It wasn't what he expected when he thought of "Therapist's Office". The image that came to mind was that of one of two extremes – either a completely wooden room, floor to ceiling book shelves, antiques and the overall Freudian atmosphere, or every bold, primary colour and cushioned walls – treated as a toddler.

What he encountered was some version of a living room that looked like it belonged in an IKEA catalogue. There was a severe lack of chaise lounge and Jess couldn't help but feel disappointed that the whole "lying down" aspect of therapy was the falsehood of the profession. In it's place was just a selection of very comfortable looking seats, a plate of biscuits and a cut of tea steaming on a pristinely cleaned glass table.

Doctor Marshall – Jane, she corrected, didn't even glance behind her to ensure that he was following. She simply fell into the chair which was obviously hers – the one facing the majority of the others, with the warn grove in the back where she had settled. She shimmied back into the comfort of it and began to sift through his files – medical record of the referral, and any previous relevant information.

He followed her warily. Slowly placing himself down onto on of the less cushioned options of chair and waited for her to begin to talk before he had to.

"So," She tapped her notes onto her lap in attempt to make some form of neat pile, "I've been told you're going to be difficult."

Jess surprised himself by barking out a laugh, and from the raise of her eyebrows it was evident that his reaction had pleased her. He found himself relaxing into the chair after that with the thought running around that maybe it wouldn't be a wasteful hour after all – if nothing else, it'd be entertaining.

She cleared her throat, tapping her sheets on the folder in front of her. "Right Jess, we're going to start off this session slowly okay? We're just going to start by getting to know each other, interests, friends, family and the sorts, get comfortable before we move into the why you're here."

"You want to get to know one another?"

She nodded.

"As in I get to know you as well?"

"Yes."

"So is this some weird way of making friends for you?"

She actually laughed. He felt himself relax a bit into his chair – it felt like a test. If she could take a joke then maybe he could relax a bit – feel less like she's interrogating him.

She coughed, covering her laughter, and tapped her pencil on the notepad she had ready to begin the session. "Shall we start with what you do in your spare time?"

Jess didn't look at the doctor, her kept his gaze on the cups of steaming tea in front of them and kept himself focused by rubbing the pad of his thumb against his index finger. He readjusted himself, scratching the back of his head before he eventually answered. "Uh – I read a lot I suppose?"

She grinned at his response, "What kind of books do you like?"

He scoffed. "That is such a loaded question."

"How so?"

"There isn't really an answer."

"Well, then that tells me something about you."

Jess raised an eyebrow and settled back against the back of the chair – he finally made eye-contact with the woman.

"Most people would answer that question with a genre – romance, sci-fi. This tells me that you must be very well read if there isn't anything specific."

"I just read what falls into my lap generally,"

"And do you remember that first book you read – or what sparked your interest in reading?"

He hesitated, obviously uncomfortable with the line of questioning, but Jane kept patient and let the smile relax onto his face as a reassuring gesture.

He cleared his throat before answering. "Our neighbour in new york was a librarian. She used to babysit me when Liz was working overtime -"

"Liz?"

"My mother."

She nodded, noted the name and waved him to continue.

"Well, uh, I suppose it started as a way to pass the time."

"And when did it become something more?"

"When I started disagreeing with them."

"What do you mean?"

"The characters, or omniscient narrator used to say things I'd disagree with. I remember that I got so frustrated that I took a pencil and ranted next to the passage after that – it just got addictive."

"You write in your books?"

"Yeah – it helps me to remember quotes and characters."

"People like Mark Twain used to right in the margins of their books."

"So I've been told."

He watched as she regarded him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking but he supposed he wasn't supposed to.

"Tell me about where you're living at the moment."

"I'm back at Stars Hollow with my uncle."

She nodded, "I've heard of Stars Hollow. It's a very small place to live."

"That's an understatement. It's like something out of Catcher in the Rye."

"Is your uncle a good man?"

Jess nodded fervently, "He used to help me and Liz out in New York. He took me in when he didn't have to. He's a bit pathetic but I owe him."

He cringed when he said that. He knew that this was a person who would read in to everything he said. But the Doctor only smiled at his explanation and attempted to move the conversation along.

"Now, I want you to get the most out of this hour – so I'm afraid I'm going to have to jump into the reason for your referral."

Jess took a deep breath that echoed through her pause.

"You were rushed to hospital because you harmed yourself. After speaking to your uncle it was established that this wasn't the first close call."

Jess nodded.

"You have sever depression relating to some form of anxiety."

He cringed.

"I'm here to confirm this diagnoses and help you through your feelings while on your medication. Can you explain to me what you're feeling on a day to day basis?"

The doctor was patient. He was visibly uncomfortable and was constantly re-adjusting himself on the seat. He huffed out a breath every time he tried to explain, but he eventually just got too frustrated and growled at his incompetency.

"It's fine if you can't put it into words – that's common."

"No. Words are my thing. I have the words – I'm just. If I say it – it feels real. But it also feels so inconsequential and pathetic."

"Jess. You're brain is attacking itself. It's not pathetic."

He breathes through his nose and tried again.

"I feel like I'm floating."

"Can you elaborate?"

"I just don't feel like I'm all here. And when I have those moments of clarity – I want to be floating again."

"Do you have any idea what triggered this feeling?"

"I couldn't really tell you. I know I'm messed up, okay? I'm three for three on my guardian kicking me out – I'm a joke."

She was nodding through his rant and Jess quickly realised he had revealed more than he had expected to.

"You think it'd your fault that your guardians made you leave?"

