A/N: Alright. Everything is up to date in this story. Jess is in Philadelphia, and at Truncheon. Everything up to there has happened. This story picks up a couple of months after Rory left Truncheon, and she has just ended it with Logan.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am no way affiliated with the CW, Gilmore Girls, Jess, Rory, Milo Ventimiglia, or Alexis Bledel. Characters are not mine. The poem is Nick and the Candlestick by Sylvia Plath.

The Solid Spaces

Tears were streaming down my eyes, and ribbons of mascara cascaded down my face. The asphalt of the street was hard against my old tennis shoes, and made a clanking noise as I ran down the street. The piece of paper in my hand had everything on it. The crumpled paper that was now tear-stained held all of my feeling and thoughts about one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

My hair whipped wildly around me, spidering down my face, and in front of my eyes. My eyes were solely fixated on my destination. I was numb to the rest of the world. I almost didn't feel the thick metal collide with my body; the cool sparks of energy breaking me. I almost didn't feel anything.

Before I knew it, I was on the ground, that hard asphalt now indenting the smooth skin on my face, as I scrambled to get up. I couldn't move. Now, not only was I emotionally numb, but my body was also limp. Suddenly, that quiet Pennsylvania street, where previously the only noise was my labored breathing and tennis shoes, was crowded with people, screaming and tearing up at the sight of me.

My eyelashes swept in front of my eyes, and my tears were blurring everything. I felt my body begin to loosen; the muscles in my hands telling me to relax, and to let go. I let them release, but still held on, gasping for a few more breaths. The people around me became one giant blur, and the noise of the medicals technicians faded into the background. They became ambient noises that I didn't care to hear.

I tried harder to get my eyes to focus, when they finally obeyed, there was a young girl hovering over me, trying to look into my eyes. My lips parted, but no sound came out. I stayed lying there on the cold road, waiting for an ambulance that I would probably never see come.

It wasn't supposed to end like this. I can't even believe that this happened to me. That bus, or car, or even strategically placed motorcycle came out of nowhere. Of course, my first mistake was not looking both ways, a kindergarten concept.

The EMT was shaking my arms softly, trying to get me to remain conscious. It was getting harder, but I wouldn't let myself go. I couldn't. I wasn't an option anymore. I tried hard to turn my head to her, and I succeeded. She looked at me with utter shock, and called for the stretcher.

They slowly lifted my body. A small pool of blood remained, staining the warm asphalt a dark shade of crimson. My hand was still curled around the crumpled piece of paper, which now was turning red as it absorbed a little of my blood.

It absorbed more blood while I rode in the ambulance, more blood when I arrived at the hospital, and more blood when I was rushed into surgery, where it was pried from my tiny shaking hand, and put with the rest of my stuff.

It was still wet when they called my mom. Still wet when my mom broke down in tears. Still wet when Luke rushed her to the hospital. Still wet when Luke held onto her in the waiting room. Still wet when she cried into him. Still wet when my surgery was over. Still wet when I was hooked up to a respirator. Still wet when my mom saw me, and had to turn her head. Still wet when I finally opened my eyes, and found him sitting in a chair next to me.

- - -

His dark hair was falling and curling around his closed eyes. It had gotten long, and there was no gel in it, an after-affect from rushing out the door. His eyelashes were still speckled with tiny water droplets, and his face still red, and wet from the tears that had cascaded down his face. She'd never seen him like that, and she was thankful that she hadn't.

Her face was still bloodstained, and her body still ached, despite the numerous painkillers she was on. She tried to move, before realizing that she couldn't. She turned her head back in his direction, and realized it was late. The clock above his head read somewhere after two in the morning. He was the only one there. Ironic, because running seemed like what he was good at.

She smiled as his eyes slowly opened, falling on her. His eyes grew big when he saw the cerulean, and let out a relieved sign. He smiled at her, and reached for her hand, being careful not to hurt her. Her eyes traveled to their hands, and realized how natural it felt to feel him, to be with him.

'This was right.

This was how it was supposed it be', she thought.

"I have-" She tried to speak, but he cut her off.

"Shh." He told her, bringing his hand up to her forehead, and ran his fingers down the side of her face.

"No. The paper. You have to-," she took a breath, "read it."

His eyes grew confused.

"What paper?" He gently asked her.

She looked around the room before spotting a box on the nightstand that contained her clothes, and other things that she had been wearing.

"There." She nodded towards the box.

He reached over to the box, never letting his other hand off of hers, and grabbed the small crumpled piece of paper.

"This?" He asked. He didn't want to touch it. It hurt too much.

She nodded her head, and he let go of her hand, and unfolded the paper.

"Read it out loud." She begged him

He nodded.

