Disclaimer: All Gilmore Girls content belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Dash of Morticia

A/N: The descriptions of panic attacks in this chapter and in this fic are based on research and my own experiences. Everyone is different. If you need to talk, I am always here. I just felt Gilmore Girls always kind of ignored Jess's trauma, and the after-effects it would have had on him.

A few stray streaks of blue paint had dried on her forearms, but Ella was eager to get home and had done a haphazard job of washing up after class. She had sent the kids home with their final projects, the extra time at the end of the day used for free painting time. It was bittersweet to say goodbye to the kids she had spent all three months with, exploring all different mediums through the summer art program at the college. But she was glad to be only two weeks away from the beginning of her final year of grad school. The end of her time as a student was so close, she could almost taste it. Still, though, she found it hard to believe at some point her life wouldn't be dictated by study guides and test scores.

Her keys stuck slightly in the lock, as they always did, as she entered the apartment. The clock read half past six already; Ella had been too caught up clearing out her room at the college to leave anywhere near on time. The walk home had been calming, the sky just beginning to turn a pinkish orange hue. Her heart was light as she set her keys on the counter and bag on the coat rack. Jess sat on the couch with the third draft of his book in his hands, a crease of concentration between his brows and a red pen in his hand. He hadn't looked up at the sound of her coming in, but she wasn't surprised. Lately, he had been totally absorbed in his work.

Over the course of the summer, she had watched his nerves growing over the new project. Though she did her best, she found it hard to understand why. He had already sent preliminary published copies out to certain vendors, and most responses were enthusiastic. The more she found him startling awake in the middle of the night, or snapping at herself or their friends over the smallest things, or growing quiet at things he would normally have spoken to her for hours about, the more she suspected his behavior had little to do with the book. Even when he wasn't working on his writing, he was stand-offish. Distant. It was though he was somewhere else. A place which made his hands shake and his eyes dart around anxiously.

She chewed at her thumb nail as she approached the couch. The longer she felt out of the sync with him, the more frustrated she grew. If it had been anybody else, she would have told him off months ago. But she knew she needed to be patient. Each time she felt the old, familiar anger rise in her throat, she reminded herself of where they had come from and the way he always listened. But she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit her faith in his ability to recognize what had been going on with him for more than just the past few months was wavering.

Letting out a small sigh, she plopped down on the couch next to him and ran her nail-bitten fingers through the ends of his hair, her hand on the back of his neck.

"Hey, cutie," she said quietly.

Still, he didn't look over at her. But he let a small smile cross his lips. "Hey."

"We got Thai last week, so do you wanna get Chinese or Mexican tonight?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not that hungry."

Ella furrowed her brows and scoffed in disbelief. "But we always get takeout on Friday. It's universal law!"

"Well, you pick," he said, underlining something on the page.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she took a long pause and a deep breath. "Jess, just take a break. You'll make yourself nauseous reading it over and over again."

"You're one to talk," he shot back distractedly.

"At least look at me," she continued, insistent.

He heaved a sigh and finally tore his eyes away from the words. He smacked his lips together and raised his eyebrows expectantly as he faced her. "I'm looking at you."

Ella took a look back at him. She just couldn't help it as she rolled her eyes and stood up from the couch. "God, you're such a dick sometimes."

"Great, so I guess we're fighting now?" he asked, tossing the manuscript on the coffee table in annoyance.

Ella turned back to him before she could make it to the bedroom, crossing her arms over her floral t-shirt. She huffed out a breath. "Yeah, I guess if that's what it takes to get you to talk to me."

"Okay, Norma Desmond, since apparently we're acting like we don't talk to each other every day, what do you wanna talk about?" He shot her a thin, sardonic smile. "You wanna talk about how you're allowed to get invested in your work but for some reason I'm not?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. For a moment, she thought about apologizing and letting it go. But, then, she realized she didn't know what she would be apologizing for. The gnawing hunger in her stomach after a long day of work did nothing to help her mood, either. She'd come home excited, ready for some dinner and to celebrate her last day of summer camp. And Jess had played the part of the storm cloud over her head once again. She'd had enough of it.

