This story takes place at the beginning of Season Three, right after Rory returns from Washington. r/r please!
xXx
Rory paced in front of her desk, fingers tapping her thighs anxiously. She'd been home for nearly three hours and had a pile of crumbled letters littering her floor. She couldn't figure out how to fix this mess she had created. Mainly, she couldn't figure out what it was that she wanted out of this situation. She couldn't envision an ideal situation, because regardless of what happened next, someone would inevitably get hurt.
She'd spent the first three stabs at writing a letter apologizing to Jess and telling him that they couldn't be together, because as unfair as the situation was to everyone involved, Dean was her boyfriend and he deserved to be treated better in the future.
She'd spent the next two letters insisting that if she really cared about Dean, she'd break up with him and allow him to find someone who would be able to treat him better.
She then proceeded to feel embarrassed about all of the letters and rejected them all. How could she even be certain that Jess cared about her? What if her mom was right? What if she was imagining everything? He'd never said anything specific to her. So what? She'd break up with Dean and then Jess would just shrug haphazardly and walk away not even appreciating the huge sacrifice she had made for him?
That realization led her to what she had been working on for the past hour, her trusted source of decision making, the faithful pro-con list. The evidence was insurmountable so far.
Dean cared about her, loved her even. Dean built her a car. Dean got along great with her friends and family. Dean thought it was cute that she liked to read. Dean was protective of her. He made her a bracelet. He always called when he said he would. He took her out. He trusted her. And, he had worn tuxes on various occasions for Chilton events and at Sookie's wedding.
Jess was exciting. She didn't know exactly how to elaborate on that first point, because it was such an intangible experience. He made her feel alive and exhilarated, whereas Dean made her feel safe. Jess not only loved the fact that Rory read, but he understood this part of her. He not only read similar books and suggested ones Rory had never even heard of, but he challenged her and he left notes and comments in her own books. He expanded her world. He did also pay ninety dollars just to spend an afternoon with her, and although she couldn't quite wrangle the truth out of him, she knew he had planned it. He talked to her and connected with her in a way Dean never could. Dean tried, she knew that much, but he couldn't reach her, at least not in the same way Jess did.
There was also the small matter of Jess never really leaving her mind. He haunted her. He invaded her thoughts and her dreams; she couldn't even read a book without his influence washing over her.
Of course, Jess was unreliable. He was spontaneous and moody, and while that was an essential part of his allure, Rory could never be sure about a relationship with him. He was so up and down. Plus, her mom didn't just dislike him, she loathed him. In fact, the entire town was against him. There was nothing definite about Jess. He was who he was and that very definition could change from one moment to the next.
But Dean, well, he was Dean. He was there for her, always, even when she didn't really want him to be. He was forgiving and kind and supportive of her. She always knew exactly where she stood with Dean, and while this might be quite boring for some, she had convinced herself that this was a very important trait.
She sighed. She had decided. Dean had stood by her even when she didn't deserve his love. The very least she could do is stand by him now. He didn't deserve to be hurt just because she had made a mistake. She'd learn to be a better girlfriend from now on. She owed him.
Rory glanced at the clock. It was eight fifteen. Dean would be over at nine. Her mother was at her grandparents' for dinner, so she had exactly forty five minutes to do what she felt she needed to do. She snatched a stack of post-it notes from her desk and scribbled a sloppy note on the top one. She then turned to her bookshelf, deciding which book would best suit this endeavor. She found a thin book by Chekhov, a collection of short stories. It was perfect, because in a book filled with different stories that had various endings, Jess couldn't read too much into anything. It was the Switzerland of all books. She opened the cover, sticking the post-it to the inside flap. She slammed it shut, satisfied.
A few minutes later she rushed out the door, book strategically planted in the purse hanging loosely across her shoulder. She walked with determination and purpose. She had planned on remaining calm and collected, acting naturally as if nothing was eating at her. She found this to be an impossible task. She had to get this over with, and quickly..
Moments later she breezed through the diner, not even daring to glance at Luke, for fear of losing her nerve. She walked past the diners, ignoring them, and forced herself behind the plaid curtain and up the steps. It was in the hallway that she began to lose her nerve. She didn't even know if Jess was home. If he wasn't, she'd just leave the book. Luke would assume it was Jess's and toss it inside, never thinking of opening it. She fished the book out from her purse, clasping it tightly. Her palms were sweaty, radiating frazzled emotions she couldn't allow herself to identify.
