A/N: Wow! We're at chapter 30 already. Isn't that surreal? I've never written anything this long before and I really couldn't have done it without all your wonderful comments and reviews. Thank you so so much for reading!

Chapter 30

He might not come back. The thought kept creeping up no matter how many times Rory tried to shut it down. It was midnight and he was still gone. He wasn't at the bridge. He wasn't at the diner. He wasn't with Luke or Dave. No one had seen his car. It'd been forever since they'd last had a fight, but she was now once again reminded of what she loved and hated so much about him. She felt so stupid, like a helpless broken-hearted girl who couldn't stop her thoughts from spiraling towards the worst possible outcome. It didn't matter how well she knew him. She still couldn't be sure what his next move was. He could be halfway to New York already. Or to California. He'd done it before. He could do it again. She kept thinking that all his stuff was still in her living room, so he'd at least come back for those. Definitely. Probably. Or maybe not. She couldn't be sure.

And after the horrible fight she'd just had with her mom, she couldn't talk to her either. There was no one to talk to. In just one afternoon, she'd managed to destroy the two most important relationships in her life.

The worst part was she couldn't pinpoint the reason why she's been so cruel. She'd been picking a fight, just like he'd said. Not consciously. She hadn't even realized she was yelling until it happened. It'd been as if she'd been watching someone else do the yelling while she stood by, unable to stop it. She'd been horrible. Selfish and hateful and horrible.

This wasn't who she was. She was supposed to be a calm and collected person who talked things through logically and reasonably even when she was flooded with stress. She didn't yell at people, not at people she hated and certainly not at people she loved. She didn't lose control like this, not after she'd worked so hard to become the disciplined person she was. Was this an alternate universe? Who was this insane alternate-Rory who took over her body during that fight? Did she have an aneurysm? Is this what it felt like to go temporarily insane?

He'd told her to grow a backbone and that had struck a nerve. Mostly because he was right. When her grandparents insulted her and him and her mother, she'd done nothing. Her mother would've known exactly how to win that fight. She'd have been defensive and abrasive and brave. But her? Rory was none of those things. She hated that the worst she could do was make weak, polite protests and run away crying. She hated that she'd been mediating the conversation instead of dominating it like her mother would have. Or like Jess would have. All she could do was come up with empty retorts and delayed responses on the bus ride home. So yes, his words hurt because they were true. Because without even knowing what had happened, he'd nailed exactly what she didn't know she'd been mad about. Her own passiveness.

She ran her hands down her face, pushing back tears. He had every right to leave. If he knew what the fight with her grandparents was really about, the deal they'd offered, how she'd gone to them asking for money, he'd be as disgusted with her as her mother was. It horrified her to think she might have asked him to leave because she'd been subconsciously carrying out what her grandparents wanted, exactly like a lifeless puppet on a string. The idea made her sick to her stomach.

At around 1 am, right about when she'd worked herself into a near frenzy, she heard his car pull up. She waited in bed for the front door to open, but nothing happened. Maybe he only came back to get his stuff. She listened carefully, but couldn't hear him packing. Going out to see him meant letting him know that she'd been awake this whole time waiting for him, which was, to say the least, embarrassing. But pacing around in her tornado-stricken room was driving her towards slow madness. Madness she simply couldn't take any more of today.

She walked out to find him sitting on the steps of the front porch, his back hunched and his arms on his knees. His eyes followed her as she sat next to him. The night was chilly and she tried not to shiver in her thin tank top.

'Where were you?' She asked and then winced at her own accusatory tone.

He sighed, shaking his head. 'Can we not do this?'

'I'm not trying to…' She softened. 'I'm just asking.'

'Sounds like the start of another yelling match. So can we not do this?' His voice was strained. He looked so tired, she thought he might close his eyes and sleep right there.

'Pause?' She asked in a small voice.

'You mean truce?'

'Same thing, dummy.' She tried to tease, but even to her ears, it fell flat.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but nodded eventually. In the stillness of the night, she liked the way his face was silhouetted, like a painting. It made her want to memorize him, to keep him in her mind forever. Just in case.

'Jess?' She whispered. 'I was worried you wouldn't come back.'

'Well, here I am.' He said unenthusiastically.

She nodded slowly, not knowing how to respond.

He seemed uncomfortable too. Then he said. 'I wasn't gonna leave you all my books, okay? No matter how much you'd like to steal my Jack Kerouac collection.'

'Jack Kerouac? Me?'

'I've seen you eying On The Road.' He raised an eyebrow.

She tried to smile, shaking her head, but her mind was stuck on one thought. Her mouth was dry as she looked at her hands. 'Hey… Please don't… leave like before.'

'Like before?'

'Without saying goodbye.'

'You told me to go, Rory.' He said dejectedly.

'I know.' She winced, turning to lean in toward him. 'And I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it.'

'I was seriously thinking about just sleeping in the car.'

'I really messed up today. I'm sorry.'

