Chapter 79
Age of Resistance
Disclaimer:I don't own GG
Background: takes place in the episode where Lorelai is gone for the weekend and Rory eats in her house with Jess and Paris, which is when Dean comes, Jess leaves and they start fighting. All starts going down after that.
Warning: Some chapters may be really triggering
Note: We all know a lot is going on in the world right now, so maybe this fanfic seems silly in comparison or writing in it. Then again, what better way to continue writing it than when we are all stuck at home (or many of us, anyway). Planning to update daily or every couple of days for a while.
1.
There was only black around her. Everything was black, heavy, enveloping her. The black heaviness was suffocating her, surrounding her. Her nose was filled with the heavy aroma of chocolate, clean pressed sheets, white gardenias, and sweat. She couldn't feel anything except for this heavy invading pressure and a nauseating wave of fear. She was small, she was small and the infinite darkness around her was suffocating her and there was nothing else around her. She couldn't feel, she couldn't feel her limbs, she couldn't will them into moving to escape the pressure. There was a low whining pathetic sound that was making her stomach turn and a part of her knew, that she was making that sound. But it was a moot point anyway. All that was left in the world was the all-encompassing heavy darkness. And then the pain came.
Rory's eyes shot open in the vague light of the coming day, her heart beating so hard in her chest that she couldn't separate any other sounds of feelings. The world was blurring in and out of focus, while she was trying to escape the weakening feeling of the dream. She slowly started feeling again, Jess' arms wrapped around her in the same position in which they had fallen asleep on the living room couch. The softness of the blanket around her, the warmth of his arms. Her whole body felt detached like it didn't belong to her.
That feeling, the feeling of this heavy darkness (weight, heavy weight, body weight, weight over, weight that was crushing her... the thought broke apart again) pulsing through her mind, shooting through her body with every breath. She stared at the ceiling with her eyes open, letting the outside world invade her senses until she could separate herself from the nightmare. She stared at the ceiling listening to his breath next to her, still sleeping, feeling the warmth of his body until she started feeling safe, present. She stared at the ceiling until she started feeling her legs again and realized it wasn't the beating of her own heart that had woken her up, but the relentless knocking at the door. She was slightly bewildered that Jess had not woken up, until she remembered how much they have had to drink the night before.
She gently slid out of his arms and pulled the blanket around his shoulders to make sure he'd be warm. Then she stumbled through the door (the darkness, the darkness pressing against...) with legs feeling like jelly, trying to stay present. She felt too hot and too cold at the same time. Don't think about it. Don't think about it right at this moment you can't think about it please don't...
The knocking persisted, snapping her sharply in the present and she finally opened the door, a bit more annoyed than she would have liked. But annoyed was better than afraid, after all.
2.
Paris was standing at the door, wearing a cozy sweater, ironed khaki jeans with her dirty blonde hair neatly braided in a french braid. She was mad and Rory didn't have even half a breath to ask what she's doing there before she started talking.
'So you're quitting? You can't quit. You're the only one at that school that is a challenge to me, not just brainless...'
'Paris? What? How?' The dream was still mashing in waves with her thoughts and it was hard to be present, that present, Paris-is-mad kind of present.
'Please. You didn't really think I'd believe you had mono, did you? You can't quit, you're...'
'Shhh...' Rory suddenly remembered that Jess was still sleeping. 'Quiet down, will you? Let's go to the kitchen.' She gently pulled Paris to the kitchen, ignoring the look she gave her when she saw Jess on the couch. Finally in the kitchen, she turned to see Paris having switched from anger to...
'So, you have a boy over...hmmm...is he nice to you?' There should have been a light, playful, maybe mocking question, but Paris looked careful, serious, inquisitive, and Rory felt too shaken from the nightmare to decipher why. In any case, the question made her snap from her dark thoughts and into thinking of his smile, his warmth, and without wanting to, she felt her cheeks blushing, the pink pushing through the whiteness of her skin.
'Yes. Yes he is.' She was smiling without wanting to, finally feeling a bit more present. Okay was still far, but, it was a start.
'Good.' Paris examined her face and finding no sign she should worry about Jess, continued. 'Now we can move on to more important matters.'
'Paris, I am just taking a bit of time away from school. I don't see how this is any of your business.'
'Are you pressing charges?'
'What?' The panic shot through her spine before her brain had managed to comprehend the full meaning of her words. Somehow, a part of her had understood.
'Are you pressing charges, are you going to therapy, how are you taking care of yourself?' The way she said the question, it was clear that she was sure the answer was no. Paris finally put down her backpack on the table and started taking out a bunch of stuff out of there- fruits and vegetables, organic juice, dark chocolate, milk, eggs, multivitamin bottle, running shoes and an outfit, a whole stack of books. Rory was looking, bewildered, her face now turning a different shade of red, her stomach revolting against the knowledge.
'He told you.' She said trying to keep it together until she could get Paris to leave. The nausea was burning her throat like acid and she tried to keep the stonecold, collected expression on her face. 'How can Tristan tell you? He. Promised. Me.'
She was angry now, too, and that wasn't going away.
'Please! I've known him from 9 years old, I can get him to tell me anything. So what are you doing? Are you suing? How are we fighting?'
'I have a restraining order. It's kind of too late for the rest. What are you doing here anyway, Paris, this isn't about you? It's not you going through this. Just let this be. Why do you care anyway?' The anger felt good. Anger was better than the panic, the darkness. She crossed her arms in front of her body defensively, but Paris didn't seem offended or affected at all. She calmly started putting the food away in the fridge, brushing off Rory's words as if she had expected that.
