notes: Thanks, as always, to Jess, my beta, for constant support. To Prisc, for infinite patience. And, of course, to everyone who's reviewed. I'm so thankful for all of you.


(seven)

Of course Jess' plan to force himself into normalcy didn't work, and it didn't help that he was still alone at home most of the time. Even after she had enough money to break rent on Ted's apartment, Liz didn't quit her second job. It surprised Jess, given how much she seemed to dislike the work and how tired she was, but what surprised him more was how disappointed he was that she wasn't around. When she was there, he pulled away from her and he never wanted to talk, but when she was gone, he missed her. He occupied himself with packing and running errands, telling himself things would get better once they moved.

The new apartment was small, but it was plenty of room for the two of them, especially since they had very little by way of furniture. And it was bare – the walls blank, the rooms unfamiliar – and Jess had no associations with any of it, emotional or otherwise. Its emptiness allowed him a space to breathe that he hadn't realized he had been missing. So he breathed easier and began a new school year in a new school, a new district, and he began tucking away pieces of himself he didn't want to see anymore.

Everything having to do with Ted – his uncontrollable bouts of weakness that manifested in his trembling hands or the spots of the day he just couldn't remember – he pushed it all into remote corners of his mind. He ignored the suspicion that Liz wasn't quitting either of her jobs for reasons that weren't financial. She wasn't touching or hugging him as much as she used to, but that was a good thing. Jess didn't want her attention or her pity. And he didn't want to be touched. Everything was working out for the best.

At least, it seemed that way for a while. Each passing week brought Jess a little more relief, a little more distance from his memories. He was getting better at detaching from situations and emotions that might overwhelm him, and life was turning into a functioning, if numb, routine. If he had the capacity to process what was happening around him, he might have put more thought into the way Liz watched him when they ate meals together. She was often edgy and nervous and would hardly look him in the eye. He tended to dismiss her nervousness out of hand as another thing associated with exactly what he didn't want to think about. He was getting over it, and so should Liz. His impatience with her apparent inability to move on resulted in Jess ignoring his mother most of the time.

So one morning as they were eating breakfast together, Jess didn't notice that Liz had been staring at him the entire time and hadn't touched her own meal at all. He was preoccupied thinking about school that day, and what he could do to get his English teacher off his case. She kept asking him how he was, and he kept telling her fine, but he had the feeling that she might just be annoying enough to escalate her concern into a conference with Liz. And that was one of the last things he wanted.

"Jess," she said at last, as he was getting to the dregs of his cereal bowl. She was leaning her cheek heavily on her fist, and it made her words come out a little funny.

He glanced up at her. "What?"

Liz brought her hand down to lace her fingers together on the table. She bit her lips and Jess stared into his bowl, his heart sinking. Maybe he could just get up and leave. He was sure that he didn't want to hear whatever she had to say. Maybe that damn teacher had already called. "Look at me, please."

He looked up reluctantly, and her gaze immediately dropped. "I was thinking," she said quickly, wringing her fingers with short, quick squeezes, "that maybe you should go to the doctor."

That was so far from what he'd expected her to say that his jaw actually dropped. "What? Why?" What had he done? He wasn't sick. Did she mean a psychologist? He squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn't crazy. He'd been doing so much better lately, and he thought that even though he had been worried about his head, he'd done a good job of keeping it from his mom.

"Jess." Liz touched his cheek and he startled, opening his eyes to see her yank her hand back. She looked so sad. Jess wanted to yell at her that he was fine. He wasn't crazy. He hardly ever blacked out any more.

"I – God." She pressed her fingers to her temples and dug her thumbs into the corners of her eyes. "Sweetie," she started again, sounding falsely calm. "Do you remember how I told you before that when two people have – have sex – they can get – get sick?"

Jess froze, certain he was hearing things incorrectly. His whole body was clammy and cold. He did remember that conversation – a weird thing that hadn't made a lot of sense to him at the time. She had just broken up with a boyfriend, and, in between bouts of cursing the guy out, had taken Jess aside to lecture him on the importance of safe sex. Jess realized now what he hadn't fully understood then, which was that the guy had probably given something to Liz. Jess felt lightly nauseous.

But that didn't have anything to do with him, he reasoned, his head pounding. He was distracted, still worried that Liz might be talking about a psychologist rather than a medical doctor. Liz's mention of sexually transmitted diseases was a complete non sequitur. Maybe she was just changing the subject because she didn't want to worry him. Maybe she was just spouting random crap, but venereal disease had nothing to do with him.

He looked up at his mother, blinking rapidly. She was watching him expectantly, and he remembered that she had asked him a question. He nodded, his head pulsing and heavy.

"Well, I think you should get tested."

Jess swallowed back rising bile. His vision swam and lurched, and he gripped the sides of his chair to steady himself. This was unreal. He distantly thought that maybe he should be laughing, because there was just no way this wasn't a joke. Jess didn't know much of anything about venereal disease apart from the half-laughing horror stories he'd heard from kids at school. If you caught something, it was gruesome. There were boils involved or bloody piss or your dick fell off or whatever. Surely if he had something, it would have been apparent by now. He would at least feel sick, and he didn't. But he hadn't felt completely normal – for such a long time that he couldn't remember exactly what healthy felt like. He just knew that it was different from the way he was now.

Maybe that's what Liz was talking about. Maybe she noticed something he never did because she knew about these things, because at least one of her exes had given her something. Maybe that was why she hardly touched him anymore.

"Did," Jess said after a long pause, his voice shaky and quiet, "did he give you something?"

