December 24th, 2008

"Merry Christmas, everybody!"

The crowd in Luke's dinner muttered an incoherent reply.

"You're annoyingly cheerful today," Luke grumbled at his fiancée.

"To you, I'm always annoyingly cheerful."

"True," he admitted before kissing her quickly and delivering a set of plates to a nearby table.

"And you, child of mine," Lorelai began, sitting down on the stool next to Rory, "how are you this afternoon? Are you working?"

"Yeah, my boss decided he wanted a human interest story about Christmas in a small town. Apparently, I'm the only reporter he knows from a small town."

"Ooo, that reminds me," Lorelai said, reaching into a bag at her feet. "Here is your paycheck, and this was waiting for you at the post office."

Rory shoved her check aside to look at the thick manila envelope her mother set before her. It was addressed to Rory Gilmore in care of the Stars Hollow post office. In the corner where the return address should have been was a single word; "Dodger."

Rory nearly choked on her own saliva. Her mother was right next to her, watching her expectantly.

"Well, are you going to keep me in suspense?"

"Um, yes, I think I will," Rory answered, shoving the envelope into her bag.

"What? Why?"

"Well…it might be a Christmas present, and it's not Christmas yet."

"A present from who?"

"Uh…"

"Rory."

"I'm gonna go talk to Taylor about this article," Rory said, suddenly standing up.

"Rory!"

"Mom, please."

"No. You've been depressed since you got back and if that thing is from who I think it's from—"

"Mom, just wait until tomorrow. I'm begging. Please."

"Fine, but I want to go on record saying that I don't like it."

"I know. Thank you. I'll be back here for dinner."

Lorelai could feel Luke standing behind her as she said, "I hate your nephew."

"And, in other news, it snows in Connecticut," Luke muttered in reply.


Rory sat down on the bridge and let her feet dangle over the side. She withdrew the envelope from her bag and pulled out the thick stack of paper from within. The first page said, "Light, by Jess Mariano." Above the title was a hand-written note in bright green ink saying it needed a better title. She ran her fingers over Jess's handwriting and turned the page. Her eyes welled at what she saw. It said, "For Rory, to whom I can never apologize enough."

She caught a tear before it smudged the manuscript. She took a pen from her bag and turned the page, adding her own notes to his as she read.


December 26th, 2008

Jess groaned when he heard a knock at the front door. He grabbed the nearest t-shirt and pulled it over his head as he stepped around his roommates and their friends passed out on the apartment floor. He was surprised to find a well-dressed young woman on the other side of the door.

"Can I help you?" he asked groggily.

"My name's Amelia Davidson. You're Jess Mariano."

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"I've read your book. It's really good."

"Okay," Jess replied, uncomfortable with the idea that writing a book may have just earned him a stalker.

"A friend of mine loaned it to me," Amelia continued.

"Really?" Jess asked, not even attempting to sound interested.

"Maybe you remember her. Her name is Rory Gilmore."

Jess's face became suddenly serious, and he stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. "Okay, who are you, how did you find me, and why are you here?"

"I told you my name. I know Rory from work—we've spent countless hours on a bus together—Googling somebody is not that hard, and I'm here to tell you you should come watch the ball drop in New York City."

"Why?"

"Because it's a huge national event right up there with the Super Bowl and the Oscars."

"Why?" Jess repeated more angrily.

"Rory will be there."

"I don't know you, but you are absolutely insane. Besides, New York City is a big place."

"It's still just an island. I'm on my way to Stars Hollow right now, I just wanted to drop by and share my brilliant plan with you. Oh, and she loved your new book, by the way."

"How did you—"

"Lane's in Europe and I've been temporarily promoted to best friend, though I'm sure Lane knows everything I do, but she can't do anything about it," Amelia turned and started to walk away. Before Jess even opened his door, she turned back around and said, "By the way, if I wasn't absolutely sure Rory would hate me forever, I'd jump you right here in the hall. Bye."

Jess blinked as she disappeared down the staircase. "Where do they find these people?" he muttered before quietly ducking back into his apartment.


