Summary: Luke looks over his financial statements and comes to the conclusion that he'll have to dip into his savings in order to pay for good therapy for Jess. Dean comes into the diner and has a shock at Jess' appearance – a small spat ensues. Jess, still angry over the fight, see's Luke's finances and concludes he is sacrificing too much for Jess. Jess has some acute form of panic attack which leads to him spotting Luke's razors and cutting himself too deep. Luke discovers in enough time to save Jess from another unfortunate attempt at his life and get him to the hospital.

"Depression is individual." The therapist said, her voice was confident and casual as she spoke to the man and uncle who both had tremors running through their bodies and guilt coursing through their veins. "No one person has the same trigger, nor the same reasons for being depressed. It's a chemical imbalance, or an experience that can sort of shift something in the head."

"So I'm fucked up."

Her laugh was whimsical and light – like wind chimes through a soft breeze. Jess hated it. He scowled at the woman and gripped his palms tighter over his bandaged wrist.

"Not at all. Most adults will experience depression at some point in their lifetimes."

"So we're all fucked up." Luke said in the same monotone as Jess.

The woman pursed her lips and looked from Uncle to Nephew – the resemblance suddenly very obvious.

"If you would allow me to continue."

Luke huffed, but settled back in the chair next to Jess' hospital bed, the picture of nonchalance.

"Jess could have been seen as improving – he himself could have thought he was getting better, but that might have just been due to the circumstance. People who are used to avoiding vulnerability will usually act stronger, and therefore feel stronger when they have company – it becomes dangerous once they're left alone. Or someone who is used to having and maintaining attention will usually make their illness known. That is why we have sessions to get to the root of the personality and experiences that have shaped us, and express any thoughts and attempt to determine a cause and help us on the journey to a cure."

"Can't you just give me the drugs and I can walk out of here without the 'feelings' aspect of this so called 'journey'?" Jess grumbled, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Unfortunately not Jess." She was obviously losing her patience with the teenager, which simply seemed to entertain Luke. "Your suicidal thoughts makes the drugs quite dangerous for the first few weeks or months – you'll need the sessions to monitor you. And," She gathered her belongings, ready to leave as soon as she was finished, "Given your erratic behaviour, it's evident that your depression will follow the same strand."

"You're saying you think his illness is going to go all 'rebel without a cause'."

She pursed her lips in a curt grin and nodded before sauntering out of the room.

"Well," Luke said to himself, "That's just swell."

"I don't want her digging through my head." Jess leant further back into the pillows, reaching for the remote to change the channel on the tiny television to something less Jerry Springer and more David Attenborough. "She hates me already – I'll be leaving with a complex."

Luke lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I'll be leaving with more of a complex." He corrected.

His uncle nodded at the change and Jess huffed out a breath in frustration. "And what's with everyone calling it my journey. I'm not going on a fucking cruise – this is the opposite of a holiday. Sounds like they expect me to go frolicking with Bilbo Baggins."

"Firstly Jess, watch the language."

"You just said fu-"

"And secondly," he interrupted, his finger pointed and leaning closer to the boy, "You would never frolic in your life."

"Damn straight."

Luke cast him a dirty look and turned to the television screen to try and appease some of the unspoken tension in the room.

"I'm going to have to tell your mother."

"Oh Luke. No –"

"I am Jess. She can't be left in the dark about this. They're at a Renaissance a few states over, I'm going to go and get them – bring them back here."

"Neither my mother nor T.J. will be of any help in this – why do they have to know anything?"

"Because! What if you had succeeded this time?"

Both men stopped. They both imagined the scenario and Jess hung his head in shame.

"What if you had died Jess. How would I explain to your mother that I knew you were depressed – that I knew something was wrong and I didn't tell her? How would I explain to her that I had tried my best? Why would she believe me?"

Jess didn't answer. He continued to play with the bandage over his wrist, his hands looking small on top of the duvet.

They had given him a nutritional drip to provide him with the energy and protein he needed. They told him they were concerned about his weight.

They were actually concerned about a lot of things:

His weight.

His mental health.

His initial reaction to the blood transfusion.

His lack of appetite.

And he was pretty sure that therapist was pretty concerned about his attitude – but what else was new?

"I'll leave when you're released, after I ring them." Luke settled down, falling back onto the chair and once again avoiding eye-contact. "But you shouldn't be alone right now-"

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Recent events suggest otherwise Jess."

Jess once again shut up.

"Lorelai offered to help-"

"Jesus. No Luke. Are you kidding?"

At Luke's blank gaze, Jess threw his body back into the pillows and grumbled, loudly. "She hate's me, man."

