With the 'con' of the pro-con list circled with increasing ferocity, Rory sat with her arms crossed and continued to stare down the subject of her temptation – sat unassuming in the center of the table.

She had even tried to manipulate her own list. Writing down pathetic excuses for its presence – and yet the con still won out.

Maybe he left it on purpose – he used to leave me books

It might just be some book recommendations

It probably has a return address – I should look.

I wonder if his handwriting is the same?

She should just give it back. Or leave it somewhere obvious to find. What she shouldn't do is take the thing and read, memorize, obsess over every word.

The red notebook. Jess' red notebook. Discovered in the folds of the sofa, abandoned following his speedy packing after his brief stay at the Gilmore's'. She'd only ever seen him with it once in her stay in Stars Hollow before he inevitably lost it – but that one time was enough to pique her intrigue. He seemed so enamored, so enthralled by his own intense scribbling that Rory was certain the content was consuming and personal.

It was a rare window into the enigma that was Jess Mariano – and she wasn't prepared to let it slip through her fingers.

She, in a fit of adrenaline, ripped up her own list, making sure to obscure the incriminating 'con' decision she had conceded on – and dived for the notebook.

The edges were worn from where he'd fingered the pages in thought – the red curling and folding against itself, revealing part-words in his neat scrawl. Treated with the same stamp as he does any other book in his back pocket.

She took a breath, considered the consequences – losing whatever trust they had managed to create between them would be lost should he find out, and opened the book regardless.

It was a mess. Whole pages crossed through, uneven lines drawn under his writing where it quickly became bullet points. Arrows drawn and spanning pages – but it quickly became clear that this was a story.

Jess was writing a book.

The morning rush was over. Remnants of empty coffee cups, and dishes stacked in the sink to be washed up were evident of the residents of Stars Hollow rushing to Lukes' for their morning coffee and gossip pre their working day. Jess, arms deep in suds, was cleaning the dishes left over, stacking them next to him as Lane dried each one – ensuring to place them where Caesar could easily dish up. The sound of their small radio, pointed in their direction, entertained their work, allowing Lane to sway and Jess to mutter the lyrics under his breath, methodically doing his job.

An instrumental section of a particularly heavy rock ballad flowed through the room and Lane leant against the work surface, her dish towel sodden and carefully looked Jess over. He looked better – cleanly shaven face, putting on the weight he'd lost so much of, and wearing clothes that actually fit him – rather than drowned him. Yet it wasn't an image of the boy who left the town with scandal in his wake. More the man who'd grown to accept his faults.

"What?"

It was only then that Lane noticed Jess looking back at her, eyebrow raised and a twinkle of humour and snark evident in his face. She shook her head and quickly tried to come up with something to distract Jess from her embarrassment.

"So I've started dating Zac."

Jess looked taken aback momentarily, definitely not used to talking to Lane of all people about her personal life before he nodded and went back to the dishes.

"Nothing to say about it?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"Other than to be careful, no?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's a bit of a ladies man, isn't he?" Jess asked, casual but concerned, obviously trying his best not to overstep and hurt Lane's feelings.

"He was." She relented quickly, "But I've been told you were the same." She said, a small, sad grin on her face, "And that changed pretty drastically didn't it?"

Jess swallowed, his eyes on the dirtying dish water, and the stack of plates still left to clean. "Touche, Lane."

They were quiet for some time, continuing their work, before Lane found her voice once again. "Where did you end up going?" She asked, "After the first time."

"California." He answered simply, knowing she wouldn't be satisfied with the one-worded reply.

"Any reason for Cali? – you don't really seem like the sun bathing surfer to me."

"I'm a killer on the waves." He said in a monotone – sarcastic and unhelpful.

"Jess -" She stopped herself from pushing him. She cut herself off, tucked her chin in her neck and continued to dry the plates without meeting his eye.

Jess sighed. He could feel himself tensing up at the mere thought of admitting it, but he couldn't stand to keep her downtrodden. "My dad showed up." He admitted eventually. "Found me in Stars Hollow after 18 years – and I followed him."

She was quiet – he didn't really expect her to say anything. Lane was probably one person who'd been sheltered from that kind of drama the most of her life – he didn't expect her to really understand the reasoning. Didn't expect her to understand how that justified him leaving Rory behind.

"How come we never really spoke before?"

Her question shocked him. A dish slipped from his sudsy hands in back into the water, splashing the two of them in the now grimy liquid and forcing them both to wince at the sudden sensation. Lane laughed, wiping her face. Jess smirked, pulling a fresh towel from under the cupboard and wiping up the coated counter. But still she continued through her carefree chuckles, "We get along," She said, "I think it's clear we could have been friends – it would have made sense with Rory."

"Well, you said it -" He replied, pointing a sudsy finger at himself"-agoraphobic."

She laughed at the memory, before setting the dishtowel aside – noting a customer waiting for their order to be fulfilled. "Well," She said, wiping down her hands on her apron, "I'm glad that's no longer the case," before skipping out to act as the perfect waitress.

Jess was left with a dirty dish towel, once again wet serving dishes, drying up the splashed puddles on the floor, and a smile on his face.

