"Rory, I want you to talk to me about you," Dr. Bowman said.

"What? I'm not sure I…" Rory trailed off.

"You came in here last week in tears, begging me to help you turn over a new leaf so that Logan doesn't have to resort to taking Hannah away. It's been clear to me since we began these sessions that the issue is not whether you love your daughter. You're struggling with the fact that you ended up becoming pregnant in the first place. We've spent a lot of time talking about your pregnancy, about Hannah, Logan, Jess and how you're handling things now –and we're not done talking about those things. But in order for you to really understand why you're behaving the way you are now –the hiding, the tight control- we need to go back farther. I need you to talk to me about how things were for you in the year or two, maybe more, before your pregnancy. If you really want to break this cycle, we need to address how and why it came about; the way we do that is to go back to when this particular pattern of behaviour took root. Something tells me this started long before you became pregnant –your pregnancy and Hannah's birth have amplified your feelings, but they originated well before Hannah was born, or even conceived. So, we need to focus on you."

"Okay, well, how do we do that? Where do we start?"

"I know where you are. But what I don't know is how you got here. I've heard you articulate that what you're going through now isn't who you are. Tell me who you are. Tell me how who I've gotten to know might be different from the Rory you used to be, that you want to get back to. Once I have the missing point on the map, we can figure out how to get back to where you want to be."

"I had very definitive goals. I had meticulous plans for how my life was going to turn out."

"And those plans didn't work out?"

"No."

"What was the plan?"

Rory blushed. "I –I wanted to go to school, study journalism and –and become Christiane Amanpour."

"And did you think you were going to accomplish that goal?"

"I thought so –I went to Yale, studied English, got a job at the Yale Daily News. It all seemed… good. After graduation I even landed a job reporting on Obama's presidential campaign for an online publication."

"Wow. That's impressive," Dr. Bowman said with a smile. "But at some point it started to go wrong, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Rory sighed.

"Tell me about that."

"I graduated in 2007. Journalism was a changing field. With all the changes in how people got their information… when social media took off… you know what happened. Papers everywhere clamped down, let people go; print media was barely surviving. It is barely surviving."

"But you were working for an online publication during Obama's first campaign…"

"I got that job because the guy who was supposed to do it couldn't… I was brought in externally. My reporting was good and I got continuous high praise from my boss, but when it was over, there wasn't anything he could offer me on permanent staff."

"Is that when things started to –"

"Yeah. I couldn't seem to land anything that stuck. Nothing that I wanted. Even with such a stellar recommendation from my boss during the campaign. I had one really successful piece in The New Yorker about a year and a half ago, but… that's it, it was nothing that led to other opportunities there –sadly."

"You say you couldn't find anything that stuck –anything you wanted. Does that mean you had opportunities that you passed up because they weren't…?"

"I graduated from Yale, Dr. Bowman; I reported on the historical Obama campaign. I didn't pursue journalism so that I could work at BuzzFeed or Sandee Says. I wanted to work at Conde Nast –GQ, W, Vanity Fair, The New Yorker!"

"Which job did you get turned down for? Who passed on you because you waltzed in with your head held a little too high and were completely unprepared?" Dr. Bowman asked knowingly.

"Sandee Says," Rory whispered, staring at her hands. "I was wearing my lucky dress and everything! They were wooing me with fruit baskets! They wanted me! And then they pull the rug out from under me because I –"

"Showed up to a pitch meeting one hundred per cent unprepared to pitch anything, because 'Hey, they're wooing me. They want me. I shouldn't have to prove myself, much less demonstrate for Sandee Says of all things, that I'm a good journalist.' You thought you were too good for them. You showed up in a lucky dress that made you feel powerful, knowing that you graduated from Yale, documented Obama's historic victory that saw the first African American elected as Commander in Chief. And now here you were, the Rory Gilmore, interviewing for an online gossip rag that'd been wooing you with chocolate and fruit baskets. All the proof they needed was right there on your resume and all the proof you needed that the job was definitely yours could be found in all those chocolate and fruit baskets they sent you. You wouldn't have to pitch anything… don't make you laugh! Right?"

"Exactly! They were totally unfair to do that to me! I mean, okay –I thought the job was mine, and so I had nothing prepared, but –it's Sandee Says! How hard could it be? They didn't give me the job because I couldn't think of a completely original pitch on the spot. She yawned like she was bored."

