Erasing The Truth
By ZLizabeth
Disclaimer: Guess what? Not mine! *GASP*
Author's Note: 'tis such a pity that I am terrible at updating. I could really use some reviews on how many chapters you want me to make this. I know HOW I want it to end, but I'm not sure how long you people want me dragging it out. So comments on that in your REVIEWS *cough* would be SOOO very helpful!
Oooh, SAD chapter coming up! oh yeah, sad in contrast to all my other really happy chapters!
The jeep was still parked in front of the motel.
Jess tossed the keys up in the air and caught them. He glanced out his window at it sitting so calmly in the street.
Just waiting for him to screw things up. Patiently waiting for him to fly from her side again. He could already see it rolling down the unpleasantly silent street. And it was just waiting. Just waiting and waiting and waiting.
Not that he had anything against the poor jeep. It had been nothing but helpful to him. It had born him all the way to California from Connecticut. It was a symbol of Lorelai's trust.
Yet it was his way of escape. And personally he found that he was to tempted by escape.
And not escape from this stupid town - which he had discovered he hated twice as much as he had originally hated Stars Hollow - he wanted to escape from Rory. He wanted to get away from those constant pangs of guilt: you stayed fixed on her for five pathetic years. You worked in a underpaid coffee shop so you could be reminded of her. She's moved on, she moved away, she...
And then there was what was keeping him here.
He really knew nothing about Rory. Nothing more than he had known since the night in the diner when she kissed him for the last time. And as much as it tore him apart to be so close, yet so far....
Oh God. If his thoughts were a book he'd be erasing and scribbling and erasing over that last line. So close, yet so far? Cliché, cheesy, and the kind of line he and Rory would never stand for in a book.
Why couldn't anyone have come up with another saying for that. That was something that they could do together tomorrow. Come up with sensible expressions in exchange for painfully disgusting time-honored phrases.
But he was just that. He would sit next to her in the beautiful place that made her happy, she would rest her head on his arm and he could feel her breath as well as see it as it floated away. But then she would run off, go back to her home and disappear entirely. And he would realize that the moments were nothing compared to how much she had cut herself off from him. How little she let him know.
He still wouldn't give up those moments for anything. Not anything.
Erase. Cross out. Erase.
Rory wouldn't look at him later that day. She stared into her coffee, out the window, anywhere but at him.
"Rory?" he asked.
"Yes?" she said, her head snapping up. Once their eyes met she looked away again.
"Are you all right?"
She gave him a feeble smile, "no. Not really."
"What is it?"
"A whole new Jess. Concerned, considerate..."
"It's been five years, Rory."
"That's just it!" she cried, suddenly very in the moment, "we haven't seen in each other in five years? I mean, how do we know if we haven't changed? How do we know if one of us... say me... is an evil monstrous evil embodiment of... evil?" he tried not to laugh, "Maybe one of us... say you... is still the same person that they used to be... that used to be friends with... say me... but the other one... me ... is all different. You shouldn't like that person anymore, right?"
He had no idea what she was saying, "all right... so you don't want us to continue these small movements of friendship?"
"It's not that!" she said hurriedly, "no, not that at all. I just think that we should reconsider our feelings. For each other."
"Well, Rory, I think our feelings for each other are pretty obvious."
Her lips parted. She smiled then, "I guess they are," she said softly.
"Right," he said, swallowing, "if we were so desperate for a more close relationship - in friendship or otherwise - don't you think that one of us might've acted on those feelings by now?"
A look of surprise flitted across her eyes, but the smile stayed plastered on her face, "exactly my point."
"Good."
"Good."
She began to write on her coffee cup.
"What are you doing?"
"Writing on a coffee cup," she answered, "I want you to read this..." she suddenly crossed out whatever it was she had written, "uh... something... I picked up at a bookstore the other day."
"Where is it?" he asked, immediately curious about the coffee cup.
"At my house..." she said, "but we can't go there..."
"Rory, can we talk?"
"That I would like."
"Okay. We'll go to the hotel if we can't go to your house."
"Okay," she said in a meek voice. He held open the Starbucks door for her. She went through and muttered something about meeting him back here in twenty minutes. He nodded, but she was already running away.
With twenty minutes to kill he wandered back to their table and reached for the coffee cup. Another hand met his. He looked up and saw a waitress - maybe seventeen - smiling guiltily.
"Everyone in town wonders about Rory's coffee cups. She's never left one here before. But I saw you two talking. It's probably none of my business to read it."
"No, it probably isn't."
"Just... could you tell me what it's about? A diary entry, a poem, a picture, anything?"
He looked at her quizzically, "and who are you to read Rory's coffee cups?"
"I'm Diana," she said, shaking his hand, "I've been serving Rory coffee for two years."
