Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I make no profit out of them.
A/N: The quote in the resume is not mine, it's Carroll's.
I've been reading some RJ stories lately and this is strongly inspired by them; you can check my list of favourites and you'll figure it out yourselves... Enough disclaiming, now claiming...
Set after 6 x 16 /practically about a month before Jess' book signing, set right after Rory learned how Logan spent his time during their breakup/. A one-parter, just something that bugged me...
I hope you enjoy:) Reviews are always welcome, they make my monologue sort of a dialogue...
Jess opens the door slowly, more for his own comfort, than for anything else. He really doesn't know what to expect. When Lorelai showed up at Truncheon a week ago and delivered him with the news, he had thought he must be hallucinating.
'Jess, I know her. Believe me, if anyone can tell when she's going bad, it's me. And she is, Jess. This has been bad enough as it is and it's only getting worse...'
Lorelai goes on and on and Jess thinks his head is about to explode.
'I know you and I were never quite the buddies,' she continues apologetically, pleadingly, 'but I also know that you care about her. Boy, who thought I would be saying this but, maybe, of all people, you're the only one who cares about Rory almost as much as I do.'
She shakes her head when he opens his mouth to protest.
'Don't say that you don't cause you'd be lying, and I've really had enough of denial through the last month... The thing is, you were the only one who managed to put some reason in her head two months ago and make her go back to Yale, and she confronted her grandma, and, believe me, it's none less of a challenge than entering 'Fear', but she did it, and she won't listen to me and...' Lorelai's hands hang helplessly in the air and then she drops them back in her lap, defeated. 'I don't think I can do this alone,' she shakes her head and a tear rolls down her cheek. When she looks up at him, her eyes are bluer and for a second he thinks he saw Rory cry.
Jess enters the room reluctantly, knocking quietly on the wooden door frame.
'Hey,' he greets awkwardly and steps from one foot to the other.
She is lying in her bed, reading some sort of beauty magazine. It's almost like she's been sleeping and now she's having her morning cup of coffee before she stands up and gets dressed for work. Only the folded wheelchair, propped right to the bed, under her window, somehow doesn't fit. It's the only thing he doesn't think he'll get used to seeing in her room.
A pause of neither of them talking. She doesn't even look up at him. But it's her turn to speak. She recognized the voice, he's sure. He stands like this, hands hidden behind his back, holding the book he has brought for her, and excuse to make contact, something to get through a meaning without the words needed.
'Go away, Jess,' she says at last. Her voice is even and she pronounces the words firmly... calmly. She has said those words so many times since that unfortunate night, she's mastered the sentence, only putting a different name at the end. She has made her decision. They are supposed to mind it. End of story.
'She stopped physiotherapy, Jess. She's giving up and I can't seem to find a way to stop it...'
Dull lines pass through his mind. Like joking about her not being happy to see him, she didn't even stand up to meet her guest, and there he thought Rory would never lose her manners. Or about criticizing the crap she was reading, he had always thought women bought that kind of stuff cause the paper they used for printing it was good for window cleaning.
He observes her face. Like a sculpture, she keeps pretending to be caught up in the glossy pages. Something about nail polish tendencies this fall. Capturing thoughts on what this season's shoe fashion choices have to surprise us with. Porcelain-like, her skin is smooth and milky, saved for the fresh pink scar above her left eyebrow. That must be where her head hit the passenger window. Jess swallows.
'A swan beaked me,' he blurts out at last.
Rory looks up from the magazine and her eyebrows slightly rise.
'That night at your grandparents' place,' he continues with a shrug, making a small step towards the bed. 'The black eye wasn't from a football game, I was just hanging around the pond and the stupid thing came outta nowhere and BAM! It attacked me, beaked me right in the eye and almost blinded me,' he babbled, trying to catch her reaction, if any. She blinked humorlessly, maybe wondering if he had just lost his mind. 'Luke didn't believe me, of course,' Jess continues, shaking his head, 'but I needed revenge, so I took his new ladle and we went to the pond, waiting for the vicious thing to appear, lurking in the shadows with Luke's old boat, you know...'
Jess trails off, wondering if it was a smile nipping at the corners of her mouth he just noticed. He swallows again.
'Here,' he says, stepping closer and leaving the book in her lap, 'I brought you something.'
She looks up at him and he sees a silent question float in her cold blue eyes.
When are you leaving?
Her eyes are asking.
I'm not.
He shrugs, an insecure smile hidden at the corners of his mouth.