Liz sighed and covered her eyes. "Well," she replied, her tone taking on the casual airiness she got when she was, in her words, avoiding the truth. "I don't think so. There was this little problem I was still having when we first got together, but we used protection. I don't think it's likely." She swallowed hard and dropped her hands to give him an imploring look. "It's such a small chance, sweetie. But I really think you should go to the doctor just to make sure."

Jess watched her for what felt like a long time. Understanding was coming on him in little steps, and he didn't want to make the connection he knew was forming in his mind. Liz had something when she had sex with Ted. And maybe Ted gave it to him. Following the logical train of thought, it was possible, in a roundabout way, that Jess had contracted a venereal disease from his mother.

Jess was blinking away the blur in his vision, feeling strangely calm, when he got sick on the table. He didn't mean to, didn't even feel the telltale sting of bile at the back of his throat, but he just sort of hiccupped and there it was. He must have lost a moment or two of time, because his awareness skipped from feeling his breakfast coming up out of his mouth to being bent low over the table, his hands spread out on either side of his cereal bowl.

As his surroundings came back into focus, he realized he was staring directly into the bowl, where the very slightly digested bit of his breakfast floated with what he hadn't eaten yet. The sight made him retch again, and he could hear the watery plop of his vomit spilling into the milk. He groaned and breathed in deeply, trying to focus his thoughts, but the smell of bile and sour milk filled his nose and he knew he was going to be sick again.

He pushed his chair back blindly, sweaty palms making light squeaky noises as he dragged them over the surface of the table. He heard Liz's chair slide back, too, and he pushed away harder, not knowing why but feeling urgently that he didn't want Liz near him. Before he could even stand, though, his stomach clenched again and he slid down from the chair to his knees, clinging to the edge of the table. He threw up on the tiles, vaguely surprised that he even had enough food in his stomach to vomit so much in so little time. His eyes and his throat strung.

Liz's hand was on his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades, and he jerked away from her. "Don't touch me," he gasped. "Don't touch me."

She pulled away but stayed beside him, her legs peripherally visible beyond his outstretched arm. Jess rested his head in the crook of his elbow for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. His head hurt so much he could hardly think, but that was all right, because he didn't want to think about anything. At that moment, all he wanted to do was stop throwing up. He breathed deeply through his mouth, fighting back the waves of nausea that rolled through him.

It wasn't going to work, though, which Jess realized as he gagged again. He stood carefully but quickly, taking shaky steps to the bathroom. He didn't turn around but he could hear Liz right behind him, following him. Without looking at her, he slammed the bathroom door shut and locked it. He managed to get the toilet lid up just in time to throw up into the bowl, although at this point all he had left in him was the bile, and the only thing a wrenching heave of his stomach produced was a mouthful of foul-tasting stomach acid.

Jess lifted the toilet seat and rested his head against the rim, letting most of his face hang over the bowl. It smelled nasty but the cool porcelain felt good against his overheated skin. He closed his eyes and ignored the sound of Liz shuffling just outside the door. She tried the knob, and for a second he was worried she might get in even though he had locked it, but the door didn't budge. Jess, exhausted, settled into a posture that required the least amount of energy for him to maintain and waited for Liz to leave.

Half an hour later, they were both in the same position. Apart from a few rounds of dry heaving, he hadn't thrown up again, but he stayed where he was, letting the toilet support him. The tile floor hurt his knees and his neck was cramping, but his muscles were useless and even moving his hand to wipe his mouth was an enormous effort. He felt like his body had been turned inside out, scraped clean, and roughly reassembled. There was a raw burning all over him that started in his stomach and extended up to his esophagus, and even his sinuses ached. His breath stung the inside of his throat and nose.

Jess stared at a spot on the wall, unfocused and unseeing. He imagined Liz was sitting as close to the door as possible, maybe sitting cross-legged with her knees pressed up against the wood and her head hanging like she did on the rare occasions she tried to apologize to him. Irritated, Jess wondered if she was skipping work for this. It seemed like a huge waste of income.

She'd tried talking to him a little bit, but he hadn't answered. He hoped she would give up soon and go away. Go to work, leave him alone, like she had been doing over the past few months. He got through his days and she got through hers and they didn't talk about it, they didn't talk about anything, and it had been working just fine. He'd thought they were fine.

He should have known, he realized vaguely, rolling his head against the rim of the toilet. He should have guessed that something like this would happen. Liz had never given him any indication in the past that she could handle anything, even the most basic tasks required to take care of herself, so he had no idea where his belief that they would be all right had come from. Of course his mother would have inadvertently given him a venereal disease. He was a fuck up and Liz was a fuck up, and this was what they did.

"Jess," Liz said softly, evidently determined to get him to talk. Something brushed against the door, and Jess had a mean thought that at least she wasn't stupid enough to try the handle again – she'd been tugging on it every couple of minutes as though it would magically unlock itself.

"Come on, baby. Jess. Please, open the door." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to drown her out with the dull, annoying buzz in his head. His eyeballs ached.

"Jess, I just want to make sure you're all right. If you have something, then a doctor could fix it." Jess snorted and the sound echoed lightly off the inside of the toilet bowl. It was a little late to make sure he was all right. "Come on," Liz continued, her voice taking on an edge of impatience. "It's not like it's AIDS or anything."

Jess groaned, banging his forehead off of the toilet, wishing with everything he had in him that she would just shut up. "He got tested, you know, right when we first started … being together, and he was completely clean. And I didn't really have much of anything. It was practically gone, you know, and – I mean, we almost always used protection, so there's hardly any chance that you're sick at all, but you should go to be safe."