"Y'know what?" she wagered.

"What?"

"You don't get to do this," she said, shaking her head. "You don't get to act like you wouldn't feel the same way if I was doing this. If I was barely saying a word and being a jackass to everyone and having nightmares almost every single night!"

Jess ran a hand over his mouth and rose from his seat. "Oh, I don't get to, huh?"

"No, you don't!" she said, voice raised. "This thing of ours is a two-way street! You can't shut me out like this!"

He sighed. "Eleanor-"

"Stop it, Jess. Just stop bullshitting me. Just tell me what's really going on."

"Look, I'm sorry if this book thing is bothering you, but I-"

"It's not about the book!" she yelled, cutting him off and throwing her hands at her side in anger. "I know publishing a book takes time, okay? Hell, I've edited the book twice already! But something is up with you! Something's been up with you for months! Just spit it the fuck out!"

"Nothing is up with me!" he countered, matching her volume. His brow was heavy with agitation. "I'm just trying to get the damn book published! What can't you understand about that?!"

She shook her head again. "I am so sick of you making excuses, Jess! Just tell me! If you tell me, I can help you, alright?"

Something passed across his face and Ella could practically see the walls go up around his heart. "You are so much like Luke sometimes."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, exhausted and dejected.

"Maybe I don't have a problem, maybe you have a problem," he said, crossing his own arms defiantly. "Maybe all of this is just so you can ignore how upset you are about what happened at Adam's graduation."

Ella almost took a physical step back, surprised at the accusation. "I'm not upset about that."

"Really?" he scoffed. "Have you called your brother since then? Or Lane? Or anyone in Stars Hollow? Or have you just been too busy here trying to create problems to solve instead of the ones you already have? I mean, just look at your hands! You've barely got any nails left!"

"Stop trying to change the fucking subject!" she spat out, a bite growing in her voice. "What the hell are you so afraid of? Why can't you just tell me what's wrong so we can figure it out?"

"I'm not a project!" Jess shouted. "You can't fix me, Eleanor!"

"I'm not trying to fix you, Jess! I'm trying to figure out what's wrong...I'm trying to get you to talk to me before I wake up one morning and you're gone!"

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They stood across from each other, the coffee table in between. Outside, the light continued to wane. Jess's face flushed in embarrassment and anger.

"That was five years ago! I was a kid! My dad showed up after-"

"I know!" she shrieked. "I know! Believe me, I know! You were upset, so that made it okay for you to leave me without saying a fucking word, I know!"

"That's not what I said!" Jess matched her volume, breathing hard.

"You didn't have to!" she shot back. "And maybe I wouldn't have to worry about it if you weren't pulling your Holden Caulfield bullshit again, but you are! This is just like it was then! But, guess what? I've been trying so hard, but I can't deal with it anymore! I'm not doing it again!"

His eyes darkened and a frown deepened on his face as she stormed towards the door. "Where are you going?!"

"I don't know! Maybe to California!" she growled, tugging on her converse and throwing her bag over her shoulder again. "When you're ready to grow the fuck up and be honest with me, then call me! If not, then just leave me the fuck alone! You've been getting pretty good at that recently!"

The door shut with a hard slam! behind her before Jess had a chance to respond. As soon as she was out of sight, his chest became tight. Out of breath, he felt his heart beating hard against his ribs. He almost ran after her, but he chose to relish in his anger at her instead. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he struggled to decide what to do with himself. After a moment, he looked down off the balcony and saw her car was gone. Satisfied at the low chance of running into her on the way out, he grabbed his keys and stomped out of the apartment, a five-dollar bill burning a hole in his pocket. A pack of cigarettes from the corner store was the only concrete thing on his mind.

. . .

