A/N: Oh yeah, chapter 9! Thank you for the lovely reviews, even though I think I'm making an ass of a story here, you seem to think otherwise, and that is a very encouraging thought! If any Americans read this, I sort of had to improvise the cell numbers, tried googling, but that didn't render much result, so if I have screwed up how you guys do your cell numbers please point it out and tell me how it should be! Brownie points for those who can figure out from what movie I snatched the chapter-title. As always: review, review, review, or I might hold out on the final gasp chapter! ;)
Disclaimer: I, the author of this story, do not own any of the characters associated with Gilmore Girls. That honor belongs to the wonderful Amy Sherman-Palladino. I have no intention of making any money on this (in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm losing money over it...).
9. Mishap, mayhem, oh J…
Rory felt like she was stuck in some insane Dr. Seuss – world. She had just come home from what she was sure was the most disastrous impromptu visit ever, her mom was pestering her to spill all the juicy details, all while Matt's and Chris' message kept repeating itself:
"Hey Rory, if this is getting to the right person. It's Chris… and Matt, from Truncheon. What the hell did you do to Jess before you left? He's barricaded himself in his room, again, and I mean really barricaded, as in really putting something in front of the door to prevent anyone from entering…Also Cammie seems pissed at you, she went total Mr. Hyde on us when we came for coffee, and managed to crown you and Jess king and queen of Stupidia or something like that… Anyway, call us and tell us how to pull a Prison Break on Mariano, the cranky loner- thing he's been doing doesn't suit him anymore. Either call us at Truncheon or at our cells, it's 215-555…"
For now, she stopped listening the instant they gave their cell numbers (even though she had heard the numbers so many times now that they were etched into her memory), and sunk down in the couch, her mom beside her. This had turned out worse than she could ever have imagined, and now Jess had gone full out on his hermit-tendency, Cammie was upset, Chris and Matt begged for her to help out and her mother wouldn't stop looking at her.
"Come on, honey, tell me, what happened, I want to know everything, from the sweet beginning, right through the mundane middle and off to the bitter end!"
"Mom, you know the end already, I came home, Jess barricaded himself, and the Philly-version of Luke is upset with me."
"No! You seriously pissed of the Luke of Philly? Was he wearing a cap?"
"It was a she, and she had purple hair and played for the 'girls only team', and she actually wanted me to join."
"Dirty!" Lorelai gasped.
"Not funny!" retorted Rory. "You know, I don't want to talk about it, not now, possibly not ever, so could you please just let it slide and go back to searching for Pop Tart-notes?"
She wanted out of this surreal situation, and this turned out to be her opportune moment. Lorelai seemed very surprised at her daughter's outburst, and just looked at her, so Rory took the chance and got up from the sofa, and stormed out of the house.
She loved Stars Hollow in the winter, or at least she used to. Everything was covered in snow, and usually it looked very magical to Rory, but today was different. Everything annoyed her, the light was too bright, and it was freezing, no one was outside for her to talk to, even though she doubted she wanted to talk to anyone, and she was drifting through town until she came to the old bridge. Walking it during winter was even more hazardous than during summer, and she carefully trod out to the middle and just stood there, watching the frozen water. Here, they had bickered about Hemingway and Rand while not eating the contents of the basket. Luke had pushed him in here. This used to be her reading spot when she was younger. All her thoughts kept touching on Jess, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it. He had locked himself in, why would he do that? Not even Luke, Mr. Grumpy himself, would do that. She needed to know what was going on, what if he was committing suicide just now? That thought horrified Rory, and she took out her cell phone and quickly dialled one of the cell numbers.
"Hello?" answered a voice she recognized as Chris'.
"Is he alive?" she blurted out.
"Excuse me? Is who alive? If we're talking about Keith Richards, I'm afraid you're too late."
"What? Keith Richards is alive and kicking, when he's not climbing palm trees!"
"For real?"
Chris sounded surprised.
"Wow, that was major. Hey Matt! Keith Richard is alive!"
Rory could hear a major debate ensue between Chris and Matt on whether Keith Richards was alive or not.
"Chris?" she tried.
"What? Hey, who am I talking to?"
"It's Rory."
"God, finally you call us back. Hey Matt, it's her!"
"Is he alive?" Rory repeated her first question. "Is Jess alive?"
"Sure he's alive, he's just barricaded, and it's a bit scary, actually. We've been trying to listen in on him, you know, to see that he's alive and all that, but the only thing we hear is tapping, as in writing on a machine or computer, not tap dancing."
"Because Jess and tap dancing seems like a match made in heaven."
"I wouldn't know, but seriously, what happened? He seemed fine when I saw the two of you walk up to the apartment."