"So you can be trusted," he looked down at the coffee cup. She had thoroughly crossed out everything that had been written. All he saw was one word: lying.
His imagination took flight. What had she been lying about? Did she think he was lying?
He sighed and fell into his chair. The knowledge was nothing new. He hadn't told Rory the exact truth about his life, and she had done the same to him. It wasn't exactly lying, but it came close enough.
"Diana?" he called out.
"Yes sir?"
"Jess."
"Yes Jess?" she fought back a smile at the rhyme.
"Can I ask you something about Rory?"
She looked at him, "I don't know. Should you?"
"It's not anything personal."
"Then go right ahead," she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.
"Is Rory..."
Speak of the devil. The door banged open and Rory ran in, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of Starbucks.
"There is something I need to tell you," she said as they hurried along, ignoring traffic lights and unaware of all other pedestrians, "and there is only one way I am going to be able to tell it to you. And there is only one time that I am going to be able to tell it to you, and that is now. And if I wait to long, I will not be able to tell you."
She came to an abrupt halt in front of a brown door. It wasn't big, but to Jess it seemed to be looming above him. She took out a key and unlocked the door, careful, he noticed, to cover up her left hand.
And then they walked into her house.
The inside was unimpressive. Just a few photos here and there - none of which he paid attention to. His gaze was fixated on Rory's fist... clenched so tight he couldn't see her fingers.
They came into the living room. She gestured awkwardly to the couch and they both sat. She kept looking away. He took her tiny hands in his own and she looked up at him, made sure that their fingers didn't touch, and began to babble incoherently.
"Okay, Jess, I am going to say this in one breath and you're going to hate me and I am so sorry and I hate myself and I hope you hate me and I miss my mom and I..." he looked at her, "right. I'm..."
The door opened, "Mrs. Rory Hart! [a/n: wrong last name, I know] I'm home!"
Jess' jaw dropped.
Bag Boy stood in front of him and Rory. Taller than ever - if that was possible.
And he looked.... upset.
Jess quickly turned away from Rory and dropped her hands. And then he looked down at them and everything became clear. A ring. In the right place.
The wrong place for him.
"That's what I was going to tell you," she said, staring at her feet.
"Ah," Jess said. He was speechless. And then he said the first thing that popped into his head, "why wasn't I invited to the wedding?"
****So it's short. That leaves more time for REVIEWING!
By ZLizabeth
Disclaimer: Guess what? Not mine! *GASP*
Author's Note: 'tis such a pity that I am terrible at updating. I could really use some reviews on how many chapters you want me to make this. I know HOW I want it to end, but I'm not sure how long you people want me dragging it out. So comments on that in your REVIEWS *cough* would be SOOO very helpful!
Oooh, SAD chapter coming up! oh yeah, sad in contrast to all my other really happy chapters!
The jeep was still parked in front of the motel.
Jess tossed the keys up in the air and caught them. He glanced out his window at it sitting so calmly in the street.
Just waiting for him to screw things up. Patiently waiting for him to fly from her side again. He could already see it rolling down the unpleasantly silent street. And it was just waiting. Just waiting and waiting and waiting.
Not that he had anything against the poor jeep. It had been nothing but helpful to him. It had born him all the way to California from Connecticut. It was a symbol of Lorelai's trust.
Yet it was his way of escape. And personally he found that he was to tempted by escape.
And not escape from this stupid town - which he had discovered he hated twice as much as he had originally hated Stars Hollow - he wanted to escape from Rory. He wanted to get away from those constant pangs of guilt: you stayed fixed on her for five pathetic years. You worked in a underpaid coffee shop so you could be reminded of her. She's moved on, she moved away, she...
And then there was what was keeping him here.
He really knew nothing about Rory. Nothing more than he had known since the night in the diner when she kissed him for the last time. And as much as it tore him apart to be so close, yet so far....
Oh God. If his thoughts were a book he'd be erasing and scribbling and erasing over that last line. So close, yet so far? Cliché, cheesy, and the kind of line he and Rory would never stand for in a book.
Why couldn't anyone have come up with another saying for that. That was something that they could do together tomorrow. Come up with sensible expressions in exchange for painfully disgusting time-honored phrases.
But he was just that. He would sit next to her in the beautiful place that made her happy, she would rest her head on his arm and he could feel her breath as well as see it as it floated away. But then she would run off, go back to her home and disappear entirely. And he would realize that the moments were nothing compared to how much she had cut herself off from him. How little she let him know.
He still wouldn't give up those moments for anything. Not anything.
Erase. Cross out. Erase.
Rory wouldn't look at him later that day. She stared into her coffee, out the window, anywhere but at him.
"Rory?" he asked.
