Soli Deo gloria

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Gilmore Girls. Or Walmart.

"So working on NaNoWriMo at Luke's place is out due to the fact that it's constantly haunted by an old troll just looking for trouble; your place is out because suddenly your 'cool' mom has turned into 'helicopter' mom," Jess listed off to Rory the next afternoon.

Rory considered his adjectives as she cradled her coffee cup close to her. "I prefer the word 'hands-on'. She's usually not so hover-y. She can switch it on at any time, though. At least she makes rare use of it." Rory shrugged.

Jess was not so placated. He lifted another finger. "We don't go to the same schools, so free period's out. It's too cold outside to write outside, and we just got shushed out the door of Andrew's bookstore. I thought it was a bookstore, not a library."

"Andrew's just very particular about anyone doing anything other than reading and buying at his bookstore. Anything else interrupts his own reading." Rory tilted her head and said, knowing that Jess most of all would appreciate this, "And you know how annoying it is when you're reading this crazy good book, and someone interrupts you."

Jess scoffed in agreement. "Story of my life," he said, leaning back in his chair.

They'd emailed that morning before school about their next writing sessions. Rory was actually mortified by how hover-y Lorelai was yesterday; how she snooped around the cracked open door, called out to break up their conversations, was generally loud and nosy while they were trying to get some work done. It was very unlike Lorelai; she knew, after the fact, how annoying and weird and out of character she was. Rory gave her a wide-eyed look after she closed the door after Jess. Lorelai winced and said, "Sorry."

Any other teenage girl would've gone off on their mom. Rory didn't. She knew her mom had the best of intentions, and while she liked to believe that other people had the best of intentions as well, her overriding mom hover-y nature took over in the end.

Despite her mom's constant interruptions that made Jess raise his eyebrows so much at Rory that they should've stayed up there, the two had actually gotten a decent chunk of work done. Jess had caught up to Rory until they were apace for one single day. Then he wrote on days when she was either dancing or crying too much to care about NaNoWriMo. So Rory lingered in one spot while he ran full speed ahead. Then he stopped. He didn't go back to drag her along with him. He instead decided to walk—walk casually, hands in his pockets, at a leisurely pace. He'd put in time and effort in his sprinting and now earned the right to walk, to walk at the gentle pace of one-thousand-six-hundred-sixty-seven words a day. Rory, however, had sat on the couch instead of stretching her legs, and now had to steadily jog at a fast pace until she caught up to Jess. Then, and only then, could they walk together.

They were currently in a neutral territory spot for today's writing session: Luke's Diner. It wasn't the greatest—it was open for all the world of small Stars Hollow to see that Rory Gilmore and Jess Mariano were sitting together! Also, Papa Bear Luke was still giving them a wary evil eye from behind the counter. Still, it was their best spot thus far. (Rory had briefly thought of suggesting that they work at Weston's Bakery, but decided against it. Weston's was a place she and her mom went to whenever they had a falling-out with Luke. It wouldn't be the best spot to bring his nephew.)

It was neutral territory in so far as it could go either one of two ways: they could write pleasantly and problem-free at one of the tables every afternoon, or they'd get booted out. Not by Luke, of course. More by the mutterings and whispers and gossip being spread behind their back. Like Jess had told Lorelai, he didn't care. But Rory did. And Jess had committed himself to Rory Gilmore's happiness.

"So, we're stuck here," Jess concluded. He didn't say it angrily. He said it as a fact. He didn't want to influence Rory's decisions; he didn't want her to want to leave because he wanted to.

Rory nodded thoughtfully. "Inevitably so. All my life's roads lead to Luke's Diner." Then she looked into his eyes and thought about how terribly true that sentence was.

"Apparently." Jess shifted in his seat, nodded to their two open laptops. They were an interesting juxtaposition—the nice school laptop Lorelai splurged on in the name of good school supplies at a good school will make for a good education which would make for a good life (and she'd combined it also as a Christmas present last year, so, you know, two birds with one stone) and the laptop that looked homemade. Rory wondered if Jess had built it himself. Probably not. He was a nerdy bookworm versus a school nerd who liked electronics and engineering. Still, he could read the know-how and use his streets smarts and reliable instincts to put one together, probably, if he wanted to . . .

Rory nodded back, and they began.

Now, writing NaNoWriMo, despite how much you share it with someone, was a solitary activity. It didn't matter how many times Rory turned her laptop screen to Jess to have him read over a sentence and suggest a different way of phrasing, or how many times Jess described a word he wanted to write but he couldn't think of and Rory shouted out the answer. At the end of the day, it's just you, your computer, and your words. It's your story; you're responsible for it, and it depends entirely on you.

Rory thought of comparing it to a child, then decided it wasn't a fair comparison. Her mother would attest to that, and Luke, too. Raising a kid was a billion times harder than pressing keys on a keyboard.

Most of the time, it was. Except for the moments when Rory wanted to shut up her laptop and say, "Forget about it." When she wanted to strangle her main character for too many reasons: for being too flat, too Mary-Sue-ish, too plain, too sarcastic, too boring, too annoying, too not following the story and instead running down rabbit trails! Rory scoffed and said, "You know, I thought you were supposed to control the character! You're the author! You created them! You're their reason for living, and they don't listen to you—they just do whatever the heck they want! They don't follow the storyline, they don't say the right things, they don't do anything they're supposed to!"

"That's how you know they have character," Jess said, once Rory gasped and caught her breath back. He tilted his head. "Your characters need character, or you're going to have a story nobody likes. You can have the best plot in the world, but at the end of the day, if you have sucky characters, all anyone will remember when they finish reading your book is that there were sucky characters."

"Was that supposed to be a motivational speech?" Rory wondered as she lifted her third cup of coffee to her lips.

"I was thinking more along the lines of an explanation," Jess said, "but I can do a pep talk if you need it." He straightened in his seat, cleared his throat, and said, "You're doing . . . great . . . and your writing's perfect . . . and . . . you'll be world-famous someday!" He ended his joke with a comforting pump of his arm over his chest. Rory was grinning by the end of his routine.

"You have such a way with words," she said, pretending to be serious.

"Why do you think I write?" Jess said, bending his head over his laptop.

"I was thinking it is because you like the sound of your own voice," Rory quipped. She knew that people's words on paper had just as much of someone's voice as any of their words said out loud.

Jess smiled a little. Rory smiled.

Rory actually gained some motivation from his pep talk and dove into the deep waters. She swam further, getting lost in their depths. The surface world faded from memory as she explored the hidden folds of this yet unknown dark world. Wherever her eyes fell, light sprayed across it. It was like discovering hidden treasure, uncovering little gems and meaningful jewels that would stay lost in this darkness if someone didn't bring them up for everyone to see—and read.

The November sun outside the diner drifted down towards the west. Jess knew he had a Walmart shift coming up; then he had school tomorrow. Rory had told him that she and her mom and grandparents were going on a memorable old Yale reunion in New Haven. She looked forward to it slightly apprehensively. He looked up to see her eyebrows tightly knit together. Her intensity increased as her fingers tapped on her keys constantly. She looked so lost in thought, so focused on her work, just like she was at the beginning. Just like Rory Gilmore should be.

Jess hid that smile again. He leaned back in his seat and wondered about Rory Gilmore. How she could care about people so much and yet be so headstrong and ambitious? She had heart and intellect. What more could a man want?

Silently his hand left his worn keyboard and softened over Rory's active hand. Her hand stopped and let his fingers interlock over her fingers, his fingertips pressing gently against her palm. It was a tender gesture from a jaded guy. How should she respond?

The only way she knew how, the way she must. She squeezed his hand back.

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