"But if you had prepared for that interview properly, you would have had pitches lined up and ready to go –if you weren't forced on think on the spot, you probably could've tapped into that originality they were looking for a bit more successfully."

"I guess, but …"

Dr. Bowman leaned forward in her chair and contemplated her response carefully. She had to be firm without being rude or cruel. If she was rude or cruel, she knew she might never see Rory Gilmore again. "Rory, you just said yourself not five minutes ago that journalism is struggling to adapt to the changes that are being faced in the field of news. Print media everywhere is clamping down –letting people go. You may have graduated from Yale and reported on a presidential campaign, but that doesn't make you immune to the struggles inherent within your chosen profession at this current point in time. Yes, Rory, it's plausible, if not probable that the skill you possess as a journalist does make you 'too good' for BuzzFeed or Sandee Says. But the fact of the matter is, most of the time, almost everybody has to work stepping stone jobs before they land their dream career. Sometimes those stepping stones take you on a roundabout route to reaching that dream career; but they're still a necessary part of a fairly universal professional journey.

"Do you want to know how print media is managing to stay afloat even just by the skin of its teeth and not plummeting like the Titanic? By recognizing the intersection between social media and news. BuzzFeed, for all its quizzes like, 'Pick Your Ideal Sleepover & We'll Accurately Guess Your Age' or 'Do Masturbate Like a Regular Woman?', they have actual substantive news on their site –it's sparse and condensed, but they still run articles and images from the terror attacks in London, the various countless blunders of President Trump, the Comey testimony… they just do it in a condensed way in big block writing with pictures to go with it. I'm not trying to say that BuzzFeed is on par The New York Times, but this is how journalism is adapting, Rory.

"You might not like it, but the fact that you can boast things like an Ivy League education and an Obama campaign job and the best references anyone might find on your resume, does not mean that you're automatically entitled to step right into the big leagues. I don't say that to diminish what you've accomplished. You know what? If you were coming up in the field twenty years ago, you could've ridden those very impressive credentials full-stop, they would've all but guaranteed you a life-long career in the upper echelons of the journalism world. But you didn't come up in the field twenty years ago, you're coming up through it now. Those kinds of big breaks are much harder to come by these days, in this economy. Sadly, you didn't get one.

"Your Yale diploma and your experience reporting on an historic presidential campaign doesn't mean you're an automatic shoe-in for a position with some of the most highly respected and competitive news outlets in the world. It very well may have, twenty years ago. But especially not in a dwindling print media climate like what we're experiencing now. You have to be willing to work your way up to where you want to be and to maybe do a few gigs that you'd rather not do, to get a shot at the things you're dying to do. Everyone does. You're no different. You're not entitled to access to the very top of the ladder before you climb up, Rory. Things won't go according to a pitch perfect plan because you're you and somehow, you always come out on top. You can't always come out on top. It's impossible. Careers don't work that way –as you learned when you lost that Sandee Says opportunity for no other reason than you were arrogant and unprepared. Life doesn't work that way either. No matter how meticulously you've planned, life will never, ever go exactly according to that meticulous plan.

"I expect that whenever work, or life doesn't go according to your meticulous plans –whether it's because you don't get the exact career you want or you refuse to work anywhere but the very best right out of the gate- or life doesn't work out the way you want it to, like, say, by throwing an unexpected pregnancy your way, you end up feeling like a failure. You feel ashamed and even a bit bitter and pissed off because hey, you worked hard, you're entitled to have things go your way. But the thing is Rory," Dr. Bowman sighed, "life owes you nothing. You're not entitled to anything except what life hands you, and doing the best that you can with it.

"You can't hide away like a child, with your child, just because life isn't turning out the way you thought it would. You can't look at Hannah as a constant reminder of all your failures and project onto her all of that negativity. I know how much you love her and trust me –that is a disastrous dichotomy, loving her like that and being in denial about your failures. It will implode. You're not entitled to anything. You're not too good for and therefore immune to life's trials and tribulations –no one is."

"I know that, I –"

"I'm not sure you did, before now. I think you're just starting the journey of knowing that. Hiding yourself and Hannah away won't do anything to erase whatever you're feeling. Embrace her, own her and own the mistakes you made that led to this beautiful life you created."

Rory sighed.

"Do you know when it started?"

"When what started?"