She didn't want to explain, didn't want to remember.
"What's the deal with Cammie?" she asked instead, dodging his question.
"Smooth hey, you're not getting off the hook."
"Shoot…" she thought, before replying. "Fine. My brain went haywire and I told him I loved him."
"And that warranted him making his own SHU how?"
"First of all, you need to cut down on Prison Break. Second, I bolted out just after I said that, and third, he did the same thing to me four years ago."
After what seemed like the longest silence in the history of silences, Chris replied:
"Man, you two have issues."
"No! We don't have issues."
"Listen to uncle Chris here. You have issues, as in you and Mariano. I don't know you, but Jess wasn't even this cranky when he got to Philly. You need to get your butt back here and fix this with him."
"That ship has already sailed, and it sailed long before I came to Philly the first time." Rory sighed.
"Are you sure?" Chris asked.
"I don't want to be, but… I'm afraid so."
"I'm starting to see why Cammie was so frustrated…"
"What's with her by the way? Fine, I might have left in the middle of something, but…"
"Only thing I know is that she was raving on about you and Jess being the thickest lovebirds on this side of the galaxy, plus the king and queen stuff. You need to fix her, too, I don't think I can stand decaf anymore."
"Chris… I can't come. I don't know if I want to come. Every time Jess and I are together we screw up, and I don't want to screw up for him. He's a good person, an amazing writer, everything I would want from a guy, but all we do is hurt each other, and this time it seems I'm in the run for 'heartbreaker of the year', so…"
"I don't understand, Rory. You like him, he likes you enough to pitch a fit because you did what he did to you way back, and you are certain there is nothing that could be done?"
"I…" Rory faltered. "I'm afraid to look. I fear that if I look too closely, hoping to find something, anything, I will just realize that there is nothing to be done, and he'll move on, and I'll be stuck with a heart bleeding all over the pavement, and Taylor will kick my butt for it, and mom will want me to wallow, and it will become everybody's business and…"
"Ignoring the fact that you managed to get another guy in this to kick your butt, what do all those other people have to do with this?" Chris asked
"Everything, and nothing." she answered, and felt tears burning down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I have to go."
She ended the call, quietly walking home to face her mom firing questions at her. "So much for Christmas spirit…" Rory thought gloomily as she opened the door to her home.
In Philly, Jess was tapping angrily at his computer. He needed to vent, and locking himself into his room seemed like a good idea at the moment. He had locked the door, but pushed his desk in front of the door just in case Matt would remember that he was the best amateur lock pick on this side of the Atlantic. After having plugged in his laptop, he opened a new document and fired away. He didn't bother looking at what he wrote, he let his soul pour out through his fingers and the keyboard onto the document. He heard Matt and Chris yelling at him to come out, threatening him with various things, before disappearing out the door. A while later, they returned, Chris seeming to leave someone a message, and then it was on again. There were bangs on the door, threats in verbal and written form, pleas and shouting, but nothing could make him snap out of the trance-like state he was in. His fingers kept on hitting the keyboard, he saw words form, and he couldn't stop. She had… He couldn't put his finger on what she had done, but it was something, and it hurt. He finally understood his own foolish act of dropping a bomb like that and then leave. The worst thing was, his mind was spinning to know if she really meant it, and not knowing it for certain made him go crazy.
He sat there for hours, his fingers weary of writing, but still continuing, until he heard someone's phone ring. As if it had been a spell, his fingers stopped moving, his head came out of the Rory-rollercoaster, and he listened absent-mindedly while trying to understand any of the thirty-or-so pages he had written. He heard Chris and Matt bicker about Keith Richards, they talked about Cammie, and then came another bomb:
"I don't understand, Rory. You like him, he likes you enough to pitch a fit because you did what he did to you way back, and you are certain there is nothing that could be done?"
His heart nearly stopped. Chris was talking to Rory. Just by that simple utterance, Jess understood. She was upset, confused, and he wasn't there, or she wasn't here, and both feared that now they would go on with this hanging over them. She was afraid there was no way back, and to tell the truth, he had no bright ideas on the subject either. He wanted, like she wanted, to go back, retrace each step, each mishap, each shard of broken heart, but the problem was how. He wanted… He wanted…
Sleepiness fell over him like a warm blanket, and he fell asleep over his desk. In his dreams he saw her. They were standing on either side of the old bridge. He wanted to move, but didn't dare to. She seemed to want to move also, but wouldn't. She gave him one last piercing look with her ever-so-blue eyes, before turning around and walking away from him. He snapped out of the dream, and almost fell off his chair. It was three in the morning, and he knew he needed to do something about this. He just needed a plan.
