AN: Well, to those of you who are worried that you're reading the wrong ship: I apologize. I certainly hope I'm not traumatizing you, lol, but I do appreciate you reading anyhow. Good luck to you, I guess. Jess is in this chapter, but Logan is coming back. I seem to alternate them, I know. But it is all building together, I promise.

The car ride had been calming. He drove, maneuvering skillfully through increasingly heavy traffic. It was like a game of Tetris, and it let him clear his mind of all else. She in turn watched other cars, studied license plates, and for once got to observe her where-abouts during the whole trip. Neither spoke, but neither was feeling the need to. He at long last pulled the car into a parking garage, cut the ignition, and turned to her. She still held tight to her duffel bag that sat in her lap.

"Where are we?"

"My apartment building. We should drop your bag."

She nodded, and followed him up to his apartment. He turned several locks, and she wondered how safe the neighborhood was, more with each turn his wrist made. She decided it seemed childish to ask, so she simply followed him inside.

Having not known what to expect, she looked around the apartment with unbiased eyes. The décor was scarce; no picture or plants, and minimal furniture. It had a kitchenette, small living room, and a hallway with three adjoining doors.

"You can toss your stuff in my room," he suggested. When at first she didn't move, he continued, "I'll sleep out here tonight."

"On what?" she raised an eyebrow, challenging his last statement.

"I'll manage."

"Jess," she sighed.

"You're getting the bed, this isn't a discussion."

She nodded, "Which door?"

"On the right."

She moved wordlessly to the bedroom door, and gasped upon opening it. Bookshelves lined the room on all four sides. There was a small gap at the window and again at the closet door, but otherwise it was floor to ceiling books and CDs. The bed was pulled into the middle of the room, and she guessed he'd crammed all his other personal effects into the closet. He'd obviously constructed the bookshelves, out of boards and blocks, but they were perfect. They made this space his. She opened the closet to see he'd built a storage unit into it, in order to hold more stuff efficiently. She smiled, remembering how good he'd always been with his hands.

He decided to check in on her after she didn't reemerge some time later, only to find her in the corner of his room, seated on the floor running her fingers slowly over the spines.

"You aren't planning on stealing anything are you?"

"Maybe."

"So, it's not much, but," he scratched the back of his head, looking around the room himself, as if he'd never truly looked at it before.

"Oh, Jess, it's perfect," she said, her voice full of sincerity.

He had no words for that, he just nodded.

"We should go," he said, turning and walking into the main room.

&&&&

Now out on the main street in front of his building, she buttoned up her coat the rest of the way as she could literally feel the temperature dropping. They ducked into the subway, and she was glad to be out of the wind. As they waited, he leaned up against a column, and she studied his face. It'd been so long since she used to try to memorize every shape on it: the curve of his mouth, the bridge of his nose, his thick eyelashes. She used to tell him he had good eyebrows, to which he always shook his head, but had to smile.

"What?" he could feel her eyes on him. He always could.

"What made you change your mind?"

"About what?"

"Me."

"I didn't."

"But, you said," she began, confused.

"Not now, Rory. Later, I promise."

She nodded, as their train was arriving. He put his hand on the small of her back, a small gesture that didn't go unnoticed by either, and they pressed into the full car. It was standing room only. She held onto a handrail, as did he, and he also kept his other hand in the warm spot it'd created in the small of her back. She found herself wanting to fall into him, but forced herself to stand up as straight as possible, holding her composure as well as her posture.

&&&&

Once again out on the ever-colder streets, she followed him almost three blocks before they stopped abruptly. He opened a door for her that simply read, 'Hot Coffee.' She stepped in to hear a majority of the small crowd yell.

"SHUT THE DAMN DOOR!"

"Whaddya' want?" A middle-aged professional waitress barked at her form behind the counter.

"Coffee, black," Rory answered without hesitation, "Large."

"Good, 'cause we don't serve none of that foofey chai, white raspberry, mochachino shit."

Rory smiled, and Jess piped up beside her. "Make it two, to go."

"You got it, Sweets," she winked at him. Rory tried to swallow her laughter as the waitress, whose nametag read 'Ms. Wanda' on it, poured two large regular coffees into to-go cups.

"$1.85," she again barked.

Ms. Wanda handed over the goods as Jess handed her $2. Once again his hand was on Rory's back, leading her out the door. Back on the street, she took a sip of her coffee and smiled as she looked at him while they walked down the next block.

"Good coffee?"

"Ms. Wanda winked at you, 'Sweets'," she drawled, then erupted into giggles again.

