A/N: Hi, and welcome to my version of how Rory and Jess should have turned out after the seventh season (let's hope they get together in the Revival – I bet you're all as excited as I am!). I'm a complete Literati, so I'm sorry to anybody who loves Dean or Logan, you're probably not going to like this story all that much. Okay, onto the boring part: I do not own Gilmore Girls, any of the characters or any of the original plot – this is simply a story that I wrote because I can't stop thinking about it and I'm re-marathoning Gilmore Girls at the moment so I had some inspiration to write.

Oy with the poodles already!

-GirlfromOz


One:

RORY'S P.O.V-

I manage to keep the smile that's begging to appear, off my face until I see the sign that welcomes me to the small town.

It doesn't have a population number listed on it – it's far too small of a population to bother writing –, but the brown wood is fresh and the paint is a new white, obviously Taylor finally got his way.

As he always does, my mind whispers and I feel the wave of positivity wash over me as soon as I pass it. I'm finally home.

My eyes skim over the small town that's been my home for the last twenty-three years, minus one year abroad, some time spent travelling and the years I was at Yale. A town that opened their arms wide for a new mother when she was still a child herself, who welcomed us with open arms.

"Home," I whisper to nobody but myself, and I feel the sinking feeling finally leave my stomach. It settled there sometime over the past year, a constant reminder that home was waiting for me, waiting for my return.

My eyes start to water to their own accord and I quickly wipe a tear away, taking in the familiar sight that I've been dreaming of, noting that there's new park benches on the side of the road, looking towards the shops and I wonder if Luke opposed, or if he just let it go, knowing Taylor would get his way in the end, anyway.

The cab pulls over to the side of the road, far enough that nobody inside the diner would be able to see me, but close enough that there's a minimal chance I'll get stopped walking there. Despite my love for the town, there's only three things I want at this point in time – to see my mother, to see Luke and to get some of his delicious coffee in me.

Getting out the car, I hand over an unbelievable amount of money to the driver – the things I do to keep my home coming a surprise –, grab my luggage, phone and nearly-empty coffee cup, putting it up to my lips as I stop beside the bin on the sidewalk. I wince as the liquid pours down my throat, cold coffee has never been a favourite of mine.

My heart feels as though it's about to jump through my throat as I push the door to the diner open, taking in the sight before me.

Despite thinking she was going to be here, my mother is nowhere to be seen, and I let out a disappointed sigh before I shut the door behind me and walk to the counter where Luke is facing away from me, his ear to the phone.

Kirk looks up from his cup of coffee – I wonder if it's still three-quarters decaf, one quarter caffeinated – before he smiles a great smile and I put my finger up to his lips to keep him from talking, pointing at Luke.

He nods once before he returns to the donut he's halfway through, and I sit down on the stool beside him, my elbows resting on the counter, my chin resting in my hands.

Luke looks the same as he always did, his baseball cap is on backwards, his blue jeans hanging baggy, a green flannel shirt resting over his back. I can't help it, I smile, I've missed the man more than I can begin to describe.

"Look, I don't know what you want me to say- No, you can't do that, I've already told them not to sell you more. Because. Because, you're addicted and you're going to make a hole in the roof if you keep bouncing. No, I'm not letting you have a special exception. No. It doesn't matter that you did that last night- Loralie. I've got to go. I have a diner full of customers,"

My eyes travel around the empty diner besides Kirk and I and then up to the clock. He's got almost an hour before the lunch rush will come in and I try to hold in my laugh.

"Okay, I'll be home later tonight. I know. I love you too."

He hangs up the phone and turns around, looking up.

He double-takes when he sees me and then he's around the counter and in front of me before I can blink, his arms crushing me to his chest tighter than I thought possible. "Rory!"

His good mood makes my happiness rise to an almost giddy level and I wrap my arms around his waist, smiling into his shoulder. "Hi dad."

Before I left, I'd never called him dad before, it hadn't even occurred to me. I'd always loved Luke, always adored him, and he'd always been my father figure in life, but the words had never come out. Not until I'd had enough one night and called to talk to mum, but he had answered the phone.

He talked me down from my crying state until I could breathe enough to talk and make sense, and the words had accidently popped out. "Dad, I don't want to be here anymore, I don't think I'm made out for this."

We both stayed silent for a moment, the words rushing over us and I heard him suck in his breath. I waited for him to become awkward, to apologise, but he instantly stepped into the father role he'd always played and whispered that it was okay and I was made out for anything I wanted to do, but I could come home if I needed to.

Ever since that night, he'd been dad, much to his, mine and apparently my mother's happiness.

He pushes me back to arm's length to take a look at me before he runs a hand through his hair and then pulls me back to his chest. "Look at you! Even more gorgeous than before you left, and here I was, thinking that was impossible."

I laugh despite myself, knowing fully well that I've put on a few pounds while working away. "Lies will never get me to stop drinking coffee, stop while you're ahead."

He groans under his breath and pushes himself away from me, walking back behind the counter to where the coffee pot is and grabs me a mug. "How many cups have you had today?"

My fingers cross themselves behind my back and I give a small smile. "None."

His eyebrow raises in disbelief. "Plus?"

I pout. "Five. But yours is better!"

A smile takes over his face and his eyes get a far-away look in them, as if he's trapped in a memory, before he snaps back to reality and pours me a cup before handing it over. "You and your mother, too much alike for your own good."

I take a sip of my drug and I feel relief spread all the way to my toes; nobody makes coffee better than right here at Luke's, and I've gone for too long without it. "Speaking of, where is my mother? I thought she'd be here."