Jess didn't know what part she was lying about, but it seemed to him that she wouldn't push so hard about this if she didn't have more than a passing worry that Jess might have contracted something from Ted. From her. But he didn't care at the moment. He was sick and shivery and all he wanted was to be left alone. And wasn't it hilarious that when he actually wanted Liz to go away, she wouldn't give up? Between the two of them, they couldn't get a single thing right.

"Shut up," he moaned, lifting his head and pressing the heel of his hand into his eye.

"Jess. There's a clinic not far away. It's just a couple of bus stops. I could even go with you."

He laughed roughly, bringing himself up to his knees. "I'm twelve," he rasped, throat raw. "Don't you think they'd call family services?" He didn't know what the policy was on that, but he was pretty sure a twelve-year-old boy asking to be tested for sexually transmitted diseases would ping someone's alarm.

"Well," Liz replied evenly, "I wouldn't go in with you. I meant I could ride the bus with you. And you – you wouldn't have to give your real name or phone number. I have a P.O. box they could mail the results to. They might not call the police right away."

It sounded like Liz had been planning this. Christ. A fake name and a P.O. box. That would sure fool them. He had a surreal vision of getting a big, boldly-lettered envelope in the mail, with all the pomp of Publisher's Clearing House, and reading: Congratulations, Kilgore Trout! You've just won venereal diseasefrom your mother!

Jess' head, already muddled and aching, gave a disorienting lurch that made him clutch the counter for support. His palm, clammy and slick with sweat, slipped, and his shoulder hit the cabinet with a heavy impact that was much louder than it was painful.

"…Jess? Are you all right?"

"Shut up," he said again, raising his voice.

"Baby, please. I would never ask you to do this if it wasn't important. I just – don't want you to be hurt at all."

And just like that, Ted was back in his head, vivid memories tumbling out of all of the places Jess had hidden them. Ted had whispered commands in his ear to be still, Jess, I don't want to hurt you. His body lurched as his stomach cramped viciously again, and he gritted his teeth against his rising gorge. He knew there was nothing left to throw up, and he was furious with his body for being so weak. He was angry with his trembling fingers and wobbly legs, and he was livid with Ted, with Liz.

Why did Liz have to push it? Why did she have to bring it up? If she was so concerned about his well-being, why did it take her months to ask him about it? And why now, after he'd gone through so much trouble to push it out of his head? All she'd seemed concerned with at first was whether or not she'd get the police called on her ass. Now she was pretending like she was worried about him, like he was all she ever worried about. He wanted to yell at her, but he was overwhelmed, his senses flooding with everything he hadn't been thinking or feeling since it happened.

He remembered the weight of Ted's body, his hot fingers on Jess' stomach. He had been so confused, terrified, because this wasn't Ted – Ted wouldn't do this, wouldn't hurt him, and by the time he realized that he really did need to fight, it was too late. Not that his limited struggle had done anything. Ted had simply asked him again to be still, be good. I wish you would let it be good. Jess pressed his palms to his forehead and groaned.

Liz's voice cut into his thoughts again – some stupid babbling nonsense about how much she cared about him. It was all so much bullshit. People were always lying to him – and it seemed Liz especially – and he was sick of it. Jess pulled himself to the door, clinging onto the knob with one hand and pounding the other angrily against the wood. Liz cut off mid-sentence.

"Shut up!" Jess screamed anyway. "Shut the fuck! Up!" He slammed his open palm against the door with every word. He didn't know when he had started crying, but his eyes were wet and his voice was thick, which only fueled his temper. He balled his hand into a fist and beat it against the door, and he kept hitting it until well after it hurt – until his energy was drained, but not his anger.

He closed his eyes and rested his weight heavily against the wall. His breathing was loud and uneven in his ears. He sounded like a child, like a weakling. The disgust he felt with himself sent cramps rippling through him.

He heard a light swish of clothing – Liz was standing or moving. Maybe she was going to jimmy the door open. It was locked, but it wasn't difficult to pick – all it really took was jamming something in the hole in the knob. His frantic anger rolled through his belly and up into his chest as Liz's footsteps moved away. Jess pressed his hands flat against the door, bracing himself. Just let her force it open. He would fight until he passed out, and then let Liz drag her diseased son to the clinic on her own if it was that important to her, but he wasn't about to give in.

Jess rested his head on the door, listening for Liz's return. He waited like that for a long time, and it wasn't until he heard her walk by the bathroom, keys jingling, and leave through the front door, that he realized she wasn't going to come back for him.


Time oozed by in a quick-slow crawl that pulled Jess along, unprotesting. Luke wanted to go apartment hunting again, which pissed Jess off, but he went. In a stroke of odd good fortune, Lorelai came with. Her nervous exuberance, at the least, glossed over how uncomfortable they all were. And her incessant talking excused Jess from having to give an opinion on anything or even pay attention.

She bullied Luke into applying for some hardwood monstrosity that was obviously more an indication of her taste than theirs. Jess was only a little bemused at how easily Luke gave in, despite his list of – in Jess' opinion – perfectly valid reasons not to take the apartment. Jess was relieved – and he thought Luke was too – when their application was rejected, and they wound up settling on a much more reasonable place. It was still bigger than Jess thought they needed, but it had carpet and tile and windows with normal proportions. He just couldn't picture Luke and himself in any apartment that a realtor could honestly describe as august.

