A/N: Sorry for the long spate. A distraction called school. *Glares*
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything Gilmore Girls-ish.
"So pardon me while I burst into flames."
-Incubus
She sauntered out of her room, mischievous strands of her hair trailing along her neck as they escaped the narrow confinement of the black hair- band, which kept the mass of brown at bay. She rolled her neck languorously, gently massaging the tension at its base. She had been reading too long, she deduced, her stomach kissing the bed; her shoulder somewhat hunched as she propped her head. She closed her eyes, inhaled and then strode toward the couch, switching on the television. She thought her eyes probably needed a bit of colourful diversion for a change.
It was just her luck, was it not, that what greeted her was an advertisement for the new Toyota. The freshly implanted image of another new car was triggered. To be technical, the car itself was not new but the very idea that he owned a car was new, to her and to the entire town. Seeing him settled in the driver's seat, his hands resting comfortably on the dark steering-wheel, suscitated enchanting memories of him in another vehicle, HER vehicle, as a teasing smile played across his lips. It had been such an intimate interlude with only inches between them, illuminated by the ashen light of the moon and the soft glow of the streetlights as they drove past. She had cherished the proximity and in her attempt to delay the serenity of being near him, she had instigated a harmless crash that had sent him away. And now the contentment of that calm was fractured.
The cold sleekness of her watch on the delicate juncture of her wrist suddenly held her attention and, absorbing the information it offered, she decided to pay Lane a visit. She really did have to find some sort of a gift to present to her soon-to-be step-mother. And how she was desperate for ideas.
*~*~*~*~
Walking in the general direction of the diner, she was inwardly squirming at the clichéd blanket folded at the bottom of her shopping bag. This would, after all, be her first sibling. She did not care to much for being branded the older sister without enough consideration to give a more thoughtful contribution to such an important creature in her life. Still, she was fond if the possibility of the baby growing up and remaining attached to the blanket that had come from her, Rory, the elder sister. The thought carried a rather charming sentimentality.
The sight of the latest car in town did not escape her. Conscious of the nostalgia it had invoked earlier, she placed her attention elsewhere but her intentions had been doomed from the moment she neared its vicinity. She was like the rest of the town where that car was concerned. Its origins were a mystery. While she would like to think that he had obtained it in some underhanded manner, she knew him much better than that. Yes, he had sabotaged someone else's snowman so hers would win the competition; yes he had chalked the outline of a supposedly dead person but these were harmless acts. Stealing a car was a felony and though Jess was capable of such a deed and had probably been involved in similar capers in New York, she did not think it plausible that he had stolen this one.
Fully intending to head in the opposite direction (for there was a car, there was an owner nearby), she took notice of the expression marking Lane's features.
LANE: That's new.
RORY: Is it?
LANE: I've never seen it before, and I'm very into the minutia around here.
RORY: That's for sure.
LANE: Do you know whose it is?
RORY: Yup.
LANE: Whose?
RORY: Jess'.
LANE: Jess? Jess, the guy who wrecked your car? He's got a car now?
RORY: Mmhmm, looks that way.
LANE: That's outrageous! That's a travesty!
RORY: It's not that big a deal.
LANE: Oh, it's a humongous deal.
RORY: You're taking this very hard.
LANE: Because we're best friends, Rory. We're linked. I feel what you feel. Except for right now because you don't seem to be feeling anything and I'm incensed.
RORY: It's just a car. It's nothing to get excited about.
She glanced again at the car and saw Jess approaching his possession. Her eyes shot to Lane's face and her mind rapidly established all sorts of unhappy conclusions. A showdown was lurking in Lane's blood. Rory tried to deflect it; she did not want a confrontation with Jess.
JESS: Hey.
RORY: Hey.
She was on tenterhooks. He was amicable and was terrified his current attitude would disappear in a flash. Memories of false rain wafted through her mind.
JESS: Hey Lane.
LANE: Hey back at ya, tough guy.
JESS: What?
RORY: Lane. . .
She sighed inwardly. Lane WAS pursuing this, wasn't she; which meant that Rory would have to act as mediator. Not exactly the most comfortable role.
JESS: Something wrong?
RORY: No. . .
LANE: Yes! You have a car.
JESS: I know.
LANE: Don't give me lip!
JESS: Lip?
RORY: Lane. . .
It had been almost an appeal to her, for clarification, for help. she willed this not to happen, all the while knowing that it would occur anyway.
LANE: How'd you get the car, Jess?
JESS: I bought it.
LANE: Really, I thought you might've built it from parts left over from cars you've totaled.
JESS: What is your problem?
LANE: Don't play dumb. You know what you did.