"This sense of entitlement, which sometimes leads to you make poor decisions, that you then have difficultly taking responsibility for," Dr. Bowman said, looking Rory square in the eye. "You need to own your mistakes, Rory, not run from them, hide them or pretend they didn't happen. And you have to find a way to see Hannah as something other than a reminder of your mistakes. In order to do that, you need to deal with your mistakes. Denying everything isn't going to work anymore. We need to talk about when this denial started and work to put a stop to it."

"Jess, are you gonna come get this dresser or not? I told you that you could have it months ago…" Luke sighed.

"I know, Luke… I'm sorry –I just –" Jess faltered.

"Can you come on Saturday?"

"Luke, I –"

"Rory won't be here."

"What?"

"She and Hannah will be with Logan all weekend at his place in Stamford. Rory won't be here. You won't see her."

"Oh. Okay."

"So… Saturday?"

"Sure. I'll come by midday."

"Sounds good. See you then."

Jess let out a heavy sigh and tossed his cell on Ella's coffee table.

"Why the long face?" she asked.

"I have to go to Stars Hollow on Saturday. Luke's been holding onto a set of dresser drawers for me… he's sick of them taking up space in the apartment above the diner that he doesn't even live in anymore."

"Jess, going to Stars Hollow to pick up one little dresser isn't the end of the world, is it?"

"No –Rory won't be around apparently, she'll be in Stamford with Logan, but –"

"Then what exactly is the problem?"

"I just… don't want to go."

"Bring me with you then –it'll be less torturous that way."

"What?" Jess asked, cracking a smirk. "No. You don't want to go to that circus, trust me."

"Oh, come on!" Ella said with a smile. "You've been telling me about this kooky town for years! I wanna see for myself if it's really as nuts as you say it is. Personally, I think you're exaggerating…"

"I'm not."

"Luke grew up in that town right? I like your uncle! How crazy can the town he's from possibly be?"

"Very."

"Come on, please?"

"Ella. There's nothing to… everything has stairs. You won't be able to go anywhere by yourself."

"It's a good thing I'd be there with you then."

"I'm not giving you a tour and carrying you around all day."

"You said the dresser's at Luke's, right? The diner? No problem. We go… you get the dresser… we have lunch. Then we leave."

"The diner has stairs."

"It's a good thing you can carry me, then. Up the stairs, I mean –not all day of course."

"The bathroom's not accessible."

"I've survived without going to the bathroom for an afternoon before. It's a fact of my life. It's all about limiting fluids. You've seen me do it! If I only ever went to places that were fully accessible, me and my wheelchair would never leave this apartment. Jess," Ella laughed, "why are you so adamant that I don't come?"

"Because I –I don't know. Don't you have plans with Mike this weekend?"

"Nope –he's going to a bachelor party."

"Fine," Jess relented. "I'll ask Greg if I can borrow his SUV."

Ella threw her left arm around Jess' neck. "I'm so excited!"

"You realize that as a disabled woman, you're gonna have a mark on your back? You're going to attract the insanity like magnets attract metal. If you end up scarred and suffer nightmares of all the crazy for the rest of your life, you can't say I didn't warn you."

"You could just stay in the car…" Jess said as he parked across the street from the diner. "I could go in, have Luke help me with the dresser, you could say hi to him and we could just leave."

"You really want me to not want to be here, don't you?" Ella laughed.

"Desperately."

"Too bad. I'm hungry. And I need to eat at a table. Luke's diner has food and tables. Win, win."

"Fine. I'll be back. I'm gonna get Luke to grab your chair while I take you."

"Jess! You made it!" Luke said with a smile. "You'd think this town was under quarantine or something. The dresser's upstairs, let's go."

"Wait… I'm… we'll stay for lunch too."

"We?"

"Ella's with me. She practically forced me to bring her. She's out in the car. Can you come out and bring her chair in here?"

"Sure. Sure, no problem."

Luke followed Jess across the street. "Hi Ella!" he shouted when Jess opened the trunk.

"Hey Luke! I'm hungry!" Ella said.

"You've come to the right place then!"

"Leave the brakes on and just carry it in by the wheels," Jess told Luke, "it's super light." He ran back to the diner to open the door for his uncle before sprinting back to the car. "If you end up regretting this, I'm going to make fun of you for the rest of our lives," he whispered with a smirk as he picked Ella up.

