A/N: This was fast =). Nothing much to say other then thank you for the reviews and, of course, a special thank you goes to live4ska for the beta. And, if you haven't yet and you're in the mood for an angsty Lit, go check out my new story, "Absolution".

Thank you again and I hope you like this chapter.

He was angry. He had spent the last 3 days wandering around the apartment, snapping at his roommates, drowning himself in work.

Trying to forget about his own stupidity.

He had promised himself that he wasn't going to do that again. Go near her. That never ended well, for either one of them. And yet they had kissed and she had fled, just like she had done many years before, telling him to drive safe. At least he should consider himself happy she hadn't told him not to tell anyone this time.

He walked into his apartment after a quick run to the grocery store only to find a slightly scared looking Matt, waiting for him.

"What?"

"Um…something came for you."

"What?"

"A fruit basket."

Monday morning, at 4 AM, in the Gilmore house.

Lorelai snuck into her daughter's room, hoping to find her asleep in her bed and celebrate her birthday like they used to when she lived at home. Instead she saw her sitting at her desk, typing away furiously.

"Rory, what's wrong?"

The girl turned around and looked at her mother, a smile on her face.

"I don't suppose you know where I could find a fruit basket in Hartford?"

"Dude, who'd send you a fruit basket? Have they ever met you?" The young man asked, confused.

Jess smirked, his bad mood forgotten. "I think I have a pretty good idea. And if I'm right, it's someone who knows me better than most people."

"A fruit basket? Why would you ever need that?"

"It's a present."

"Well, most people don't buy themselves presents. Especially not in fruit form. Chocolate, yeah, but not fruit."

"It's not for me, mom."

"Then who's it for?"

"Jess." Rory replied smiling again.

"Know you and still send you fruit? Does not compute."

"I'd explain but, frankly, it's none of your business."

Matt looked hurt by his sentence.

"I thought we were friends."

"We are. But this is a long and complicated story. And I'm not even sure it's from who I think it is. And even if it is, it could be something bad."

"You're not making sense. Unless…" An idea seemed to form in his head. "Unless it's from her."

"You want to send Jess a fruit basket?" Lorelai asked, accentuating his name.

"Yes."

"Why? Did something happen? Is he sick?"

"No, he's not, but something did happen."

"And you neglected to tell mommy?"

"I was going to tell you at breakfast today."

"When did this something happen?"

"Last night."

"Am I right?" Matt asked again.

"I'm hoping you are."

"But, dude, why would she send you a fruit basket?"

"What part of long and complicated didn't you understand?"

"The one in which you decide not to tell me about this particular incident, even though you've told both me and Chris the story before."

"And I'm starting to regret ever doing that." He replied, getting frustrated by his friend's insistence. He wanted to see if she had sent him anything else. A note. A letter.

"I'm not letting go of this until I hear exactly what happened." Matt picked up the basket from the counter, hugging it tightly. "I must know."

"Can't I tell you later? After I see the thing?"

"No way! Then I'll have no pull and I really don't have enough money to get you drunk and get the story out of you that way."

Jess sighed, annoyed then sat down on the couch. If there was one thing he had learned by living with Matt, is that he'd never give up.

"Fine." He waited for the other man to sit down and then started. "The day I moved back to Stars Hollow…"

"And then I saw him in Doose's and he asked me why I never wrote to him, or sent him a fruit basket or a smoke signal."

"Why did I never know this?"

"You never too fond of the Jess situation and I didn't want to make you angry. And I still didn't know how to deal with everything."

"Ok, let's say I get it. Why exactly do you want to send him a fruit basket now?"

"Because…something happened last night."

"So that's why you've been a miserable jerk for the last three days."

"Have I actually been that bad?" Jess asked.

"No, you've been a peach."

"Sorry." He shrugged.

"It's ok. We're used to it. And it's not like Chris is that much better most of the time."

"Now can I get my fruit basket?" Jess inquired, anxious.

"Sure, man." Matt handed him the basket, smiling. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

"What?" Lorelai asked, trying to get over her shock. "When? How? Where was I?"

"Inside. When I went to look for grandpa, Jess was outside talking to him. To make a long story short, it ended up with us kissing."

"You and Jess kissed?"

"Yes." Rory replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Does this having anything to do with our conversation the other night?"

"Maybe."

"And now…?"

"Now I'm going to tell him I'm not sorry. And try to fight for him."

Lorelai smiled at her daughter, putting a hand of her shoulder.

"Kid, I know I haven't always been his biggest fan but, for what it's worth, if he makes you happy, I hope it works out the way you want it."

Rory smiled back. "Thanks, mom."

Jess picked up the basket and pointed to his room.

"I'm just…gonna do this in there."

"Let me know what she said."

"Will do."

He walked back to his room then put the basket on the bed. He was nervous. He never believed he could be that nervous about looking at something. He tried to reassure himself by reminding himself that it could very well be just a fruit basket. Or it could have a note saying she regrets what happened.

Or that she never wants to see him again.

"Oh, to hell with it!" He took off the bow and looked inside.

The first thing he saw was a picture of a smoke cloud.

Jess picked up the postcard and looked at it, a smile creeping on his lips. She did remember that conversation. He flipped it around, only to see three words scribbled on it.

"Look some more."

He put it down on the bed and started looking through the basket, pushing the pieces of fruit out of his way until he found a neatly folded piece of paper. He picked it up carefully and sat on the bed, trying to decide whether or not to open it. It could be her way of saying goodbye.

He had to know.

He unfolded it slowly, her neat handwriting appearing on the white background. He took a deep breath before he started reading.

Dear Jess,

This letter is so many years too late. Do you ever wonder what our lives would have been like if I had written to you that summer? I have. I don't have an answer, only the certainty that we would have had more time together. I should have written to you then.

Anyway, I'm not writing to you to dig through our past. We both know it and there's no point in trying to figure out what could have been. What I'm trying to figure out now is what could be.

Before I go any further, I want to say that if you think there's nothing more to our story, it's fine. I won't be angry or hate you. If you only want us to be friends, I'm fine with that as well. We can play it cool. Be Frank at the Sands, if you will.

But I want to be with you. Because I think we deserve another chance. Because I think there is more to us. Because I really think we could be happy together. Not rekindling an old flame, but starting something new, from scratch. Leaving all that's happened in the past, where it belongs and try to see where we could be.

And yes, I know that this would be hard. Just because we can say the words it doesn't mean that all is forgotten and it does take more than saying "I'm sorry" to heal both our wounds. Also, my job isn't exactly stable so it would be hard to see each other. But…I want to work on this with you. I want to find a way to make it.

Because I did love you. And, cheesy as it may be, you made me happy. So happy I would forget how to breathe at times. So happy that none of the other things mattered half the time. You made me feel so much more alive. With you, I knew who I was.

I'm going to stop now before I turn this into something too romantic.

Sorry if the fruit basket and postcard were too much, but I wanted to cover all my bases. And, if anything I wrote down bothers you in any way, I'm really sorry. It wasn't my intention. I do want you to be happy.

If you decide to write or call, my phone number and email address are below. Even if it's to tell me to go to hell. That you want to be friends. Whatever you want to say.

Love,

Rory