Thumbing through Mabel's copy of A Streetcar Named Desire, Ella tried to quiet the restless buzzing of her nerves. Almost two whole days without a call. Not that she'd expected him to come grovelling to her, begging for forgiveness. But she hadn't expected to stay at Mabel's the entire weekend. The air was balmy and the sky was full of thunderheads, but no raindrops had yet fallen. There was the constant threat of a summer thunderstorm, but it hadn't yet come. She was sprawled across the light pink couch, doing her best to concentrate on the words in front of her.

Outside the window, she caught a flash of lightning out of the corner of her eye. A rumble rolled through the air, vibrating the ground. Ella sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment and staring up over at the vintage French ad hung up behind the couch. The apartment was beautiful; decked out in feminie floral patterns and extravagant accents. Mabel had welcomed Ella with open arms, even after Ella insisted she would just find a motel or something. Or perhaps go back to her and Jess's apartment. But the idea of stepping foot through the door without Jess calling her made her blood boil. She could no longer feign ignorance, especially when she knew something was wrong. Tough love. That's what she told herself. He just needed a dose of it, along with a bit of his own medicine.

His words echoed in her head. It was true, she hadn't called anyone in Stars Hollow since the graduation. She didn't care to. The thought of ever visiting the town again made her stomach do a flip, as did the thought of seeing her father once more. She had hardly had time to decipher what her actual feelings were, between the summer camp job and her worry over Jess. She only knew they were unpleasant, and she didn't much care to dwell on them. Was it worth it to think about it more? Was she just projecting? Certainly she wasn't. Something was up with Jess. It had been for a while and there was no denying it. But she couldn't shake the pit of guilt in her stomach. Part of her knew he was right; at least somewhat. It would all have been better if she had been able to talk it out with Jess, if they were able to press pause on the fight somehow and just be best friends. But they couldn't. It was the hardest part of being away from him, and it made her feel even more bitter.

Everything would be so much easier if he didn't loom so large in her heart. She would care less about her constant, sinking worry about him leaving. About him realizing he wasn't happy and taking off for somewhere new without a word. Or any other consequence of whatever his recent problem had been. His inability to open up to her as he once had. An amorphous, nondescript fear which was recently always whispering in the back of her mind. Having the time to ruminate on her thoughts for such long periods of alone time, with Mabel off at work, seemed to only be making her feel more conflicted. And Ella was aware actors sometimes had erratic hours, but Mabel had been at Sunday night rehearsal for five hours.

Her sketchbook had not seen such angry, horrifying drawings in a significant number of months. At times, the thought that this was the fight which would break them up crept into her mind. Surely he would be able to find someone less quarrelsome, who would be more patient for him. She wasn't it.

The sound of her cell phone broke through her train of furious and fearful thoughts. She jumped slightly, startled at the noise. She put the book aside without saving the page; it was no use trying to read. Her heart jumped into her throat for a moment, wondering if Jess had somehow managed to call her just as she was thinking about him. But when she made it to the kitchen table and looked at the screen, she deflated. It was Matthew.

"Hello?" she answered, hand on one hip of her faded blue dress, borrowed from Mabel. Mabel was taller than her, and the dress hung loosely on her frame. The only clothes she'd brought with her were the ones on her back as she left the apartment, now stale and stuffed into her purse.

"Ella? Are you still at Mabel's?" Matthew asked, voice with a slight, frantic edge.

She furrowed her brows. "Yeah? Why?"

"Look, Jess said you guys are fighting. So, I don't know and I...can you get over here?" Matthew said, struggling to get the words out.

Ella felt her nerves beginning to course through her veins. "What's wrong?"

He sighed through the receiver. "We were at Truncheon having a few drinks. Everything was normal. But then Jess started getting really upset and now he's saying he can't breathe and he's shaking like crazy. But he won't let us take him to the ER or anything, and-"

"Okay, just hang on. I'll be there in ten minutes. Try to get him to drink some water and tell him I'm coming," Ella instructed him, phone between her ear and her shoulder as she slipped her shoes on and grabbed her bag.