He just wanted to get out of the inn. While Luke was working at the diner, Jess had nothing to do but wander the grounds, and when Luke was there, he had nothing to do but bear the weight of uncomfortable silence until he cracked and left the room. And wandered the grounds. There was only so long aimless wandering held appeal for Jess, and that time frame had ended about a week ago. If nothing else, moving would provide a change of pace.

The apartment was open immediately, so he and Luke took their bags and checked out of the inn ten days after the first night they'd spent there. Before they left, Luke gripped Lorelai's hand over the reception desk and thanked her with a quiet sincerity that Jess recognized for what it was, even if neither Luke or Lorelai would. He stood back, impatient but impassive and watched as Lorelai leaned close to his uncle and told him something Jess couldn't hear, but that he guessed was deeply meaningful and touching. He let out an unconscious sigh of irritation and Lorelai looked up at him, offering a brief smile accompanied with an expression he didn't want to read. He tipped his head to her and looked away.

When Luke and Lorelai were done fawning over each other, Jess gave Lorelai a curt "goodbye," the "thanks" he felt he should add sticking in the back of his throat. He strode impatiently to the truck, chucking his bag in the back. Luke gave him a questioning look when he slammed his door shut behind him, but Jess shook his head in reply. "Just go," he said, and Luke nodded.

Their new place was in a small building with a total of twenty apartments on a quiet, shady street reasonably removed from the center of town. But Jess still clocked the walking distance to the diner at somewhere between five and seven minutes, plus the ten seconds it took to get down the flight of stairs from their second-story apartment. The stupid town was way too small.

Luke opened the door for him and Jess went straight through the empty living room to his bedroom, dumping his duffel in the middle of the floor. He walked back out to find Luke taking a slow turn around the kitchen. He ran a hand over his chin and gave Jess a wry look.

"So I guess we better get the rest of our things," Luke mumbled, opening an empty cabinet and sounding a little embarrassed.

That phrase– our things – struck Jess as strange. There wasn't anything our about the stuff in Luke's old place. It was Luke's, or it was Jess'. And most of Jess' possessions were currently in a duffel bag in the middle of his otherwise empty bedroom.

Jess shrugged. "Well, I'm already all moved in." He pointed over his shoulder at his room.

Luke gave him an exasperated look and Jess half expected some comment on how unhelpful his attitude was. But all he got was a quiet, "I'd appreciate it if you came with me, Jess."

He glanced away, uncomfortable with Luke's tone. "Whatever."

The drive to the diner was quiet and strained, even though it only lasted a couple of minutes. Luke seemed to get increasingly restless as they neared their destination, his expression tightening. Jess sighed as Luke put the truck in park, his fingers tapping restlessly on the wheel. Luke's edgy discomfort was wearing hard on Jess' nerves, and he didn't want to wait around to find out what the matter was.

Jess unbuckled and made for the door when Luke spoke up. "Wait, Jess, I was thinking…" he trailed off and Jess turned to him, eyebrows raised.

Luke bowed his head. "Maybe you could just wait out here with the truck while I go get some things."

"Why would I do that?"

"So you could load up while I go … get more things."

Jess blinked. "Why?" he repeated warily, guessing that whatever Luke's reasoning was, he didn't actually want to hear it.

"Just… because. You know."

"No I don't."

"Jess," Luke said wearily. "I was just thinking you might not want to go inside."

"The diner."

Luke gestured lamely with his hands. "The apartment."

Jess grit his teeth, prickling with irritation. "I don't know what you think I am, Luke, but I won't burst into tears or have a breakdown or swoon just by setting foot inside the diner! I can handle going inside to pack and lift boxes. But you think I'm – what? Too emotionally unstable? Fuck that." He jerked the door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk, ignoring Luke's exasperated requests for him to wait.

Luke strode over to him, cutting off his path to the diner's door. "Jess, hey, I didn't mean it like that." He lowered his voice, eyes darting nervously, and Jess exhaled heavily through his nose. He did not want to have this discussion at all, let alone in public.

"Fine," Jess bit out. "Let's just go in, then."

Luke sighed and stepped aside, indicating for Jess to lead. He hadn't taken two steps for the stairs when the door opened and Miss Patty came out.

"Oh, Luke, honey!" she called, tossing the corner of her brightly-colored shawl over her shoulder. Jess took an involuntary step back and Luke shot him a bemused look.

"We were just talking about how much we missed seeing you every day. I'm so glad I caught you before I left." She grabbed Luke's arm and gave it a warm squeeze, turning her attention to Jess.

"And Jess! We haven't seen you at all. We missed you. How are you feeling?"

Jess' eyebrows dipped, wondering if Patty was using the Royal 'we.' Even so, he couldn't imagine that was true, except in the sense of wanting something to gossip about. She didn't seem concerned at his lack of reply, but leaned in to eye him closely, and he almost took another step backward. He hadn't looked at himself in the mirror in a long time, so he didn't even know if there was any visible indication of physical harm for her to notice.

Patty made a soft tsk-ing noise and looked back to Luke. "It's all so terrible! Nobody can believe it. I just hope that man who did it burns in hell." Jess' lip curled, agitation making his fingers shaky. She gave Jess a look of exaggerated sympathy, raising her hands in some fruity dramatic gesture or to touch him, he didn't know, but it was the last of what he could handle. He turned on his heel and stalked away, a low, pulsing ache starting at the back of his head.

He heard a soft "oh my" behind him and Luke's abrupt apology, followed by jogging footsteps. Luke was beside him quickly, trying to catch his eye. Jess refused to acknowledge him.

