(A/N- Will soon be attempting improvements such as real chapter names, more normalized and effective formatting, and a better plan for these author's notes. Also, actually have a plan for where I want to go with this (at least for the next long while, and continuously working on it) and I'm really excited! Hope you'll all bear with me. Again, read and review, and feel free to message me. Follows and favorites are to me as Mallomars are to Lorelai. Hope you enjoy!

Oh, PS: Any questions asked in reviews that I don't clarify to you either personally or publicly are probably things that were left ambiguous for a reason. Enjoy the mystery...)

Chapter 4

He'd half-expected her to show up again before she left, but sure enough Monday came and went and still no sign of her. It wasn't like he was disappointed really. In fact, he was more relieved. One of his authors had finally finished his manuscript and Jess spent all weekend editing, revising both alone and with the writer, holed up in a dive of a coffee shop for about 36 hours. That was what having Jess Mariano as an editor was like. You finished your shit, he read it within the six hour window he received it, and then you'd enter the Twilight Zone. Jess didn't believe in waiting to process or look through something, he just grabbed as much coffee as he could handle and provided you with that, or liquor, whatever worked for the particular author, and would sit there with you as you both just beat the fuck out of the work until there was nothing left to change. It wasn't a pretty process, and it usually ended in an exhausted, mean, and starving Jess, as well as the writer. But the writers always came back for a reason. When Jess pushed them, and Jess pushed himself, they were guaranteed a better final product, and faster, than the most publishers, where it would take months and months to get a final copy with half the quality. With Jess, he went through it and it was the final copy. He was the publisher anyway, so he could do as he pleased, and Matt and Chris and Jess kind of each worked off a long leash to one another, as long as they didn't screw up. It hadn't happened yet.

This particular author was a second-timer and when Jess was finally finished, he curled up in bed and slept for fourteen hours. He was actually really pleased with the work, a piece on a man nostalgic for the punk era while trying to sift through the current movement to try to find substance. Ironically, the artistic piece was written by a clean-cut man whose day job was as a bank teller. He worked under a pseudonym and was only known as a writer and only resembled one at the coffee shop where he worked with Jess. The one time Jess asked about his reasoning, the man said that he liked having a life to himself, something authentic, outside of survivalism, but that he also liked surviving. It was a line that Jess, with the man's permission, was using in his own next novel.

When he woke, he turned on the coffee maker and heard Matt and Chris arguing downstairs. He sighed, knowing that he'd probably have to talk to them later. He knew they'd want to talk about her and the visit and to know what the hell was going on in his head. The problem before was that he didn't want anyone in his head. Now it was that he didn't know what was in it himself, or if there was anything to even ask about.

It had been nice to see her. He wasn't lying, the experience definitely made him happier than he'd been in a while, but she always had that effect. But it was not a devastating and romantic moment. He was not blown away by her presence and nothing felt otherworldly and he wasn't overcome with the urge to kiss her or proclaim things to her or anything that his teenage hormones and, more so, his addled early mind compelled him to do years ago. It was coffee, lunch really. It was a meeting between old friends. It wasn't life or death, it was just movement.

The only thing that really seemed changed afterword was the progress in his writing. For a while he'd been in a bit of a slump, ever since Truncheon's opening, when things had picked up and he realized he actually liked helping other people write too, and that doing so made him enough money to live with a bedframe for his mattress. Of course he still wrote, but bits here and bits there, nothing cohesive or flowing really, just musings and sections and parts that weren't put together yet. But ever since she left, even while he was helping to edit and his brain stopped independently functioning because of caffeine overload, things just kept coming to him. Not phrases and bits like before but moments and people and the things that really make a story what it is. He decided to work a bit before he went downstairs to deal with his inevitable fate.

A couple hours later, he walked into the store, carefully ignoring the sideways glances from Matt and Chris. He didn't shelve, rather he helped people, keeping them as long as possible to avoid the interrogation. Speaking still not being his strongest suit, it wasn't long before Chris cornered him by the coffee machine.

"Chris, I'm not in the mood. That little brat just asked me if we had anything in the vein of Twilight."

"Really?" Chris inquired, momentarily caught off guard, "She actually asked if we had anything in its vein?"

"I know, threw me too. But after she figured out I was trying not to audibly laugh at her, she stomped off and took down the fucking Sanders display with her."

"Jess..." Chris implored, "Come on."

"What?" Jess retorted, "It was nothing."

"Nothing…" Chris eyed him doubtfully, "That was Rory Gilmore."

"I do remember her name, I'm not suffering from amnesia."

"Rory Gilmore. The North Star, the muse, the heroine…"

"Or we could just call her the girl I dated in high school. Serious ex-girlfriend. Something with a little less gravity might be preferable," Jess casually sighed, walking over to the table and stacking the books yet again, "Goddamnit, when are we gonna just get rid of this table?"

"We can't, Sanders is one of our biggest names," Chris rolled his eyes.

"Yeah well we're not about big names. We're voting tonight," Jess responded, putting the final book on top of the stack.

"Jess, focus, for more than a second, if you can," Chris cut him off, grabbing his shoulders and facing him. "This girl meant something to you. She means something to you."

"Everything means something to me," Jess smirked, "You've often voiced your admiration for that particularly charming feature of my personality."

"Fine, whatever. I'll just go talk to the coffee machine, I'll probably get more of a response," Chris threw his hands in the air and walked away.

A couple hours later, Jess walked into the back office where Chris was editing.

"Look, I'm sorry," he sighed, "It's just not something I talk about well."

"Yeah, because talking's always your go-to," Chris said, not looking up from his computer.

"It's just that there's really nothing to tell. It's not like it was before. I'm not bullshitting you here."

"Really?" Chris blinked disbelievingly, "No Nora Ephron moment?"

"Not in the slightest. It was just a meal. And she left and it wasn't anything."

"So you aren't seeing her again?"

"I don't know," Jess told him honestly, "I don't have any plans to. But it's not like I want to throw her off a bridge like you and Matt do."

"Jess, she fucking messed you up." "Not the third time."

"You can't just act like she's anybody off the street. She's the only thing you write about that you won't publish. The one who I'm sure inspired the impossible standards that explain your complete lack of a personal life. She's the reason you came here and you did all of this and that you aren't lying in a cardboard box somewhere."

"I'm starting to get confused, Chris, do you love her or do you hate her?" Jess pointed out, his irritation rising, "Actually, why do you give a fuck? It's not like she's around."

"You really don't think she'll come back? That she's not trying to get back into your life?"

"I honestly don't think she had any sort of plan spanning a time period greater than two hours," Jess affirmed, "But either way, you guys don't have to hate her. She's never done anything to you and she's not going to, so can't you guys just be civil about her?"

"You'll have to talk to Matt," Chris said stubbornly, "But I'm not about to act like she's just another customer."

"I'm not asking you to," Jess shot back, "I'm just asking you to work with me here. If she shows up again or you encounter her under some circumstance, can you attempt to treat her with just a modicum of respect? Try to remember that this is someone I fell in love with, Chris, so she can't be a completely worthless piece of crap."

And with that, Jess walked out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him.