"Is he okay? He said he was fine, but-"

"Yes, Matthew. He's fine. Just don't panic and keep him calm until I get there," she continued hastily, locking Mabel's door and shutting it behind her. She'd have to shoot Mabel a text as soon as she got off the phone. She was just starting to pick up on the slight slur in Matthew's words. He could handle his alcohol much better than Chris or Jess could, but she still felt herself doubting whether Matthew was capable of helping Jess through a panic attack at all if both of them were plastered.

"I'll try," Matthew said, noncommittal, before bidding her goodbye and hanging up.

Her face was set in determination as she rushed down the stairs of the apartment building, texting as she went. As she hurried out the front door and tried not to let her car keys slip through her fingers, she felt the first drops of rain finally falling.

. . .

The drizzle had turned to a downpour by the time Ella made it to Truncheon, nearly tripping on the sidewalk in her worn converse as she ran from her car to the front door. She was met with the aged, familiar smell of the main room as she entered, immediately heading for the stairs. Her steps were heavy and she was damp and out of breath when she made it to the door of the apartment. She didn't bother knocking. Instantly, she saw both Chris and Matthew huddled together across the living room, casting nervous glances at Jess, who sat on the couch with his hand on his chest. Several empty green beer bottles sat on the coffee table, glowing lowly in the yellowish light of the lamps. A full glass of water, untouched, also sat on the table directly in front of Jess. Ella shook her head softly and clicked her tongue in concern, throwing her bag down by the door and going to Jess.

His eyes were glassy, and she saw a couple tear tracks shining on his stubbly cheeks. The words tumbled from his mouth in short, panting bursts. "Elle...you...we're fighting...don't-"

"Hey, Mariano, don't worry about it, okay?" she said, offering him a small smile. She sat down on the couch next to him, so close their knees were almost brushing each other. She kept her tone and face even as she looked over her shoulder at Chris and Matthew. "How long has he been like this?"

Chris blinked at her hard a couple of times before processing her question. He squinted down at his watch. "About twenty minutes. Maybe more."

Ella nodded, facing Jess again. She could smell the scent of beer wafting off of him. It was the drunkest she had seen him in a long time. "Okay, that means the worst is probably over. And you'll be fine in just a few minutes."

He shook his head, hands trembling violently. Chills rolled through his body, making him shake more. The palms of his hands were slick with sweat. His chest was tight and painful, and there was a wild fear in the back of his mind that he was having a heart attack. He had never had a panic attack which felt so intense before. Intoxication certainly wasn't helping. When it first started, he had truly wondered if he was about to die.

"I…" he began, swallowing harshly, "I told them...not to call you...I-I don't…"

"Cutie, don't worry, okay?" she repeated, soothing and slow. "Can I touch you?"

"Y-yeah," he replied after a moment, shaking so bad his teeth were nearly chattering.

Her kind smile grew a little as she cupped his face with her hands, wiping his tears with the pads of her thumbs. "Hey, just listen to me. Everything is fine. You are wasted. And you're having a panic attack. But everything's okay. You are okay. All you have to do is breathe, Jess."

"I can't-"

Before he could continue, she shifted her hands from his face to his wrists. Gently, she brought his hands to her chest and began breathing, long and slow, just as she had at the courthouse months earlier. He began to mimic the rise and fall of her chest as soon as he recognized her movements.

"Breathe with me, honey," she said. Then, she began counting in fives as she inhaled and exhaled. She could feel Jess's tremors with his hands in her grasp.

About five minutes of breathing, and the fire in his lungs finally began to burn out. He was still having trouble catching himself and his breath, but the tears had stopped. He did his best to choke out even words.

"I'm fine, Elle," he said.

"You sure?" she asked, releasing his wrists.

His gaze was wavering, but he nodded and sniffled, running a hand over his mouth. "Yeah."

