Notes: New fic, obviously. Future. Lit. Inspired by the Tremolo song "Promise Ring". Listen to it, you'll like. Dunno where this came from, but it's here for you to read.
Thanks: Ari, my beta, who is one of the sweetest people you'll ever have the pleasure to know.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Lyrics are by Tremolo, Gilmore Girls is a production of the WB and the brainchild of Amy-Sherman Palladino. No suing.
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Long ago, I drew a line into the sand
Jumped across and held your hand
Band of gold protect us from the bitter tide
That comes to wash away our words with time
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She admires it every morning when she wakes up; it never fails to amuse him. It's a cheap plastic ring that is adorned with an even cheaper imitation of a gem. She loves it, and he cannot even understand why. He remembers only one instance that she took it off—she was doing the dishes, and didn't want it to get ruined.
He'd scoffed, and then proceeded to help her with the chore.
He remembers glancing over at her hands, and noticing a tan line from the ring.
"Rory, come on …" Jess says. He rolls his eyes as he watches her stare at the toy dispensers; or in this case, a fake jewelry dispenser.
She turns, sticks her tongue out at him, and goes back to digging deep into her pocket for a quarter, but to no avail. She'd used all of her change on trying to win a stuffed animal out of the 'Toy Box', a stuffed cow to be precise. Damn stuffed cow. It was all for nothing, and the cost of it added up to seventy-five—freaking—cents.
He hears her curse under her breath and smiles.
Then, all of a sudden, he is in the mood for a humanitarian act. "Rory, here," he offers, reaching into his jean pocket and pulling out a quarter. Then, he leans over, inserts the quarter into the slot, and twists the knob.
The plastic container rolls into her awaiting hands, and she lets out a squeal.
It's a beautiful sound.
Greedily, she snaps open the container in record speed, and slides on the ring.
He laughs gently as she admires it.
Then she smiles, turns to him, kisses him sweetly, and whispers: "Our promise ring."
He smiles against her lips, and waves it off as nothing.
She yawns, rubs her eyes, and stretches her hand over her head. The plastic gem catches the sunlight but doesn't glisten; it's plastic, after all. She turns, smiles at him, and he reaches a hand out to pull her back under the covers.
"Jess," she says lazily, and does not put up a hard fight in trying to get up.
"Rory," he says, mimicking her voice.
They stay as they are for a while before she decides that they do need to get up.
It is time to face the day.
"Mom, I don't want to have this conversation anymore," Rory says in a tired voice. She decides that they cannot have these conversations; they tear at her threadbare justifications for being with him every time that every time they occur. It's a beaten out conversation that her mother cannot seem to let go.
"Rory, you can't keep dodging these questions! I mean, honestly, where do you think this relationship is going? You're 27 years old. I don't want you to waste your time with someone who doesn't seem to be heading anywhere …" her mother replies. Lorelai reminds her of Emily now more than ever; she notices how ironic it is.
Rory sighs, and whispers heavily, "Mom, please … stop."
She looks down at her plastic ring as she hears Lorelai sigh in reply.
"Rory, I love you. You know that, right?"
Rory nods. Yes, yes she does.
"But sooner or later, you're going to have to answer these questions. If not with me, then with yourself," Lorelai says in a tiredly. She's given all that she could; it's up to her daughter to figure out the rest.
Silence follows; the sunlight sneaks through the windows, illuminating the entire room, but the blue gem remains dull.
She asks the questions one day, out loud, and to him.
"Where is this going?" she says, firm and clear. She needs an answer; she needs it now.
He is stunned, this she can see, but she stands vigilant, expectant of an answer she already knows that he doesn't have. She knows, but asks anyway.
"What do you mean?" he retorts, answering a question with a question.
She throws up her arms, desperate for his answer; defeated, she resigns to a tired voice. "I mean, where is this going? How are we? Where are we?"
He angles his head to the side and retorts, not unkindly, "We're okay."
"Okay?" she repeats.
"What more do you want, Rory? I don't know what you want me to say …"
"Okay. We're okay?"