"Why are you getting in so late? Was there an accident on the interstate?"

"Geeze, Rory. Hello to you too," Amelia said as she quietly followed her friend into the house and dropped her bag by the door.

"Hello. Why were you so late? You're never late to anything. Your mom said you were three weeks early when you were born."

"I didn't drive in from New York. I drove in from Philadelphia," Amelia answered nonchalantly as she as she hung her coat on the tree.

"You drove from where?"

"You heard me, Georgie-girl."

"Why, why, why did you do that?"

"I've never really done all the touristy things in Philadelphia," Amelia replied, sitting down on the couch. "So, I toured Independence Hall, ran up the steps of the art museum, met a marginally famous writer…"

"Amelia, you're supposed to be my friend," Rory hissed at her.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm nuts."

"That's because you are!"

"Here's his current address, by the way," Amelia said, handing her a scrap of paper from her jeans pocket. "You can send him your mark-up of his manuscript. You did mark up the manuscript, didn't you?"

"Yes," Rory admitted, grumbling. "Thanks. I think."

"You're welcome."

"Coffee?"

"Absolutely."


December 30th, 2008

"Hey, Jessica! You've got mail!"

Jess groaned and rolled his eyes at his roommate's annoying nickname for him. He reluctantly got up from his chair and trudged into the kitchen.

"The name is Jess, Mike," he practically growled at his roommate.

"But calling you Jessica is so much more fun.

Jess glared at him.

"Okay, maybe just fun for me," Mike muttered before retreating to the living room with his bag of left-over candy canes.

Jess sifted through the envelopes on the table. There were a couple of bills and a letter from his mom, which he placed in the same pile as the bills, and a large, manila envelope. He immediately recognized her neat handwriting. He eagerly grabbed it and rushed back to his room as Mike asked, "Dude, where's the fire?"

He plopped down on his unmade bed and ripped open the envelope. His heart sank when he saw the envelope in which he'd sent the manuscript to her. He briefly thought she hadn't read it until he remembered his odd conversation with that Amelia girl the day after Christmas, and his heart lightened considerably.

He pulled out the pages of his manuscript. Rory had written all of her notes in red, unlike his, which were in every color from green to black to purple. That probably meant she wrote them all at one time. Underneath his note on the cover she wrote, "It is a sucky title, but I'm all out of suggestions." She'd crossed out his dedication and written, "Please don't publish this." He read on. In some places where he'd been critical, she told him not to be so hard on himself. That, however, didn't stop her from crossing out whole pages and occasionally eviscerating his lack of focus. At one point she asked, "Is this about me? I hate that I made you feel like that."

The last page had only two lines and Rory's neat script covered the rest of the page and spilled onto the back. It read:

"Jess,

This is a beautiful story. The characters are so real, I feel like I could pick them out in a crowd. Light may be a boring title, but it makes sense. The book is all about not seeing what's right in front of you, and Blindness is already taken. They say examining every writer's work reveals more about the writer than it does the subject. I can honestly say I'll never understand the pain your parents obviously caused you. It's all over this book, but I'm sure it's only a fraction of the truth. What I do understand is the pain that I have caused you. I understand because I have experienced that same pain either because of your actions toward me, or because of the regret I carry for my own actions. You crashed my car. I broke your heart. You broke mine. I broke your heart again. And you broke mine again. I think we're just about even. All I need to do is crash your car that is if you own one. Sorry. Rambling. I don't know if I love you, but I know no one can break my heart like you. That has to mean something, doesn't it? When I think of New York City, I think of you. I'm lost there without you. I can never seem to find that record shop you took me to. I can barely find Washington Square Park. It's like the biggest city in the world and it just seems empty without the possibility of you being there. I'm rambling again. I don't know what else to say. Happy New Year.

Love,

Rory"

Jess jumped out of his bed and ran into the other room, his socks making him slide across the hardwood floor.

"Dude, if that was your Tom Cruise from Easy Money, you need to lose the pants."

"Shut up, Mike. Where are my shoes?"