"Shut up. I'm just here for the food," she laughed.

When Jess walked into the diner holding Ella in his arms, the bell on the door seemed to command the attention of everyone there. Jess surveyed the familiar faces and did a mental tally –the potential for insanity was overwhelming.

"Jess, sugar! What are you doin' here?" Babette said in surprise. "Who's that?"

"Hi Babette," he said. "This is Ella. Ella, Babette."

"Hi, nice to meet you," Ella said with ease.

"Jess, honey… you know that this is not the traditional threshold to be carrying a woman across," Miss Patty said with a wink. "Are you headed straight up to Luke's empty apartment?"

Ella stifled a laugh by pressing her face into Jess' shoulder.

"Patty," Jess sighed, "we're friends."

"So? Friends are allowed to have benefits. She's a beautiful little thing…"

"I think that's her wheelchair," Babette whispered loudly.

"So? Just because she can't walk doesn't mean she can't enjoy some good sex. You can enjoy sex, can't you dear?"

"I'm sorry," Ella said, trying not to giggle, "what did you say your name was?"

"Patty, darling. Can you? Enjoy sex? It'd be such a shame if you can't…"

"I –I –yes, I can enjoy it. I –I do."

"We're still not going upstairs Patty, we're just here for lunch," Jess said.

"What's the matter with you, boy? Women have needs. Her legs might not work, but she still deserves to have a good –"

"Nothing's wrong with me. She has a boyfriend."

Miss Patty smiled mischievously.

"Not me."

"Too bad, I bet you're lots of fun," Miss Patty purred.

Jess rolled his eyes. "Can I put her down now? I'm pretty sure she wants food."

"He's right, I get grumpy without it. Nice to meet you ladies!" Ella smiled. "God, Jess… you weren't kidding about the circus."

"You haven't seen the half of it, little spitfire. You'll be sorry," he whispered, putting her down in her chair.

"Jess, why don't we get the dresser now, so that you two can enjoy lunch before you head back," Luke said, approaching where he and Ella were sitting.

"Sure. Sounds good."

"Ella, Caesar will be right out to take care of you and get your order in. Anything you want, it's on the house."

"Wow, thanks Luke," she grinned, taking the menu he offered her.

As Jess got up to follow Luke upstairs, he noticed Kirk approaching Ella. "Good luck with that one," he winked.

"That is a stellar chair you've got there," Kirk said.

"Thank you," Ella answered. "And –and you are?"

"Kirk. Is it comfortable?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your chair."

"Yes. Yes, it is. Why?"

"Well you see, I fancy myself the best entrepreneurial mind in all of Stars Hollow and the surrounding area…"

"Wow. That's –something."

"I've had upwards of eighty jobs in the last fifteen years, most of them devised by me as I see the needs of this thriving metropolis grow and change."

"Stars Hollow is a thriving metropolis?" Ella asked, looking around the tiny diner and out to the quiet street, skeptically.

"Of course it is," Kirk said resolutely.

"Okay. Sure. What does any of this have to do with my wheelchair?"

"Well, about two years ago, my latest thriving business idea ended up being a gross failure, which almost got me in a good bit of legal trouble –it was a very dark time in my life. Petal couldn't even cheer me up."

"Petal?"

"The pet pig I share with the love of my life, Lulu. It was a gift from everyone in town to cure our desperate want for a child."

"Right."

"Anyway, your chair has given me inspiration to revisit my Ooooober idea."

"I'm sorry…. Ooooober? Do you mean like Uber?"

"No! No! Ooooober is not like Uber at all!" Kirk yelled. "Sorry… I still have some unresolved anger issues regarding this particular abject failure."

"It's… okay," Ella said awkwardly.

"I think I just need to revisit the ride share idea. Last time, I was driving a large, impersonal, industrial vehicle with my back to the patrons. I think that was a mistake. But this chair of yours… it's sleek, compact, and you say it's comfortable. So maybe, if I could find a wheelchair like yours that seats two, I could offer a new and improved Ooooober experience. Something close, intimate –give people a real individualized experience."

"You Ella?" Caesar asked.

"Yes!" Ella answered desperately.

"Luke told me to come out and look after you personally. What'll you have?"

"Chicken burger please? With fries."

"Drink?"

"Water's fine."

"Coming up. Leave the lady alone, Kirk."