"Lorelai doesn't hate you –"

"Now I know you're kidding this time. Have you ever witnessed a civil conversation between the two of us?"

"Who else would you like me to ask Jess? Taylor? Because I'm pretty sure I'd be doing him favours for the rest of my life."

Jess growled, pulling the disgusting hospital food towards him just so that he had something to distract himself with.

"The doctor said you can be discharged tomorrow morning, after they're sure you've been pumped with enough vitamins and crap."

"I'm sure that's verbatim."

Luke rolled his eyes. "I'll need to sort some things out at the diner with Caesar, and then I'll head off in the evening to pick up Liz and T.J. so you're going to have to get over your feud with Lorelai pretty soon buddy."

"It's not a feud."

"Really? Because from where I'm standing it looks pretty much like a feud."

"Would you stop talking now Uncle Luke?" Jess sneered, trying to look intimidating but failing miserably with his backless gown and a sheet tucked in around him so tight he probably couldn't even move if he tried.

Luke listened to Jess, sitting back smugly, his arms folded over his chest as he tried to once again watch the tele. They both looked on at the awful hallmark movie for a while before Jess eventually sighed, his eyes darting over to his uncle and his fingers pulling at each other with his nervous energy.

"When are you going to tell her?" He asked quietly.

"Liz? I don't really know what to tell her."

"Just tell her we're fixing it."

"Are we?" Luke asked, "Fixing it, I mean."

Jess nodded, glaring down at the bandage around his wrist – every time he jostled it the stiches pulled on his skin, a constant reminder of his stupidity.

"I'm tired of living like this." He admitted. "And now that killing myself if off the table, I think I'll just have to deal with option B."

"Please don't joke about it Jess."

"What else am I going to do, Luke? It's either joke about it or let myself wallow in it – and I'm not really up for the whole crying and ice-cream scenario to be completely honest with you."

Luke didn't reply. He nodded his head and chose to remain silent as he turned back to the television and didn't let Jess gauge his reaction.

Jess looked at his profile for a long time. Luke's jaw was stiff, clenching and unclenching as he tried to control the watering that was gathering in the corner of his eyes. Jess wanted to look away, but it was like some sick need of his to watch as one of the tears broke from his uncle's eyelashes and roll down his face. Luke didn't acknowledge it. He let it tickle down his cheek and get lost in his stubble.

That one tear hit Jess harder than seeing his life bleed out of him. That one tear felt like he had been hit so hard in the stomach that the air had physically rushed out of him at the image that he knew would be burned into his memory.

"I'm really going to try Luke."

Luke reached out blindly for Jess's leg, tapping it once in acknowledgement "I know that Jess," He didn't turn to look at him, but he did wipe a hand down his face, pulling down his cheeks and rubbing over his stubble – ridding the evidence of his tears.

"I mean it," Jess continued, "I'm going to really try."

Luke nodded.

"I can't just leave you alone to deal with Liz now can I? That'd just be cruel."

Luke huffed out a laugh at Jess' attempt at humour, "I appreciate it Jess."

The next morning, after a sleepless night at the hospital, a ridiculously personal questionnaire on his mental state, and appointment to go and see a counsellor who definitely wasn't the one interrogating him the previous day and a prescription for some of the milder anti-depressants, Jess and Luke were back in Stars Hollow.

Jess opened his own door to get out of the truck, despite being pretty sure that Luke was determined to run around and make sure Jess didn't do anything by himself. He shut it behind him with a slam, shouldering the small duffel that Luke had brought him of clean, blood free, discharge clothes. He pulled his sleeves down over the bandage, although it did nothing to halt the stares as the two men walked towards the diner.

"Ah Great," Jess groaned, rolling his head dramatically towards his uncle as he shuffled awkwardly beside him, "It's seems the whole town was craving some of your famous burgers. Absolute coincidence."

"They're concerned."

He scoffed, "They're really not." He pushed past Luke, bumping into his shoulder, and steadily made his way to the diner as though nothing were wrong. The bell rang cheerfully and Jess froze momentarily – faltering in his step. Everyone at stopped, turned silent, and looked at him when he walked in. All eyes went from his face, and then searching down until they got a glimpse of the bandage peeking out from under his sleeve.

He was tempted to shout some kind of quip, something like take a picture, it'd last longer. He decided against it. Instead he just sort of growled and pushed his way through the crowd and up the stairs.

He briefly heard Luke shout, "If you're not ordering anything, get the hell out of my diner."

He froze when he entered. He had forgotten about the blood. He threw his bag into the apartment and turned right back around and back down the stairs.

"I'm not dealing with that." He said, pointing upstairs as he passed Luke, "I'm far from ready to deal with that."