She rapped lightly on the door, waiting exactly three seconds before plunging inside. She spotted him standing in front of a dresser, his eye catching hers in a mirror. She wished she could only see him this way, reflected by glass, boundaries separating them. His eyes seemed safer, less intense. He seemed more vulnerable and easier to ignore.
Then he spun around and she had to steady her breathing. She knew he would turn to face her, so why was she so shocked by the sight of him? He looked exactly the same, messy dark hair, velvety brown eyes, unapproachable stance. She remembered the smell of him, though try as she might, she could never describe it. He seemed more calloused than usual and though this hardness should have made her task easier, she found herself wanting to cry instead. Biting her lip roughly to cancel out the pain of standing so close to him, she narrowed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate as she plunged towards him.
"I...I tried," she said desperately, wishing he could read between her words into what she really meant. She believed naively that he somehow understood precisely what she intended to say, but she couldn't be sure. She attempted again. "To write," she clarified. "I...I tried."
Jess shrugged acting as if this was no major concern of his. "No pens?" he all but snapped.
His anger is a defense mechanism, she told herself, but even so, the harsh tone of his voice made her want to slither back to her bed and never come out of her room again. She fought against the urge to surrender and her blue eyes met his, challenging him. "I didn't know what to say," she said shortly.
He nodded. "Huh," was all he could utter, because now her eyes were icy and biting at him. He'd never seen her this defensive before. She was so vulnerable and so malicious all in one tumultuous whirlwind.
"Here," she said, extending the book to him. He stared down at the cover, examining it quickly. Rory pushed it farther towards him. "Just take it," she urged him, her eyes now backing down, turning to the floor, her strength running far away from her body.
"Rory..." he began, knowing this was not how this scene was supposed to go. He had played it out in his head so many times before and in none of the scenarios was she this impossible to read, to reach.
She shook her head, bringing his sentence to an abrupt halt. "No," she said, already scrambling out of the room. "I can't," she said simply, scurrying back down the hallway and down the stairs. Luke's eyes met hers as she started across the diner, feeling the weight of several townspeople's questions and opinions dragging her down. Surely this was how Hester Prynne must have felt with all of those people looking at her, mocking her, claiming they knew exactly the type of person she was and exactly what was going through her mind..
She was angry. They had no right. They had no idea what she was thinking, what she was feeling. This wasn't their place to interfere. She didn't need their condemnation.
She pushed the door open forcefully, slapping her legs loudly against the concrete as she ordered them to carry her home. She was shaking and dizzy and she didn't trust her body anymore.
"Rory?" a warm voice called, rushing over to her. She wasn't sure who it was. The voice could have belonged to anyone, but she allowed them to wrap their arm around her waist and then to embrace her, and it was then that she recognized the familiar chestnut hair and the feeling of being towered over. She found she couldn't let go of him.
"Rory are you okay?" Dean asked, unable to pry her off of him.
She hated the relief she felt when she realized she could mask her hysteria as excitement. She wanted to break down, to fall to pieces, to shriek as loud as she could. She needed to remove all extra emotion from her body until she was unable to feel at all. She wanted to pull at Dean's hair, to hit him, to push him, anything to make him understand a semblance of the torment she was going through.
Instead she remained frozen in place, eyes glazing over in the sad realization that she was frozen inside of her own body. She was a prisoner.
"I just really missed you," she managed weakly, and as she assumed, he kissed her forehead and hugged her back, believing she was as ecstatic as he was about their reunion.
xXx
Jess stared too intently at the open door, still swinging from the force of Rory's departure. He watched until the swinging became a slow sway and then eventually nothing at all. So that's how it was going to be? She'd heighten his emotions, make him think he stood a chance, then leave him to slowly crumble until he was left with nothing?
He slammed his fist again the wall, ripping the skin from his knuckles, his palm throbbing with pain. He winced slightly, forcing his lungs to expand. He just needed to breath. The pain would disperse if he just kept breathing.
As he flipped open the book, understanding that Rory wouldn't just hand it over to him without it bearing some significance, the pain echoed loudly through his head until he couldn't even pinpoint his hand as the source of his stinging torment. Ignoring his physical ailment, he caught a flash of pink and opened the book widely, his fingers agonizing. He read the few words littering the note, able to decipher that she had rushed through them.
I hate this.