JESS: I gotta go.
LANE: Yes, drive on away, we'll just keep walking. That's all Rory's been able to do these past few months - lots of walking. She's got bunions because of you, mister!
JESS: Bunions?
RORY: I don't have bunions.
LANE: She's too nice to complain about her foot ailments.
JESS: Knock if off, Lane.
RORY: Just get in the car and go, Jess.
He had said he had to go. Please go. She could not control Lane. The least she could do was help him escape this undeserved attack. She had been the one in the accident; she had been hurt. She had walked around with a cast for weeks and still she had never blamed him one second for it; she had never borne him a moment's worth of bitterness or spite. No one else had the right to assault his conscience on account of it. No one. As the words slid from her mouth, she looked again at the car she was ordering him to move. Pink peeked at her from somewhere in its depths and she looked again, distinguishing the well-known shape of female underwear. Realisation splashed over her and she felt the ire welling up in her. This was the purpose of his car?
JESS: I didn't start this.
It was an apology to her but her mind was still focused on that flash of pink leering at her from the back seat. Something within her was ossified; she felt the hardness encasing the vulnerable softness that had been exposed.
LANE: Well, you started it when you wrecked Rory's car.
JESS: Tell your friend to walk it off.
RORY: You walk it off.
She was lashing out, and she knew it. She could not seem to control it. WHY pink lace????
JESS: I'm trying to drive off.
RORY: Then go.
JESS: Geez, how Andy Griffith is this town that people get so excited by a car?
RORY: It's not the car, it's who's got the car.
JESS: Okay, fine, you want it? Take it, I'm sick of this.
RORY: I don't want this piece of junk.
Especially not after it had been the home to what she was sure were indecent acts done with the peroxide blonde from the cosmetic store. Honestly, WHO thought "bloaty" was a word?
JESS: Right. I suppose Dean is already building you another car, something really snazzy.
RORY: Shut up and go.
He had said the wrong name at the wrong time. He knew, damn him, he knew that comparing himself to Dean in her mind would irk her. It always had. It underlined the difference and made the inadequacy of her relationship with Dean so blatant. Yet she looked at him and saw his lips tangling with Shane's and she suddenly could not bear to look at him.
JESS: Gladly.
RORY: Let's go.
LANE: Gladly.
RORY: [to Jess] Oh, and by the way, you left your bra in the back seat.
She stalked off, the unsolicited fury surging within her as she tried her best to force all thoughts of that bra in his hands away from her consciousness.
*~*~*~*~*~
The Gilmore Jeep sped along the asphalt, Rory's eyes darting from the black expanse before them, swiftly disappearing under the spinning tyres, back to her mother whose figure was seething with anger. They swerved into the main are of Star's Hollow, Lorelai's breaths becoming sharper and quicker as her anger sought a release.
RORY: I just hope Dad's happy.
LORELAI: Happy? With Sherry and G.G., the five o'clock ballerina? No way. And to think that I sent him back to her a new man? Man!
She had been trying her best to soothe her agitated mother, but really and truly, to no avail. She was in an even worse state compared to earlier that day and Rory was under the impression that something tame like re-arranging a medicine cabinet would not suffice as it had before. A familiar shape captured her attention and she refocused her eyes to see Jess' car sitting near to the curb. She could only imagine what the upholstery of that car had seen. Through no fault of its own, the car was hated. No, amend that. There was a fault. It belonged to Jess. And it was he who incited her anger. Just the thought of that blonde head. She was suddenly inspired. She could not respectfully rant at him and so she sought to relieve her turbulent emotions on the inanimate object. Since she did not have the luxury of pushing him into the lake, this would have to substitute.
RORY: Stop the car.
LORELAI: [stops the car] What? Why?
RORY: You want catharsis?
LORELAI: Yes.
RORY: I know what'll do it for you.
LORELAI: What?
RORY: Jess' car.
LORELAI: What?
RORY: We egg Jess' car. It's perfect.
LORELAI: Are you serious?
RORY: No one's around, and it's just sitting there.
Sitting there, leering at her, with all the suggestive images it planted in her brain.
LORELAI: Rory, if rearranging Sherry's medicine cabinet is immature, what's this?
RORY: Off the chart.
LORELAI: We can't egg his car.
RORY: Sure we can.
LORELAI: Doose's is closed and we don't have any eggs at home.
[Rory holds up the container of deviled eggs]
LORELAI: You want to devil-egg Jess' car? And how is that gonna make me feel better about Sherry?
RORY: Because it's active! It's aggressive! It's destructive, but not too destructive! I don't know. . .can you make something up?
Frankly, she did not care, just as long as she got to damage that concoction of metal.
