Title: The Reply
Summary: He had to remind himself that they were not the same. They'd broken each other too many times for that.
Lit - Begins during 7.20, missing scene 7.22. No longer a one parter - probably 3.
Author's Note: So I don't have a beta (clearly). This means a) your constructive criticism is even more valued, and b) if anyone wants to offer to beta in future I would be eternally grateful.
Are we done?
That's all the e-mail said. There wasn't even a subject line, just three words staring at him from the faint blue glow of his computer screen.
He should have been surprised to see it, to see any contact from her at all. He couldn't muster surprise, couldn't muster much of anything except a vague aching feeling. The corners of his lips turned up slightly as he closed the e-mail.
The e-mail was still sitting in his inbox a week and a half later when he finally decided to open it again. He typed quickly and sent his reply before he could stop to think about it.
Done what?
It wasn't meant to hurt her. It was an honest question. He'd never really known what they were and he'd certainly never figured out what they had become. How could he know what exactly she was asking him?
A breeze from the window ruffled the pages of notes he had strewn over his desk. He watched as a few of them drifted lazily to the floor.
"Whatever," he muttered. Snapping shut his laptop, he padded out to his room to get dressed. The pages still remained fanned out, half covered in dappled sunlight when he finally left the apartment.
It took her 20 days to respond. He chuckled to himself, recognizing his refusal to round that to three weeks. He still tracked her, not like when they were seventeen and he could watch her across the diner from behind the pages of his paperback, but even without being able to see her, his mind always had tabs on her.
When the message popped up in his inbox a tiny jolt of electricity went through him. He hadn't thought she'd actually respond. The Rory he'd seen last wouldn't have. She would have huffed at the way he had answered with a question. She probably would have been annoyed that he'd managed to use even fewer words than she.
That Rory wouldn't have e-mailed at all he supposed.
He opened the message with an almost morbid sense of curiosity. He wanted to see how she'd brushed him off.
He pictured an apology.
Jess,
I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have e-mailed you. I know you want me to let you be, to let you live and write in peace. I couldn't leave well enough alone and I'm sorry. Please forgive me.
Rory
He would have sighed heavily and replied quickly before filing the message away, out of his sight.
The reply would have read only,
It is what it is.
He didn't get an apology.
He was in Stars Hollow a week later leaning against a telephone pole staring at a ridiculous patchwork tent. He'd been there for two hours before the rain had let up enough for him to venture out of his car. As he'd cracked open the door he fleetingly wondered if he'd have the courage to close it behind him.
He looked down to light his cigarette and when his head righted itself she was there. Her eyes were as wide and as blue as he'd ever seen them and the only words she said before she dropped them to stare at her hands were, "You didn't reply."
"Reply to what Rory? All you wrote was 'I don't know.'" He responded levelly, but he was sure she still caught an edge in his voice. He sighed and took a drag of his cigarette.
"Why are you here?" Her voice was small but she looked stronger than before. He was barely afraid she was going to bolt at any second.
"I don't know." Her muffled laugh was bitter, but he still preferred it over the tears he has gotten so used to with her. With a glance back towards the strange tent he continued, "Luke called me, said he was planning a party. He thought… anyway, that's why I'm here. Luke called."
She took this in silently, and all he could think about is how much he wished she would look at him again. "I e-mailed you because I was freaking out about the future, trying to find some semblance of control or something…"
"You made a list."
Her eyes flickered up to meet his at that comment. She smiled before she returned to staring at her fingers and he thought he hadn't ever seen anything more lovely.
"I made a list. A ToDo list of everything I hadn't finished, everything I had to deal with before I graduated. Somehow you made it on." She paused to breathe before continuing. "I didn't even know what to write there. I ended up with just your name."
He didn't respond then, just waited until her curiosity got the best of her and she looked up to see if he was still there.
"Huh." A pause before he threw down his barely smoked cigarette and asked, "Want to take a walk?"
They ended up on the bridge (shockingly) before she ventured to speak again, "So are we? Done?"
When he glanced over to her words there was determination in her eyes. It was hidden behind the glassy layer of unshed tears she'd had since he saw her, but he could still see it.
"That really depends on what you mean by done…. And we."
"Cut the crap Jess." Her voice and his name collided and he almost thought he could see sparks.
As he stooped to sit on the side of the bridge, he looked up at her and patted the ground beside him. "No." The word was enough to get her to sit next to him. "I can really only speak for myself. I'm not done." He stopped speaking and wished he still had his cigarette, if only to give him an excuse to do anything but sit here throwing himself on his sword. He absently wondered if they'd hurt each other enough to qualify their story as a tragedy. He'd probably died enough for both of them.
She took his silence as a cue and his mind thanked her when she began to speak. "I don't think I've ever been done… loving you… hurting you… being hurt by you." Her voice lowered at the end of her statement and his heart almost went out to her. Almost.
"Huh."
"What?"
"Nothing, I just wonder what your boyfriend would have to say about that." He spat out the word boyfriend, but she didn't flinch. He gave her credit for that.
"No boyfriend."
His eyebrow raised slightly in surprise but he quickly hid his reaction. It didn't matter, she saw it anyway. He wanted to press her for details, to know what happened, to be sure he didn't hurt her. He settled for a shrug and an "Oh."
10 minutes later and she'd told him about her new job, he'd relayed news about publishing in Philidelphia. It was almost as if they were back in high school talking idly about books. But this was real, no characters to hide behind and this was definitely not high school. He had to remind himself that they were not the same. They'd broken each other too many times for that. She glanced at her watch and looked back up to meet his gaze.
"You should get back to your party. Lorelai will be worried."
"Yeah…" He could see her mentally preparing to do something. She looked pained. "Listen Jess, about…"
"The blond prick?"
She didn't scold him. She simply continued. "Logan…" He shrugged as if to say 'potayto potahto' and then interrupted.
"Tell me about it when you and Barack are in Philly."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
She walked him back to his car and was partway to the tent before she turned around to stare at him. She yelled a question.
"We're really not done?"
"Not on your life Gilmore."
She smiled then and continued back towards her party. All Jess could do was stare at her through his windshield. He quietly whispered to himself as he started his car, "We'd never be done. Not even if I wanted us to be."