"Yes?" she said, her head snapping up. Once their eyes met she looked away again.
"Are you all right?"
She gave him a feeble smile, "no. Not really."
"What is it?"
"A whole new Jess. Concerned, considerate..."
"It's been five years, Rory."
"That's just it!" she cried, suddenly very in the moment, "we haven't seen in each other in five years? I mean, how do we know if we haven't changed? How do we know if one of us... say me... is an evil monstrous evil embodiment of... evil?" he tried not to laugh, "Maybe one of us... say you... is still the same person that they used to be... that used to be friends with... say me... but the other one... me ... is all different. You shouldn't like that person anymore, right?"
He had no idea what she was saying, "all right... so you don't want us to continue these small movements of friendship?"
"It's not that!" she said hurriedly, "no, not that at all. I just think that we should reconsider our feelings. For each other."
"Well, Rory, I think our feelings for each other are pretty obvious."
Her lips parted. She smiled then, "I guess they are," she said softly.
"Right," he said, swallowing, "if we were so desperate for a more close relationship - in friendship or otherwise - don't you think that one of us might've acted on those feelings by now?"
A look of surprise flitted across her eyes, but the smile stayed plastered on her face, "exactly my point."
"Good."
"Good."
She began to write on her coffee cup.
"What are you doing?"
"Writing on a coffee cup," she answered, "I want you to read this..." she suddenly crossed out whatever it was she had written, "uh... something... I picked up at a bookstore the other day."
"Where is it?" he asked, immediately curious about the coffee cup.
"At my house..." she said, "but we can't go there..."
"Rory, can we talk?"
"That I would like."
"Okay. We'll go to the hotel if we can't go to your house."
"Okay," she said in a meek voice. He held open the Starbucks door for her. She went through and muttered something about meeting him back here in twenty minutes. He nodded, but she was already running away.
With twenty minutes to kill he wandered back to their table and reached for the coffee cup. Another hand met his. He looked up and saw a waitress - maybe seventeen - smiling guiltily.
"Everyone in town wonders about Rory's coffee cups. She's never left one here before. But I saw you two talking. It's probably none of my business to read it."
"No, it probably isn't."
"Just... could you tell me what it's about? A diary entry, a poem, a picture, anything?"
He looked at her quizzically, "and who are you to read Rory's coffee cups?"
"I'm Diana," she said, shaking his hand, "I've been serving Rory coffee for two years."
"So you can be trusted," he looked down at the coffee cup. She had thoroughly crossed out everything that had been written. All he saw was one word: lying.
His imagination took flight. What had she been lying about? Did she think he was lying?
He sighed and fell into his chair. The knowledge was nothing new. He hadn't told Rory the exact truth about his life, and she had done the same to him. It wasn't exactly lying, but it came close enough.
"Diana?" he called out.
"Yes sir?"
"Jess."
"Yes Jess?" she fought back a smile at the rhyme.
"Can I ask you something about Rory?"
She looked at him, "I don't know. Should you?"
"It's not anything personal."
"Then go right ahead," she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms.
"Is Rory..."
Speak of the devil. The door banged open and Rory ran in, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of Starbucks.
"There is something I need to tell you," she said as they hurried along, ignoring traffic lights and unaware of all other pedestrians, "and there is only one way I am going to be able to tell it to you. And there is only one time that I am going to be able to tell it to you, and that is now. And if I wait to long, I will not be able to tell you."
She came to an abrupt halt in front of a brown door. It wasn't big, but to Jess it seemed to be looming above him. She took out a key and unlocked the door, careful, he noticed, to cover up her left hand.
And then they walked into her house.
The inside was unimpressive. Just a few photos here and there - none of which he paid attention to. His gaze was fixated on Rory's fist... clenched so tight he couldn't see her fingers.
They came into the living room. She gestured awkwardly to the couch and they both sat. She kept looking away. He took her tiny hands in his own and she looked up at him, made sure that their fingers didn't touch, and began to babble incoherently.
"Okay, Jess, I am going to say this in one breath and you're going to hate me and I am so sorry and I hate myself and I hope you hate me and I miss my mom and I..." he looked at her, "right. I'm..."
The door opened, "Mrs. Rory Hart! [a/n: wrong last name, I know] I'm home!"
Jess' jaw dropped.
Bag Boy stood in front of him and Rory. Taller than ever - if that was possible.
And he looked.... upset.
Jess quickly turned away from Rory and dropped her hands. And then he looked down at them and everything became clear. A ring. In the right place.
The wrong place for him.
"That's what I was going to tell you," she said, staring at her feet.
"Ah," Jess said. He was speechless. And then he said the first thing that popped into his head, "why wasn't I invited to the wedding?"
****So it's short. That leaves more time for REVIEWING!