A/N: I realize I posted this chapter without the disclaimer and * gasp*
without the quote!! So I'm doing that now. Sorry to all those who read it
before and didn't see it. And thanks very much for the reviews. . . great
way to start a day (it's 5:34am here).
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, nothing, not even the words used to write the story. Ok, well maybe I own they way were combined. (
"Metaphor for a missing moment"
-A Perfect Circle.
~*~*~*
She glared sourly at both the fountains of water streaming from the ground and her small pager that had not been helpful at all. If Dean were unavailable, she would have to find someone else. She could not simply stand by and let the lawn drown. The ants would never forgive her. Her damp frame stalked on the sidewalk, leaving watery imprints of her sneakers on the concrete. Aggravated and flustered by the fact that she, Rory Gilmore, was incapable of managing the uncomplicated apparatus that was a sprinkler, she paid no heed to the direction of her steps as her predicament made her almost wily.
Her body slammed into something and upon contact, she knew precisely whom she had encountered, sparking instant retreat in her unwillingness to face him. Tendrils of his warmth stretched toward her and she irritatedly thrust them away as images of his dark head mingled with a blonde one burst onto her thoughts. She knew that Stars Hollow was not at all that populated but why, of all its inhabitants, should she, in all her dripping fury, have collided with this particular one?
She turned to move away, fully conscious of the fact that he would have seen her and caught between her desire to have him follow her and the more probable idea that he would ignore her. She heard his voice, its honey flowing in her veins and her weakness irked her so much that she wanted to lash out.
JESS: Whoa, whoa, slow down.
RORY: Get out of my way.
At the moment she was fighting him but she knew, she KNEW that if she looked at him, her efforts would cease. She would be fighting herself instead. The battle that raged on continually.
JESS: I like the new look. It's very Blue Crush.
RORY: Hilarious.
Had he even seen that movie? She wanted to ask him and her recognition grated her already raw mind as she reined in her thoughts.
JESS: What's the matter?
RORY: Nothing.
Suddenly she was nervous. It seemed he cared and that knowledge alone would be her undoing. She did not want his pity. She did not want another conversation consisting of glares, bitterness and veiled accusations. She wanted. . .God damn her for what she wanted.
JESS: You're walking pretty fast for nothing.
RORY: Well, our President said exercise and I am very patriotic.
JESS: And completely soaked.
Somewhere in her head, she was smiling. How keenly observant of him.
RORY: Where is everyone?
JESS: Who are you looking for?
Anyone but you. Anyone without those piercing eyes that seem to smile only at me. Anyone whose handwriting does not swim before my eyes, confined to margins and expressing his thoughts. Anyone whose lips I have not tasted. . . satin on silk, sweet softness making me delirious.
RORY: No one.
JESS: Rory, stop. What's the matter - other than the fact that you're obviously out of towels.
It was the quiet plea in his voice that broke her restraint. The quiet plea that anyone else would have interpreted as a quiet order.
RORY: This guy moved in across the way from us and we said we'd water his lawn and the grass can only be watered in ten minute increments, otherwise the lawn drowns, and the thing is stuck and it won't turn off and I have to find someone, Luke or Taylor or . . Where are you going? Jess!
He had started to walk away from her in the direction she had most dreaded he would take. Closing her eyes briefly she inhaled and then hurried after him. She did not want a favour from him. She followed him as he determinedly made his way up the front yard that was slowly transforming into a pool, watching as the water rained on him so that he was instantly on his way to matching her soggy condition.
RORY: You don't have to do this. I didn't ask you to do this. I can just find someone else to do it. [Jess turns off the sprinkler] Aw, you made it look so easy.
JESS: Yeah, it was loose. You just had to press down and give it a good twist, that's all.
RORY: Well, thank you.
Her eyes captured his, denoting his transfixed expression at her gratitude. Something delicate wavered in their depths and the surreal quality of her environment gripped her. Here he was. . .his self. . . the one she knew; the one she adored.
JESS: You're welcome. So things are good?