"Okay. Good. You did so good, James Dean," she murmured, leaning in with her hands on either side of his face again, pressing a long kiss to his forehead. She smoothed circles over his back as he turned forwards again, finally taking a few sips of water. From their spot across the room, Matthew and Chris still looked unsure, nervous. Ella shot them another smile. "Everything's fine, guys. Thank you for calling me."

"And here's hoping you're both too drunk to remember this tomorrow," Jess muttered, downing the rest of his water and staring down at the carpet with a flush of embarrassment reddening his cheeks.

Matthew only shrugged sheepishly.

"Oh, I definitely am," Chris said, nodding. His eyes were bloodshot against his pale skin, and he had a goofy grin on his lips.

Ella rolled her eyes. "Shocker."

Breathing a sigh, Jess rubbed drunkenly at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

After another moment of slightly awkward silence, she rose from her seat and held a hand out to Jess. "Let's go home."

Jess bit at his bottom lip, his mind swimming. "Really?"

"Really."

. . .

In the morning, rain was still pattering steadily on the roof of the apartment building. Drops raced down the window in the bedroom, glistening with muddled gray light from the cloudy sky. The constant shower warmed Ella's ears, mixing with the whisper of her name, as she crawled out of her dreamy sleep. For a moment, her heart sank into her stomach. She wondered briefly if Jess was waking her up because of another nightmare, another panic attack. But her fear dissipated as she cracked her eyes open, blinking a few times, and saw Jess sitting upright on the side of the bed, facing her.

He didn't look particularly rested, but his brown eyes were clear with sobriety, if red. She could see the slightly greenish tint of his skin. The severity of his hangover didn't surprise her. After practically dragging him up the stairs, he'd collapsed on the bed before she could shove any pills down his throat. The best she could do was prop him on his side, pillows in a protective wall behind his back as he snored. The recovery position. She remembered it from the times he'd put her to bed.

"Hey," he said quietly as she finally awoke.

She cleared her throat, sitting up against the headboard. "Hi."

Licking his lips, Jess brought one nervous hand out from behind his back. In it, he held a bouquet of dark purple tulips. Slowly, she took them, raising a doubtful eyebrow. It was still pretty early, and she wondered if the sun had even been up whenever he'd gone out to buy them for her.

"There's thirteen," Jess said as she inspected the flowers. "For good luck."

She laughed half-heartedly. "Thank you," she said, taking one last look at them before placing them on the nightstand beside her. "Pretty Nora Ephron. Even for you."

"Look," Jess began, glancing away from her with shame. Her voice didn't have any anger, but also held no amusement. She sounded tired in a way that struck him and made even more guilt weigh on his shoulders. "I'm really sorry. About all of it. I know I've been kind of a wackjob. I've been freaking out and having those nightmares and-"

"That's not anything you need to be sorry for," Ella interjected, tone firm but not unpleasant. Her face was stoic as she waited for him to continue, raking her fingers through her hair.

He swallowed thickly, then went on. "And I've been shutting you out and...I'm sorry I didn't call. I started to about a million times, but I just...I didn't want you...to be disappointed in me. Though I know you already are. I wasn't ready to...have to hear it."

She felt slightly taken aback. Such naked, plain speech seemed like a rarity for Jess. Usually, his inner world was cloaked in metaphor and wit as a makeshift mask. But, in the gloomy light of the morning, she was seeing him just as he was. And, this time, he was actively deciding to show her.

"Jess, I'm not…" she paused for a moment to take a deep breath and collect her words, "I'm not disappointed in you. Not even a little bit. I'm just...I'm so worried about you. And it's fucking...it's just so fucking difficult to have to sit back and watch you...put yourself through something you don't have to be going through alone."

"I know," he said solemnly, nodding.

"And I know I push you. I mean, I've pretty much always pushed everyone. I'm sorry I'm not patient enough with you sometimes," she said, biting at the inside of her cheek. "But, seriously, Mariano, I feel like I kept quiet as long as I could on this one."