Rory was overwhelmed. She had read it quickly – enraptured by the writing. Though in pieces – and obviously not refined, she was certain of his talent. Able to see his influences, but she was drinking in his own unique style. The desperation. The hopelessness. The outright despair.

It was beautiful.

And it was like the veil was lifted and she could finally understand Jess through the character he'd created. The old man with a lonely outlook.

As soon as her mother walked through the door in the evening, bubbly and starting in her usual upbeat rants – Rory knew she had to leave.

She stuffed his notebook – full of an amazingly rich world, into her luggage back to Yale. She knew she couldn't keep it, but she also knew she shouldn't have read it. But she wanted to keep reading. And re-reading. Until she memorized its every word – every inflection.

The issue with people knowing your business was that they kept asking you about it. The issue with people helping you out is that they expected something back from you. That's what Jess had always found through his life. It was always in the back of his mind whenever he'd meet someone knew. Don't give them what they want, and they won't end up ruining you.

He'd made a few exceptions in his life.

Some were successes.

Some weren't.

But when he'd chosen to help out Luke with a full shift at the diner, ignoring the way his uncle would cringe whenever he saw Jess and back out the room guiltily – Jess was sure that'd come to light soon enough – he was reminded of his rule.

He'd spent the day skirting around invasive questions from town folk who thought they had a right to his business.

"How are you doing there, Jess?"; "If those scars start bothering you, I have the best lotion for their itching..."; "I been a bit down before – I can understand."

His whole body was aching by the end of the day. His shoulders up to his ears as he tried to keep in every snarky comment. He wanted to go upstairs and have a long, hot shower – maybe massaging his own shoulders and going to bed early while congratulating himself for not snapping at anybody that day.

That's what he wanted to do.

So Luke, obviously, chose that moment to finally confront his own guilt.

"Jess?"

Jess held back an audible grown, he was just ready to leave the diner, push past the curtains and run up the stairs to claim the shower for the next hour.

"Can I speak to you for a moment, Jess?" Luke leant against the doorway, his hands ringing together and effectively blocking Jess' only chance of escape.

He let his shoulders fall and sunk against the counter, "Sure Luke, what's up?"

"It's about Liz."

"What about Liz?" Jess asked, no ounce of concern in his tone – exasperation of a boy tired echoing over his features.

Luke continued on with only slight hesitation, "She left. Yesterday. I was going to tell you sooner – but I didn't want to ruin anything or make you feel like it was your fault or anything -"

Jess shrugged – the movement stopping Luke in his rambles.

"You're not bothered?"

"It's not that," Jess said, "I just kind of expected it."

Luke's heart seemed to fall right out of his chest and he was forced to confront the sullen image of Jess' childhood such that he'd expect his own mother to leave him in such a vulnerable place.

"Jess -"

"Don't fret about it, Luke." Jess insisted with a nonchalance that only made Luke's mind reel. How many times had he insisted on Jess seeing, contacting, appeasing his mother?

"Is that all?" Jess asked, and Luke was forced to nod and step away in his shock, letting Jess slip through the curtain and run up the stairs two steps at a time. It wasn't how he expected the conversation to go – but then when did anything with Jess go the way he expected.

The streets were darkening as she wandered around slowly. Streetlights following her directionless stroll and flickering on without any rush or desperate need. She was lost in her own mind – showing flashes generated from her own imagination – triggered by Jess' words. Down to her own experience with him, and perhaps her harsh and unfathomable expectations that she placed on his head.

It had all become so clear so quickly, and Rory couldn't help the sinking feeling that followed her through the streets of Stars Hollow, and pushed herself further forward – as though running away from that sensation. Adrift and lost in her mind. Only coming starkly back to reality with the shout of the author of her realizations.

"Jess -" Luke's voice echoed through the square. He was calling after the boy who was falling out of the diner with a stumbling rush, tripping over his feet and twisting around to shout back to his uncle.

"Give me time Luke." His voice was gruff and obviously dripping with anger, "Just give me a moment would you?" And he stormed away, ignoring the quick glances and whispers that followed him.

She didn't even think before she veered off her directionless path and followed him.

He should stop going there. He should stop finding himself at the bridge every time he wanted some quiet. But still, as he settled down, he could already feel his mind clearing.

She turned up not soon after he'd laid down, head resting in palms and the sound of his breathing and light humming along with the lapping of water. She didn't say anything – Jess was thankful, but he couldn't help the small smile that seemed to fall on his face around her presence – no matter how infuriating he found her at times.

They sat there for some time. Quiet in their contemplation. Jess was fingering the phone number Luke had given him gravely, contemplating the call that would follow his leap of faith. Rory was quietly stewing in her guilt, and awe, at her own discovery of Jess' talent.

"Jimmy called." He said eventually, opening his eyes and looking up at her from his prone position – laid on the damp wooden bridge, his legs kicking back and forth against the beat of the lake, "My Dad."

Rory didn't reply, but he saw her nod. She looked at the piece of paper held in his fingers, back at his face where she made eye contact, then she quickly looked away.

"I don't know whether I should call him."