His question and its complete unexpectedness pulled something within her. She did not even bother with the pretense of disguising her delight. Her face was rosy.
RORY: Oh, yeah, really good.
JESS: School?
RORY: Good.
JESS: Still gonna do the Harvard thing?
RORY: Yeah.
JESS: Good.
RORY: Yeah, good. So. . .
She was suddenly so articulate. It was being taken unaware and not wanting to ruin this very fragile moment when he had desisted from emanating such frigidity. His words were an endearing embrace and she wished she could prolong everything; halt time at that precise instant so that the sanctuary of the moment would not escape her and change into a fleeting, wishful memory.
[pager goes off] My pager.
JESS: Yeah, I figured.
[Rory checks the pager, then puts it away]
JESS: Who is it?
She saw it shattering, its splinters screaming in every direction. Even as the words slid from her tongue, she clung to the prayer that it would remain intact, all the while knowing of the futility of such hope.
RORY: It's, uh, Dean. I paged him earlier to come over and help me and he just got the message, so he's. . .
JESS: Coming over to help.
RORY: Yeah.
JESS: Okay.
She watched, forlorn, as his face became shuttered, bewilderment creeping into her as she saw him lean over and set the water coursing through the air once more. She was encased once again by the falling drops, resentment and regret duelling within her as her eyes said farewell to his retreating figure.
~*~*~*
She tapped her foot rhythmically on the step below below the one on which she sat. Water trickled down her face, dripping onto the plaid skirt of her uniform and she irritably dashed it away, only to have natal drops tracing anew a course on her skin. Soaked and uncaring, she stared unseeingly at the driveway of Dwight's house, such a sight to behold with the relentless artificial rain. Fresh movement captured her vision and she refocussed her blank gaze on the figure hesitantly approaching her. Concern marked hs features and she could only suppose that this had not been the first time he had addressed her.
She quite literally almost jumped from her perch on the porch and, dragging a hand across her face, offered him a smile. Observing that he was halfway to her drenched state, regret tripped through her and she hastened to explain. Inexorably, she found herself babbling as a smile crossed his face. He leaned over to turn the valve that would deprive the sprinklers of their ammunition. With a semblance of vertigo, she saw his hands assuming the same position that another pair of hands had done only minutes ago. Memory and reality melded into one solitary frame in her sight, causing her to knowingly deceive herself, watching his hands, HIS hands, kill the sprinklers in an act of friendship towards her. For those crystal moments ripped out of time, he had been the Jess reserved only for her and she had felt the urge to snatch him and place him in a glass, to have him there for eternity in that amicable state that soothed her existence.
She heard herself bid Dean farewell. She felt herself kiss him peremptorily on his cheek, with the intention of returning home to remove her soggy apparel. Her lawn seemed incredibly thirsty in comparison with Dwight's, she noticed waywardly as she closed her front door, collapsing in all her sprinkler cleanliness against it.
~*~*~*
She pointed her toes, flexing the inert muscles lying sprawled on her bed. The feel of the sheets beneath her legs was hypnotic; the softness of her pillow supporting her head was luxurious. Inhaling, she attempted to revive her inactive body. Had her eyes not been alert basins of blue, one would have deemed her asleep. The compote of oxygen, nitrogen and various other gases pooled momentarily in her lungs and she sighed in exhalation, restlessly slipping to lie on her side. Her fingers gently ran along the edge of the book and then the most wanton thought brought first a smile, then encouraged the silent shaking of her shoulders. Scared of losing restraint, she buried her face in the feathered pliability of her pillow as she succumbed to the hilarity of the memory.
"Oh geez!" were the words rebounding in her head during her quiet convulsion of laughter. They were the words that had left Jess' mouth that weekend morning in the diner. The only words. He had fled instantly to his hallowed refuge of the upstairs apartment. She had thought Luke's reaction to the mother breast-feeding her baby funny; Jess' reacton had been downright comical. She had to wonder why he provoked such myriad reactions in her, the most dominant one being a smile on her face. He made her feel anger, pain, joy, contentment. . . peace. Indifference slipped into oblivion where he was concerned. He was where her passion lay.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, nothing, not even the words used to write the story. Ok, well maybe I own they way were combined. (
"Metaphor for a missing moment"
-A Perfect Circle.
