Chapter Fifty-Two

As quietly as he could, Jess opened the door to Rory's room and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. Rory was laying in bed, sleeping peacefully, a blanket thrown over her- presumably by Paris- and her hair covering her face. Jess smiled at the dishevelled look she was rocking, then leaned over her and softly pushed the hair off of her face.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?" He whispered sadly.

Her only response was a slight twitch.

Jess watched her closely for a minute to be sure the twitch wasn't the beginnings of a nightmare, then grabbed a book from one of her shelves and sat down in her desk chair, moving it over to the bed.

True to Paris's predictions, the medication seemed to start wearing off about an hour later, and he could see her starting to roll around and thrash in her sleep. Abandoning the book he had been reading, Jess crouched beside her bed and tried to wake her, stroking her hair and squeezing her hand.

"Rory," he called her name softly. "Rory, wake up. It's just a dream. Rory. Ror, can you hear me?"

His answer came when she sat up suddenly, crying out.

"Hey, hey!" Jess tried to get hold of her, but she pushed him away and dashed out of the room.

"Morning!" Paris called as she ran.

Jess sighed and got up to follow her, only to find that she had locked the door behind her.

"Yeah, she does that," Paris appeared behind him.

"Rory," Jess knocked on the door. "Ror, it's me. Let me in."

"It won't work," Paris shook her head. "Trust me, there's not a chance in the world she's letting you into that bathroom."

Jess glared at the woman he had been so fond of less than an hour before and knocked on the door again. "Rory, please!"

Paris shrugged and left him alone, heading back to whatever voodoo she had been doing with Doyle- Jess was sure he'd heard them chanting a few minutes earlier.

"Rory, open the door," he knocked again.

He couldn't hear any noise coming from the other side of the door, not even the faintest sounds of vomiting, and that made him even more worried than usual. Something was wrong.

"Paris!" he called. "Do you have a key for this lock?"

"She'll be out in a minute," she called back.

"Paris," Jess stomped over to the living room. "Something is wrong."

Something about the look on his face, or his tone, must have convinced her that he was right, because she nodded and headed into the kitchen, returning a minute later with an allen key.

"You just have to jimmy it a little," she explained.

Jess nodded and hurried back down the hall, pressing his ear to the door in the hopes of getting some sense of what she was doing. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard her gasping.

"Rory, I'm opening the door," he called to her.

When there was still no response, he picked the lock and threw the door open to find her curled up on the floor, hyperventilating and sobbing.

"Rory!" He dropped to his knees beside her and pushed the hair away from her face. "Rory, look at me!"

She shook her head, unable to breath or focus her eyes on anything. She felt like her head was spinning around like she was in The Exorcist, her entire body was shaking again and it wouldn't stop.

"She's hyperventilating," Paris stood in the doorway over Jess. "Doyle! We need a paper bag!"

"Got it!" Doyle called back.

"What do I do?" Jess asked, panic filling his voice.

"Talk to her," Paris instructed. "Try coaching her into breathing."

"Rory," he said softly. "Rory, listen to me, you need to take deep breaths, okay? Like me, follow my breathing?"

He looked at Paris questioningly, obviously unsure of what he was saying, but she nodded encouragingly, breathing dramatically. He followed her lead, taking deep breaths, hoping Rory would copy him. When she didn't, Paris stepped in with the paper bag Doyle had brought her, pushing Jess out of the way.

"Rory, listen to me," she said authoritatively. "You're going to sit up, and you're going to breath into this bag. Okay?"

Rory didn't respond, so Paris took hold of her shoulders and hoisted her up aggressively.

"Come here," she ordered Jess. "Hold her up."

Jess nodded and sat down behind her, cramming himself between the tub and the toilet and pulling Rory to rest against his chest. Paris held the bag to Rory's face and moved her hands up to hold it.

"Deep breaths," she instructed. "In," she breathed deeply. "And out."

She repeated this for a few minutes, watching closely as Rory's breathing started to slow.

"Good," she smiled encouragingly. "Good. Just keep doing that, okay? In and out. In and out."

