Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls belongs to the CW.

Note: Post "The Real Paul Anka" (season six).

-1-

"Thanks Jess," she said. And once again, she was gone. Only this time, it was he who was forced to watch her back turn, and walk away from him. It's funny how things turn out.

She stepped onto the sidewalk and pulled her jacket closer to her as an usually cold wind cut through her like a knife. She felt sick inside. Everything was all wrong, and she had no idea how to fix it. For the life her, she couldn't figure out why she had come to Philadelphia like this. No, actually, she knew exactly what she was doing. She came, invited, with the excuse of their rekindled friendship, knowing somewhere inside her that she just might have the opportunity of achieving a little payback. She hadn't meant to take advantage of him so blatantly.

She just wanted her catharsis.

So much for that, she thought. Of course she couldn't do it. It was like she had just, finally, admitted out loud to him: She was in love. She was hopelessly in love with Logan. Behind her anger, she was aware he loved her right back. She just wanted to really, wholly, undeniably believe it again. Her cell phone rang as she got into her car and she absent mindedly answered, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"Hello," she said, distracted.

"Umm, hi. Is this Rory?" A ditzy female voice inquired.

"Yes, it is. Who is this?" She replied, puzzled by the conversation.

Ignoring the question she went on, "Look, Logan left his phone at my place last night and I have no idea how to get in touch with him. Could you tell him to call Jenna?"

"What, what was Logan doing at your place last night?" Rory asked, a combination of pure anger and suicidal depression rising within her.

"We met up at bar, we knew each other a long time ago, you know. Anyway, I meant to get his number, but we weren't really talking much, if you know what I mean." Rory pictured her, tall and blonde, long, batting eyelashes framing innocently seductive eyes. She hated her.

"Yeah, I do know what you mean, because, see, I'm his girlfriend," Rory spat out the words before they could choke her and she snapped the phone shut. Her vision blurred, though not with the tears she was expecting but the bone-shattering hatred that was coursing violently through her veins.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she started the car and drove blindly down the street. Spotting a comforting sight, she quickly pulled into an empty space and dug into her purse for her wallet. One drink, she thought. Just to calm down. Abandoning her car, she made her way into the bar in search of condolence.

Four drinks later, Rory's depression was only fed rather than relieved. She stared at the bottom of her empty glass feeling the bar stool sway beneath her and the walls of the room melt away.

Outside, Jess walked carefully to the bar his coworkers had ventured to earlier in the evening. After Rory had left the bookstore, he had sat quietly by the bookshelves, studying their bindings a little too closely. He should have been angry. He should have been furious at her for messing with him like that. He tried to conjure even the smallest sentiment of resent, but the task was lost. He was disappointed, depressed, and maybe even a little angry at himself for letting his head believe that everything would finally be perfect. It is what it is: You, me, his earlier spoken words ran through his head again. It wasn't the first time he had been let down, God, and everyone, else knew that. And every time he just fixed his sight on something else and kept on going, being sure to remind himself to breathe.

He locked the bookstore and started walking in search of his comrades, who quite possibly would need his help to find their way home by now. Approaching their favorite haunt he couldn't help but notice a silver Prius parked nearby. He stopped and stared at it for a moment. She left almost an hour and a half ago. She couldn't still be here alone, he thought. Rubbing his chin, he forced himself to stop wondering and walked into the bar. However his attempt to flee from thoughts of her was foiled when he immediately spotted her sitting alone at the bar, staring blankly into the smoke-filled space. He heard his rambunctious friends laughing in the corner and looked over in time to see Matthew holding a shot glass in each one of his eye sockets like a pair of goggles. Chris motioned for him to join them, and Jess waved him off. He looked back at Rory, contemplating whether or not he should speak to her. He had just seen her, so he had nothing new to report. Then again, she looked a little out of it, maybe something had happened after she left. Giving in, his put his hands in his coat pockets and made his way over to her.

Lightly touching her back with his hand he said, "Hey, there." Rory snapped out of her apparent daydream and looked at him. Upon recognition her face broke into an uncharacteristically large smile.

"Jess! Hey, what are you doing here?" She asked, a little loudly.

"Well, see, I live here. What are you still doing here, you left hours ago." He said

"Did I?" She cocked her head and squinted her eyes, time completely incomprehensible in her current state. "If you say so, I'll believe you. You never lie to me Jess, do you?" He took the seat next to her, and leaned an elbow on the bar as he looked at her.

"I have before. But that was a ling time ago. I'm done lying now," he said.