"But I –" Kirk started to say.

"No buts! Now!" Caesar yelled.

"Thank you," Ella said quietly as Kirk skulked away.

"No problem. Part of what looking after you personally entails. Is Jess eating too? Any idea what he wants?"

"Probably a burger. Beef. Fries."

"Done and done. It'll be out soon," Caesar smiled. "Sit, Kirk! Stay!" he yelled as he walked by. "Don't make me come back out here."

Upstairs, Jess hesitated before picking up the dresser with Luke. "Hey, wait a sec."

"What's the matter? Don't tell me you don't want it. What'd you come all the way out here for if you don't want the thing?" Luke asked, exasperated.

"No –no, it's not the dresser. It's –"

"What? Jess, I'm not getting any younger, I'm in the middle of Saturday lunch rush downstairs and if we don't hurry up and get back down there, your best friend will have exploded into a puddle on the floor. I know she's a tough woman, but there are at least a dozen crazies down there with no filter. I just heard Caesar yell at Kirk from all the way up here. One guess why he needed to be yelled at."

Jess smirked, in spite of himself. He took a second to clear his mind and looked right at Luke. "Thanksgiving…"

Luke waited, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"I'll come."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You're sure?" he asked, shocked that this was Jess' answer.

"Yeah. But I might change my mind at the last minute. And if I dine and dash on the day you are not allowed to rag on me."

"Fair enough."

"Not a word to Rory. I don't want her knowing that I'm coming ahead of time. If I change my mind, I don't want her guilt tripping me with it later. Don't tell Lorelai either. I don't want anyone getting their hopes up, or for me to cause any disappointment if I do change my mind at the last minute."

"Not a word," Luke promised.

"Hey Groucho!" Ella yelled when she saw Jess appear precariously at the bottom of the stairs, holding up the end of a set of dresser drawers.

"The comedian?" Luke asked breathlessly, "you have met my nephew, right?"

"Not the comedian. I ordered you a burger."

"Thanks El, we'll be right back," Jess answered. As he and Luke were heading towards the door, Taylor was coming in and held it open for them.

Luke and Jess weren't out at the car for hardly five minutes, but they came back inside and overheard the strangest conversation.

"You –you –" Ella let out a strangled, sarcastic chuckle, "you understand my plight?"

"Yes, yes I do," Taylor said with grave sincerity.

"I'm sorry –what plight would that be?"

"The plight of being afflicted with disability."

"Afflicted?"

"Our fellow humans can be a cruel breed."

"Says the guy who just used the word 'afflicted' to describe disability. So, tell me…"

"Oh! Taylor. Taylor Doose, Stars Hollow Mayor and Selectman."

"Tell me, Taylor Doose –how is it that you understand the plight of my affliction so well?" Ella asked sarcastically, sipping her water.

"Back in the late summer of 2003, I became stricken and lost my ability to walk. I too had to rely on the use of a wheelchair. I slipped on a conspicuous banana peel outside my home –which I'm convinced was laid there as a trap by Luke Danes' good for nothing nephew. Such a little hoodlum, Jess was. Nothing but trouble. I am so glad he's a rarity around here these days."

Ella nearly chocked on her mouthful of water, for laughing.

"I was forced to rely on a power wheelchair for weeks."

"Weeks? How terrible."

"It can be so trying, can't it?" Taylor asked dramatically.

Ella rolled her eyes. "You're kidding me, right?" she muttered to herself under her breath. "I mean –yes. Yes… yes. Yes, it can."

"It is so nice to see you out and about, enjoying life. You mustn't let physical limitation stop you."

"Okay," she said with a strained smile, "I sure won't."

"Hi Taylor," Jess smirked, walking up behind him. "How ya been? I see you've met my friend Ella."

Taylor's mouth twisted into a scowl. "You seemed like such a nice young woman," he said sadly.

"You'd judge me purely based on whom I choose consort with and not on my own strength of character?" Ella asked. "Our fellow humans can be such a cruel breed."

Jess burst out laughing as Taylor stormed off in a huff. "He's a piece of work, isn't he?"

"Seriously."

"So, he understands the plight of your affliction, does he?"

"Oh you heard that, huh?"

"Yup."

"Then I guess you also heard how sure he is that you planted the cursed trap of the banana peel…"

"I didn't think he'd go and break his leg," Jess shrugged. "If I'd have known he was going to fall that hard and that he'd be fitted with a motorized chair, I would've settled for rigging a pale of cold water above the front door."