"Jess, you're going the wrong way."

"No I'm not."

"Well, the diner's back there." He pointed behind them, keeping pace with Jess.

"Any way that's in the opposite direction of Patty isn't the wrong way."

Luke let out a sharp, aggravated burst of air. "Jess, I know she's a lot to handle, but she means -"

"Whatever," Jess cut in. "I don't care."

"You can slow down, at least."

Jess stopped and turned on Luke angrily. "Hey, I have another idea. Why don't you stop following me around and go back to the diner to pack up on your own? Evidently I'm too frail to go inside anyway, and I forgot to bring my smelling salts."

"Jess -"

"Just cram whatever shit's mine in a box and put it in my room. I don't care. I'll find it; I live there. But for right now, leave me alone. I don't want to talk about Patty or the other crazy townies who all think my life is their personal business. And I don't want to talk about my feelings or argue with you about how fragile I am! So do me a favor, Luke, and for once, just go!"

Luke shifted nervously and Jess almost screamed in frustration. "You'll come back to the apartment later?" It came out as more of a command than a question and Jess rolled his eyes.

"I always do, don't I?" Since they hadn't actually lived in the new apartment for a full day, the pedantic answer would be no, but Luke seemed to accept it. No matter how many times Jess left, he came back. The thought annoyed him, although he couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

"When do you think you'll be home?" Luke asked, looking down. That word – home – sent another spike of irritation through him.

"Later," he said, tossing his hands in the air and turning to go.

"Jess!"

Jess turned back but continued in the same direction, walking backwards. "Today, OK? I'll be back today. Later." He put on a sarcastic smile and waggled his fingers at Luke. "Bye."

Jess walked for a very long time, taking every secluded, little-known or seldom-used path in Stars Hollow, going far enough that he thought he probably left town limits. He fished a cigarette out of the inside pocket of his coat. It was the last he had of the pack he'd bummed from a man at the inn – if "bum" were to be used as a euphemism for "steal," which it frequently was in Jess' mind. He'd been saving it until he could get his hands on another pack, not wanting to leave himself completely without, but he needed to smoke, to occupy his hands, to do something.

He sat down on the side of a woody path, propping himself up against a tree trunk. The ground was hard and cold, and the chill of the earth hit him immediately through his jeans, sending shivers across his shoulders and down his back. He put the cigarette in his mouth, leaving it unlit for a moment, and leaned his head back, breathing in deeply through his nose. At times, he worried about his temper. It was something almost apart from him, something he wasn't entirely sure he could control. Just like everything else. Like his trembling hands, like his whole goddamn life. So far, his anger hadn't completely escaped him, but he could feel it stirring almost all of the time. He was in a constant state of flux, careening between numbness and fury without any warning. But even when he hardly felt anything, he was aware of that anger, roiling under the surface of his skin.

He wasn't mad at Luke. He knew that in a distant and rational part of his mind, and he was even aware of some form of gratitude to his uncle, but that didn't help ease the stifling frustration he felt whenever he was with Luke. Jess could feel Luke's attention on him, even when they weren't talking, even at night, when they were both pretending to be asleep. If Jess moved or made a noise, Luke would shift, too. It made even being in the same room with him close to unbearable. Granted, Jess hadn't spent a hell of a lot of time actually in the same room with Luke, but that oppressive discomfort was always there. And even worse than the ceaseless attention were the times when Luke tried to talk to him, stuttering and shuffling, about Jess' life or how he was feeling or that fucking police statement.

Jess had told the truth. It wasn't his intention to make Luke worry, but it was none of Luke's business, and Jess didn't want to admit that the truth was that he remembered very little of what happened. His memory of that night was in pieces, and he could cobble together enough to know what happened without actually remembering it. Even without his head functioning properly, the memory of it was impressed on his body. He knew from the way his hands hurt that he had gotten a few hits in. His head was tender and ached almost all of the time, although not nearly as badly as it had in the hospital - but that part he didn't need to be reminded of. He remembered his back hitting the ground, and then his head. He remembered a hand on his forehead, pushing him back down when he wouldn't lie still, slamming his skull into the wood floor. He had told Jess to be calm, that he just wanted to talk, and Jess had laughed at him, bitter, manic, and disbelieving. His raw wrists – now unwrapped – his mind shied away from. He remembered bits of Luke and Lorelai, but a lot was muddled and incoherent, and everything else was just blank. White noise.

He tried to leave it alone, because actively thinking about that night or the afternoon from many years ago made him unsteady in a way that frightened him. He felt like he was crumbling. Like there were maggots hatching all over his skin. He would gladly forget it all if he could, but no one was letting him. Given time, they would all get over it, would all remember what Jess was and let him get on with his life, but in the meantime, they were all driving him insane. Lorelai's sympathetic eyes, Luke's tense and nervous shuffling, Patty's we've missed you. Rory's bag of books.

Jess opened his eyes, and even the modest daylight hurt his head. He took out a book of matches he'd pilfered from the inn and flipped it over, running a thumb over the logo. He paused and leaned forward, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket. It was the pamphlet Luke had brought back from the hospital, that he'd actually tried to use to convince Jess to go into therapy. Jess had found it in the bedside table, mentally cursing Luke for leaving it someplace so obvious. Any member of the cleaning staff could have easily found it there. For similar reasons, Jess hadn't wanted to just throw it in any trash, so he kept it, planning to destroy it at a later time.