LORELAI: Let's do it.
RORY: Leave the engine running.
LORELAI: Good thinking.
[they get out of the car with the container and walk over to Jess' car]
LORELAI: You first.
The steering wheel glinted at her in the moonlight, almost winking as it seemed to jeer her with the fact that his hands caressed its smooth surface and not the creamy softness of her skin. She saw his fingers tapping a beat in time to some pounding melody streaked with a ripping guitar riff as it blared from his speakers. She saw his head leaning against the plush softness of the headrest, his eyes staring straight ahead. She saw him in the backseat, his hands roving to remove the lacy pink bra that clung to Shane's body. Rage surged within her, reminiscent of the furor that had induced her to even suggest this activity to her mother. She reached into Sherry's container and flung the hors-d'oeuvre at his car.
WHACK!!
LORELAI: Wow, nice.
RORY: It made a good sound, too.
LORELAI: How'd it feel?
She'd felt adrenalin seeping into her pores; she'd felt her anger connecting with his car in that one moment when the egg had splayed across it.
RORY: Fantastic.
[Lorelai throws an egg at the car]
LORELAI: You're right, that's good.
RORY: Fun, huh?
LORELAI: I don't think there's been a better use of deviled eggs in culinary history.
She smiled at her mother and continued to vent her insistent annoyance.
WHACK! That was for the lingerie sprawled across the upholstery.
WHACK! That was for not stealing one of her books this summer and filling it with notes.
WHACK! That was for the repetitive images of him and Shane strolling across her mind like a slow-paced movie.
WHACK! That was for not waiting for her.
Her hand delved into the container again, only to discover that it was now vacant while the eggs merrily decorated the bonnet, the hood.it seemed they had done a thorough job.
LORELAI: That's it?
RORY: All out.
LORELAI: Damn that Sherry for not sending more home with us!
RORY: Don't lose your catharsis.
LORELAI: Right, sorry. Wait. . .
RORY: What?
LORELAI: Is that a siren?
RORY: I don't hear anything.
LORELAI: Neither do I. It just seemed a cool thing to say at that moment.
RORY: It was. LORELAI: Hey, let's run back and speed off like we did something really awful and the cops are after us! RORY: Run!
They sped toward the car, hopping in and attempting to squeal away. In the end, they had to falsify that perfect bit of ending to their crime but they did not care. Catharsis, they had achieved.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything Gilmore Girls-ish.
"So pardon me while I burst into flames."
-Incubus
She sauntered out of her room, mischievous strands of her hair trailing along her neck as they escaped the narrow confinement of the black hair- band, which kept the mass of brown at bay. She rolled her neck languorously, gently massaging the tension at its base. She had been reading too long, she deduced, her stomach kissing the bed; her shoulder somewhat hunched as she propped her head. She closed her eyes, inhaled and then strode toward the couch, switching on the television. She thought her eyes probably needed a bit of colourful diversion for a change.
It was just her luck, was it not, that what greeted her was an advertisement for the new Toyota. The freshly implanted image of another new car was triggered. To be technical, the car itself was not new but the very idea that he owned a car was new, to her and to the entire town. Seeing him settled in the driver's seat, his hands resting comfortably on the dark steering-wheel, suscitated enchanting memories of him in another vehicle, HER vehicle, as a teasing smile played across his lips. It had been such an intimate interlude with only inches between them, illuminated by the ashen light of the moon and the soft glow of the streetlights as they drove past. She had cherished the proximity and in her attempt to delay the serenity of being near him, she had instigated a harmless crash that had sent him away. And now the contentment of that calm was fractured.
The cold sleekness of her watch on the delicate juncture of her wrist suddenly held her attention and, absorbing the information it offered, she decided to pay Lane a visit. She really did have to find some sort of a gift to present to her soon-to-be step-mother. And how she was desperate for ideas.
*~*~*~*~
Walking in the general direction of the diner, she was inwardly squirming at the clichéd blanket folded at the bottom of her shopping bag. This would, after all, be her first sibling. She did not care to much for being branded the older sister without enough consideration to give a more thoughtful contribution to such an important creature in her life. Still, she was fond if the possibility of the baby growing up and remaining attached to the blanket that had come from her, Rory, the elder sister. The thought carried a rather charming sentimentality.
The sight of the latest car in town did not escape her. Conscious of the nostalgia it had invoked earlier, she placed her attention elsewhere but her intentions had been doomed from the moment she neared its vicinity. She was like the rest of the town where that car was concerned. Its origins were a mystery. While she would like to think that he had obtained it in some underhanded manner, she knew him much better than that. Yes, he had sabotaged someone else's snowman so hers would win the competition; yes he had chalked the outline of a supposedly dead person but these were harmless acts. Stealing a car was a felony and though Jess was capable of such a deed and had probably been involved in similar capers in New York, she did not think it plausible that he had stolen this one.
