AN: If you can make any sense of my spaced out writing, you are a legend. And I don't really think I gave this storyline as much justice as it deserved, but anyway here it is, hope you like it, don't forget to review.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
It had taken her four hours and fifty-three minutes.
A mention of his name. His second book ('have you heard?').
Four hours and fifty-three minutes to realise. Like fire flowing through her veins, she knows. Finally the clouds thin and begin to fade. The sky is clear now.
It's him.
Why hadn't she seen? But none of it matters, not now. There's somewhere to be.
And suddenly the road is swallowing beneath her. Strips of white, each one one less. One less, one less, one less to the light. There's always a light at the end of the tunnel. Why had it taken her so long to see it? But none of it matters, not now.
No Logan, no Dean.
It's so easy, so simple now. It's meant to be.
It always was. But now there's somewhere to be.
The sky lets the rain fall. It's dark now.
Is he dreaming of her?
A soothing wipe, back and forth, back and forth. Everything's going to be okay. Back and forth, back and forth, it clears away the fog. Everything is clear now.
Philadelphia, two more miles. She's so close.
Her heart's in overdrive.
The rain's falling in sheets. A soothing wipe, back and forth.
She's out of the car, her body is numb.
It's cold, so cold. A shiver.
The door opens; did she knock already?
Deep pools of warm, smouldering brown. It's all she needs to see and she's home.
He has sparse time to take her in before she falls into his arms.
She mumbles about light and fate and tunnels and he pulls her back. His eyes betray him and show worry. But her lips crash to his in want, desire... hope. This is it. Her heart hasn't slowed since she unlocked her car door.
Her hands travel down and they pull on his belt buckle. He hasn't slept yet. Will he dream of her tonight?
But his hands cover hers and push her (so gently) away. He looks at her and there is a flash of hurt. Is he afraid of going too fast?
He pulls her to his room, hands her fresh clothing, slips away and brings back a towel. He gives her privacy, and returns bearing coffee. She smiles. She likes being in his clothes; it's like a faint memory of being in his arms.
For once she doesn't want the coffee; she wants to pull him to her. Feel his weight crash on top of her.
She smiles and she takes the coffee.
He asks if she is okay. Luke? Lorelai?
He really cares. He's so different now, but yet so the same. He's perfect.
This is where she's meant to be, she can feel it like it's the centre of her being.
She nods and tells him everything's okay.
He asks her if she's tired.
She's more awake then she has ever been.
She nods.
He brushes a piece of still damp hair from her face, and it leaves her burning, wanting more. He's going to sleep on the couch.
He's hurting, she can glimpse it in his eyes. It makes her sink a little, and as she watches him disappear behind the door, she realises he doesn't trust her, not yet.
That's when she realises how much she has hurt him.
But she is going to show him.
This is meant to be.
When she wakes up it's to the sun gently peeking in through the half-opened blinds and the smell of him on her skin.
She loves his scent, his bed, his clothes. This is perfect. She belongs here.
She leaves the covers, and she pads over to his mirror feeling perfectly rested and content.
She looks beyond the few shallow chips in its surface to her reflection. She can recognise the person staring back at her. And finally it is like a reunion, after all these years.
She looks happy.
Glancing to the side, she notices a small yellow post-it-note. There's food and coffee in the kitchen. His perfect scrawl tells her to help herself. She smiles.
When she enters the kitchen she is in a fresh change of clothes. His clothes. An old Metallica shirt and a pair of sweats.
The butterflies bursting inside of her leave little room for hunger, but she pulls out the box of unopened captain crunch (she thinks he made a trip to the store this morning and it makes her feel wanted, needed, taken care of) and pours herself a large bowl. She is already buzzing, she doesn't need any coffee.
She sits and she vaguely wonders if he thought of her last night.
When she gets up she sees him coming from his room. He was checking to see if she was up yet ('sleepyhead'). She smiles and she wants to fling her arms around him.
He tells her he's working and that she is welcome to come down. They have a wide selection of books.
She nods. She wants to press her palm against his chest and feel his heartbeat.
She tells him she will be down in a minute.
He jerks his head to his room and tells her her clothes are dry, and then he makes his exit.
She doesn't like the feel of her clothes anymore, but she makes her way down. She feels a little giddy that she will soon be seeing him in 'action'.
He notices her come in and smiles at her over the counter, then turns back to concentrate on his laptop.
She walks over dazedly to a shelf of books, studying the various titles, and then takes a seat. She would like to just watch him for now.
She likes the way his eyebrows crinkle slightly as he concentrates. His eyes are intense as always and his lips are in a tight line. She wants to walk over and kiss him.
The door opens and a young woman enters in a rush. She sets a cup of coffee on the desk in front of him. He looks up and nods at her nonchalantly. But his eyes lighten.
Rory studies the new addition to the room. The way she brushes her blonde hair from her face, looking slightly frazzled but still fresh. Her eyes were blue, not like Rory's, they were lighter, not that deep but they still had a sparkle to them. Her skin was bright and she had an air of innocence around her. She looked a little younger, two years maybe?
Rory noticed something familiar about the way Jess smiled at her, but she wanted so much to ignore the nagging feeling.
The girl dips behind the counter and struggles to pick up a large box of books. Jess tells her to wait, and reaches behind him grabbing some more books to add to the pile. He points over her shoulder to a bookcase and she blushes a little, nods, and turns away quickly.
Rory feels a lump in her throat at the way his eyes seem to linger for just a moment before he turns away.
She tries to swallow. She suddenly feels so out of place.
She was supposed to belong. This was supposed to be fate.
The girl's name was Kate. She stuttered sometimes when she talked to him. She was so innocent, so hesitant.
There was a few accidental hand grazes. But Jess was so nonchalant it made her wonder if he even knew.
It took her two hours and forty-seven minutes to realise.
She was losing him.
She wanted to fight for him. But a part of her knew he was happier this way. She had hurt him too much.
This girl Kate, she seemed... really nice. And it hurt Rory more than ever to think about how right she seemed for him.
The clouds were thickening, and the glass was fogging again. She was heading for the door.
Jess glanced up and stopped her before she could leave. He was looking at her with hard eyes and she could see the pain beneath them. She wanted to brush her hand against his cheek.
She told him she was sorry and that she shouldn't have come. She was hurting him again and it was breaking her heart.
But he didn't belong with her. Not anymore.
She gave him a sad smile and nodded over his shoulder ('Kate seems really nice').
Jess eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, and she knew he didn't even know the way he felt about her. Not yet.
She gave him one last small smile before she was running down the steps, and now each white stripe disappearing beside her was one more away from him.
It had taken her four hours and fifty-three minutes to realise, and it was three years too late.
The tears were falling from her eyes, but there was no soothing wipe, back and forth, back and forth, nothing to take away the pain.
Maybe someday, she thought. But for now.
She had lost him.