How come?
She frowns.
Why would I be leaving? For the first time in your life you actually fucking need me, why on Earth would I be leaving?
He sighs.
'I want him gone,' Rory says impassively as she watches Jess smoke a cigarette on the porch and absentmindedly play with Paul Anka. Her wheel chair is next to the living room french window and she's turned her back towards the rest of the room.
Lorelai's chin quivers slightly before she replies.
'He's staying,' she concludes firmly.
Rory's eyes avert from Jess and dart towards her mother's, her expression a mixture of anger and pain.
'I don't want him here,' she says coldly, almost between her teeth.
Lorelai sighs and gives her daughter a long look before she continues unpacking the groceries Jess brought a couple of minutes earlier.
Rory's breathing quickens and her lips are pursed in a thin white line as she watches her mother methodically arrange eggs on the fridge door. She can't reach them from the chair. One Wednesday afternoon, while Lorelai was still at the inn, Rory had spent half an hour reaching up and yet she didn't manage to reach the damn eggs on the fridge door.
'Mom, I don't need him here!' Rory raises her voice, and it comes out like a cry for help, pleading, desperate. She can't have him watch her like this, whatever memories they have of each other, she wants to keep them the way they are.
'I do,' Lorelai answers quietly, her voice trembling, and for a moment Rory thinks she sees her reflection crying.
Jess enters the house, using the spare key Lorelai gave him, and it's strangely quiet. The lamps are on, but without the constant babble of the TV or Lorelai's rambling about Luke being a stubborn mule for not letting her design new menus while unpacking take over food in a way so noisy Jess never thought possible even if she were actually cooking the food.
Jess throws the keys on the coffee table and goes to the kitchen where he leaves Luke's package on the bar plot. Paul Anka pads into the kitchen, following Jess and the smell of freshly cooked food.
'Hey, Muttley,' Jess says as he taps the dog's head absentmindedly, looking around, 'Where is she, huh?'
The noise comes out sharp and sudden and for a moment Jess is frozen, not sure what he has just heard and where it came from. Broken glass, a woman's cry and something stumbling, rolling over the floor. Tiles? He thinks the sound was like something dropped over tiles.
'Rory?' he cries out, rushing up the stairs.
As he reaches the bathroom door, he doesn't knock, he opens and stops in his track as he sees her, trying to catch his breath.
'Get out, Jess,' Rory whispers faintly, her hands moving shakily to cover her naked form in a self-conscious gesture. She is sitting on the floor, the bath tap running behind her, her feet sprawled in an unnatural position, shampoos, shower gels and toothpaste scattered on the tiles around her. The wheel chair lies, tumbled over, close to her left foot. One of the glass shelves beside the sink is broken, the edges sticking out sharp, the broken pieces lying in the sink and over the floor. There is a bright red line over Rory's right forearm, dripping with blood, the drops trailing down her elbow and then making red-stained puddles over her thigh.
'You're bleeding,' Jess says calmly as he moves carefully to take hold of her arm.
Rory looks up at him terrified.
'Get out!' she cries out and shudders, surprised by the desperation of her own voice.
Jess' arm stops midway towards hers and he gives her a long look and then his jaw is clenching, but he doesn't say anything back. Instead, he backs off slowly and stands up. Then he starts to unbutton his shirt and Rory's mouth drops open.
Rory watches him with her eyes wide, too shocked to utter a word.
Jess continues to undress, taking the shirt off and then peeling the tee he is wearing under it, putting them on the floor. Shoes and socks follow before he unbuckles the belt of his jeans and strips down to his boxers, leaving the jeans on top of the pile he has just made, his eyes holding her gaze. He quickly decides against taking the boxers off, considering their lack a bigger awkwardness factor than their presence.
He bends down slowly, careful not to scare her, as if trying to capture a wounded animal, and then kneels next to her, wiping a piece of glass behind, his eyes not leaving hers. He reaches over and stops the bath tub, trying the water with his fingers before he lifts it up to her cheek to move a wet strand away. Rory winces slightly at his touch, but doesn't move back. He tilts his head to catch her eyes and gives her a short nod, a silent warning before he puts his arms around her carefully and scoops her up, minding her legs as he steps into the bath and slowly lands them both into the hot water. She watches him like a little girl as he reaches back for a shower gel and squeezes some into his palm before he spreads it down her shoulders, her arms, rubbing gently, comfortingly. When he reaches her breasts he checks the look in her eyes and gives her a short nod, moving directly to her back and then her belly. She quivers as he reaches a spot around her navel and he remembers she is ticklish. Her legs follow and there is a distinct bitterness in her eyes as he takes her right leg in his arms and inspects it.