"I don't know. I'm not your mom."

"Thank God for that. What the hell are you watching?"

"Uh…"

"You're watching Gossip Girl?"

"Everyone's allowed their guilty pleasures, man!"

"Help me find my shoes!"

"Fine!"

Mike reached behind the couch and tossed a boot at Jess. He caught that one and managed to duck when the other one flew to close to his head.

"Thanks a lot!" Jess yelled sarcastically.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"New York."

"City?"

"Yes," Jess answered, jumping around gracelessly as he pulled on his boots.

"Now?"

"Yes!" Jess shouted back, extremely annoyed.

"You don't actually think your excuse for a car is going to make it all the way to Manhattan, do you?"

"I'll take the bus," Jess shouted from his room as he stuffed a random assortment of clothes and books into a bag.

"What should I tell the guys?"

"I don't know. Tell them my mother died."

"You just got a letter from her."

"You read my mail?"

"I looked at it!"

"I'm sure your Gossip Girl marathon will help you come up with a good excuse," Jess said, pulling on his coat.

"Is Rory a girl?"

"What?"

"She is, isn't she? The one who sent the package?"

"I'm leaving now!"

"I can only cover for you for like three days, not counting New Years."

"Okay!" Jess called back.

"Drive safe!"

"Never say that again!"

"Okay," Mike replied sheepishly as the door slammed with frightening force.


December 31st, 2008

"What is your freaking problem?! If you don't know how to drive, you should have taken a freaking train!"

"I had no idea you were such an aggressive driver. You're like worse than my mom."

"You wanna drive, Georgie-girl?"

"No, no, you keep on doing what you're doing."

"Why did your editor want us for this job exactly?"

"He wanted small-town perspective."

"I'm from Tulsa, not Terlton."

"What's Terlton?"

"It's a tenth of the size of Stars Hollow, and it's in the middle of the woods."

"Family?"

"Grandparents live there. It's near a lake."

"I hope you know all the parking is ridiculously expensive."

"Well, sister, there's this little thing Jesus did called walkin'," Amelia said in an exaggerated southern accent.

"Is your camera battery charged?" Rory asked, pulling the bag out of the backseat.

"Of course it is. I am a professional, after all."

"Do you think he'll show?" Rory asked quietly.

"Did you send the manuscript back?"

"Yes."

"He'll be on the island somewhere."

"How can you have so much faith in someone you talked to for only five minutes?"

"It's not that I have so much faith in him, but that I have faith in general. I am from the buckle of the Bible-belt after all."

"But you've been all over the world. You used to be a paparazzo. How can you have faith in anything, least of all people…and emotions…and stuff."

"I think I may have been a paparazza seeing as how I have boobs, but the pictures aren't all I get to see. I see people. I know people. I'm smart that way."

"You are very full of yourself."

"Yes, I am, Georgie-girl. It's how I survive in this mad, mad, mad world."

"We're in a parking garage now."

"Yes, Rory, we are. Let's get out and walk to Times Square."

"Fine. Let's go pretend we're so backward, we've never even heard of ball dropping."

"Of course we've heard of ball dropping, we live in a nation with a failing economy and every elected official pointing fingers at the person next to them," Amelia said, smiling sarcastically.

Rory giggled as she handed the camera bag to her friend.


Jess sighed as he stepped out into the busy New York night. It was barely seven and Manhattan was already awash with people. In a way it was comforting. Languages he didn't understand, words he had yet to explore. Its what he loved most about the city. Just about anyone could find peace there, despite the utter insanity.

He didn't have enough cash for a cab, so he started hoofing it to Times Square. Even if he didn't remember the way, he wouldn't need to. He could just follow the thousands of people going there. It occurred to him then that he had little to no chance of seeing Rory in this mess. Her new friend, Amelia, was apparently crazy and stupid.

They were never going to have a storybook romance. Well, if they were, it was a book by Emily Bronte, not Jane Austen. They wouldn't have a happy ending. They couldn't. There was too much baggage. They hurt each other too much. Realistically, there was no chance.

