Jess left the Gilmore house early on the day of Rory's arrival – ready to be out of the way of the elder Gilmore for the day allowing her time to prepare for the prodigal child's return and should Rory arrive early - let them catch up (code for: discuss his pathetic slump without him being close to over-hear).

The sun had barely made an impact on the world by the time he had left – peaking over the heights of trees and barely making an impression on the cool temperature of the dewy morning. He was munching on the pop-tart that Lorelai had put out for him the previous evening (she had begun counting the wrappers so she could be reassured he ate something), and had the protein infused smoothie clutched tightly in his hand for consumption through the day. He had told Caesar he'd help with the early-morning deliveries that day, and first shift before he could spend the remainder of the day with Andrew.

It wasn't difficult for him to be awake at that time in the morning – if anything, he had a lot more trouble falling asleep than being awake. He managed to catch a few hours that night before settling into his common pastime of staring up at the ceiling and twiddling his thumbs – literally. He had stopped trying to get his mind to shut up a while ago, so instead he used it to map up some kind of plan for the characters he had made a begrudged fondness for.

He struggled to admit to himself that he had, in fact, come up with some semblance of a story – and yet as he started to edit the woven sentences together he felt the tickle of pride that he wasn't used to.

"Morning," He muttered as he approached the diner – Caesar was already pulling crates from the van that had pulled up outside the establishment.

Caesar nodded at him in greeting, grumbling a response – never one for mornings, and instructed him to start carrying the boxes into the diner so they could sort through the orders and check off their stock.

It was methodical and boring work.

Caesar flicked on some music at some point during their stock count and was warbling out lyrics as though Jess wasn't even there.

"Want to join the band, Caesar? We could use your soulful voice."

"Ah, ever the flatterer, Lane."

Jess hadn't even heard the bell above the door – he was too wrapped up in the fictitious world he had created for himself. He looked up at the girl, nodding in her direction and earning one in return.

"You here to help out?" Caesar placed a box in front of her regardless of her answer and gestured for her to start counting.

"Luke's away." Lane explained, "And I know how you like to complain Caesar."

"Shut up and count, Lane."

Lane laughed, and Jess looked on at the companionship between the two with a smile on his face. The familiarity and banter between the two felt easy and relaxed. It was nice to observe – he'd forgotten how easy it was for some people to make casual connections.

Caesar went back to singing, Jess went back to putting away the stock, and Lane got started on counting.

"So, Jess." Lane began, glancing at Caesar to assure he wouldn't contribute to the conversation.

"So, Lane."

"I heard Rory is coming back for the weekend."

"That's what I gather - yes."

"Would it be alright if we don't mention my whole…" she waved her hand in some form of explanation, "blowing up at you thing?"

Jess lifted an eyebrow – it wasn't how he expected the conversation to go.

"Only, Rory had been off recently and I'm not sure she'd appreciate my shouting at her ex and making her seem like a heartless cow – or vulnerable -or…"

"She's been off recently?"

Her eyes went wide behind her glasses and she stuttered exaggeratedly, "I shouldn't have said that. I definitely shouldn't have said that. She's not off – of course she's not. She's perfect, ideal. Why would you think she was acting weird because I definitely don't –"

"Chill out Lane."

She abruptly stopped talking.

Jess didn't reassure her, but he did abruptly change the topic, "How's the music collection going?"

She was surprised, that much was evident, but she didn't dwell on it. She took his change of topic in stride and began to enthusiastically talk about the collection she had started up in the new apartment – making sure to have something for every mood. Jess chimed in with his opinion when he had the chance, gaining a probably sadistic sense of glee at her shock at his every input. He enjoyed battling with her view and outright chortled when she suggested he had purely punk and grunge tastes – he started to hum Bowie under his breath to throw off her estimation after that.

They managed to put away all the stock and get the records in order before the first customers began to arrive and order their breakfasts. Jess stayed long enough to help with the morning rush – helping Caesar cook in the back and man the counter while Lane worked on waitressing. His was the kind of work that kept the mind occupied and Jess could honestly be thankful for the distraction.

When there was a lull – Jess took his leave. He meandered to the book store with a sudden nervous energy that he seldom experienced in his life. He started bouncing around the idea that Andrew wasn't serious in his offer, that he was pitying Jess, that he honestly wouldn't be of any help to him. Jess had all but convinced himself to turn back around and skulk towards the diner when Andrew caught sight of him from inside the shop and waved him in desperately.

