By Stew Pid

Rating: Should be okay

Disclaimer: I only own the Stew Pid stuff.

A/N: Aah! I'm losing it. The pressure of the future fic is crushing me. I'm gasping for air. Somebody help!! Drama over. I hope you like this chapter. I don't. (Hey, self-depreciation is what I won my crown for.)

She waited, ready to jump at the phone should it ring. It didn't ring last night. It hadn't rung all morning. There were no messages when she returned from the afternoon with Lane. She folded her clothes, looking up at the clock, growing angry with every second. Why would he do that? Why would he kiss her and not call her at all? He knew she was leaving and that she didn't have his number. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe he didn't care about anyone. Maybe he enjoyed hurting people. As soon as the thought came to her head she had to silence it. It was just anger talking. She knew him better than that. But why wouldn't he call? Why did he kiss her in the first place? She was about to ponder that question when the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Somebody call for a cab?"

"Jess."

"I've been called by that name, among others."

"I thought you would call sooner."

Silence on the other end.

"I have to leave in an hour for my bus."

"Port Authority?"

"Yeah."

"Need a cab?"

She didn't have to see the smirk to know it was there.

"Nah. I think I'll walk."

"Fine by me."

"Good."

"So I'll pick you up in an hour?"

"Yes, thank you."

"All right."
As soon as she places the phone back on the receiver, it rings again.

"Hello."

"It's me Lane. When do you need us to pick you up?"

"Oh, that's okay. I have a ride."

"What?"

"Uh, yeah. Luke's coming down to pick me up."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He was coming down here anyway to bring over some stuff."

"Oh, I get ya. Okay. Well, thanks for coming down. I'll see you when I go back home."

"Yeah. So I'll talk to you later."

"Of course. I'm going to miss you. Bye."

"Bye."

She hated having to lie to Lane, but this was one case where lying was the better option. She'd tell her everything once it had all passed. Nervous energy complicated her packing. Books that had fit so nicely into her duffel bag before now protruded haphazardly, not allowing the zipper to closer over them. In the middle of her Battle of the Bulk, the phone rang. She grunted in frustration.

"Hello."

"Hey, babe."

"Oh hi, mom. What's up?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were on schedule. Did you fit all your books in the duffel bag?"

"Not yet. They're giving me a hard time."

"You're 56 seconds behind schedule. Zip that bag up and sit on your suitcase now."

"Since when did you become Mrs. Punctuality."

"Since I started going out with Mr. Punctuality."

"Please. In the time you and Luke have been going out, Luke has changed more than you have."

"I'll have you know that I now eat baby carrots."

"Dipped in chocolate, I'm sure."

"They taste so much better that way."

"Everything tastes better in chocolate."

"They should make a chocolate version of coffee."

"They did. It's called hot chocolate."

"Oh. That's right."

"So, uh, did you, uh…"

"I told him."

"What did he say?"

"You know, why don't we talk about all this when you get home? Make sure you get those books straight."

"Yeah. I will. I'll see you later."

"Yep. Bye."

Mr. Punctuality's nephew proved to be just as punctual. He was already outside and in front of the car when Rory came down. He helped her put her things in the trunk and they mounted the cab and drove off. The first ten minutes of the ride were silent. Jess was not perturbed, but Rory was a nervous wreck searching for something to say before Port Authority showed itself through the window.

"So you have nothing to say?" she finally hissed.

"Ooh. Stern face. What? I'm listening to the game," he said as he pushed up the volume on the radio.

"Turn that off!" Rory demanded.

"What is your problem?" he asks, pretending naiveté, shutting off the radio.

"Do you have any recollections of yesterday?"

"I have very good recollections of yesterday. What's your point?"

"You kissed me."

"I did."

"What did it mean?"

"Do you have to analyze everything?"

"A kiss like that deserves some explanation."

Jess remained silent, staring blankly at the road ahead of him. Rory fell back dejectedly on her seat. He wanted to tell her. He had the maturity to be honest, but not the maturity to be blunt.