He wonders if she sees the awe in his eyes, as he looks at her naked body, as he traces her perfectly shaped long legs. She wonders if he sees how pathetic her lifeless limbs are, how half of her body can't feel and how she fears soon she won't ever be able to feel anything at all.
As Jess puts some shampoo in his hand and lifts it towards her hair, some thought occurs to him and he takes one of her hands in his, putting half of the shampoo in her palm. Rory's brows furrow and for a moment he's afraid he has broken the spell, but the next moment her hand moves up and, timidly, she is rubbing shampoo over his hair. His fingers tangled in her hair, he lifts his free hand to touch her cheek. She mirrors his moves and he leans into her touch, keeping the eye-lock, tilting his head so that he kisses her palm, just below the wrist.
His hands find her wrists and take hold of them, placing her arms over his shoulders and slowly lifting her up, holding her torso between his palms. As he lifts them up to a standing position, her toes are barely touching the bathtub bottom.
He closes his right hand around her waist so that he can turn the shower on with his left. Water starts running down their faces, washing white foam away.
Rory takes a shallow breath and looks down to her legs, which are hanging stiffly from her waist, barely touching the floor, and when she looks back up at Jess, her eyes are watery. Roll. Roll. Roll-roll-roll. Tears start rolling down her cheeks, mixing with water, and her features contort in a painful grimace. Her hands close tighter around his neck, bringing him closer, and next thing she knows, he is kissing her face everywhere her tears fell, retracing their tracks gently.
She tastes like salt and shampoo and like pain. Like weeks of suppressed outbursts. His arms close tight around her as she shakes with a sob. Then another one.
At first the sobs are silent, suffocating her more and more. And then she hears her own voice, as if it belongs to someone else, and this other woman (girl?) is crying out loud, and sounds like she's broken, and tries to say Jess' name but can't form a single coherent word.
He dries her with the towel, wrapping it around her shoulders, rubbing gently. She's sitting in her bed, the way he put her down against the headboard, and she's staring at him numbly. Her eyes are dry now. Red but dry.
I'll be right back, he says, and walks out. When he comes back, he's changed into a dry pair of sweatpants and a tee and he's bringing her a pair of underwear and a nightgown.
He dresses her like a doll and tucks her in and then stands up from the bed to turn the light off and leave.
'Jess?' she whispers, her voice scratchy and unsure.
'Huh?' he answers, turning to face her.
'Can you stay?' she asks quietly.
He gives her a look and then nods.
'Sure,' he says and turns the night lamp off, moving to drag a chair next to her bed when her hand finds his and pulls him lightly. A silent question she doesn't voice but gets through, moving to one side of the bed and then letting his hand free so that he could make his decision.
Jess stays still for a moment before he lies next to her, putting an arm under his head and turning his head to the left to face her.
'Night, Rory.'
'Night, Jess,' she echoes and for the first time since the accident she thinks she feels something.
'I tell you that you kicked me,' he repeats stubbornly and her eyes sting with hurt and anger.
'Not funny, Jess,' she says warningly, as she rests another folded tee in her lap.
'Crap, Rory, I'm not joking, you were sleeping and your leg twitched, goddamn it!' Jess growls in frustration, standing up from the couch, pacing through the living room.
She shakes her head. Wishful thinking. That's what this is. She once thought herself that her toe had moved, but then, when she tried, it was dead.
Dead, Jess! That's what it is! Dead! And you can't undo what's done, will you and everyone around wrap your head around that? Damn, you're like everyone else, you want me to be perfect... Well, here comes a surprise, I'm not! All I am is a cripple. A cripple, Jess! Don't like the way it sounds? So sorry. Cripple, cripple, cripple!
'It's a trick of the mind,' she sighs, her fervor suddenly down.
'If not?' he challenges and stops before her, bending to meet her eyes, his brows curled up. He looks like a big question mark, always was. Questioning her decisions, criticizing her assumptions. A big question mark.
'Damn it, Jess! For once, why don't you accept facts as they are!' she steams up again and tosses the folded tees from her lap to the coffee table.
'And what are the facts, exactly?' he asks pointedly.
'You know what they are,' she replies and her tone is soaked with accusation.
Why, why is he putting her through this? Is it some twisted kind of revenge?