Rory didn't know what to say. She watched him fiddle with the number, running his thumb over the sharp indentation on the paper. So, instead, she just asked what she'd desperate to know. "How long did you stay with him? You know, when you left?"

He sat up, leaning on his elbows and considered her curiosity, kicking his feet back and forth – just skimming the water. "It wasn't long – just about 3 months."

"And you hadn't met him before then?"

Jess shook his head with a resounding negative.

Rory didn't say anything. And it was like that way for some time. Jess was kept the number between his fingers – looking at it, then back at the water. Rory had taken out a book some time ago, letting Jess contemplate while she kept him company. She wasn't really sure why she stayed, but she felt she owed it to him.

Jess' mind, however, was chaotic. Flitting from his current problem – the man he'd spent a couple months of his life with. To the more glaring problem of his health and his shrink's warnings. He'd been forced to think more about his past recently – and he wasn't sure whether he particularly wanted to revisit it.

"I'm not a happy person at all." He said eventually. The quiet of the night settling around them, the lapping of the water, the rustle of the wind, and then Jess, admitting something that he'd never considered before.

She didn't say anything. He could have been speaking to himself, if it weren't for the short, sharp intake of breath that proved to him that she had heard him.

"I've never considered myself happy." He continued, "I don't even know if I ever can be."

"Jess –" her voice was quiet, questioning. She wanted to know if he wanted her input, but to her query, he simply shook his head. It took him a few more minutes to speak up again, but Rory waited patiently.

"There would be times in New York. Liz would have passed out on the couch for some reason or another, and I would steal her cigarettes, and a few beers from the fridge. There was this fire escape on the apartment next to us. If you jumped from the window sill you could reach it, and it went right up to the roof." He smiled down at the reflection of Rory in the water. She was watching him as he spoke, but he only gave himself the moment of looking at her mirror image. Not her. "So I would grab the beer, and the cigarettes, and I would scale that fire escape right to the top. Then I would have the roof of this apartment to myself, and the uninterrupted sky. It was never quiet. It was never like this – sirens, music, shouting. I'd get buzzed on the nicotine, the alcohol. I thought that was my happy place. I think, at most, I was at peace."

"Where's your happy place now?"

"I'm not sure. The stars I used to be in awe of in New York pale in comparison to these skies." He glanced up as he said this, looking at the great expanse of the uninterrupted sky. "I haven't quite found a replacement," he admitted, pulling the neglected cigarette to his lips and breathing in, letting the smoke billow out. He leant back on his elbows, letting his head fall back so that he could take in the full appreciation of the sky. He felt Rory follow him, and saw from the corner of his eye, her own sight drift from Jess' profile to the night, "but I'd say this comes pretty close."

"Jess I -"

"I don't mean you." He said quickly, "I don't want you to think I'm trapping you into something again." He reassured, "I'm sorry I did that, by the way – I haven't apologized for that yet."

"You weren't tapping me – I -You don't have to apologize for it." She replied, her voice quiet and small in comparison to his uncommonly confident rambling.

"I mean here. Luke, I suppose – knowing I have someone to fall back on."

"I'm sorry you felt like you didn't have that before."

"That's a can of worms you really don't want to open, Rory."

She turned back so she was looking at the sky, biting her lips to keep from saying something inevitably stupid – something to ruin whatever moment they'd found themselves in.

"Are you staying for much longer?"

"Oh," She started to sit up, pulling her legs back onto the bridge, "I'm sorry, I can go. I -"

Jess' laughter stopped her hurried apologies. "No, Rory. I mean in Stars Hollow – Yales'-a-waiting isn't it?"

She, feeling silly, let her legs stop back down with a nervous chuckle, "Yeah, I suppose." She said. "I should go back and see if Paris has gone mad yet."

"Paris?"

"You remember Paris?"

"Oh – I remember Paris. What I'm wondering is why she's still in this story."

Rory smiled, tipping her head back dramatically. "I live with her."

Jess snorted. "Oh Man, I'm sorry."

Rory laughed out that. Outright. Loud and ugly. Jess followed soon after and soon they were both on the bridge, smiles on their faces and their stomachs hurting.

"Thanks," Jess said with a confidence he'd thought he'd lost.

Rory, showing her shock in a second of weakness, just seemed to shake, "Jess. It's – it's fine." She reassured, "I've uh," the girl hesitated, looking down at her hands and pulling at her nails, "I've not been myself recently." She said, "So I suppose – thanks for not really commenting?"

"I've been trying to figure it out before commenting."

"Well -" She cleared her throat, "Tell me if you do because I'm completely lost here."

"Yeah," Jess chuckled, "Yeah, I'll do that."

Jess pulled his feet back up onto the dock, wiping the debris off of his jeans, standing up and ready to leave. He shoved his hands into his pockets of his jacket, pulling it closer towards him in his layers. Before he could leave though, Rory asked one more question.

"Are you going to call him?"

Jess shrugged, his hands pulling into fists, hidden in the pockets, and ringing them around the piece of paper that was close to being ripped to shreds with his fiddling.

"That's one more thing for me to figure out I guess."

Rory grinned, turning her back on Jess' retreating figure.

Jess was writing a book.