Jess stared at the three words, waiting for the hidden secret. He could interpret them a thousand different ways. She hated him for coming back to her town and uprooting her life. She hated herself for kissing him. She hated the book, for crying out loud.
No, none of this was right. If she was rejecting him, she'd done it in a pretty lousy way. He just felt surges of fresh anger building up inside of him, forcing him to slap the book shut and chuck it against the opposing wall, words still imprinted across his mind.
He knew what she hated. He understood what she meant, but he wasn't ready to let her slip away that easily. She hated that she was stuck with Dean. She hated that she was too nice to do anything about it. She hated Jess, because here he was making her feel guilty when she was supposed to be happy. She hated that he'd come back and she also hated that he had gone away. He got the message loud and clear. It was the same message that had been tugging at him for months now.
But to see it like that, in ink, scratched furiously as if she didn't even care if he could make out the letters, it stung. He almost preferred she had done nothing. Ignoring their weird pseudo-relationship might have been better. Almost.
Still, she had come. She had marched across town and through the diner and into his room, invading his privacy, invading unfamiliar territory. She came and she struggled, but she managed to connect with him, even without actual conversation. She wrote the damn note, which meant she'd been thinking about the subject, and knowing her, she'd been torturing herself for weeks.
She went against her better judgment and she came to him, and even if he hadn't received the response he had been hoping for, she still had reached out to him. She probably didn't even realize that no matter what she wrote on that stupid scrap of paper, he'd know that just by her even attempting to pacify him just proved what he had been torn over all summer.
Rory gave a damn about him. He hadn't imagined it. She felt something and she hated that she did, but she still did nonetheless. It was still there.
"What the hell?" Luke remarked, bounding into the apartment. "Rory comes storming in here like a bat out of hell and then runs out a minute later, then it sounds like you throw a damn table at the wall and..."
Luke froze, eyes falling upon Jess's hand. His eyes met Jess's and he didn't have to say a word. Luke wouldn't ask. He was a relatively isolated person, but he wasn't a damn moron. He knew.
"Come on," he said, signaling for Jess to follow him. "We gotta get it looked at."
Neither said a word after this and when the doctor asked, Jess claimed he fell off of his skateboard.
xXx
Rory lie half awake across the couch, head resting on a pillow nestled across Dean's lap. He looked down at her lovingly.
"Want me to leave?" he asked.
Rory nodded slowly, then caught her mistake. Good girlfriends never wanted their boyfriends to leave. "I mean, no, I don't want you to leave, but I'm exhausted," she insisted, yawning for effect.
Dean grinned kissing her cheek quickly before lifting her head up and sliding off of the couch. "I knew what you meant," he insisted, brushing his lips against hers.
Rory held back, allowing his lips to apply pressure to her mouth. She felt unable to respond, but knew Dean would just chalk it up to her being tired. She touched her finger to her lips as Dean called goodbye to her, door closing quietly behind him. The last time she had kissed someone, it had been Jess. She'd avoided Dean before going to Washington and had managed to maneuver her way out of kissing him all night. She wasn't sure why it mattered that Jess's lips had been the last ones she willingly touched, but it did. There was some significance behind it, and she knew that if she was reading this story in a book, this would be the exact moment where she began yelling in her mind at the protagonist, wishing they'd realize what she the reader already knew.
But, this wasn't a book. This was her life, and it wasn't as simple as doing whatever she pleased. Actions had consequences, and now she had to pay for her mistakes. She was certain in a matter of time the insufferable loneliness would fade and she would enjoy Dean's company again. What she was feeling was probably only guilt, nothing more.
"Mr. President!" Lorelai's voice called out in a singsong manner as she emerged through the back door.
"I'm only the vice president," Rory insisted, climbing to her feet.
Lorelai stared at Rory cautiously. "You want me to call you Dick Cheney?" she began, wrinkling her nose. "Well, okay, but just remember, you asked for it."
Rory rolled her eyes, hugging her mom tightly. A stray thought snuck into her head scolding her and informing her that this was exactly how she was supposed to have hugged Dean...like she missed him. She crushed the thought quickly, turning back to her mom. "How was grandma's?"
Lorelai shrugged. "Dull. Lifeless. Boring. Mundane. Drab." Her mouth twisted into a grin. "Kinda like Cheney."
"You need therapy," Rory remarked, walking into the kitchen to make coffee. "Want some?" she asked, waving the coffee pot in front of her mom.