She shifts to draw her wheelchair back and turns it to the right so that she can avert from his gaze.
'Seems I need to be reminded, though,' he notes in a sore tone, crossing his hands before his chest.
She takes another washed tee from the pile and starts folding it but then she stops and rumples it in a ball and hits it against the wheelchair armrest.
'I won't walk, I won't feel, I won't ever stand up to reach the damn eggs on the fridge door!' she raises her voice, losing her cool.
'You're in pain, you're ashamed and you quit physiotherapy!' he shouts back. 'And you're angry, you're so damn angry, you wanna push everyone away.'
She looks up at him and her eyes glitter.
'You know what? I am. I am angry. I am outraged,' she takes a breath and continues, 'I'm angry cause my boyfriend cheated on me and didn't even have the guts to tell me in person, I'm angry cause he had too much to drink and we had a huge fight in his Porsche after his sister's wedding, I'm angry cause he tried to talk me into staying in the car and I took my belt off and wanted to get out, I'm angry cause he lost control and we crashed and the car flipped over, I'm angry cause he didn't even have the dignity to come and confront me after the accident, he only sent those stupid flowers and presents and things... Things, things, things!' she fumes, and her eyes are blazing.
'And I'm angry, oh, I'm so angry with myself for not being able to prevent all of these earlier! Cause I could! I shouldn't have gotten into that car, I shouldn't have tried to get out, I shouldn't have stayed in a relationship with a man who doesn't have the guts to be kept responsible for his mistakes. Even you could see how much I had wronged myself, you could figure it out in a couple of minutes, yet I needed to lose one year and half of my body to realize how much I had screwed,' she shakes her head, trying to catch her breath. 'And I don't hate anyone but myself, I can't stand me anymore, Jess,' she takes a breath and chokes on it and hides her face in her hands so that she doesn't have to face his reaction.
'I know,' he whispers, kneels in front of her and puts his arms on both her sides, squeezing her shoulders lightly.
'You don't,' Rory sobs and Jess chuckles humorlessly.
'Oh, believe me, I do,' he assures, 'what do you think I felt for myself when I left Stars Hollow?' he asks rhetorically.
'Or when, completely out of the blue, I told you how I felt about you and didn't even have the balls to stick around long enough to get a proper answer? Or when I asked you to ride with me into the sunset, leaving it all behind? I despised myself, Rory, I wanted to be that guy that made you happy, but all I did was mess it up, and I hated myself for being a fucking coward and for turning out to be like my father. You know the irony? All my life I tried not to become Jimmy, but in the end, all I did was retrace his steps,' he shakes his head.
'There was that image I feared,' he continues, 'the one I pictured if you decided to leave with me and we actually ran away together. I pictured us living in that shitty scum apartment, you getting pregnant and me leaving you cause I'm a fucking bastard. I pictured leaving without even saying goodbye, leaving you a goddamn note, a post-it, a whatever, reading 'I'm sorry, I can't' or some shit like that. And I imagined this picture every time I thought we could run away together and be happy, and that was why I felt so damn relieved when you said no to me when I asked you to run away,' he pauses to catch his breath and her eyes are wide and fixed on his as he meets her gaze.
'Believe me, I know what it feels like to be angry with yourself,' he says in a calmer tone, trying to compose himself. 'The thing is, it doesn't get you anywhere,' he adds bitterly.
Rory blinks a couple of times and they stay still, staring at each other for a while.
'What changed?' she asks quietly.
'What do you mean?' he furrows.
'You're not angry anymore, what changed?' she repeats and a small smile starts floating over his lips.
'I found myself other things to look up to,' he shrugs. 'I found myself things to look at whenever I thought I was becoming Jimmy and those things keep my focus, cause I know that at least I tried.'
Another beat of silence passes before Rory speaks again.
'I'll think about it,' she says at last, avoiding his eyes. She licks a lip before she adds, 'But if, if I'm getting a therapist, if it's a man he's gonna be young and sexy, and if it's woman she's gonna be old and disgusting,' she points out and he chuckles.
Right now, he really wants to kiss her. But he knows well it's not the time. She's in that fragile state between despising and forgiving herself and she will misread any sign of affection as one of pity. He looks at her and her lips a thin white line, her knuckles white, clutching at the rumpled tee and he takes a mental picture of her at that very moment. That's what her inner struggle looks like and he makes a mental note to keep this kiss for a time when it will feel right.
Some time passes, but the silence is comfortable.
'You would've come back,' she says then and he frowns.