Fully intending to head in the opposite direction (for there was a car, there was an owner nearby), she took notice of the expression marking Lane's features.
LANE: That's new.
RORY: Is it?
LANE: I've never seen it before, and I'm very into the minutia around here.
RORY: That's for sure.
LANE: Do you know whose it is?
RORY: Yup.
LANE: Whose?
RORY: Jess'.
LANE: Jess? Jess, the guy who wrecked your car? He's got a car now?
RORY: Mmhmm, looks that way.
LANE: That's outrageous! That's a travesty!
RORY: It's not that big a deal.
LANE: Oh, it's a humongous deal.
RORY: You're taking this very hard.
LANE: Because we're best friends, Rory. We're linked. I feel what you feel. Except for right now because you don't seem to be feeling anything and I'm incensed.
RORY: It's just a car. It's nothing to get excited about.
She glanced again at the car and saw Jess approaching his possession. Her eyes shot to Lane's face and her mind rapidly established all sorts of unhappy conclusions. A showdown was lurking in Lane's blood. Rory tried to deflect it; she did not want a confrontation with Jess.
JESS: Hey.
RORY: Hey.
She was on tenterhooks. He was amicable and was terrified his current attitude would disappear in a flash. Memories of false rain wafted through her mind.
JESS: Hey Lane.
LANE: Hey back at ya, tough guy.
JESS: What?
RORY: Lane. . .
She sighed inwardly. Lane WAS pursuing this, wasn't she; which meant that Rory would have to act as mediator. Not exactly the most comfortable role.
JESS: Something wrong?
RORY: No. . .
LANE: Yes! You have a car.
JESS: I know.
LANE: Don't give me lip!
JESS: Lip?
RORY: Lane. . .
It had been almost an appeal to her, for clarification, for help. she willed this not to happen, all the while knowing that it would occur anyway.
LANE: How'd you get the car, Jess?
JESS: I bought it.
LANE: Really, I thought you might've built it from parts left over from cars you've totaled.
JESS: What is your problem?
LANE: Don't play dumb. You know what you did.
JESS: I gotta go.
LANE: Yes, drive on away, we'll just keep walking. That's all Rory's been able to do these past few months - lots of walking. She's got bunions because of you, mister!
JESS: Bunions?
RORY: I don't have bunions.
LANE: She's too nice to complain about her foot ailments.
JESS: Knock if off, Lane.
RORY: Just get in the car and go, Jess.
He had said he had to go. Please go. She could not control Lane. The least she could do was help him escape this undeserved attack. She had been the one in the accident; she had been hurt. She had walked around with a cast for weeks and still she had never blamed him one second for it; she had never borne him a moment's worth of bitterness or spite. No one else had the right to assault his conscience on account of it. No one. As the words slid from her mouth, she looked again at the car she was ordering him to move. Pink peeked at her from somewhere in its depths and she looked again, distinguishing the well-known shape of female underwear. Realisation splashed over her and she felt the ire welling up in her. This was the purpose of his car?
JESS: I didn't start this.
It was an apology to her but her mind was still focused on that flash of pink leering at her from the back seat. Something within her was ossified; she felt the hardness encasing the vulnerable softness that had been exposed.
LANE: Well, you started it when you wrecked Rory's car.
JESS: Tell your friend to walk it off.
RORY: You walk it off.
She was lashing out, and she knew it. She could not seem to control it. WHY pink lace????
JESS: I'm trying to drive off.
RORY: Then go.
JESS: Geez, how Andy Griffith is this town that people get so excited by a car?
RORY: It's not the car, it's who's got the car.
JESS: Okay, fine, you want it? Take it, I'm sick of this.
RORY: I don't want this piece of junk.
Especially not after it had been the home to what she was sure were indecent acts done with the peroxide blonde from the cosmetic store. Honestly, WHO thought "bloaty" was a word?
JESS: Right. I suppose Dean is already building you another car, something really snazzy.
RORY: Shut up and go.
He had said the wrong name at the wrong time. He knew, damn him, he knew that comparing himself to Dean in her mind would irk her. It always had. It underlined the difference and made the inadequacy of her relationship with Dean so blatant. Yet she looked at him and saw his lips tangling with Shane's and she suddenly could not bear to look at him.
JESS: Gladly.
RORY: Let's go.
LANE: Gladly.
RORY: [to Jess] Oh, and by the way, you left your bra in the back seat.