'Okay, so I wasn't fair to you, but in fairness I didn't have the full information. So you're not fighting? What are you doing for yourself? Are you eating well? Did you get a checkup? Have you been to a group, to a therapist? Are you spending time with your friends?'
'Paris! I don't want to have this conversation right now.' She rubbed her temples, fighting the headache.
'Well tough luck, cause we are talking anyway. You're not quitting. You're too smart for that, so why aren't you taking care of yourself.'
The darkness was enveloping and... the memory was still shooting through her body and she rubbed her forehead, her fingers ice-cold. Paris' usual dose of bluntness was too much to deal with at that moment. Jess, her mom, even Luke, they had all been a bit gentler with her talking about this, careful. It's what she needed, but it also made it easier to evade the more uncomfortable things she wasn't ready to face. Subtle or gentle had never really been Paris' strong suit.
'Fine. Okay. Fine. If I answer your questions, are you going to leave?' Paris gave her a nod, still putting away vegetables and making a fresh pot of coffee while putting away the leftovers from last night's food and alcohol that Rory and Jess had left at the counter. 'Fine, talk.'
'Why are you not pressing charges? Why aren't you at school? Most importantly, why aren't you taking care of yourself?'
'Paris. This is taking care of myself. I needed time and I took it. And you don't know everything. No one does.'
'Fine, I don't. So let me in. Enlighten me.'
'Paris, it's not worth it. It's too late. It's been months. If I didn't report it then, I'm not going to win now. So what does it matter?'
'It matters to stand up to him. To say that what happened wasn't right, that it wasn't okay. It matters, for you. It matters.'
'Paris, I'm getting a headache. I don't want to talk about this, please.'
'I have ibuprofen.'
'Not that kind of headache, I just...can you leave this alone? You don't know what you're talking about.'
Paris stopped putting stuff away and looked straight up at her. 'It wasn't your fault, you know?'
The tears gathered in a ball in her throat. The fact that Paris was doing all this for her made her want to cry, all good and bad emotions swirling in the chaos in her head. 'Paris, please...' But the word came out small and quiet, and she looked at the counter, unable to look at Paris, because she knew if she didn't she wouldn't see the usual competitive side, but warmth and compassion and friendship. She knew if she let herself feel how important such gesture was from someone like Paris, the pain would cut through her and then the dream she was pushing away would reach her, and she just couldn't.
Paris took few awkward steps towards her, and wrapped her hands around her, giving her a reassuring hug. She let go before Rory managed to say anything.
'It's not your fault. Look, I can leave it alone, but in my experience nothing has really gotten better from leaving it alone. If you tell me you're talking to other friends, you're going to a doctor or therapist, you have this covered, then I will.'
'Paris.'
'You're not helping yourself hiding at home.'
'I'm not hiding. It's more complicated than you know.'
'I don't know. Tell me.' The darkness was coming closer again, it was like a memory at the back of her mind threatening to consume her if she let herself really remember. She pushed it away. She couldn't say a word, or she would break.
'You don't want to tell me, okay. Maybe I don't know. But let me tell you this. You have a mother that loves you and it would seem more people on your side than I ever had. Maybe you're dealing with something harder than I ever did, but you have way more people that love you and care about you than I ever did.'
'Paris, that's not...'
'It's just a fact, Gilmore. Don't get all mushy on me.' Paris had seen how white she was getting and she tried to remind her of their usual way of interracting, to remind her of who she was. 'All I'm saying is, you have every freaking reason to fight, so why aren't you fighting for yourself?'
3.
I don't want to be myself. Anyone but myself will do.
She hated this. She hated that conversation, and yet she didn't even have the energy to fight Paris much.
'I'm not giving up.'
'So don't quit school. Don't isolate yourself. Don't sulk at home.'
'Paris, I can't...' I don't know what you want out of me, but I can't do it. But all that came out in an indifferent shrug. Rory didn't have enough energy to fight Paris and the memory all at the same time. She was tired of all this fighting she was doing with herself. She was tired of existing. The tears were pushing through the veneer of calmness she was badly trying to portray, and she blinked, pushing them away, her face twitching in an effort to keep a facade in front of Paris.
'I can't help you if you don't tell me the real reason you're not in school...'
'I don't need your help.'
'Well, tough luck, you have it anyway.'
'You know the reason.'
Paris abandoned making the coffee and stood straight up in front of Rory, looking at her with compassion and softness that was rarely in her nature. And then she said it again. 'Rory. Look at me. Hear this completely. None of this is your fault. None. Stop trying to pay for what some miserable weak guy did to you.'
Rory's face scrunched in an effort to keep the storm of emotions at bay, but it was too late. Every word felt like it shattered her and the tears started falling on her face, but she couldn't feel them through the shroud of pain that broke in her chest. Every emotion she was trying to protect herself from broke like a dam and the wave drowned her. Her face was distorted, trying to preserve some truth she could no longer keep inside. It was crushing her, the weight of it suffocating her.
'None of this was my fault, but what about when I was 6? Was that not my freaking fault too? Is that something I need to just be over just like that too, talk about like it's some freaking normal thing too?'
She pressed her hands on the counter, crying with her face looking away from Paris, crying so deeply her whole body was hurting. Paris tried to hug her at first, but Rory blindly stumbled back, shaking from the storm inside her finally breaking through her defenses. Somewhere through the shroud of pain, she could feel Paris' hand, stable on her shoulder, making sure she knew she wasn't alone. And it meant everything to her.