Ella and Jess had all but enjoyed their entire lunch in relative peace and were actually minutes away from leaving when Mrs. Kim walked in. She spotted Ella's wheelchair and marched right over to them.

"Hi Mrs. Kim," Jess said slowly. "This is my friend Ella. Ella, this is –"

"You must be healed!" Mrs. Kim declared, cutting Jess off.

"Oh, no," Ella started to say. "I'm not sick, I don't really need to be –"

"God can heal you! I get Reverend Skinner!"

"Oh boy," Jess sighed.

"Well, I have no idea what just happened, but I'm guessing she's going to come back with… Reverend Skinner?" Ella asked.

"Yup, she is. I'm so sorry El. The rest of it was kinda funny, but this is –"

"No, this might be the funniest one of them all. Look, I have no idea what this reverend is like, but there's been something I've always wanted to do when people offer to heal me. Let's just see what happens when she comes back. Follow my lead, okay?"

"Sure, but what are you –?"

"You'd better have good reflexes, Mariano."

Mrs. Kim came back into the diner five minutes later, with Reverend Skinner following. "Heal her," she ordered.

"She doesn't exactly look like she needs to be healed. She's not sick. She looks fine to me," Reverend Skinner reasoned.

Ella was impressed at how realistic and logical this reverend seemed to be.

"Pray for her at least. God can make her walk if we pray."

"She won't go away unless you let me pray for you," Reverend Skinner told Ella sympathetically.

"Sure, that's fine," Ella smiled pleasantly. "But you should know, I charge a one hundred dollar fine for false advertising," she said, staring Mrs. Kim directly in the eye.

"Won't be necessary," Mrs. Kim assured her with a smile.

"You'd be surprised how many people have thought they could heal me before."

"This time will be different."

Reverend Skinner was about to close his eyes to pray when Mrs. Kim saw that he had not, like her, extended his hand in Ella's direction. She glared at him until he followed suit and reached out his arm along with Mrs. Kim.

Just don't touch me, Ella thought to herself. If either of you lay one 'healing' hand on me, it's game over.

All the while as they were surrounded by prayer, Jess and Ella looked at each other quizzically, stifling laughter, until Reverend Skinner opened his eyes, followed by Mrs. Kim.

"Okay, moment of truth!" Ella said excitedly, pushing her wheelchair away from the table, undoing her seatbelt and scooting forward until she was on the edge of her seat, her feet on the ground.

"El… what are you doing?" Jess asked dubiously.

"Jess," she said, eying him significantly. "I'm seeing if this nice lady was right. I'm going to stand and walk because Mrs. Kim believes that this reverend healed me. Right, Mrs. Kim?"

"Yes, yes," Mrs. Kim nodded excitedly.

"So, Jess, the only thing left for me to do is stand and walk. So, on my honour, the only thing left to do is see if this reverend is a miracle worker!"

Jess caught on. He was so caught off-guard that he almost missed the clues. Ella's weak leg, the foot that couldn't go flat or support much of her weight was her left. He got up and stood next to Mrs. Kim, situated in front of Ella and mere inches away from her left side, knowing that when she pitched, that's the way she would go. "I need a good view of what's about to happen here. My best friend's been healed!" he said when Mrs. Kim looked at him with a scowl.

Ella managed to stand up on the floor and let go of her wheelchair. Jess was half afraid that as soon as she let go, she'd just fall, but she actually managed two short, choppy steps before pitching hard and fast, forward and to the left. Hitting the floor would've taken just one second. But Jess acted fast and lunged to catch her. Instead of landing on the floor, she felt his strong arms slip underneath hers and stop her, mid-fall, without flinching or faltering –which was impressive given how quickly he had to act.

"Oh no," Mrs. Kim lamented, shaking her head sadly. "It was a bad prayer. Reverend Skinner, you must try again!"

"I don't think so, Mrs. Kim. This young lady, while disabled, is perfectly healthy and not in need of any healing. I'm sorry I interrupted your lunch, dear," Reverend Skinner said to Ella apologetically.

Mrs. Kim watched him leave and sighed sadly.