Jess let a small, fond smirk pass over his lips. "I know, Stevens. It's not your fault. I didn't mean to...sometimes it's just hard for me to actually listen when you're telling me something I don't wanna hear."

She matched his smile. "Well, that's because you're a jackass."

He shrugged. "I've made my peace with it."

Ella chuckled in response, smoothing her hands over the gray quilt which still covered her lower half. "As valiant of an effort as the flowers and the apology were, Jess, I'm still more interested in what's wrong. Whatever it is...it's okay. Just...please tell me."

Nodding again, Jess ran a hand over his mouth. He brought his legs up from the side of the bed and sat cross-legged in front of her, their knees only inches apart. "Ever since Doula was born...I just can't stop thinking about my mom and...everything that happened in New York. I mean, when Liz was pregnant it wasn't great. But since we met Doula? Since I actually got to see her...it's just been so much worse. When I think about her having to...fight with a stepdad, or get left with some stranger across the hall, or wander the library alone all day while Liz goes off to work or God knows where else…"

Ella placed a hand on the knee of his jeans as he paused. He bit down hard on his lip again. He didn't feel as though he deserved that kind of affection from her after what had happened over the past few days. But he swallowed down the nerves which rose in his throat and continued.

"I just keep remembering and thinking about it and...I can't get it to stop sometimes. And now I'm even remembering in my sleep...I'm remembering so clearly. It's like...there's never gonna be an end. I'm never gonna actually get away from it all," he explained sheepishly, fighting the lump in his throat and the way the tips of his ears burned.

"Hey, James Dean," she said, and he finally looked up to meet her eyes again. "You did get away from it. You did. I know it doesn't feel like that sometimes, but you did. No matter how bad you're feeling, you're safe now. We're both safe now."

He scoffed out a doubtful, tearful laugh, but managed to keep himself together. Sometimes, the simplest reminders hit him the hardest, shocked him the most.

"And we can figure this out, okay?" Ella continued earnestly. "I know you still don't have insurance, but this is a big city. There's bound to be some kind of free service somewhere. And even if we can't find anything right away, I'm always here. You can talk to me. Whatever it is. Whenever it is. I'm not gonna be as good as an actual counselor, but I'll do my best until we can find you one. I'll do some research."

"Okay."

"Seriously, Jess," she said sternly. "I need you to hear me on this. I want you to talk to me. Nothing you could say would disappoint me, or anything like that. I mean, I know you got attacked by a swan. What could be more embarrassing than that?"

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little, though he couldn't hide his amusement. "My God, every chance you can get..."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said. "But it's just too easy sometimes."

"Says the girl who once took a bite out of a decorative apple."

"Says the boy who took a whole month to figure out how to pull a coin out of my ear," she retorted.

Then, with a moment of giggles exchanged between them, Jess's expression shifted back to one of sincerity. "I'm sorry, Elle."

"It's okay," she replied easily. "I'm sorry, too. I know it's not like it was in high school. I know you're not gonna leave. I trust you. Sometimes...I just get so caught up and I don't...sometimes I forget who we are now and I go back to being the little girl whose mom died overnight and whose dad never calls."

Jess tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with an affectionate gaze. "But, hey, she turned out to be the next Georgia O'Keefe. With a dash of Morticia Addams."

Ella shrugged. "Her boyfriend exaggerates, but she's trying."

"Thank you," he said after a comfortable beat of silence. "For last night and...pretty much everything else since the day we met."

She snorted a laugh at his hyperbole, rolling her eyes. "Don't mention it."

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! Feedback nourishes my soul!

aldupotterbing: Yay! I'm so glad you enjoyed seeing Ella in the Gilmores' world! That whole scene was so much fun to write! And yes, Ella's past with her father is more complicated than it appears. We love layers! Thank you so much for always writing such lovely reviews and I hope you liked this chapter as well!