"You ever have one of those dreams that you don't really want to wake up from but you know you have to because your alarm's going off and you're already sort of awake but not really? You're in that semi-conscious state where you could fall back to sleep and continue the dream or wake up and go about your business. You know you have to wake up, but still you indulge in a few more moments, and it's even better because now you're dreaming consciously, and then you say good-bye to the dream, you wake up, and you do what you have to."

"Yeah, I guess I've had that. I usually don't indulge in the few more moments because I'll have a class in twenty minutes."

"Well, let's just say yesterday I indulged. Now today, I say good-bye, I wake up, and I do what I have to. That make any sense?"

"Yeah," she blushed.

The air became thick with the confession, and neither Jess nor Rory could open their mouths to utter anything more. They pulled up in front of Port Authority. Jess was about to get out and unload the trunk when Rory grabbed his arm.

"Wait."

"What?"

"Come with me."

"What?"

"Come back with me to Stars Hollow."

"Why?

"Why not?"

"This is where I live, where I work."

"I think New York could manage with one less cab driver."

"Look, Rory. I know what you're trying to do here. You want me to go back so you can pretend this is senior year of high school again and not college. And everything will go back to how it was then and maybe you'll get a crack at saving me again so that I can be this great guy that your mom will approve of and the town will love, and you won't have to be ashamed of whatever feelings you may have for me. It's not going to happen, Rory. This is just how it is."

His words hurt her and he knew it. He had to be harsh with her so that she would hate him and leave and never think of him. If they should meet again, he didn't want her to remember him. It was what he had to do.

"So that's what you think I want? That's what you think of me?"

Her eyes flared at him. A man came up to the window next to her.

"Hey lady, you going to marry the driver or are you going to let someone else take the cab?"

"I'm sorry. I'm leaving now."

He finally saw her withering stare, directed at him, as she got out of the cab. She unloaded her luggage while the man got into the back seat of the cab. As soon as her things were out and she had closed the trunk, Jess sped off.

Home, sweet home. Throughout the bus ride, Rory tried successfully to forget about her experience with Jess, the good and the bad. She was glad to be home. She walked into Luke's, knowing Lorelai was already waiting with a cup of coffee and a Danish.

"Welcome back! Here you go." Lorelai slid down the mug and the pastry.

"Thanks. It's so good to be home."

"Hey, Rory."

"Hey, Luke. How've you been?" she asked, meaningfully.

"Not bad, really."

"Good."

Kirk entered, hauling a desk.

"I've brought it this far and that's as far as I'm carrying it."

"That's all right. That's just fine."

"What's this?" Rory asked Lorelai.

"A desk for Luke's office."

"Luke has an office?"

"He will. He's going through an identity crisis. He thinks he's important."

"Huh. So where is this office going to be?"

"Jess' old room. Luke cleared it out this weekend."

"Oh."

"Oh? That's it."

"Yep. I mean, Jess isn't going to need it, so Luke should make use of the space."

"Look, Jess isn't coming back so what did you want Luke to do? Keep the room exactly like it is, peek in every night to see if he came back, pine away until he loses his mind and starts cutting up body parts to assemble a replica of Jess. He had every right to make use of the space."

"I just said that."

"I know, but I spent so much time and saw so many Hitchcock movies trying to think up that speech and, by George, I was going to say it."

"It's a good speech. It would've won me over. A little over the top with the cutting body parts, but I understand. The Hitchcock movies."

"Right. Thank you."

"No problem."

Lorelai inspected Rory curiously, trying to figure out what would have caused the change. She smiled, content, watching Rory sip from the mug. She must have finally woken up and smelled the coffee.

A/N: Last line stupid, but I figured, it has the waking up/sleeping/dream connotation and the coffee thing which is just a funny Gilmore allusion. The last two chapters haven't been my best stuff in terms of banter. It's just that once I get into banter, I get carried away, and it ends up making the story longer, and when I'm enjoying writing the story, it's no problem, but this is too much stress. Figuring out other people's future, I have learned, is just as hard as figuring out your own.