"Ah, well that's very noble of you. Logan is not as noble as you are," she said, more quietly, her eyes misting over. Jess studied her quizzically in the poor lighting, debating whether or not he really wanted to engage this conversation. Before he could decide though, she continued, "Logan cheated on me, Jess."

"I know, you told me," he said quietly, a knot forming in his stomach.

"No, I mean he really cheated on me. With a whole bridal party while we were on a break. And now," she laughed bitterly. "After I left your place I get a call from some bitch asking me to tell Logan that he left his cell at her place last night. And of course, she has no idea how else to get in touch with him, because they really didn't talk all that much. Gee, I wonder why? Were they watching a movie that was so incredibly riveting that they completely forgot someone else was in the room? Or were they too busy dissecting The Divinci Code to exchange basic personal information? No, I know. They must have contracted tonsillitis due to the bird flu, and were simply unable to speak because of the sheer bodily pain it caused, and their makeshift attempt at sign language was obviously riddled with misunderstandings." Her babbling finally ceased and she brought the empty glass to her lips again, trying to salvage one last drop of liquor. "Another, please?" She called to the bartender as he passed by.

Jess shook his head at the bartender mouthing no. "No, Rory, you've had enough," he said, gently taking the glass from her hands. He felt sick inside. He wanted to kill this Logan, or at least leave him an incurable scar. Anything to remedy the sight of this girl falling apart in front of him.

"Just one more, then I'll head back, I promise," she said.

"Rory, no. And you can't drive home like this." She sighed and brushed her bangs off of her forehead. She dug in her purse to find her wallet. "I got it," Jess said, pulling his billfold from his pocket.

"Oh, no, Jess. I can't let you do that." She stood up, and wobbled a little, grasping the bar to keep her balance. "Woop. Little tipsy." Jess placed enough to cover her tab on the bar and grasped her arm to steady her.

"Let's go," he commanded.

Jess drove Rory's car back to the bookstore and helped her upstairs into his cramped apartment. While he made a pot of coffee, a strange calm came over her and she barely spoke a word, quite a contrast to her constant chatter in the car as she commented on every turn he made and every dark ally they passed.

"Do you suppose anyone lives in that ally? They probably do. That's so sad. When I see homeless people I just feel so sad and helpless. I just think that could be me or you or my mom or Mrs. Kim. Oh, Mrs. Kim, I really can't picture her being homeless. Isn't that strange? I mean she would probably just stare some landlord down until he gave her an apartment completely free of charge. She just has that kind of power over people to make them do whatever she wants. Logan has that power too. Sometimes I wish he would lose some of it…" She had gone on for quite a bit on one subject or another, and nearly every time her rambling found its way back to her tumultuous relationship and every time it did, Jess wanted to scream, to punch a wall, to fix her.

Jess handed a steaming cup of coffee to Rory, who was sitting on his couch. She accepted the mug and stared thoughtfully into it for a moment, letting the steam penetrate her skin. Almost like a cleansing. Cleansing away Logan and all he stood for.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Rory asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had filled the air in the apartment since they entered the room. "You should hate me," she said quietly. He stared at the monochrome carpet, avoiding the look he knew was captured in her eyes. He remained silent, more because of a lack of an answer than any other reason.

"Jess," she said. He forced his head to raise and meet her eyes, fixed intently on him.

"You should get some sleep. You look exhausted. You can sleep in my room."

"Jess, no," she protested. "I'm not putting you out. I'll just take the couch." She said.

"Rory, I live with two other guys. They most likely will stumble in around 1 AM, completely obliterated. Trust me, you do not want to sleep on this couch tonight," he smirked in spite of himself, picturing his drunken roommates finding her on the couch and thinking they crawled back into the wrong nest. Chaos would be sure to ensue.

Rory rose from the couch, much more composed from time and caffeine. "I'll go find a hotel, then," she said, searching for her purse.

"It's 11:30," he said, watching her closely. Rory glanced at the door, clearly uncomfortable.

"Please, Jess," she pleaded. "I know you don't want to do this."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think then," he said quietly, bluntly. She looked back at him, standing with his hands in his pockets, his hair hanging over his eyes. Aside from his smirk, and occasional terse or sarcastic comments, he was a changed man. "Besides," he said, turning around, "I owe you."

"For what?" Rory asked, almost accusingly. He stopped just in front of his bedroom door and turned back to her. He studied her quizzical face for a long moment, taking in everything about the way she looked. Her air was altered. Her aura was manipulated. She was not the same 17-year old Stars Hollow princess with innocent blue eyes that would make him agree to anything. But still, his heart swelled for her, standing in his tiny apartment, the smell of alcohol, smoke, and misery drowning the air around her.

He smiled sadly at her, and stiffly turned around to enter the room.

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