'Huh?'
'Maybe you'd freak out and leave, but you would've come back,' she repeats. 'You always do.'
She watches him as he packs up and her eyes skip between him and the clock on the shelf. In ten minutes he'll be gone. That's soon. It's always too soon. She wishes he had already left, so that this painful state would not prolong for... her eyes check again... nine more minutes.
'I'll be keeping an eye on the door for you,' he says two minutes later, the travel bag in his right hand.
She looks at him and takes a picture in her mind. She wants to remember this so that she doesn't start to pine once he's gone. Cause there's this thing about him, he always leaves. And she's not going to pine. She hopes he didn't think she was going to pine.
'I told you I'm not coming,' she says coldly, as if she's trying to pin him with the words, leave a mark, get it over with.
'I want you to,' he says quietly and she turns the wheelchair around so that he doesn't see her eyes. They betray her, cause they already miss him. And they pine. Just a little, but they do.
'Bye, Jess,' she says determinedly and her eyes fix on the clock on the shelf.
Lorelai waits on the porch, a package in her hands. Luke's waiting in his pick up in front of the house.
'Hey,' Jess greets as he puts the travel bag down.
'Hey,' Lorelai greets back. 'That's... that's for you,' she sighs a little nervously and gives him the package.
'You haven't cooked it... right?' Jess asks, concern tracing his voice.
'Boy, no!' Lorelai shakes her head vigorously. He must really think she hates him. 'No, it's Luke's plus some junk energy bars I managed to sneak into the package while he was not looking,' she explains conspiratorially.
'Oh. Okay. So,' He digs the keys out of his pocket and gives them to her.
She takes them awkwardly, not sure how to say what she wants to say.
'Good luck on book signing,' she smiles, 'Luke's coming,' she adds and Jess smirks.
'Yeah,' he affirms. 'The look on his face will be precious when he meets some of Matt's poets.'
Lorelai smiles politely, not sure if he's joking.
'Thanks,' she says at last, 'For... for everything,' she adds awkwardly, making an indefinite gesture with her hand.
'I think most of the time I yelled at her,' he shrugs, '... so you're welcome... I guess.'
He bends and takes the bag and starts to leave.
'Jess...'
He turns back.
'I think yelling works just fine.'
He nods and for a moment he thinks he sees Rory smiling.
He sends his last guests, shakes hands and at last it's over. Too many people praising him and tapping his shoulder makes him sick, although he can't deny there's a certain thrill that he feels when he gets some feedback for his work. However, the real feedback he will receive in a couple of months, when the initial fuss is over. Until then...
He leans back against the wooden front door of the building and fishes his pocket for a cigarette.
As he takes a long first drag and lets it out slowly, he looks around. The street is almost empty, and that's how he likes it best. And then he feels rather than sees someone shifting position a few feet away. She's sitting in the wheelchair, her purse in her lap and he thinks her hands are trembling. He can't see her eyes, only her profile, cause she's facing the occasionally passing cars.
'Well, isn't this a day of surprises?' he approaches her and mirrors her position, facing the passing-by cars.
Minutes pass and he has stubbed his cigarette long ago before any of them speaks. When she does, her voice is quiet and maybe a little mean, and she keeps her gaze straight ahead.
'I stood there and held that fancy needle kit Emily had given me for my eighteenth birthday,' she says and there's a certain cruel vibe in her voice. 'Mom was out...' she pauses and he frowns, looking down at her, but she keeps staring ahead.
The pause stretches for a while and she wishes he waits until she finds her words doesn't end it. He doesn't.
'I was gonna do something stupid,' she says at last. 'But then, your voice was all I heard and I...' she sighs, lost for words.
The first time she goes after him, she's in a wheelchair. She shakes her head, not wanting to think over the irony in that.
'I don't think I can do this without you,' she finishes, and it feels both like she's relieved and terrified by that fact.
He doesn't say anything in reply and the longest couple of minutes stretch between them. When she gathers the courage to look up at him, he's smiling.
'I would've come back, you know,' he shrugs and takes her hand in his. It's cold and shaky and he squeezes her fingers between his, conducting warmth and comfort she didn't think she remembered how to feel. 'I always do, right?'
She feels something pass through her. It's more of a trick of the mind than an actual perceptible feeling, but it's there. She doesn't know what to expect, they've never been this way before, she never imagined they would ever have to, and she doesn't know what to expect. But, somehow, that's okay.
Reviews would let me know what you think...