Rory gave a small nod, a terrified look in her eyes.

"You're okay," Paris reassured her. "It's all good."

Another small nod.

As her breathing returned to normal, Jess felt his own panic dissipate. He looked down at Paris and realized that she was looking at him now, not Rory.

"It's fine," she met his eyes. "Everything is fine."

He nodded quickly, then turned his attention back to Rory, who had put the bag down and had started to shake.

"It's okay," he repeated Paris's reassurances. "I've got you."

"Okay, there's a lot of people in here," Paris got to her feet. "I'm going to go back out here, okay?"

Rory nodded, still unable to form words, desperately wringing her hands.

"It'll pass," Paris promised her. "The tingling? It'll be gone in a couple minutes. You're okay."

She nodded to Jess, ensuring him that he had this covered, then ducked back into the hallway, pulling Doyle with her.

As soon as Paris was out of sight, Rory started sobbing uncontrollably, to the point that Jess thought he was going to have to make her breathe into the bag again.

"You're okay," he held her as tightly as he could without leaving bruises, trying to comfort her. "It's okay, I've got you. I'm here. You're okay."

Rory shook her head quickly and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him closer. Jess followed her cues and held her tighter, one arm wrapping around her shoulders, the other around her waist. He was sure that he was leaving bruises on her, but the pressure seemed to help and she was holding his arms in place as tightly as she could since she was still shaking, so he didn't loosen his hold.

"I've got you," he repeated. "You're okay. I've got you."

The sobs eventually died down, until the only sound in the bathroom was Jess's voice and the occasional whimper. Jess slowly loosened his hold on her and started rubbing circles over her hip bone like he did when she was nervous.

"Jess," she suddenly choked out his name as if she had just realized he was there, and for all Jess knew she had. He had never seen her so out of it, it was like she was in some sort of trance. Paris had stuck her head in again a few minutes earlier and quietly explained to Jess that this was all just normal aftermath of a panic attack and that she would be okay soon. This explanation hadn't done much to make him feel better, but at least he didn't feel the need to call 911 anymore.

"I'm here," he assured her.

She nodded again and let her head fall back against his shoulder. As she did this, Jess could feel the tension in her body release, she didn't seem rigid in his arms anymore and she had stopped shaking.

"Do you need anything?" He asked. "Do you want some water?"

"No," she gripped his arm tightly, her entire body tensing again.

"Okay.." Jess took her hand in his, squeezing tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

She squeezed his hand back and nodded, relaxing again. Jess let her sit quietly for a couple more minutes, until he was sure that she had calmed down completely, then suggested they get up off the bathroom floor.

"Why don't we go to your room?" He offered. "You'll be a lot more comfortable there."

"I don't want to sleep again," she shook her head, panic creeping back into her voice.

"You don't have to," Jess promised. "I just thought you'd be more comfortable there, than on the floor beside the toilet."

She seemed to think about this for a moment, trying to decide if he was lying about making her sleep, then nodded and started to get up. Jess followed her lead, catching her when she stumbled, obviously light-headed.

"Whoa!" He pulled her into his side. "You okay?"

"Dizzy," she muttered.

"Paris says that's normal," Jess assured her. "Come on."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her down the hall to her bedroom.

"Are you sure you don't want some water or something?" He asked as they walked.

"I'm sure."

Jess shrugged and led her into her room and over to the bed, pulling down the comforter and motioning for her to get in.

"You too," she pulled his hand.

He shrugged and crawled into the bed beside her, letting her curl into his side as he massaged her scalp softly.

"What are you doing here?" She finally asked.

"Word on the street was that you were holding out on me, so I decided to come visit."

"Paris?"

"She's a bit of a whistle blower," Jess agreed.

"When did you get here?"

"A couple hours ago," he shrugged. "You were still sleeping."

"When did Paris call you?" Rory frowned.

"Around two in the morning."

"I'm sorry," she cringed. "She shouldn't have done that."