"Yep," Luke nodded, awkwardly ringing his hands together and glancing upstairs as he quickly came up with a plan to quickly and effectively get rid of the stains that he had only just realised would still be present – he had also been avoiding sleeping at the diner since Jess' accident. Lorelai was happy to accommodate. "Yeah, I'll uh, get right on that. Where are you going?"

"I don't know, around town – just, I can't –"

"I get it – don't stay out too long."

"Got it."

Jess headed in a random direction – but he also knew exactly where his feet were taking him. He kept his head down, walking towards the bridge that seemed to be his only haven at that moment.

"Jess!"

He jumped, like actually physically jumped, at the unexpected shout of his name, and he scowled at himself instantly at his reaction. Andrew was running up to him from across the centre – he was looking at him warily, cautiously, as though he were approaching some frightened deer.

"Jess, hi – glad I caught you."

Jess nodded at the man, turning so his faced him for fully.

"I was wondering if you'd have the time today to fix the till – I'm going crazy with it let me tell you."

"Oh!" Jess was surprised, obviously, that the first townsfolk to approach him after his stint at the hospital hasn't instantly asked for the gossip. "Uh, sure. Sure I can help out – just let me get the tools from Luke."

"Thanks Jess – I've been dying in there with that thing."

Jess did notice the way Andrew cringed at the use of his own words, and it did tell Jess immediately that Andrew was aware why Jess had been absent for the past few days. But he found himself not caring – this was his Holden Caulfield moment and he wasn't about to waste the selfless act on something as pathetic as a potential panic attack.

He turned back the way he came, lingering in the doorway of the diner as he asked Luke to fetch the toolbox with a brief and vague explanation. He didn't want to go in any further, despite knowing that all evidence of his own moments of weakness were strictly confined to the apartment upstairs – he didn't want to risk it.

Jess got the toolbox, Luke muttering something about "Bert" as he handed it over, and Jess made his way swiftly over to Andrews, breathing a sigh as the door of the bookshop shut behind him and the stares had stopped following him. The man smiled at him as the bell rang, signalling his entrance. Jess attempted to smile back but he was pretty sure it came out more of a grimace than anything else – he sheepishly made his way over and set up shop behind the counter with Andrew.

He was arm deep into the machinery a better half of an hour later. Customers were coming in and out, each startling at the discovery of Jess also behind the counter – fiddling with the till in a way that didn't involve stealing the contents. Jess was hardly paying attention, but he couldn't help but listen to some of the conversations and questions that seemed to filter through the shop.

"There's not really many authors like Vonnegurt, Jackson."

"I know, which is why it's so frustrating that I like his stuff so much – once I've read all he has to offer – what am I meant to do then?"

"Have you tried Burroughs?" Jess asked, distracted, not really speaking to the patron, more speaking into the mechanics of the older-than-expected till, but conversing nonetheless.

"William Burroughs?" Andrew asked, leaning against the counter, amused at Jess' contribution.

"The very one." Jess replied.

"He's not really Vonnegurt stylistic, Jess."

"Not necessarily." He defended jumping out of the till finally, and with a slight jolt realising he was actually talking to someone, he quickly regained his composure and said, "Have you read the Cities of the Red Night trilogy? It's all non-linear and plays with time and parallels – very much like Slaughterhouse Five.

Andrew hummed, "He has a point actually, Jackson." He turned back to his customer, and Jess soon realised he was doing one better than Holden Caulfield and actually contributing.

"If you liked the timey-wimey aspect of Vonnegurt give Burroughs a try. The books should be on the back shelf."

Jackson nodded, an eager smile on his face as he made his way quickly to the back of the store before he could forget the name.

Jess turned back to the till.

"I never would have thought of Burroughs."

"Well," Jess said, clearing his throat, "I read a lot. And I like to make notes – compare to other authors or quote other books. I quoted Vonnegurt's death description in Burroughs and the Panama liberation in Slaughterhouse –"

"You make notes?"

"I write in the margins."

Andrew seemed very interested by this and hummed to himself before he seemed to come to a decision, "If you ever need any extra cash, Jess, I'd be happy to have you help out around here. Can never have too many literati's in a bookshop."

Yeah, Jess thought to himself, I'm definitely outdoing Holden Caulfield.

There was a lull in the day. Everyone who was curious, or nosy, left soon after Jess did – having their fill of their drama for the day. There was a club soda and cold-water solution dealing with the blood stains and anything that couldn't be cleaned, or fixed, was promptly thrown away.

Now, as he sat in the empty diner, staring at the phone, he knew he only had one more thing left to do.

He finally groaned, pushing himself from the counter and propelling himself towards the phone before he could chicken out again.

"Hello?"

"Liz – Hi."