He dropped the pamphlet in his lap and struck a match, breathing in the familiar burst of sulfur. He lit the cigarette first, taking in a long, steadying lungful of smoke. He unfolded the pamphlet with one hand, snorting derisively at the art on the front. He flipped it over and read the handwritten names and addresses on the back. For help. The nurse who had given it to Luke had been the one who tried to hunt down clothes for Jess, who hadn't quite looked Jess in the eye when she'd apologized that it was taking so long. Before he'd been discharged, she had offered him the plastic bag that had his old clothes – the ones he had come in wearing.

"Do you want these?" she had asked, her face revealing nothing, not pity or disgust.

Jess had given one sharp shake of the head. "Incinerate them."

He looked down at his hands now, one holding the pamphlet and the other holding the still-lit match, now burning close to his fingertips. He touched them together, holding the flame to the edge of the pamphlet, which caught fire quickly. Jess shook out the match and tossed it to the ground, then held the pamphlet out sideways, watching it burn. After a moment, he tossed that to the ground, too. He smoked slowly, watching the paper crisp and curl. Cathartic, maybe. Juvenile, probably, but ultimately practical. This way no one would find it, especially not Luke.

Jess stayed like that until well after the cigarette was finished and his position against the tree had gotten uncomfortable. He stood slowly, various dull aches in his body pulling up memories more tactical than mental. He worked his way back to the center of town slowly, meandering. Even though Luke's apartment was small, there was no way he had finished packing and moving everything between late morning and late afternoon, especially if he was alone. Jess might as well help. Word would have gotten out by now that he had been rude to Patty, which might buy him some space from other townies.

Jess sighed inwardly as the high school came into view. Luke had already told him, looking tense and ready for a fight, that Jess had to go back to school the following Monday. Jess had conceded without even the appearance of resisting. He didn't have the energy to keep having the same fight with Luke, and it wasn't as though he couldn't skip classes if he didn't feel like going. On the days he wanted to attend, it would give him something to do, and in the meantime would get Luke off his back – about that particular topic, at any rate.

He was distracted enough that he didn't notice Taylor approaching him with a look of self-satisfied condescension until they were practically face-to-face. Even after Taylor asked him about his health, Jess assumed Taylor wasn't talking to him until he heard the question repeated, this time with greater enunciation.

"What?" Jess asked, stopping just short of bumping into Taylor's shoulder.

"I asked how you were feeling." Jess glanced around, still confused, but Taylor, now certain that Jess was paying attention to him, didn't give him a chance to answer. "I've been concerned," he said, and Jess was sure that he was going at least a little crazy until Taylor continued, "about what this break-in might mean for Stars Hollow."

At Jess' incredulous look, Taylor added, "Of course I'm worried about you and Luke as well, but since the both of you seem basically unscathed from the incident, it's time that we all consider the greater ramifications of crime on this scale. Something like this could ruin the town's reputation. I, for one, would be mortified if the general impression people got was that Stars Hollow was an easily pregnable hamlet full naïve, trusting rubes. Rubes who leave their doors unlocked and open, just waiting for someone to waltz in and steal their valuables."

Jess didn't get the chance to offer his opinion that Stars Hollow was exactly that, because Taylor wasn't done speaking and probably would have ignored anything Jess had to say anyway. "That kind of thing might bring in more of the undesirable element that committed the atrocity in the first place. And with an influx of criminals, suddenly Stars Hollow isn't an appealing place to visit anymore. The whole thing is just terrible."

Taylor paused then, looking at Jess like he expected some sort of reaction. "Gosh, that's awful," Jess said, ignoring the better judgment that told him not to speak to Taylor at all.

"Yes, it is awful," Taylor said, giving Jess the closest thing to a warm look he'd ever gotten from the man. "I'm looking into making it a regulation that all business owners properly defend themselves against this same kind of fiendish assault. Hindsight is 20/20, but the two of you might have wanted to get a security system a while ago. I'm not trying to suggest that it's anyone's fault that it happened, but, just between you and me, a break-in would have been much less likely to occur if the diner was secured with more than a deadbolt."

Jess' mouth pressed into a tight line, a cold, controlled anger leaking into his bloodstream. "Thanks, Taylor. And, you know, just between you and me, you might want to consider fucking yourself."

It took Taylor a moment to register Jess' words, and it was an amazing moment to watch his face dissolve from complacence to bug-eyed fury. His mouth opened and he let out a few incoherent splutters while Jess enjoyed a rare moment of satisfaction. "You!" Taylor finally yelled. "Get out of the park!"

"What?"

"As the town selectman, I have the authority to put our laws into effect! And I am hereby ejecting you from the town square for being willfully and unrepentantly profane in a public place!"

"That's a law?"

Taylor nodded vigorously. "Oh, you don't even know the beginning of it! I could have you permanently banned!"

Jess rolled his eyes but squared his shoulders, preparing to tell Taylor everything he'd wanted to say to him since his first day in town. The anticipation of screaming more profanity at him felt sharply, viciously good, and he was about to let loose fouler language than Taylor probably had ever though existed when he caught sight of the diner. The people sitting at the tables in the front windows – people Jess didn't even recognize – were watching them.

Taylor was still yelling at him, his arms waving angrily, briefly blocking his line of sight. A couple of people noticed that Jess had seen them observing and looked away, but most of them continued to stare.

Fuck the whole town. Getting to the diner wasn't worth this. He turned and headed out of the square, making sure he cut through the park on the way.

"Stop that!" Taylor yelled from behind him. "You aren't allowed on that grass anymore!"

