely at Lorelai and stepped forward, hugging her tightly. The mother's puffy face indicated that she hadn't let up on the tears at all in the last two days. Jess glanced at the purple vase sitting on the white table and crinkled his nose.

Cremated.

It's what she had wanted. To be spread in the ocean at Martha's Vineyard, where they were right now. She had spent her life there. They still had a headstone for her, out beside her Great Grandmother.

The picture they used wasn't his favorite. His favorite was her leaning back on the swing in his back yard, her hair touching the grass and her feet in the air. His index finger was on the top corner of the photo, getting in the way of the captured moment.

He waited for everyone's back to be facing the urn and grabbed it nodding for the door. Dave smirked, setting down his drink. Lane had followed. Tristan was in the car, leaning his head back on the red leather seats, a cigarette between his fingers.

Jess held the purple glass close to him and hopped in the front seat, not bothering to open the door. The top was down and the seats were too hot to be sat on. Tristan took the urn in his hands and let Jess pull out of the driveway and away from the mourning house.

The radio was blaring, the breeze whipping through their hair as they drove the long, winding road to the beach.

"You don't wanna die, Jess," Rory had said, smiling as she laid her head on his stomach, "Too many people would miss you."

He snorted, shifting so she would roll off of him, "Yeah … you."

"I'm enough."

Jess smiled, pulling her up to be even with him, "Yeah, if you say so."

He parked in the sand, turning the radio up louder and sliding the roof back over the car. He climbed out and sat her urn on the hard top, hoisting himself up to sit beside her. It should have creeped him out, but since when did Rory become scary?

Lane and Dave climbed out the back, running to the shore. Tristan leaned against the hood, lighting up another cigarette, "This is what she would have wanted her funeral to be like."

"Agreed," Jess smirked.

He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head and letting the sun hit his face.

And you were standing on the hood of the car,
Singing out loud when the sun came up.
And I know I wasn't right, but it felt so good.
And your mother didn't mind,
Like I thought she would.
And that REM song was playing in my mind.
And three and a half minutes …
Felt like a lifetime

Rory ran across the sand, laughing as the R.E.M. song blasted in the car. Even through her sickness, she was vibrant and beautiful. She climbed up on the car and straddled Jess' lap, "Come play."

"I'm watching."

"Come swim."

"Lane will swim with you."

Rory pouted, her childlike attitude seeping through, "I want you."

"Who doesn't?" He had smirked, kissing her cheek.

"Please?"

"Okay."

She wouldn't have wanted him to cry and he knew that, but that didn't stop him the first day he had learned she was dead. Or the second day as realization hit. But today, it was all about her. No one else's feelings. It was her last day with him.

As the sun went behind the water, Lane and Dave had made their way back to the car. Jess had clutched the urn to him and Tristan had driven them all back home.

When Jess got home he saw Lorelai's car in his driveway.

When he had walked in, he handed the urn over, his head hung. Looking up only to see Chris' face completely tense and angry, but then he glanced to Lorelai. Her smile was soft, but growing, and her eyes were watering as she stepped forward and pulled Jess close to her.

And when they left, he trudged up the stairs, turning on his radio and playing the fifth disk. The third song. He lay back on his bed and heard her tone-deaf voice seeping through his mind.

"No one is allowed to be so proud, they never reach out when they're giving up," she said, tracing patterns on his pillow. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her shoulder.

She rolled over to face him, gently pressing her lips to his. Her body was so pale and fragile now, as if the slightest touch could break her.

She left her brush on his night stand, something he oddly wanted to keep. She didn't push the subject; just let him take her again. The street light peeking through his curtain.

He opened his eyes. That was only five days ago. The thought shocked him; it had seemed much longer than that. A year. A lifetime.

"Third song," she reminded him, clutching his hand, "it's my favorite."

"I heard you," he chuckled, kissing her forehead, "third song."

She let her small hand fall back onto the hospital bed and smiled, "You sad?"

"A little," he smiled, biting his lip, "I-I don't know what to do without you here."

"You're not helpless," she smirked, tracing the sheets on the bed. "You have more people in your life."

"Not you."

"Well true," she laughed, "no one can be Rory Gilmore."

"It's hard to beat."

"Almost impossible."

"Unimaginable."

She grinned.

"I love you, Gilmore."

Rory nestled down in her covers, smiling up at him, "I know you do. Now go so I can get some sleep."

He nodded, standing up, "Are you scared?"

"Nah," she shrugged, "I'm only scared about imagining what your life will be like without me."

Jess smirked, rolling his eyes.

She never blinked, "I'm serious. You've got to let people in, Jess. I won't be able to be in peace if you are a lonely, bitter person. I love you too much."

"I'll be good."

He fell asleep on his bed, his pants still rolled up from the beach, his tie still hanging loosely from his neck. Her brush next to him and the third song on repeat.

And that REM song was playing
In my mind.
And three and a half minutes,
Three and a half minutes,
Felt like a lifetime.