He shrugs and replies, "Sure, I guess. Okay is good, isn't it?"
"Okay? So we're 'okay'. Are we even heading anywhere, Jess? Are we going to spend the rest of our lives with the label 'okay' plastered on our relationship?" she bites out, frustrated.
And it shocks him, her tone, it does. "Is that it, Rory, forever or nothing?"
"I'm 27, Jess! I need to know where my life is heading …"
He sighs, suddenly desperate to flee this situation, before it hits him. "Have you been talking to your mother again?"
This question makes her eyebrows arch up, but he doesn't care. "What?" she bites out.
"Is this why you're so worked up?"
Yes, yes, yes. "No," she denies. "I just need to know where we stand … "
He's not convinced though, she knows.
She knows because he knows her all too well.
"God, Rory, we can't keep fighting over your mother! I'm in a relationship with you, not her. I mean, God. Is this how it's always going to be?" he shouts, obviously annoyed.
"Leave her out of this," she retorts, soft but firm.
"I would, but you keep bringing her back in."
Silence.
Then he turns, and heads toward their bedroom.
But he halts suddenly upon hearing the sound of her voice, "Do you even love me?"
Sighing, Jess looks back and replies, "I can't believe you would ask me that."
He turns again, makes his way inside the bedroom, and closes the door.
The sunlight glares into the living room, and she thinks it's suddenly much too bright. The cheap silver plastic remains unable to show any sign of life, and the blue plastic gem remains dull and vigilant as ever. Frustrated, she tears off the ring, throws it on the floor, and runs out the door.
He hears the plastic hit the ground, and closes his eyes.
She folds her arms across her chest as she walks to an unknown destination. She's just walking; it's all that she can do to suppress the tears that are inevitably going to come out.
She looks down at her hands, knowing that something is terribly missing.
It's cheap and plastic, and shouldn't carry much meaning.
But it does, it really does.
It's a cold December afternoon, and he is attempting to teach her how to skate. Attempting is the key word, of course. You would think that she'd know how to, growing up with Lorelai and all, but one would be surprised. She can't even stand up straight.
Her grip on his hand is hard; she is scared.
"I'm not going anywhere," he wants to tell her, but he doesn't.
She should know this, he figures.
"Okay, ready?" he asks and is given a wordless nod.
They begin moving, slowly and steadily; but she falls flat on her butt, and pulls him down with her. "Ow," she cries out and he is suddenly on top of her. He makes an attempt to move, not wanting to crush her, but she reaches out and pulls on his collar. She pulls him back to her.
"Hi," she breathes out. The air is cold so her breath turns into an odorless smoke.
He smiles. "Hey."
She pulls him closer, and their lips are now inches apart. "I love you," she whispers before she kisses him.
She's all too whole, and much too sweet, all of a sudden.
He pulls back as their lips break, and gets up, taking her with him. He keeps her stable by keeping an arm locked around her waist. Sighing, she laces their fingers together and leans into him. He runs a thumb on her fingers, but stops when he reaches the one with the plastic ring.
Sighing, he pulls her closer and whispers very softly, "Me too."
He doesn't know if she even heard it (she did).
"Come on, let's try it again …" he says, and goes back to his role as the teacher.
His arm is locked around her waist the entire time.
She is back at their apartment, now equipped with the armor to distinguish the old fight. She breathes in, calming herself, before she cries out, "Jess?"
No answer.
"Jess?"
More silence.
Confused and worried, she searches the whole house.
He's nowhere to be found.
Sighing heavily, she walks back into the living room and sits down, nervous all of a sudden. Where could he be?
The sunlight glares into the living room, and she catches sight of something in the corner of her eye. She thinks it must have been the plastic ring that she threw down earlier.
It's not.
The gold band gleams, radiant in its own skin.
It's her size, she knows.
She reaches out, and picks it up to admire it.
The gem is not dull, and it's not blue.
The crystal blooms in translucent colors.
And it sparkles, brilliant in the sunlight.