He'd almost decided to turn around and get on the next bus back to Philly when he looked up and saw bright lights around the corner. Cops were blocking off auto traffic, and had bomb-sniffing dogs next to where people on foot were allowed. He didn't understand how any creature could smell out a bomb with the combined odors of all these people, but he supposed it made some people feel safer.

It was warmer in Times Square. He could never tell if it was the lights, or the people, or the fact that it was always bright as daytime there, but it was comforting and gave him the slight hope he needed.


"Hello?" Rory said into her phone.

"Hey, kid! How's the Square?"

"Bright," Rory told her mother while closely following her friend. "Are you watching Ryan Seacrest?"

"Of course. Have you seen him?"

"No, but he is the hardest working man in showbiz."

"You would have thought that Ivy League education would make you smart. I wasn't talking about Ryan Seacrest. I was talking about a certain nephew of a certain fiancé of mine."

"You have more than one fiancé? I'll remember that the next time I see Luke."

"Stay on point, sweets. Have you seen him, or not?"

"It's a big city, Mom. Even if he came we might not see him."

"I'm sure he's there. I have it on good authority you two are 'meant to be.'"

"Whose authority?"

"Luke's."

"Luke said something like that?"

"Well, not exactly like that, but the sentiment was certainly the same."

"I don't understand how everyone can be so positive about this. It's not like we're living in some kind of love story. And if we are, it was obviously written by Emily Bronte and not Jane Austen."

"Wow, that Ivy League education didn't make you smart, it made you cynical."

"I'm realistic, Mom."

"Who actually likes realism?"

"The millions of people that watch reality TV."

"Please, babe! That is so not realism."

"I'd love to debate the merits of reality television with you mom, but I do kind of have to look around to write my article and uphold the integrity of the fourth estate."

"Chin up, kid."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

"Your mom checking up on you?"

"Yep."

"My mom gave up checking up on me years ago. She's just glad I call every week so she knows I'm still alive."

"Mom and I went through a period where we didn't talk. It was bad."

"My mom is a great mom, but she was never my best friend. You're lucky, Rory."

"Ace!"

Rory's face fell. "I think you just jinxed my luck," she muttered, turning around.

"Is that—"

"Yes."

"I don't even need to smell him to know he's been drinking."

"It's a common occurrence."

"What are you doing in the City, Rory?"

"Ringing in the New Year," she answered uncomfortably. "Logan, this is my friend, Amelia."

"Push me in front of you, and you die," Amelia threatened through clenched teeth.

Logan didn't even break his gaze from Rory. A dopey grin spread across his face.

"You look great, Ace. You haven't changed at all."

"It's only been a year and a half, Logan."

"Still, you're beautiful."

"Thank you," Rory replied uncertainly.

"You know there's a great bar right around the corner. You'd love their Cosmos. How about a drink for old time's sake?"

"I'm working here, Logan."

"Oh, come on, the ball doesn't drop for two and a half hours. You can have one drink with me, Ace."

"Uh…okay," Rory finally answered, glancing over at Amelia.

"Cosmos are so not my thing. I'm going to stay here and take pictures."

"Great!" Logan said throwing an arm around Rory's shoulders. She instinctively wrapped her arm around his waist to keep him upright as they strolled down the crowded sidewalk.

Amelia randomly swung her camera around, snapping pictures at odd intervals. She stopped after a few and reviewed them. Her eyes widened at one of the familiar faces in the crowd. She looked up in time to see him walking the opposite direction of the rest of the crowd and then disappearing completely.

"Rory, wait!" she screamed, running after her friend.


There he was. A real prince, and he was walking away with the princess. The lights of Times Square weren't comforting at all anymore. They just illuminated everything that was wrong, namely him. He let a stupid, romantic notion worm its way into his head and his heart. He should get it out before it killed him.


A/N: Gossip Girl happens to be my guilty pleasure, so I'm not really criticizing. I finally watched an episode featuring Logan, and I thought if anything could ruin a perfect set up, it was him. Thanks for the alerts and reviews!