Title: In Search of Restitution

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Rory leaves looking for the part of herself she's lost, guided only by a figment of her imagination.

Author's Note: I don't know where this idea came from, but I'll dedicate chapter one to Oregano, as I was reading "The Boy to her Right" when it did.

"You have to make a choice, you know. You always have to make a choice."

She turned over in her bed and wiped another tear from her eye. The night was dark enough that her window reflected her room, and she wondered how skewed an outsider's perception of her would be. A good girl, a Yalie (spirit board and all), a reader. Not the Other Woman.

"Why are you here?"

"Oh, I thought that would be obvious. I always show up when you don't want me. Right?"

She sniffled. "I never said that."

"No, but you meant it."

"No, I didn't!"

"And there's that word again. Clearly Yale has done nothing for your vocabulary."

"Shut up! Just leave me alone!"

The box of CDs was on her bedside table, her sheets smelled like him, she couldn't get the expression on her mother's face out of her mind.

"If you want me to go just say so."

"I did."

"Well, how about once more...I don't know that you meant it."

"I meant it, I meant it." The one tear that had been making its way down her cheek in some sort of masking grace gave way to a flood. She was sobbing. The tears wouldn't stop as she threw the pillow at the window, knocked the CDs to the floor and tore through the house. She could see herself on the couch eating pizza, hear her own laughter at her mother's snarky comments, taste years of junk food and coffee rising in her throat. She needed to get out.

Three hours later she was on a plane. The nauseous feeling was fading as the altitude rose, but she couldn't get the ring of her own laughter out of her ears.

The in flight movie was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. She wondered what memories she'd erase. Jess? Dean? Yale? Would she just start over from scratch, a 19-year-old infant?

"You can't erase me, you know."

She jumped in her seat, and the person across the aisle from her offered up a strange look. "Planes make me nervous," she said and immediately headed for the bathroom.

"You can't just lock me out. I'm a part of who you are."

"You are not. You never knew me well enough to be a part of me."

"Oh, yes, because you know yourself."

She tried to lock him out of the small room, but he just rematerialized on the other side of the door.

"I'd like to think I do."

"Well, just because you'd like to think it doesn't mean it's true."

She washed her hands in the sink, still trying to scrub away the past week. She felt like she was constantly bouncing back and forth between them. The one year she'd been boyfriendless she'd felt empty, and it had still ended with a rush of feelings and confusion and helplessness that she always associated with the two.

"I can't help you, you know."

"Well, that's not much of a surprise coming from you."

"Oh, burn. I don't think I can go on any longer."

"Grow up, Jess." His name sizzled off her tongue, like she didn't want to say it unless it was to hurt him.

"In case you didn't notice, I did. Now it's your turn."

The flight attendant knocked on the door of the bathroom. "We're starting our decent. You need to return to your seat, Ma'am."

"I'll be right out."

He faded before her eyes until she was just staring at the sterile white door of the stall. "He chooses this visit to be vague?" she asked herself as she returned to her seat and buckled her seatbelt.

"Now arriving in Venice, California. The temperature is currently 94 degrees and the local time is 2:43 AM. Thank you for flying American Airlines today."

The airport was stuffy from the humidity and she couldn't believe that it was early morning. It was hot in Connecticut, but not like this.

"Where are you going?" He wasn't there, but his voice whispered in her ear.

"To find myself."