"Jess!" he exclaimed when the boy entered sheepishly, "Just the person I need."

Jess raised his eyebrows at the man, walking towards him and the customer with his hands in his pockets and just as much of an incredulous expression as he was sure was on the patron's face.

"Patricia here thinks that The Great Gatsby is the 'most romantic book there is'."

Jess audibly groaned, pulling a hand to his face to rub over his eyes. Andrew laughed at his reaction and gave him a pat on the back as he went by.

"Maybe you'd like to recommend her some actually decent portrayals of a relationship."

Jess spent twenty minutes arguing with the customer which only ended when he forced Madame Bovary in her hand with the slight inclination that she might learn something about romanticising relationships and then just to make sure that not all hope was lost, he also slipped her a second hand copy of Pride and Prejudice that she claimed to have read but he implored for her to read again.

With her books paid for, Jess turned back to Andrew and found him looking back at him with a smile on his face and the smallest hint of a nod. He questioned the man, but all he got in return was a slight huff of a laugh and Andrew tilted his head towards the back of the store.

"Do some inventory for me this afternoon, Jess. We're out of stock of some of the most popular and vastly overstocked with some of the Greats – maybe you could do some re-jiggling there."

Jess didn't need another word from the man before he stomped off to work muttering about the awfully written tastes of the modern era, ignoring the laughter from his employer that followed his way.

He found himself relaxing into his new role at the shop. Andrew would call him over to help with any recommendations, and he got to help out with the ordering of new stock based on his own tastes and readings - "You're more likely to sell books if you're passionate about them."

His own personal form of escapism and he was surrounded by it for hours – it was like a clean breath in his otherwise polluted world and it kept an honest smile on his face through the day.

It was nearing the end of the working day when Jess heard the bell over the door and the unmistaken sound of his uncle in the front of the shop. Jess froze behind the bookcase he was filling, letting himself take a few deep breaths before he showed himself – If Luke was back, then meant his mother was.

He emerged, pulling on his sleeve and dipping his head down as he approached. "Where's Liz?"

"Come with me, Jess."

Luke beckoned his nephew, conscious of the gossips in town lingering around their purchases.

Jess said a small goodbye over his shoulder to Andrew and followed his uncle from the shop. Luke was walking ahead of him in a storm. Jess struggled to catch up, running and skipping forward until he was in step with the man, and almost panting at the effort.

"This is a good sign."

Luke huffed, "She's ridiculous,"

"That's one way to describe my mother, yes."

"I just -" Luke stopped abruptly and Jess stumbled to a halt a few paces ahead of him.

"God! I can't believe her sometimes – she may be my sister but... Jesus."

"Luke," Jess reassured, "Did you forget who you're speaking to?"

"Right. Yeah. Sorry."

They were heading to the Gilmore residence and Jess wasn't sure if that made him that much more uncomfortable or not. Yet, when they walked up the steps to the warm place, and Jess saw a glimpse of Liz through the window – he couldn't help but think how out of place she looked in the homely atmosphere.

"Jess!" Liz barrelled past Luke and gripped onto her son with a painful grip of a hug. He didn't hug back. His hands held into fists at his side and he winced at her crooked voice in his ear.

"Can you believe some of the things Luke has been claiming. He tells us that your depressed, then he comes all the way to come and collect me and T.J when we were doing so well at the Renaissance – we sold out of the emerald batch and we were just signing on for more when Luke ruins any chance we might have had to -"

"Liz! For god sake, just look at the boy." Luke shouted over his sister.

She pulled back, gripping onto his small arms and appraised his face.

"What do you mean, he looks fine."

"He looks fine? Are you serious?"

"Liz -" Jess attempted to speak up, tried to put a stop to the fight that was evidently brewing, "Liz, he's not lying."

"Yeah, he looks fine Luke."

Jess was ignored, obviously.

"He might have lost some weight but that's nothing to get into a huff about. There were times when we wouldn't have food for a bit but we made it out okay."

"Liz-"

"Jesus Liz. I'm not exaggerating – we were at the hospital this week because Jess tried to kill himself -"

"Luke!" The boy finally shouted.

Luke turned to the boy and immediately looked away from his hard gaze. He'd gone too far – and from the way Jess was looking at him, glassy eyes which seemed to glare even in the soft light of the room – Luke felt ashamed.