She stalked off, the unsolicited fury surging within her as she tried her best to force all thoughts of that bra in his hands away from her consciousness.
*~*~*~*~*~
The Gilmore Jeep sped along the asphalt, Rory's eyes darting from the black expanse before them, swiftly disappearing under the spinning tyres, back to her mother whose figure was seething with anger. They swerved into the main are of Star's Hollow, Lorelai's breaths becoming sharper and quicker as her anger sought a release.
RORY: I just hope Dad's happy.
LORELAI: Happy? With Sherry and G.G., the five o'clock ballerina? No way. And to think that I sent him back to her a new man? Man!
She had been trying her best to soothe her agitated mother, but really and truly, to no avail. She was in an even worse state compared to earlier that day and Rory was under the impression that something tame like re-arranging a medicine cabinet would not suffice as it had before. A familiar shape captured her attention and she refocused her eyes to see Jess' car sitting near to the curb. She could only imagine what the upholstery of that car had seen. Through no fault of its own, the car was hated. No, amend that. There was a fault. It belonged to Jess. And it was he who incited her anger. Just the thought of that blonde head. She was suddenly inspired. She could not respectfully rant at him and so she sought to relieve her turbulent emotions on the inanimate object. Since she did not have the luxury of pushing him into the lake, this would have to substitute.
RORY: Stop the car.
LORELAI: [stops the car] What? Why?
RORY: You want catharsis?
LORELAI: Yes.
RORY: I know what'll do it for you.
LORELAI: What?
RORY: Jess' car.
LORELAI: What?
RORY: We egg Jess' car. It's perfect.
LORELAI: Are you serious?
RORY: No one's around, and it's just sitting there.
Sitting there, leering at her, with all the suggestive images it planted in her brain.
LORELAI: Rory, if rearranging Sherry's medicine cabinet is immature, what's this?
RORY: Off the chart.
LORELAI: We can't egg his car.
RORY: Sure we can.
LORELAI: Doose's is closed and we don't have any eggs at home.
[Rory holds up the container of deviled eggs]
LORELAI: You want to devil-egg Jess' car? And how is that gonna make me feel better about Sherry?
RORY: Because it's active! It's aggressive! It's destructive, but not too destructive! I don't know. . .can you make something up?
Frankly, she did not care, just as long as she got to damage that concoction of metal.
LORELAI: Let's do it.
RORY: Leave the engine running.
LORELAI: Good thinking.
[they get out of the car with the container and walk over to Jess' car]
LORELAI: You first.
The steering wheel glinted at her in the moonlight, almost winking as it seemed to jeer her with the fact that his hands caressed its smooth surface and not the creamy softness of her skin. She saw his fingers tapping a beat in time to some pounding melody streaked with a ripping guitar riff as it blared from his speakers. She saw his head leaning against the plush softness of the headrest, his eyes staring straight ahead. She saw him in the backseat, his hands roving to remove the lacy pink bra that clung to Shane's body. Rage surged within her, reminiscent of the furor that had induced her to even suggest this activity to her mother. She reached into Sherry's container and flung the hors-d'oeuvre at his car.
WHACK!!
LORELAI: Wow, nice.
RORY: It made a good sound, too.
LORELAI: How'd it feel?
She'd felt adrenalin seeping into her pores; she'd felt her anger connecting with his car in that one moment when the egg had splayed across it.
RORY: Fantastic.
[Lorelai throws an egg at the car]
LORELAI: You're right, that's good.
RORY: Fun, huh?
LORELAI: I don't think there's been a better use of deviled eggs in culinary history.
She smiled at her mother and continued to vent her insistent annoyance.
WHACK! That was for the lingerie sprawled across the upholstery.
WHACK! That was for not stealing one of her books this summer and filling it with notes.
WHACK! That was for the repetitive images of him and Shane strolling across her mind like a slow-paced movie.
WHACK! That was for not waiting for her.
Her hand delved into the container again, only to discover that it was now vacant while the eggs merrily decorated the bonnet, the hood.it seemed they had done a thorough job.
LORELAI: That's it?
RORY: All out.
LORELAI: Damn that Sherry for not sending more home with us!
RORY: Don't lose your catharsis.
LORELAI: Right, sorry. Wait. . .
RORY: What?
LORELAI: Is that a siren?
RORY: I don't hear anything.
LORELAI: Neither do I. It just seemed a cool thing to say at that moment.
RORY: It was. LORELAI: Hey, let's run back and speed off like we did something really awful and the cops are after us! RORY: Run!
They sped toward the car, hopping in and attempting to squeal away. In the end, they had to falsify that perfect bit of ending to their crime but they did not care. Catharsis, they had achieved.