~*~*~*
She glared sourly at both the fountains of water streaming from the ground and her small pager that had not been helpful at all. If Dean were unavailable, she would have to find someone else. She could not simply stand by and let the lawn drown. The ants would never forgive her. Her damp frame stalked on the sidewalk, leaving watery imprints of her sneakers on the concrete. Aggravated and flustered by the fact that she, Rory Gilmore, was incapable of managing the uncomplicated apparatus that was a sprinkler, she paid no heed to the direction of her steps as her predicament made her almost wily.
Her body slammed into something and upon contact, she knew precisely whom she had encountered, sparking instant retreat in her unwillingness to face him. Tendrils of his warmth stretched toward her and she irritatedly thrust them away as images of his dark head mingled with a blonde one burst onto her thoughts. She knew that Stars Hollow was not at all that populated but why, of all its inhabitants, should she, in all her dripping fury, have collided with this particular one?
She turned to move away, fully conscious of the fact that he would have seen her and caught between her desire to have him follow her and the more probable idea that he would ignore her. She heard his voice, its honey flowing in her veins and her weakness irked her so much that she wanted to lash out.
JESS: Whoa, whoa, slow down.
RORY: Get out of my way.
At the moment she was fighting him but she knew, she KNEW that if she looked at him, her efforts would cease. She would be fighting herself instead. The battle that raged on continually.
JESS: I like the new look. It's very Blue Crush.
RORY: Hilarious.
Had he even seen that movie? She wanted to ask him and her recognition grated her already raw mind as she reined in her thoughts.
JESS: What's the matter?
RORY: Nothing.
Suddenly she was nervous. It seemed he cared and that knowledge alone would be her undoing. She did not want his pity. She did not want another conversation consisting of glares, bitterness and veiled accusations. She wanted. . .God damn her for what she wanted.
JESS: You're walking pretty fast for nothing.
RORY: Well, our President said exercise and I am very patriotic.
JESS: And completely soaked.
Somewhere in her head, she was smiling. How keenly observant of him.
RORY: Where is everyone?
JESS: Who are you looking for?
Anyone but you. Anyone without those piercing eyes that seem to smile only at me. Anyone whose handwriting does not swim before my eyes, confined to margins and expressing his thoughts. Anyone whose lips I have not tasted. . . satin on silk, sweet softness making me delirious.
RORY: No one.
JESS: Rory, stop. What's the matter - other than the fact that you're obviously out of towels.
It was the quiet plea in his voice that broke her restraint. The quiet plea that anyone else would have interpreted as a quiet order.
RORY: This guy moved in across the way from us and we said we'd water his lawn and the grass can only be watered in ten minute increments, otherwise the lawn drowns, and the thing is stuck and it won't turn off and I have to find someone, Luke or Taylor or . . Where are you going? Jess!
He had started to walk away from her in the direction she had most dreaded he would take. Closing her eyes briefly she inhaled and then hurried after him. She did not want a favour from him. She followed him as he determinedly made his way up the front yard that was slowly transforming into a pool, watching as the water rained on him so that he was instantly on his way to matching her soggy condition.
RORY: You don't have to do this. I didn't ask you to do this. I can just find someone else to do it. [Jess turns off the sprinkler] Aw, you made it look so easy.
JESS: Yeah, it was loose. You just had to press down and give it a good twist, that's all.
RORY: Well, thank you.
Her eyes captured his, denoting his transfixed expression at her gratitude. Something delicate wavered in their depths and the surreal quality of her environment gripped her. Here he was. . .his self. . . the one she knew; the one she adored.
JESS: You're welcome. So things are good?
His question and its complete unexpectedness pulled something within her. She did not even bother with the pretense of disguising her delight. Her face was rosy.