He stared for a moment, before blurting. 'What the hell happened?'

'I'm so sorry.' She whispered against his cheek. She'd edged closer to him and subconsciously started tracing the veins on his arm. 'I just snapped. Everything was awful and I took it all out on you. I don't know what came over me, I just… blew up. I think I got possessed by the spirit of Bertha Mason and I'm so sorry.'

He squinted at her in confusion for a moment. 'Bertha Mason?'

She smiled, tracing up and down his arms.

He rolled his eyes when he got it. 'Crazy lady from Jane Eyre? Guess I should be glad you didn't set me on fire then.'

'What I mean to say is that I didn't mean it. Any of it. I was so stupid.'

'You meant some of it.' He insisted.

She shook her head, pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and continued. 'I was picking a fight. It was all the stress. It did something to me, I don't know what, but I promise, Jess, I promise I didn't mean any of it.'

'You can't hold back the truth when you're angry. At least that's what Liz used to say.' The accusation wasn't angry, but his eyes bore into hers.

'It wasn't the truth. The stuff about you lying and me blaming you for everything, it wasn't anywhere near the truth. Not even remotely close.' She shook her head desperately. 'Just pretend everything I said came out of Anne Heche's crazy memoir.'

He gave her a knowing, but gentle look. 'Rory. I know it wasn't nothing.'

'It was. Please, please just forget about it.'

'It wasn't nothing.'

She hesitated. 'I… I guess… Maybe I meant the part where I said you never talk to me.'

He nodded in thought. 'And the part about me embarrassing you with your grandparents?'

'I never said that!'

'Come on, Rory.'

'I didn't say it. I never even thought it.' She gripped his hand. 'There are all these issues with my grandparents, from back when mom was a teenager. That's why they don't like you being here. That's what makes this so... complicated. And that's why I can't take any more complications, I need to know what's on your mind. I need you to talk to me.'

'But we always talk. We're talking right now.'

'But I want you to really talk to me.'

He argued. 'I already do.'

'Not about real stuff.' She stressed.

'Define real stuff.' He copied her tone.

'Serious stuff about us. This. Our relationship.' She explained.

'You mean like who gets to be on top?' He put his arms up in surrender. 'Because you know I don't mind it when–'

'Jess!' She smacked his arm, but he was laughing and so was she.

'Look… I told you I'm figuring things out. Hell, half the time I don't even know what I'm thinking!'

'I know, I know. But… So much is gonna change in a few weeks and I don't know if… well, if you…'

'If I'm what? Staying?' He asked.

'Well, yeah.' She admitted.

'You don't trust me.' He said, not as a question and not accusing either. He stated it like a fact.

She shook her head. 'I don't trust the… circumstances.'

'You mean how I deal with the circumstances.' It surprised her that he wasn't mad. He was staring hard at something behind her. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

'You left before.' She reminded him then winced, tears prickling her eyes.

'We weren't together back then. It's different now.' He defended.

'It wasn't just that you left after the car crash, you were leaving again on that bus.' She tried to blink the tears away.

'You left too. For Washington, last summer.' He accused.

'That's not the same –'

'And you're leaving for Europe.' He reminded her.

'That's temporary! It's only a month.'

'Point is I'm not the one whose life is changing. You are.'

She sighed. She didn't want to fight. 'Jess, what do you think is gonna happen when I go to Yale?'

'I don't know.' He said, looking away.

'Jess.'

'It's months away. You wanna talk about it now?'

'What about Europe then? What's gonna happen when I go to Europe?'

'Rory. It's late. We're tired. Just drop this.'

She frowned. 'What do you think's gonna happen there? Do you think I'll elope with some tortured French artist and not come back?'

He ran a hand through his hair. 'Tortured artists are lame. But as soon as you find a French guy who can make French toast as good as Luke's, I think you'll reconsider.'

'That's ridiculous. You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?' Her voice was soft.

'Do we have to do this talking thing now?' His thumb was rubbing circles into her knees. Somehow, they'd leaned in further into each other. His face was now only inches from hers.

She closed her eyes. Focus, Rory. 'We have to talk about it at some point.'

'But does it have it to be now?' His low voice was far too sultry for her to think straight.

'Well, no, I guess not.' She blinked rapidly. It was late. She was suddenly too lightheaded to think about anything other than his warm breath on her cheek.

He nodded slowly, shifting minutely closer to her. 'If you really wanna talk, I can still tell you what's on my mind.'

'Is it dirty?'

'Oh, yeah. Very.' His low voice was making her shiver in anticipation.

He stared at her lips, but instead of leaning in to kiss her, he waited, his eyes burning into hers. His fingers were brushing her lower back in a way that made her want to melt, making her skin tingle with goosebumps and her face flush with heat. She closed her eyes and closed the distance between them, relishing his warmth. He kissed her in sweet, long kisses, making her body yearn for more. She sighed and pressed into him further, deepening the kiss. Her fingers closed around his shirt, pulling him closer, while his own hands steadied her face. They stayed like that for a long time, as the kiss went from soft to passionate and back to soft again. It was like coming home after a long, long time of missing him. Even as Rory got more and more breathless, she made no move to draw back. She wasn't letting him go again.