Jess hunched his shoulders and didn't acknowledge him. He hadn't started the day with the intent to re-alienate the entire town. It was just the side-effect of his natural charm.

He didn't wander as far this time, and though he expected that he would run into yet another person who would want to waylay him with their false concern, he figured he would be able to scowl them into leaving him alone. What he hadn't considered, and that was just an unacceptable lack of foresight on his part, was that he might see Rory.

Jess noticed her approach when he was halfway down the street, and, if her purposeful stride was any indication, she had already seen him and was heading his way. He seriously weighed the option of just ignoring her and taking off in a different direction. He'd be treating her just like he had everyone else that day, not that she would know it. He glanced around at the street names, mentally planning his exit, and wondered what on earth she was even doing down this path. It wasn't, as far as he knew, on the way to her house or the diner, which were the only two places in town he was aware of Rory ever going.

She slowed her pace as she got closer and he stopped entirely. He couldn't believe his shitty luck. He clamped down on his emotions, sticking his hands in his pockets. He didn't think he was shaking but he couldn't tell sometimes.

"Hey," she said, dragging her feet along the ground and swinging her hips uncomfortably.

He glanced at her face once. "Hey." His palms itched for a cigarette.

She gave a soft, nervous laugh. "So," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

The silence spread awkwardly between them. "You haven't been around much lately," she said at last.

"Nope," he agreed, not looking at her. He could tell she was watching him, waiting for him to offer more, and he was glad for her discomfort.

"You haven't even been at the diner."

Jess nodded. "That's true."

"Are you coming back? To the diner? You know, to work? I know you guys moved, but Luke's been back a bit. You haven't. Or I haven't seen you there. Were you planning on – on coming back?"

He looked at her then, expression closed. He rolled a shoulder in a half-shrug and turned away again. His headache throbbed in time with his pulse.

Rory made a light noise of frustration. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but you can be pretty hard to read."

"Inscrutable. I've heard it before." She ducked her head and scuffed a toe over the ground. Her mouth was pulling up in a small, nervous smile, and she looked like she was about to speak again, but Jess cut her off before she got a chance. "So why don't you just go talk to Dean? I can't imagine he's any great puzzle."

Rory was instantly upset, all sign of amusement wiped off her face. She hit her thigh angrily with an open palm. "God! Why do you do that? Why do you always bring up Dean?"

Jess felt a twinge of annoyance at Rory's obliviousness. Yes, what on earth would be the motivation behind a guy's antagonistic dislike of a pretty girl's boyfriend? Mysterious.

Part of him was grateful for her willful blindness. If Rory were more inclined to self-awareness, she might have realized his attention for what it was. She might have allowed him to get close, to touch her with his maggot-itchy skin and his weak, unsteady fingers. His throat burned.

Rory crossed her arms, her expression tight. "What does Dean have to do with us being friends, anyway?"

Jess snorted. "Friends."

Rory's eyes sparked. "Yes, friends! You said so yourself. You said, 'we're friends.'"

"That's bullshit."

She took a step back from him, hands clenching into fists, and she opened her mouth to retort, but stopped, and stood there with her jaw hanging open.

"What?" she said at last.

Jess finally turned to fully face her, looking her in the eye. "What do you even know about me, Rory? That I'm literate? Wow, great, you've cracked the code – let's tell each other all our secrets." She took in a sharp breath, but Jess continued. "Except, wait. I don't remember you ever sharing anything personal about yourself with me. What makes you think that I owe you anything? Just that you lent me a bag of books? Gosh, thanks. I don't have any of those."

Jess had never seen that look on her face before. It was some combination of surprise, disbelief, and outright fury. He wondered if anyone in her life had the gall to reject her doe-eyed offers of friendship before. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes looked a little wet, but Jess couldn't tell if it was out of frustration or hurt. Either way, her building tears didn't move him, and he held her gaze unflinchingly.

"You're an ass," she spat.

He laughed, a short, barking noise that hurt his throat. "Congratulations on being the last person in town to figure that one out."

Rory took in a deep breath, looking like she was working up a great comeback. She grit her teeth and made a frustrated gesture with her hand. "I want my books back!"

"Great," he bit out, lacing the word with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "I didn't ask you for those."

"Yeah, sorry for doing something nice! Trust me, it'll be the last time!" She turned and took off down the path with long, angry strides.

"Damn, what am I gonna do without your boundless generosity?" He called after her. "It's not like there are any libraries or bookstores around."

Rory whipped her head around to glare at him, but she kept walking, her arms tucked tightly to her chest. He watched her go, feeling an inexplicable sense of calm come over him.

Jess came back with the last traces of light hanging in the sky. He walked in to the apartment to the sound of Luke working in the kitchen and muttering under his breath. The activity paused as the door shut behind him, and a moment later, Luke called, "Jess?"

No, it's Santa Claus. But Jess just replied, "Yeah." He lingered by the door, glancing around the living room. There were boxes everywhere, some in stacks, some open and half-unpacked. Jess felt something like remorse that Luke had evidently done a lot of moving that day without assistance. He chased the feeling away with the thought that Luke probably had every busybody in town tripping after him, offering their help. Someone had to have given Luke a hand with the couch – the only bit of furniture in the room.

Jess shuffled slowly toward the kitchen. It looked like Luke had focused most of his energy on this room to the neglect of the others. The table and chairs were set up, the counters clean and organized, and there was a small pile of empty boxes in the corner. Jess looked down at a box on the floor and used his foot to slide it over to the cabinets. He took off his coat, tossed it over the back of a chair, and sat down beside the box, flipping the flaps open and selecting the cabinet closest to him to fill.