"Of course it's my fault. Who else's fault would it be?"

"You were underage until very recently, Jess. Your safety is your parent or guardians' responsibility. If they did, in fact, kick you out – that's their irresponsibility. You are not the cause – you are the consequence."

He shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze – it was almost like she was trying to reaffirm her statement just through the act of prolonged eye-contact. He had to break it sooner than he would have like to admit

She nodded, wrote something down, and then went back to smiling at him. "What about your father?"

"Jimmy?"

She didn't know, obviously, but nodded for him to continue.

"I hadn't ever met him – didn't recognise him when he came to the diner when I was working."

"So he left when you were little?"

"Went to get diapers and never returned." He explained, "I, uh, spent the summer with him, his girlfriend and her daughter."

"And how was that?"

"It was... difficult? I'm not sure how to describe it. He wasn't what I expected – and he was looking after this kid and..." he slowly veered off, but from the way the therapist was nodding her head and writing her notes – she got the gist of his concerns.

The doctor, noting Jess' discomfort, changed the topic back to his interests – conscious of already having an idea of possible suggestions she could make. And, with a few more minutes left of the session, she said, "I'm afraid I'm going to give you a project. Now, I won't actually be able to tell if you've tried this – but I do know that if you try it it will give you some improvement."

"Very vague."

She ignored his sarcasm. "I want you to look in the mirror every evening and tell you reflection something you appreciate in your own appearance, in your day, and something someone else did for you that day that you noticed."

"You want me to look in the mirror and go all west-side story with 'I feel pretty'?"

"I'd like to think it was more of 'I feel valued'. But yeah, you've got the gist of it."

He couldn't help but cringe at the image in his head – him practising that in the mirror while his uncle listened through the very thin walls. He's not sure he'd be able to look Luke in the eye again if he was forced to do that.

With the declaration of the project, and a few more moments of small-talk, the session was over. Jess was surprised by how quick it went – and how often he found himself talking. He found himself smiling at Jane as she led him to the door – guiding him back to his uncle who was sat in the waiting room, flicking through the generic magazines and looking entirely uncomfortable.

"I'll see you weekly for the first few weeks of your medication as a precautionary measure – but we will eventually turn this into fortnightly and slowly wean you off. This is my card for any emergencies along with a few helpline number if they are completely necessary. It was lovely meeting you Jess – Mr Danes, your nephew is a very accomplished young man."

Jess coloured significantly, shaking off her arm from his shoulder and quickly moving back Luke and out of the office. Luke nodded at the woman, smiling and thanking her with only a hint of his usual gruffness, and then followed his nephew just as swiftly. The teenager put on his seatbelt, crossed his arms, and leant his head against the cold window as his Uncle started up the engine and pulled away into the road.

He cleared his throat after a few minutes of silence between the two, "So what was that like?"

Jess sighed, "Not what I expected, honestly."

"How do you feel?"

"It's not like an instant cure-all, Luke. We spent most of it thinking about what books we liked."

"Oh."

"Yeah,"

Jess noticed Luke looked just as nervous as he did on the way down.

"What is it Luke?"

The man swallowed. "What're you going to do about Liz?" Luke flexed his fingers against the wheel, his eyes glancing to Jess every so often, but unable to turn his head right round to see him for fear of the boys reaction.

From the way Jess breathed out harshly, spitting out the words "I wouldn't have had to do anything about Liz if you hadn't butt in." - Luke belatedly realised he probably shouldn't have brought it up.

"You know why I told her Jess – you're young, you don't understand but family needs to know these things."

"If you genuinely thought that – then Jimmy would also be here."

The tense silence followed them home. Luke didn't answer him, but from the way his face screwed up, and his hands tightened on the wheel – it was obvious that he didn't have an answer for him other than his own prejudices against the man.

When Luke pulled up next to the diner and shut of the engine he turned towards the boy who was already attempting to unbuckle and get out of the car as quickly as possible.

"He kicked you out, Jess."

"So did everyone else – what else is new?"

He slammed the door behind him and walked away from his Uncle and the diner.

The air had gotten bitter. It was no longer the heat of his breath against the cool winter wind – it was now biting. He could taste the ice in the air and feel his face begin to tingle. He tucked his hands further into his pockets and tucked his head further into the warmth of his coat. He walked aimlessly around the town, stomping out his anger on the crunchy, frozen ground.

He didn't mean to snap at Luke. He really didn't.

He didn't want Jimmy there.

He didn't want Liz there.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to analyse why that was just yet.

Grumbling, the boy spied the nearest bench and made his way over to it, slumping down on the frosted wood – ignoring the way that the small icicles melted under his clothes. He slipped out the book he had cradled in his pocket and settled into a different world.

He ignored the chatter of his 'neighbours' as they walked past. He ignored the rush of people around him. He ignored the slamming of doors and the boisterous laughter.

He ignored it right until he saw something from the corner of his eye – much like a sense memory, a reaction, his head snapped up from the words and he saw the girl he had stormed away from the night before.

She hadn't seen him, but he couldn't help but watch as she looked back and forth, checking around her for company, before skipping up the steps to one of the houses in the cul-de-sac and ring on the doorbell, pulling at her gloved hands as she waited for whoever to answer.

She fixed her hat over her head, pulled her her jumper and readjusted the fringe that had fallen in front of her face. She was nervous.

The door opened and looming in the entrance was the floppy haired boy that darkened almost every pleasant memory Jess had with the girl.

Jess watched with sick fascination as the girl pushed forward and kissed the boy in greeting.

The door shut behind them as Dean let Rory into the house.

"Huh."