Jess, however, felt sick. His stomach was churning, he could feel it bubbling, pulling at his insides and retching through him. He looked at his mother, who was watching him with such hope that he didn't want to reveal the truth – and yet he ripped up his sleeves and showed her the bandage.

When the bandage didn't give enough of a reaction, Jess felt himself ripping at that as well, conscious of the pleading attempts to stop him from Lorelai - "You can't do that Jess. You're not supposed to aggravate it."

He paid her no mind. Watching as he revealed the wound on his arm, deep and purposeful – the jagged line evident of the wanton intention behind the action. He watched as her eyes widened at the redness – sore with overuse of the arm, and truth enough to pack a punch behind their pleas.

"Liz," Jess tried again, "Luke wasn't lying to you."

She gripped at his arm, twisting it as if she could find some flaw – some hint that it wasn't a real cut. As if they were very dedicated to this elaborate joke.

Jess saw the moment that it sunk in and she recoiled away from him. She dropped his arm, the slap of the sound as it hit back against his body unexpectedly, forcing a hiss from his throat at the pain of the injury hitting, made Lorelai bowl forward and flutter around him.

He let her inspect the injury, but watched his mother as she looked from him – to Lorelai – to Luke – then back to Jess.

"He wasn't lying." She said eventually, "You've tried to kill yourself?" Her voice was getting shrill.

Jess stayed quiet.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He didn't expect her to get angry. Liz usually never got angry at Jess. She got frustrated that he wouldn't listen to her or her rules. She gave up usually long before she got angry – letting Jess do what he wanted because she'd 'washed her hands of him'. "We were talking Jess – more than we ever have. You weren't causing trouble – why now? Why right now?"

"Was there a more convenient time?"

"Don't start now. You know what I mean."

"No! I don't Liz – What do you mean 'Why now?'. Because you've started giving a shit about me?"

"Hey! Don't talk to her like that." T.J. Tried to interject, but he was drowned out by Liz's crusty voiced cursing through the room.

"Don't you do that Jess," She cried out, turning her back on the boy and any accusation, "I sent you here didn't I?"

Jess was reeling. He was furious. His stupid reminder of his mental issues was throbbing and he was pretty sure he'd popped one of the stitches. The burning in his arm did little to negate the burning through his body – it was like everything he'd ever blamed on his mother, any passing or hidden thought was thrusting itself to the forefront of his mind and he was vibrating with rage.

He followed her attempt at escape, at putting a distance between the two, until he was gripping her arm and shoving her around to meet him eye-to-eye.

"You sent me here with some bullshit excuse. You told everyone I was causing trouble in New York – that I was too much for you to handle." He said the words through crunching, grinding teeth. "You sent me to live with a stranger. A vague fog of a man from my childhood because you couldn't be bothered with me any more."

A barely audible plea from his Uncle to calm down echoed through the pungent silence in the room. It was a night of revelations and it seemed that Liz was terrified of facing the truth.

"Are you saying it's my fault that you're feeling like that? That I'm a terrible mother for not noticing? I thought you were doing better – you told me you were doing better."

"No." Jess breathed out, stepping away from her with a shake of his head and the indentation of his nails in his palms. "No – I'm not saying it'd your fault. I'm fucked up – I've apparently got issues and we're dealing with them. We. As in me and Luke are. I don't need your help through this – I've got him."

He began walking back towards the front door, desperate to get away from the thickness of the emotions in the room. "And honestly, Liz." He knew he was angry. He knew he was letting that take hold of his words, but as he felt his throat close and his wound throb as a vague trickle of blood tickled from the broken stitches to his fingers, he cast the final blow. "I didn't expect you to notice. You've never treated me like your son – and I'm never going to treat you like my mother."

He stormed from the house. He didn't hear anyone make a move to follow him, and he was glad for the little reliefs.

"Oof."

His escape was stopped short as he stumbled forward and attempted to correct his footing from where he'd smacked straight into someone.

When he looked up and saw her blue eyes he audibly groaned. "Great," he muttered, "Just what I needed,"

"Jess?"

Jess righted himself, side stepping around the girl and continued his path away from the house as quickly as he could. He turned to walk backward so he could wave to the girl and give her a tight-lipped smile.

"Good Luck dealing with that shit-show." He said, huffing out so hard that it played with his growing fringe. "Welcome Home, Rory."

And with that he continued with his dramatic exit.