Lorelai shook her head. "Just came from Luke's," she explained. "I had to wash the tyranny off of my aura before I returned home."
Rory looked unconvinced. "So your mind took you to Luke? Mr. Sunshine?"
"Well," Lorelai began, understanding Rory's point. "Compared to Emily Gilmore, he's Bambi."
"Uh huh," Rory remarked, tapping her fingers anxiously across the counter as she waited for her coffee to finish.
"Oh, so uh, Stars Hollow has proved yet again that karma is in fact a bitch and does go after everyone I will it to," Lorelai grinned.
"Sounds like karma's your bitch."
"Something like that," Lorelai agreed. "Jess messed up his hand, pretty badly in fact. It's not in a cast, but he has to keep it wrapped. He shattered two of his knuckles or something as equally disgusting."
Rory's coffee pot trance broke. "What? How?"
Lorelai shrugged. "Luke said something about a skateboarding accident..."
"Jess does not skateboard," Rory replied haughtily.
"Didn't think so," Lorelai chimed in. "Which means he obviously lied to Luke, big surprise. He probably punched through a glass window in a seedy attempt to knock off a liquor store or record store or whatever it is that kid's into."
"Right, yeah," Rory muttered half-heartedly.
"Oh!" Lorelai remarked, digging in her purse. "I almost forgot. Luke said you left something at the diner earlier."
"I...did?"
Lorelai shrugged, fishing a book out of her purse. "He said you spotted Dean and naturally became distracted, and by the time he noticed the book you were long gone."
Rory snatched the Chekhov book greedily, heart racing at the possibilities. This wasn't how her plan was supposed to work. Jess was supposed to read the note and never write back. It was supposed to end all of the weird tension between them and erase the past. It was supposed to signal that she was staying with Dean and he had no choice but to respect that decision. It didn't warrant a reply.
"Thanks," Rory said, slightly delayed. "I'm gonna go...put it on my bookshelf."
"Okay," Lorelai said, none the wiser. "I'll fix your coffee."
Rory ducked into her room, and once out of sight, opened the front cover. She blinked. Nothing. She felt a strange mix or relief and disappointment twisting through her chest. He probably just wanted to return the book to her. He most likely wouldn't have felt right keeping it.
She started to file it back into her collection when she noticed a twinge of yellow in the mix of off-white. She allowed the pages to fly open slowly, stopping at the page with the yellow post it. It was blank, another peculiar sign.
But there in pen, underlined was a quote from the short story, About Love. Rory took a minute to recall the story before reading the words picked out just for her. It was a story about a man who secretly loved a married woman. She too, secretly cared for him, yet they never acted on their feelings. It ended sadly, pages dripping with regret. Rory's eyes inhaled the underlined statements hungrily.
"Oh, how unhappy we were! -- I confessed my love for her, and with a burning pain in my heart I realized how unnecessary, how petty, and how deceptive all that had hindered us from loving was. I understood that when you love you must either, in your reasonings about that love, start from what is highest, from what is more important than happiness or unhappiness, sin or virtue in their accepted meaning, or you must not reason at all."
Rory's mind went blank. She knew what she wanted to believe about the underlined passage. She knew what she wanted to take from the words he deemed significant enough to sneak to her. But was this what he actually meant? She couldn't quite process the profoundness of his gesture.
"You okay, kid?" Lorelai called. Rory heard her footsteps clinking loudly, and she threw the book onto her bed as if she had just been caught doing drugs. Lorelai eyed her suspiciously. "Rory?"
Rory offered her mom a weak smile. "I'm just out of it," she insisted. "It's been such a long day and I'm exhausted. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, that's why there's coffee waiting."
Rory shifted her weight uncomfortably. She couldn't go out into the kitchen and drink coffee while indulging in small talk with her mom, as if nothing had happened. She couldn't fake another conversation.
"Do you mind if I just go to bed?" Rory asked softly. "I'm just beat and I need to sleep."
"Okay," Lorelai nodded. She kissed her daughter quickly on the forehead. "Get some sleep, kid, but tomorrow, you are all mine."
"Sounds good," Rory called, shutting her door hurriedly. She glanced at the crumbled letters on her floor and then at the book, nearly falling off of her bed. She looked into the mirror, not quite recognizing the person she saw. She was a mess and the only thing left to do, she decided, was to go to sleep and hope that in the morning this all seemed less impossible.
xXx
That's it for now...if you like it leave me reviews! Feedback inspires me to continue!