"So," Ella said to Mrs. Kim, "you said God would make me walk if you prayed for me and uh… nope. Still disabled, evidently… what with almost falling on my face and all. Remember what I said about false advertising? It's so unfair to get a poor cripple's hopes up like that, and then for me to suffer the traumatizing experience of a potentially deadly fall. It's only fair that I be compensated for the anguish this whole ordeal has caused; because I do, I so badly want to have working legs like everyone else. To know that I was maybe, just maybe close to having that happen today, and then for it to just, not work… I'm not sure I'll ever get over it, really," she said heartbreakingly. She was still in Jess' arms –when she launched into this tale of woe, he made a split decision to remain holding her to maximize the effect of her speech.

"It's true," Jess echoed sadly. "She's my best friend, Mrs. Kim and I'm afraid that she'll just, never be the same after this."

Luke had been watching the entire thing from behind the counter and he was having serious trouble holding in his laughter. These two were good. Ella was superb –she was trying to swindle Mrs. Kim! Luke knew it'd never work, but still, it was genius.

"Never mind the money," Ella whispered shakily and quietly, pressing her forehead into Jess' chest. Her shaky voice was because of the laughter she was struggling to hold in, not because tears were overwhelming her; but Mrs. Kim, it seemed, couldn't tell the difference. "Please Jess," she said, staring at him with her mesmerizing hazel eyes, that seemed, to Mrs. Kim, like they were glazing over with tears. "Please Jess I just want to go home. Can you take me home?"

"Yeah El," Jess said softly, kissing the top of her head quickly, "I'll take you home," he promised, swooping her up in his arms easily right from the very spot she stood. "Luke," he said, gesturing to Ella's chair once he'd caught his uncle's attention, "could you? The dresser's lying across the backseat, so just put her chair back in the trunk."

"Sure, no problem, Jess," he said sullenly, following a few paces behind his nephew.

As soon as all three were safely across the street and Ella and Jess were shielded from view as he lifted her into the car, they burst into uproarious laughter. Luke joined in from the trunk, where his face was out of view as he put Ella's chair exactly where it was when he'd taken it out.

"You, you fucking tried to swindle Mrs. Kim!" Jess cackled loudly. "I can't believe you tried to swindle Mrs. Kim! You're fucking brilliant. That was the most hilarious thing I've ever seen."

"I told you. Good thing you have quick reflexes," Ella winked. "People offer to heal me so much it's actually disgusting. And of course no one's ever with me when it happens. I've always wanted to tell people I charge for false advertising and then let myself fall in front of them –can you imagine if I actually got money from like, even half of them? I'd be rich! But that would cause serious pain and injury to me on a regular basis, so yeah… no. But you were there, so I figured, Yes! This is my chance! Thank you so very much for catching me, by the way."

"No problem. I'd happily do it again, any time you want just to see that look on her face again."

Luke was still laughing as he came around to see Ella and his nephew off. "Aw man. Ella… you made my day. Your dripping sarcasm with Taylor and then pulling one over on Mrs. Kim like that… priceless. I owe you."

"Consider it payment for the free lunch," Ella said with a smile. "It was good to see you. I'm so glad I made Jess drag me out here with him. This is… a very interesting town you have here. I knew I needed to experience it just once."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Luke said happily. "Jess, always good to see you."

"Yeah," Jess smirked. "Thanks for the dresser."

"Safe trip back to Brooklyn, you two."

"Well," Ella said with a chuckle as Jess stated the engine, "that was quite the experience. Admit it –insane though it might've been, it was pretty fun, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Jess admitted with a devilish grin. "It was pretty fun."

"See? Aren't you glad I forced you to bring me with you?"

"Yeah, I am."

"That's all the vindication I need," she said, reaching for the radio dial.

Jess covered her hand with his. "Nope. There is only one song that is appropriate when entering, visiting or leaving Stars Hollow."

"Oh yeah? And what song would that be?"

Jess connected his phone to the car's Bluetooth and searched out the song. He pressed the buttons to let his and Ella's windows down. "I know it's cold, but it's only appropriate that we belt this out as we leave. You ready?"

"Ready!" Ella laughed.

Jess hit play. Costello's anthem of discontent that defined his teenage and early adult years in Stars Hollow filled Greg's SUV as he sped off in the direction of the town's outer limit: This is hell, this is hell/I am sorry to tell you/It never gets better or worse/But you get used to it after a spell/For heaven is hell in reverse/This is hell, this is hell…