He leans against the bench behind him and folds his arms across his chest, shaking his head. "She's at home, looking for the coffee. That was just her on the phone, she wanted to know where I hid it this morning. She'd had five cups before I was coming to work at eight o'clock, and she's refusing to drink the decaf. Apparently it's the coffee version of cyanide. The more she was worrying that you hadn't called, the more she consumed. She's been unstoppable for the past two days, I thought I'd have to tie her to a chair just to make sure she wouldn't bounce through the roof with the coffee-high that she's on. She's cleaned the whole house," I raise my eyebrow and he nods. "Bleach and everything."

I instantly feel guilty for not calling. "I'm sorry I couldn't call, I was on a plane for fifteen hours and then when I got here I had serious jetlag so I slept for ten hours straight. I didn't want to call when I woke up because I wanted to surprise her."

He fiddles with something on the coffee machine before he turns back to me. "Don't be ridiculous, she'll be so excited that you came home that she'll forget about looking for the coffee … at least for an hour. So how long are you back for? How was the land down under?"

I note the hint of sarcasm at the expression and take another sip of my coffee which is almost finished. "It was good- hot. And it's not like people say, there aren't kangaroos hopping down the street, or anything. At least not the way people make out, not unless you're in the bush. And I'm- Well I'm home fulltime."

He frowns, but I note that it's not out of anger, but out of concern. "Everything okay?"

"I just can't stand being away from home for that long," my voice is almost a whisper. "This is the first time I've been home in over a year, and I don't know how long I would've been away for if I hadn't have left. They told us that freelance journalism would be hard if you were connected to home, I just didn't know how hard it would be until I experienced it for myself."

He leans over and gives my shoulder an affectionate pat before he busies himself wiping down the counter. "Well, for the record, I'm glad you're home. Not because I couldn't cope with your mother, or anything, just because I've missed you. The whole town has. Taylor actually brought up at the town meeting starting a money-fund to bribe you to come back home so that Loralie would stop harassing people."

I laugh, vaguely wondering whether or not he's joking before Kirk cuts in. "We all thought it was a great idea, even I was willing to donate a small sum, but then Luke pointed out that you were pursuing your dreams and if we mentioned how bad Loralie had become since you'd left, your conscious would get the better of you and you'd come home, and if we did that he was going to find some way to sue Taylor. Which we were all pretty sure wouldn't be able to technically happen, but apparently it scared Taylor because the idea got shut down right away."

Luke shoots me a small smile. "What's the plans now?"

Despite the fact that I've always planned everything one hundred per cent, I don't have a plan.

I just woke up, decided I needed to go home, handed in my resignation and got on a plane.

"I don't know." I almost laugh, the statement ridiculous to even myself. "I don't have a plan. I guess … find a job and a place to live? If not in Stars Hollow somewhere close so I can come and visit all the time? Being half way across the world makes you more than a little homesick."

He pauses for a moment and I watch the wheels in his brain turn before he makes up his mind and he pulls out a key from his back pocket. "Well… You know I'm living at your mum's, so upstairs is free. You can live there as long as you want, no rent required – just pay the bills on time and keep the place clean. As for the job- I don't have anything full time at the moment, but you're welcome to work here to save up some cash until you find another one."

His kindness nearly sends me over the edge and when I start to object he frowns at me. "Don't say no, I'm not doing it because I love you or because I love your mum, I'm doing it because I have a place where you can safely sleep for cheap, you'll save some money, and I need someone to help me out around here at the moment, anyway. I've become a full-time handy man at home."

I want to tell him that there's nothing that needs time fixing at home, but instead I hold my tongue and take the key out of his hand, putting it inside my purse. "Thank you, dad."

He nods once before he sticks his chin out of the door. "Now go and see your mother before she has a heart attack."

I give him a kiss on the cheek, smile at Kirk and leave my luggage with the promise that he'll put my bags upstairs for me, then turn and walk out of the door.


"OH SWEET CHILD O' MINE WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

I deny my urge to tell her she's been listening to too much Guns 'N' Roses. "Hello mother-"

"Ungrateful little offspring, you don't call me mother after making me worry that you're dead in a ditch somewhere! You finally answer your phone and you call me mother?! I don't care that you're twenty-three, you're still my baby and I'm still mummy."

From the pace that she's talking, I know that Luke wasn't exaggerating when he told me how many cups of coffee she'd had, and I muffle my laugh with a cough. "Sorry, mummy, but you should have known that I wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere – I've only been out of touch for just over three days."

"Yes, but it's what you were doing in those 'just over three days' that I'm wondering about. You haven't been out of touch with me for a whole day since you left, between the emails and video calls. So what have you been doing? Why haven't you returned any of my calls or emails? Did you meet a man? Is his accent sexy? Did you get kidnapped? I thought you told me that Australia was safe. Did you buy a puppy for your apartment? OH! He can be friends with Paul Anka! We can put them on video chat together and they can be cyber-buddies! Does it count as me being a grandmother if it's to a dog? I think it does, so I'm a grandma now. I demand he never calls me that, it would make me feel too old, he can call me Pretty Lady. Can I rename him? You've picked a stupid name, haven't you?"

I listen to her ramble before she stops to take a breath and I cut her off before she can continue again, turning onto our street. My heartrate picks up again, I'm almost back in our home. "No, I didn't meet a man or buy a dog. And I'm almost certain that, even if I had, he and Paul Anka never would have been cyber-buddies, because dogs can't use technology. Why did you call me so many times, anyway?"

"Well, we got an unexpected visitor a few days ago, and you would never believe who it was. Anyway, I call you all the time so I thought you'd be interested in knowing, and I needed someone sane to hear me out-" I knock on the front door and she sighs into the phone, "Hold on a second babe, I think Luke's home to make sure I didn't find the coffee."

When she pulls the front door open, she stops dead in her tracks and simply stares at me before she starts blubbering and tackles me on the front porch.