AN: I'm slowly coming back. This is a one-shot Lit inspired by the song Right Here by Staind. I recommend listening to it when you read this. It won't do anything but maybe help you see what I was thinking when I wrote this. There aren't any lyrics from the song in here, but when I listen to it, I can almost see a boy and a girl in a desert. I realize this is not realistic at all, but I needed some fluff and angst, so I came up with what I could think of. I tried to keep it as realistic as possible, but also took some creative freedom. I promise you that "Finding Grace" and "For You I Will" will be updated within the week. Hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

She's hot. She's tired. She feels like hell. She's fairly sure she looks like hell, too. But she won't turn around. Not now. Not after this journey. Not after being told she was crazy. Not after hitching her way across fucking Africa to find him. Not after checking in every hospital from Kenya to here. No. Not now.

She thinks about the moments leading up to now. Leading up to this day. And she can't help but smile. Because it's crazy – the hand that life dealt her. It's completely crazy and out of character.

Granted, when it came to Jess Mariano, nothing was normal or in character.

He held her hand as they walked by the library, on their way to the pub just outside of campus to celebrate graduation. A third for them. They'd completed kindergarten and high school together and now were coming up on college graduation. It seemed surreal to both of them. Neither could believe that they had managed to stay together for eight years.

Rory had already gotten job offers from the Times, the Post and even a small entertainment segment on CNN. Jess had not even volunteered to tell Rory what he'd been offered.

"So," he began as they took a seat at a table in the back. "Have you made a decision?"

Rory shrugged. "I think I'm going to go with CNN. It's entertainment, but it's a start."

He smiled. "That's really great, Ror. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Jess," she said. "Have you gotten any offers?"

"One," he replied, suddenly becoming guarded.

"Where is it?" she asked, knowing she'd have to actually ask him every question until he told her the full story.

He shrugged. "It's in, uh… Tanzania."

Her world stopped moving.

She opened her mailbox and sighed. Figured – just bills. She hadn't received a letter from Jess in two weeks. She figured that eventually she'd have to start worrying. But she knew that the second she began to worry she'd get a letter. She knew worrying would cause undue stress.

He'd only been gone for six months and already it felt like an eternity. He'd be returning in another six, and she knew that when he got back it would be like no time had passed.

She'd been upset at first at his decision to go. Didn't he love her? She'd asked. Didn't he want to spend the rest of his life with her?

He'd answered in the affirmative to both questions. But, he'd reminded her, she'd also be busy for the next year. And when he got back he'd be able to add it to his résumé. And then they'd be able to afford the big fancy wedding her grandparents had been planning for the two of them since they had been together.

She'd eventually softened to the idea. It was only a year. And she would, in fact, be busy. That, and they would have June to spend together before they had to say good-bye for a year.

She cried when he left. And when she had received his first letter. And when he had called her after not hearing anything for three weeks. And eventually it got easier. She would get a letter every other week and twice a month he would call and they would talk for at least ten minutes before he had to go. They were small gestures, but they made the distance easier.

She found a letter at the bottom of the stack and mentally smacked herself for beginning to worry. She knew he would be okay. She didn't need to question whether he could handle himself out there. Of course he could. But…

There was something different about this letter. The envelope, for one, was not covered in dust and grime like the other ones. It wasn't addressed in his normal chicken scratch handwriting. This envelope was white, slightly smudged with dirt, but clean nonetheless. It was typed. She still didn't let the panic sink in. Not now. Maybe he got access to a typewriter and was in a government building for the night, she reasoned. It sounded stupid and unrealistic and she knew it.

She carefully opened the letter, praying to see his writing. But she didn't. She didn't get past the first sentence before both she and the letter fell to the floor.

Jess Mariano has gone missing…

Rebels involved…

For two weeks she was a zombie – going to work, coming home, having dinner, sleeping. And for two weeks she waited by the phone. And for two weeks, she heard absolutely nothing.

It was a Friday morning when she'd decided what to do. She went to her boss and asked for some vacation time. She had explained what was going on, and she had explained what she needed to do. With much consideration, her boss had given her a month of vacation. Rory had promised it would be her only one. And then she had gone back to her apartment and packed her bags.

"Honey, are you sure?" Lorelai had asked. "I mean, Africa's a big country. He could be anywhere."

