Nothing
--Crescent Moon19

Disclaimer: Don't own it, don't sue me, thank you very much.

Set immediately after Jess leaves for California and goes from there. First two lines are dialogue from "Here comes the son" episode 3.21 (when Rory first finds out that Jess is gone). Happy ending guaranteed! (Just not yet.)

Rory's POV:

"Are you ok?"
"Yeah."

Yeah, right. Of course I'm fine. My boyfriend, oh my god ex-boyfriend, skipped town to go to some place, where I have no idea, without telling me. Without even saying goodbye. And he knows how much I hate people not saying goodbye. I skipped school to take a bus to New York to say goodbye. Why did he leave? Was being with me such a pain that he had to get away? No, I will not blame this on myself. This is all his fault. Every single crappy thing that's happened was his fault. The- the thing at Kyle's party, not being able to take me to prom, never calling, treating me like dirt, it was all his fault! And... I- I miss him. A lot. Not the angry Jess. The Jess who was willing to wear a tuxedo, to listen to horrible music, to put up with his classmates, all because I wanted to go to the Stars Hollow Prom. The Jess who looked up how far away Yale was on Yahoo and then refused to admit that he was being sweet. I wish he'd come back to me.

Rory pauses, debating whether or not she should throw this away like the others. No, she thinks, I'll keep this so that years from now I can look back on this and laugh. She ignores the falseness of this thought and is spared from having to justify it to herself when her phone rings. She blinks, wondering who would call her at this hour. The caller ID doesn't help. It just says "Unknown." She refuses to acknowledge her heart, which has just jumped into her throat, as she reaches to pick up the phone.

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Hello? -pause- Jess?"

Silence follows her questions, although she swears she hears a breath hitch when she says his name. Maybe it had been her own. She brings the phone slowly away from her ear, giving Unknown plenty of time to speak, before she finally hangs up. The numbers on her clock glare out at her, reminding her that her eyes have been open for much longer than 9 out of 10 doctors recommend. Idly, she wonders what the tenth doctor recommends while she prepares for bed. She goes to sleep, dreaming of ringing phones and sunny beaches and a hot dog stand.

Review please!