"That's everything." She told him, and he glanced down at the now unfolded paper, and took a shaky breath before beginning to read.

---

It smelled of Rory, pure and inviting. That pureness soon faded when he turned it over, and saw that it had been spotted with her blood. He held back the tears that were threatening to come, and he slowly unwrapped it, being careful not to rip the delicate fibers. He was watching where he put his fingers, making sure that he did not touch the foul substance that coated it.

The inside was readable. He took a deep breath, before concentrating hard on the words, blinking back the water clouding his view.

He took another shaky breath, before complying with her wishes, and reading out loud…

Dear Jess,

If you are reading this that means that I have finally done it. I have lost all of my inhibitions, and have acted solely on my wants, not giving a care about anything else. But I see that that is my problem. I care too much about everyone, and everything else, that I never really got a chance to discover what I want.

I always blamed you for running away, but I have been thinking about it. All these years I have been replaying our relationship over and over in my head, just to remember those glances that lasted too long, and those kisses that pushed too far, making me feel like nothing I have ever experienced before.

I realize now, that I had always pushed you away, and I'm sorry. I have always blamed only you for the failing relationship, being completely oblivious to what I had done. I like being safe, Jess. That's what I've always wanted. I've never been good around men.

To tell you the truth, men scare me. They always run away, or wind up being completely different than what I had wanted. This is why I never want change, because in that little world with my mom, I was safe, protected, and always loved.

The reason I feel so lost around men, starts with my father. I've never really known him, and he has never really cared to know me. Also, my grandfather. My mother kept me from him so long, that I still feel strange around him. And Luke. He is the closest thing I have ever had as a father, but there was always something missing. Maybe it was the fact that he was completely in love with my mother, or that I could never look in his eyes, and find 'home.'

I started realizing this after being rejected by Mitchum. I have always resorted to my schoolwork to be my talent, make me feel worthy of something, since the only love I ever received was my mothers, until I met you.

But then I realized it must have been hard for you, too. Luke told me everything. I'm not ashamed, and you shouldn't be either. There is no reason to be. I just wish you would have trusted me enough to let me in. It must be hard for you to let anyone in, though. I at least had my mother. But who did you have? I'm sorry for not seeing that, Jess.

Anyway, after Mitchum said I wasn't good enough, I cracked. I broke like a vase falling from a mantle, and no one cared to sweep up the pieces, until you found me. Not only did you sweep up those pieces, you found the missing shards, and pieced me back together; gluing me with the love I have never known.

I thank you for that, Jess. You helped me find myself when I was in so far that I didn't know who I was anymore. I could not differentiate between 'Mask Rory', and 'Real Rory.' When you left, it killed me. I, although, could not show any emotion about the subject, knowing that everyone would be disappointed in me for caring. But there it is again, what everyone else wants, and not my needs. I needed to cry, I needed to wallow, but I never did, and because of that, I still don't feel like we are done.

Then, the other day it came to me. Don't you realize it, Jess? You are my Christopher. My mom and dad never abruptly ended, and because of it, he still affects her relationships, and a part of my mom still loves him very much. That is exactly what you do to me, Jess. Without knowing it, even after all these years, you still influence almost every decision I make. But just like some part of my mom will always love my father, I think I will always love you. The only difference is, the part of me that will always love you is so big, that I can't keep it under control anymore.

I miss you, Jess. You have grown up, and I find myself no only loving who you used to be, but also the man that you've become, and I have never been more proud of anyone in my entire life. I wish I had the strength to do it.

Don't Forget.

-Rory

He took in a deep breath, and looked at her. She had tears coming down her face, and tears were also threatening to fall down his.

He reached for her hand, and she took his, wrapping their fingers together.

"Don't forget." She whispered, more tears dripping from her eyelashes.

"Remembering, even in sleep, your crossed position. The blood blooms clean in you, ruby. The pain you wake to is not yours. Love, love," he whispered back to her.

She smiled. "I thought you didn't like poetry, especially Sylvia Plath?"

He smiled back. "Things change."

She closed her eyes. "You bet."

He held onto her hand all night. He held onto her hand when they took the respirator off. He held onto her hand after they shared a kiss. Held onto her hand as their bodies were tangled between the sheets. Held on to her hand when the seasons changed. Held her hand when she said, 'I do.' Held her hand as she screamed. Held her hand as she cried. Held her hand when they looked into their first child's cerulean eyes. Held her hand when their child started school. Held her hand when he promised her he would always be there. He held her hand, and never let go.

You are the one. Solid spaces lean on, envious.

- - -

So, what do you think? It took a while, but I'm happy with it. Tell me what you think! R&R. It's greatly appreciated!

-missed the train