Far too soon, he pulled away. She searched his eyes. He was almost never the first to pull away from a kiss. 'What? What's wrong?'

Looking away at her shoulder and hooking a finger under the strap of her tank top, he bit the inside of his cheek. He seemed somewhat nervous. 'So remember when I said I never, ever lied to you?'

She blinked, staring at his guilty eyes. 'Yeah?'

'Well, that's generally true, but… there was that one time.'

She took a breath, suddenly anxious. 'What time?'

'Don't get mad. You remember how I got the black eye?'

She was taken back, but relaxed a little. For a moment, she'd wondered if he might tell her he didn't want to be with her anymore. This, whatever it was, seemed to be minor in comparison. 'The black eye you got from a football and not from a fight with Dean?'

'Yeah, that one.'

'Why would you lie about that?'

'Because it was…' He sighed. 'Embarrassing. I didn't want you to think I was…'

She pushed. 'Think you were…?'

'Lame.' He finished sheepishly.

She smiled as she thought of leather jackets and Distiller t-shirts and New York dates. 'I think we're past that. You've been using my conditioner for weeks now.'

'Very funny.' He deadpanned.

'Says the guy I caught trying to steal my lip gloss yesterday.'

'I told you I just wanted to smell it.' He rolled his eyes.

'That's worse. That's so much worse.' She giggled.

He scowled. 'Do you wanna know or not?'

She pecked his cheek. 'Tell me, cool guy. Was there a fight after all?'

He was mock-insulted. 'Why does everyone think there's a fight wherever I'm involved?'

She smiled, shaking her head. 'Because you're you.'

He opened his mouth to debate, but then thought better of it. 'I'd argue, but I actually did land a few punches into Kirk today so they're not entirely wrong.'

'What? When?' She was horrified, but also intrigued.

'Oh, earlier, before our fight.' He said, his tone was nonchalant, but something about the way he rubbed his neck told Rory that he was nervous. Or maybe not nervous, but ashamed? Of her reaction? God, he could be so cute sometimes.

'Kirk?' She had to laugh. 'Really? Stars Hollow's Kirk?'

He nodded solemnly. 'Apparently, he's also licensed-child-therapist-Kirk.'

'I'm guessing that had something to do with the fight? Poor Kirk.' She asked, trying to look upset but also unable to contain her amusement.

He looked offended at her laughter, but his shoulders relaxed. 'I still think he was being a jerk. He wouldn't go away.'

'Oh, Jess.' She buried her head in his shoulder, still laughing. 'Now we'll have to put up with him telling the world about his fight for the next fifty years.'

'Yeah, not my best moment.' He shook his head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She looked up at him, still laughing as he guided her face towards his, giving her another long kiss.

'Wait. I never found out about the black eye story.' She pulled away, her eyes wide with curiosity.

'Maybe later.' He tried to kiss her again.

She laughed. 'But I have to know. If you won't tell me, I bet I can guess it.'

He groaned, turning to press hot open-mouthed kisses to her neck.

'You… walked into a cupboard?'

'No.' Came his muffled reply.

'A door?'

'No.'

'Luke hit you with a… frying pan?'

'What? Like in a cartoon?' He laughed breathlessly, then answered. 'No.'

'A saltshaker?'

'Nope.'

'It wasn't Kirk, was it?'

'No!' He looked up at her, affronted, before shifting his focus to her neck again. 'And no speaking about Kirk when I'm trying to make out.'

She squealed when he bit her neck lightly, then exclaimed. 'Oh wait, I know. Was it something with your car?' She paused, losing her string of thought for a moment. 'Did you crash into a squirrel? You're such a terrible driver.'

'Would you stop already?' He leaned her back against the porch step until her back was flat against the wood and shifted his kisses down her chest.

She laughed breathily, pulling at his hair. As he lifted his head to meet her lips, she lost her train of thought again. The day was long and stressful, but his kisses were washing it away. Before she knew it, she had her hands under his shirt too, pushing him firmly to her, as he wrapped his arms around her waist, rubbing up and down. She loved the contrast between the cool night air and his hot breath on her skin, loved the warm pressure of his chest on hers. She gasped when his hands slid, ever so slowly, under her pants. He made it so easy to get lost in him, to forget what she was upset about. His lips were everywhere and he was rubbing her incessantly, making her head dizzy with pleasure.

It was long after her breaths calmed and went back into the house and she lay in her bed, cocooned next to him, that she realized he never told her the black eye story. In fact, she was no closer to figuring out the mess that was today. But instead of worrying, she cuddled closer to Jess's shirt and allowed herself to drift to sleep.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!