"I'm glad she did," Jess assured her. "Ror, why didn't you tell me you were having such a hard time?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

"You've got to stop worrying about that," he shook his head. "Rory, all I want is to be able to take care of you, and I can't do that if you don't tell me when there's something wrong. Why did you let it get this bad?"

"It wasn't this bad until yesterday," she tried to make excuses. "I just had a bad night."

"You should have called me," Jess scolded her softly. "I could have helped you."

"Well you're here now," she shrugged.

"That I am," he sighed and kissed the top of her head. "You're a lot of work, you know that?"

"I've been told," she smiled softly.

"So, do you want to tell me what's been going on?"

Rory looked down at the comforter, nervously fisting the fabric. Jess reached down and covered her hands with his.

"Rory, come on," he encouraged. "You can tell me anything."

"I know," she nodded slowly, then took a deep breath and started to explain. "I can't stop seeing it," Rory spoke quietly, as if she was afraid that if she explained what she saw too loudly, it would happen. "Every time I close my eyes, I watch him die. I'm sitting on the floor in the lecture hall, or in the back on the ambulance, or in the hospital, and he just keeps dying and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

Jess listened quietly, squeezing her hand to encourage her to keep going. She had been bottling this up for weeks, she needed to get it all out.

"At least, that's what it was before."

"And now?"

"It's not just Grandpa anymore," she admitted. "It's everyone. My Mom, Luke, you, Grandma, Lane, Paris. Every single person that means anything to me, I've watched them die in every single way possible, and every time I just have to stand there and watch."

Jess pulled her closer, seeing that she was starting to get upset again.

"Do you know how many times I've had to watch you die?" She choked. "How many times I've had to stand behind some sort of invisible barrier, screaming, trying to get to you?"

"Hey," Jess held her even tighter. "I'm right here. None of that has ever happened."

"It feels like it has," Rory said shakily. "I just have this constant feeling that someone I love is dying. Every single time the phone rings, I feel like my life is about to come crashing down around me. I'm afraid that Luke is calling to tell me there was some sort of accident, or Chris, or Mom."

Her breathing was starting to get shallow again and Jess was quick to quiet her.

"Hey, hey, deep breaths," he reminded her. "No one is dying, everyone is totally fine."

"You don't know that!" She snapped, her panic suddenly replaced by anger. "There is no possible way that you could know that! You're not God, Jess!"

"You're right," he relented. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"You don't know everything!"

"Of course not. But what I do know, is that if anyone was sick or hurt, someone would have called."

"What does it matter if they call?" Rory demanded. "It's not like we could do anything about it!"

She pulled away from him and got up, starting to pace.

"Rory," Jess sat up and watched her. "Rory, listen to me."

"I don't want to."

"Too bad. You can't control everything, and I know that you hate that, that it goes against all your instincts, but that's how it is."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, I'm just stating a fact."

Rory stopped pacing and glared at him.

"Don't look at me like that," Jess scolded.

"How would you like me to look at you?" she frowned.

"I'd be a fan of your not looking like you're about to throw a chair at me."

"I was actually thinking my Women's Studies textbook would work well."

"Whatever," Jess shrugged. "Either way, I'd prefer you not throw things at me."

Rory glared at him for another second, then turned and sat back down on the bed.

"I feel like I'm losing my mind," she sighed.

Jess pulled her into his side. "You're not losing your mind," he promised. "You're sleep deprived and you're going through a hard time, but you are definitely not any crazier than usual."

"He's right," Paris suddenly appeared in the doorway. "That's just a side effect of the panic attacks. I promise, it'll pass."

"See, the resident mental case has spoken," Jess joked.

"Thanks for that," Paris pursed her lips. "But he's not wrong."

Rory nodded slowly.

"It's going to be okay," Jess assured her.

"If you say so."

"We do," Paris nodded. "Now come eat something."

"You know, before he got here you were so nice," Rory frowned at her roommate. "What happened?"

"He's here to be nice," Paris shrugged. "I'm here to give you medical advice."

"Awesome," Rory rolled her eyes and made her way to the kitchen, Jess following behind her.