RORY: Oh, yeah, really good.
JESS: School?
RORY: Good.
JESS: Still gonna do the Harvard thing?
RORY: Yeah.
JESS: Good.
RORY: Yeah, good. So. . .
She was suddenly so articulate. It was being taken unaware and not wanting to ruin this very fragile moment when he had desisted from emanating such frigidity. His words were an endearing embrace and she wished she could prolong everything; halt time at that precise instant so that the sanctuary of the moment would not escape her and change into a fleeting, wishful memory.
[pager goes off] My pager.
JESS: Yeah, I figured.
[Rory checks the pager, then puts it away]
JESS: Who is it?
She saw it shattering, its splinters screaming in every direction. Even as the words slid from her tongue, she clung to the prayer that it would remain intact, all the while knowing of the futility of such hope.
RORY: It's, uh, Dean. I paged him earlier to come over and help me and he just got the message, so he's. . .
JESS: Coming over to help.
RORY: Yeah.
JESS: Okay.
She watched, forlorn, as his face became shuttered, bewilderment creeping into her as she saw him lean over and set the water coursing through the air once more. She was encased once again by the falling drops, resentment and regret duelling within her as her eyes said farewell to his retreating figure.
~*~*~*
She tapped her foot rhythmically on the step below below the one on which she sat. Water trickled down her face, dripping onto the plaid skirt of her uniform and she irritably dashed it away, only to have natal drops tracing anew a course on her skin. Soaked and uncaring, she stared unseeingly at the driveway of Dwight's house, such a sight to behold with the relentless artificial rain. Fresh movement captured her vision and she refocussed her blank gaze on the figure hesitantly approaching her. Concern marked hs features and she could only suppose that this had not been the first time he had addressed her.
She quite literally almost jumped from her perch on the porch and, dragging a hand across her face, offered him a smile. Observing that he was halfway to her drenched state, regret tripped through her and she hastened to explain. Inexorably, she found herself babbling as a smile crossed his face. He leaned over to turn the valve that would deprive the sprinklers of their ammunition. With a semblance of vertigo, she saw his hands assuming the same position that another pair of hands had done only minutes ago. Memory and reality melded into one solitary frame in her sight, causing her to knowingly deceive herself, watching his hands, HIS hands, kill the sprinklers in an act of friendship towards her. For those crystal moments ripped out of time, he had been the Jess reserved only for her and she had felt the urge to snatch him and place him in a glass, to have him there for eternity in that amicable state that soothed her existence.
She heard herself bid Dean farewell. She felt herself kiss him peremptorily on his cheek, with the intention of returning home to remove her soggy apparel. Her lawn seemed incredibly thirsty in comparison with Dwight's, she noticed waywardly as she closed her front door, collapsing in all her sprinkler cleanliness against it.
~*~*~*
She pointed her toes, flexing the inert muscles lying sprawled on her bed. The feel of the sheets beneath her legs was hypnotic; the softness of her pillow supporting her head was luxurious. Inhaling, she attempted to revive her inactive body. Had her eyes not been alert basins of blue, one would have deemed her asleep. The compote of oxygen, nitrogen and various other gases pooled momentarily in her lungs and she sighed in exhalation, restlessly slipping to lie on her side. Her fingers gently ran along the edge of the book and then the most wanton thought brought first a smile, then encouraged the silent shaking of her shoulders. Scared of losing restraint, she buried her face in the feathered pliability of her pillow as she succumbed to the hilarity of the memory.
"Oh geez!" were the words rebounding in her head during her quiet convulsion of laughter. They were the words that had left Jess' mouth that weekend morning in the diner. The only words. He had fled instantly to his hallowed refuge of the upstairs apartment. She had thought Luke's reaction to the mother breast-feeding her baby funny; Jess' reacton had been downright comical. She had to wonder why he provoked such myriad reactions in her, the most dominant one being a smile on her face. He made her feel anger, pain, joy, contentment. . . peace. Indifference slipped into oblivion where he was concerned. He was where her passion lay.