"She winks at everyone. To unnerve them."

"I'd get some mace, if I were you."

"Hey, she liked you."

"How do you know?"

"She didn't make you cry."

"Yeah, well, I still contend she wanted a piece of you," Rory couldn't help herself.

"Drink your coffee."

She giggled until the fit naturally subsided, as they turned the corner again. It was nearly 10pm now, and the city looked amazing, all lit up. She'd never seen it like this, from this vantage point deep in the city. They were in the heart of it all. She felt miniscule and larger than life all at the same moment.

"Come on, we're almost there," he said, urging her on to make the last bit of the trip.

"Where? Jess," she protested until she looked up again upon his sudden stop. They were now standing in front of the Times building. He reached for the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Going in," he said slowly.

"What?"

"This is what I wanted to show you."

Still confused, but now very intrigued, she followed him in. They walked past a mostly empty reception area, going down into a main hallway. He stopped behind a woman who was mopping the floors, and tapped her on the shoulder. Taking out her headphones, she smiled and threw her arms around him, her mop falling forgotten to the ground.

"Jessie!"

"Is tonight a good night?" he asked, not seeming to mind her childish nickname for him.

"For you, always!" she exclaimed with a thick New York accent. "This the girl?"

"Sharon, this is Rory Gilmore. Rory, Sharon Delfino."

"Nice to meet you," Rory extended a hand to the older woman.

Sharon looked to Jess in an impressed fashion, and grabbed Rory's hand in return. "You too, Hun. Come on, kids, this way."

Rory looked to Jess, who nodded, and mouthed 'Go.' They followed Sharon up a few floors, past the stragglers still working in random offices.

"Here it is, Hun. Take your time, and be sure to say goodbye to me before you go," she instructed Jess before leaving them.

"Is this?"

"The central newsroom," he affirmed.

"Wow," she breathed. It was almost peaceful at this time of night, half-darkened due to the fact that it was only home to what looked like the true workaholics left over at 10pm and beyond. Not as scary or intimidating as it'd be by 7am tomorrow morning, that was for sure.

"How did—is it really okay for us to be here?"

He nodded. "Sharon's the mother of one of my oldest friends."

"Do I get to meet him, too?"

"Uh, you can't."

She looked back at him, taking a break from her awe. She knew immediately from this tone what was coming next.

"He died five years ago, cancer."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he smiled to assure her. "Sharon's worked here 20 years, and she loves to help me out. Almost as much as she loves to feed me."

"You brought me here just to show me this?"

He shook his head and pulled a folded manila envelope out of his jacket pocket. He handed it over to her, and she quickly unfolded it to pull out the contents.

"This is an application for the summer internship."

"I know."

"It's not due for two months."

"So, yours will be early and on the desk of the managing editor, not lost by flunkies."

"Careful, I want to be one of those flunkies," she pointed the envelop at him menacingly.

"And now, you can check off that box that asks if you know anyone who works here," he added.

She smiled. "Got a pen?"

They sat at empty desks, her writing furiously, him reading. She was in amazement—she'd planned on trying for this, but being here made it much more tangible in her mind. She was especially glad of the coffee now, as it was nearly 1am when she laid the finished application on the appropriate in-box.

&&&&

Once back at the apartment, he locked up while she got ready for bed. She came into the bedroom to find him rifling around in his closet.

"I'll just be a sec," he promised.

"Stay, and talk. Please?"

"It's 2:30," he reminded.

"I know."

He looked at her, knowing he would stay even before she could form the puppy dog eyes. She wanted to talk, and make it better. He knew that. And he wished it were possible, but wasn't sure he believed it was. Doing things like tonight for her were one thing, but their honesty-turned screaming matches were another. They wore on him like nothing else ever had. Reluctantly, he sat on the bed and waited.

"What you did was amazing," she paused, "But earlier you were so pissed at me."

"I know."

"I don't get it."

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

She searched his face, as if she'd find an answer to his question there. She knew he didn't just mean the internship. It was like he could see into her, know all the things that had been mulling and churning inside of her. She had no idea how he could do all this, or why he wanted to—something inside of her began to ache.

"Nothing makes sense anymore."

She sounded so distant, so lost. He was afraid to touch her right now; it felt like lifetimes had passed since he'd been able to really touch her like he wanted to. She scooted closer to him, and reached out to wrap her arms around his neck. She clung to him for support, and the comfort that only he provided her. With her now climbed into his lap, his instincts took over. He was thankful to turn his conscious mind off, as he held her to him and stroked her hair.