Luke was at the opposite end of the room, putting food away in the pantry. He looked at Jess, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Jess stared back, daring Luke to say anything about him helping. But Luke just continued his work, the smallest of smiles toying at his mouth. Jess scowled and started pulling out dishes at random.

They worked together in comfortable silence, Luke going about business methodically and Jess mostly just sticking things wherever they would fit. Jess felt some small bit of tension draining out of him, leaving an aching echo in his arms and back. As his mind cleared and his anger ebbed away, exhaustion started to work its way in. It was a welcome feeling, though. Jess might get some sleep if he wore himself down.

"How do you even have so much shit for the kitchen?" Jess grumbled after a long period of uninterrupted quiet. "Are you a woman?"

Luke snorted. "No. And those don't go in that cupboard." Jess turned to look at Luke, who was indicating an open cabinet. "They go here."

Without breaking eye contact, Jess continued to put the dishes where he had been. Luke sighed.

Jess turned his attention back to the box. "Where did all these dishes come from? I don't remember there being this much before. I swear this is like fifty times what Liz has."

"Well, that's not surprising," Luke said after a few awkward harrumphs. "Liz was never really one for domestic touches."

Jess smirked. "But you are?"

"No. That isn't what I meant. I just take pride in having something nicer around than paper plates and plastic cups. There's nothing wrong with that. And I don't have too many dishes. It's a normal amount of dishes."

"You've got like five pots! How many people do you ever cook for at a time? And look at all of these mugs. Are you planning on having a tea party anytime soon?"

"The pots are different sizes for cooking different things! And –" Luke cut himself off, sighing. "Nevermind. You're right, Jess. It's hilarious how many dishes I have."

Jess stole a glance at Luke. He sounded genuinely tired, and he didn't look great either. Jess frowned down at the cups in his hands and considered, briefly, putting them in the cabinet Luke said they belonged. The indecision was short lived, and Jess stuck the dishes haphazardly in the cupboard he was sitting in front of. He'd told Luke not to worry about him. It wasn't his fault if Luke wouldn't let it go.

"By the way, Jess," Luke said, "have you, uh. Have you spoken to your mother recently?"

Jess stared at Luke, who was keeping his head bent, seemingly absorbed in reading a cereal box. After a moment of silence, Luke looked at him, expression tense. Jess continued to stare, hoping to telegraph to Luke what a stupid question that was.

"And tell her what, exactly?" Jess asked. Like he was really going to call Liz up to chat about anything. The way Jess saw it, Liz had washed her hands of him when she put him on the bus to Stars Hollow. She'd hardly had any contact with him since he left, and it seemed to him that she didn't want him in her life anymore. He wasn't about to protest or try to change that.

"Oh, right," Luke said, ducking behind the pantry door again. "Yeah. OK."

Jess hardly heard him. The persistent ache at the back of his head bloomed into an angry, painful buzzing that drowned out other thoughts. The box he'd been unpacking was almost completely empty, but suddenly he didn't feel like finishing. He was restless and irritated and he had to get out of the kitchen. Jess stood abruptly, shutting the cabinet door with more force than was strictly necessary.

"I'm going to bed."

"Um," Luke called, and Jess paused in the doorway. "Thanks for the help."

Jess just snorted and continued into his bedroom, reveling in the novelty of having a door to close behind him. He sighed, pressing his hands to his temples and making a quick survey of the room. The air mattress was pushed up against the wall, made up with what looked like new sheets and a pillow. A dresser he didn't recognize, but that looked used, sat in the corner. The only other things in the room were his duffel and a box of what Jess guessed was the rest of his things. And the bag of books Rory brought him.

Jess' heart skittered to a stop and he froze, staring at it, before grabbing it. He hadn't brought it with him from the inn, assuming that someone on the cleaning staff would find it and take it to Lorelai, and she would give it back to Rory. He looked around his room, agitated. There wasn't a good way to get rid of the books at the moment. He could give them back to Luke, but Luke would want to talk to him about it. He could just dump them on the Gilmores' porch, but he'd have to wait until he knew no one would be home. Jess jerked his closet open and tossed the bag inside, which landed with a heavy thud that he was sure would bring Luke running to check on him.

Luke either didn't notice or was exercising some restraint, because a full minute passed with Jess standing just behind his door, breathing heavily, ready to fight if Luke so much as knocked. Jess let out a harsh sigh, deflating and walking over to his bed. He sat down, cradling his forehead in his palms and squinting against the pain in his head. He briefly thought about his room back in New York, which he had packed into boxes and left there with Liz's promise that she would mail them to him soon. Even by Liz's loose definition, months later was not soon. He wondered if it was still all the way he'd left it or if Liz had bothered to touch his things at all. He didn't live there and he didn't live here. He was nowhere.

He lay back on his mattress, craning his neck to look out the window over his head. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, wishing for nothing more than sleep. He was relaxed, limbs heavy, when there was a soft knocking on his door.

Jess' breathing hitched. He turned his head to watch the door and his jaw locked up again when he realized that he hadn't bothered to lock it behind him. He rolled onto his side, face to the wall, pulling his arms close to his chest.

Luke called his name quietly from the hallway and Jess made no reply. He could hear a gentle creaking that indicated Luke shifting just outside of his bedroom. The knob turned and the door opened, letting in a small draft. Luke took a couple of steps into the room and paused. Jess just focused on breathing.

"Goodnight," Luke murmured, and the door slid shut again.

to be continued