"The last letter I got said he was on the border of Kenya and Tanzania," Rory had told her as she threw clothes into her suitcase. "I have it narrowed down."

Luke, poor Luke, had not known what to say. He just watched as Rory determinedly threw clothes, shoes and books into her suitcase. He'd been the one to drive her to the airport. He'd given her a hug and slipped a hundred dollar bill into her jacket pocket without her knowing. She'd found it when she had taken her jacket off as she was switching planes.

She had found a picture of her and Jess in the pocket of her jean shorts as she was putting them on in the ladies room. They were smiling, and he had his arm around her. She remembered how Emily had taken the picture at their high school graduation party. And how much she had smiled that day. She remembered thinking that nothing would separate them.

And that thought made her more determined to find Jess, no matter how long it took her.

It was that chain of events that led her to here. Sitting on the back of a truck in Tanzania with an armed guard and a government agent who had been charged with coming along with her. When they had arrived in the Tanzania, a kind old man whose name she now could not remember had guided her to a truck. Her trip had been a series of stops and departures. She had scoured villages and hospitals looking for him and asking anyone if they had seen him.

It had been in Musoma when someone had known him. She had just missed him, they had told her in broken English. He had been on the run, and was now on his way to Bukoba.

And now here she was, watching for any glimpse of him. The agent had been helpful. When they had arrived in Bukoba, he had stopped at a rest stop, and told her to go on without him. Their reunion would be something private, something she would not want to share with the world, he had told her. She needed to find him on her own. It was, after all, what she had wanted all along. A private reunion where she would scold him and hate him and yell at him and then finish it off by kissing him senseless.

It was around four in the afternoon, she noted, by the way the sun was hanging over her head. She had gotten used to not having a clock or her watch with her. She now operated by looking up the sky. She also used this time to pray that he was safe and unharmed.

She said her silent prayer again as she looked up at the sky. And as if by some miracle, when she looked back to the mass of people in the village, she caught a glimpse of a black shirt. Attached to this shirt was a pair of khaki covered shorts that were being worn by a pair of tan legs.

And the boy who owned those legs was staring right at her. And smiling… no- smirking. He was smirking, and she couldn't stand the excitement that had begun to form in the pit of her stomach. She smirked back and, as the truck came to a stop, she hopped off and ran to him.

She stopped herself right in front of him. How had he changed? Had he been severely hurt? Would he remember her at all?

As if reading her mind, he took a step toward her. He wasn't smiling, though. He wasn't even smirking. He was just looking at her.

She brought her hands to his face, and he closed his eyes. She was unsure of herself as she gently touched his cheek, and let her fingers brush over the scar of what she assumed had been a cut. She winced when she felt it. She couldn't stand the thought of him being hurt. But he wasn't hurt now, she reminded herself. He was alive and, with the exception of a few new cuts and the scars, he was well.

She stopped moving her hands over his face and cradled his face in her hands. She was savoring this moment, praying to God it wouldn't end. She willed him with her mind to open his eyes, which had remained closed as she had traced his face and his scars. And they remained closed as she held his face in her hands gently, afraid of hurting him or scaring him. She noticed he hadn't made a move to touch her, and she began to think it was a bad idea. She started to move away, knowing that it had been a mistake to come here. She again felt her heart being ripped away as she slowly, ever so slowly, removed her hands from his face. She took one step back and felt her hands fall. She closed her eyes, just trying to remember – for one final moment – what it felt like to be near him again.

And without warning, he grabbed her and pulled her to him, bringing his lips to hers in one instant. After registering what had happened, she kissed him with all she had – releasing the sadness, the pain and the happiness she had felt in the last month into this kiss. She held tightly to him – to this moment – as she kissed him. And for that moment, she was home again. And he was with her, and nothing bad had happened.

He slowly and reluctantly broke the kiss, still holding her close. Not releasing any on his grip. She thanked the powers that be that he hadn't let her go. She held her hands, that had been combing through his hair as they kissed, at the nape of his neck. She held tightly to the memory.

She stared behind him at the sun, the desert that she had called home for the last three weeks. And when she looked at him again, she felt tears forming in her eyes. He was smirking at her. And she knew he hadn't changed or forgotten her. She knew he was still the same boy she'd fallen in love with at the tender age of five. The boy she'd given her heart to in eighth grade. He was still Jess. And she knew this when he finally spoke to her after what had seemed like an eternity.

"What took you so long?"