Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine. Even the basic plot isn't mine. It's based of a musical titled "Mary Lou" (only in Israel ;)), with a change of some things to suit the plot and characters better.

A/N: This is an AU (Alternate Universe) story. Some characters are not where they are supposed to be or not how they're supposed to be or not in the place you're used to see them at. You'll see.

On the Line

2002

Finally. After months of work, the club his 'family' was so proud of was opening. Lily decided to name it "Glitter". It made him want to throw up.

It's not that he was excited. He was nothing but excited. But he had to go. It was partly his, so he had to go. He wanted to hide somewhere, but he knew Sasha was to send a search unit if he did. She wouldn't let his escape from what she knew was to be something that will obviously make him suffer.

He picked up the portable phone from besides him and let himself sooth as he clicked on the "On" button. If he was going to turn out suicidal after that night, he figured he'd better have company.

He punched a number that he had memorized years ago and waited for the dial tone to cut and for the familiar voice of Mrs. Kim to be heard.

"Kim's Antiques, we're closed. Call tomorrow." Came the line that he often heard at this time of the day.

He rubbed his forehead. "May I please speak to Lane?" He asked, frowning over the fake manners he had to put on every time he was near Lane's mom.

Mrs. Kim checked the large wooden clock that was hanged over her head. "It's Ten. Ten late. You're don't call after Nine." She said in her harsh voice. He couldn't picture her in a good mood.

He sighed. "I know it's after ten, but please, can I please talk to Lane?" He plead, shutting his eyes with annoyance.

There was a pause from the other line. "Just this once?" She asked, her tone slightly mellower.

"Just this once." He echoed her.

She frowned. "You always say just this once." Mama Kim regained her previous stern tone. "And you always call again. No just this once!"

He sighed again, rolling his eyes. "Mrs. Kim, I swear, it's the last time I'm going to call after nine." He clenched the fist of his unoccupied hand, wishing she would cave already.

The other line suffered another pause. "Fine." Came in a defeated tone. "Five minutes."

"Thank you." He said, his tone not very sincere.

The other line came with no reply. He just heard the distant sound of footsteps, of Mrs. Kim's heels clicking on the parquet floor. He was able to hear very little of the short dialog Mrs. Kim had with her daughter, not actually managing to grasp any of the words said. After a few moments, he heard a voice.

"Calling after 9:00 again." Lane smiled.

"Of course." He grinned. "Because calling before nine would be un-cool."

She chuckled. "You know I never tell anything." She said, leaning the phone on her shoulder to help her support it without using her hands, as she opened the doors of her closet and reentered the magical, spiritual world she built herself in there, to avoid the crazy reality she was living in at home. "So you don't have to worry about your reputation being ruined."

He lightly chuckled in reply. "I feel so much better now." He said with fake excitement.

"Glad I could help." She half-smiled. He could sense her half-smiling through the phone. He was able to hear it in her voice. That and Belle and Sebastian's 'Waiting For The Moon To Rise'.

"What's cooking?" He asked her, letting himself relax a bit as he was setting himself to be entertained of Lane Kim's crazy stories. It was about the only thing which brought a smile to his lips in the past few months.

"Well, mama baked a semolina cake." She said with a dismissive shrug and he smiled. "Other than that, nothing much."

"Homework?" He asked, knowing her day schedule by heart.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Bible class." He stated, knowing it would be useless to ask.

"Yes." She faintly smiled

"Salad and Tofu Pie." He grinned.

She sighed. "Yes."

"And apparently, a semolina cake."

"Give the boy a prize." She teased.

"Will it be something featuring semolina?" He asked with narrowed eyes.

She smirked. "It might."

He grimaced in disgust. "I'll pass."

"Good." She nodded, her voice pouring with cynicism. "More for me, then."

"Question." He said, cutting straight to the chase. He disliked dwelling. He didn't really have time to dwell, anyway.

She raised an eyebrow. "Answer?"

"Guess what's happening next Saturday." He said dully.

She shrugged. "You're getting burned at the stake?" She tried to guess, her eyebrows raised from curiosity.

"Almost." He nodded. "Glitter's grand opening." He said, the fake excitement paying another visit to his voice.

"Ah." She nodded to herself. "You want me to jump with you."

He raised his brow for a second. "It's always nice in duos. We can see who lands first, enjoy the pleasant noises of each other's sculls smashing on the sidewalk…"

"Okay, you're freaking me out here." She cut into his words, releasing the support of her shoulder on the phone and holding it back in her hand, as her neck was starting to ache.

He lightly smirked. "Sorry."

"Accepted."

"So… Up to it?" He asked, hopefully. She was always the light in his darkness.

She hesitantly nodded. "Is there any access to the roof?" She teased. "In case Lily decides to make it a Britney Spears tribute night."

"I'm sure we'll find something." He rested his free arm on his stomach.

She was quiet for a moment. "Okay." She said.

"Thank you." He smiled, sincerely.

"Don't mention it." She said, adding a dismissing hand motion.

"Am I passing the five?" He asked, glancing at his watch.

"You're getting there." She nodded.

He sighed. "Talk to you tomorrow?" He asked.

"Before nine." She nodded yet again.

"Duly noted." He grinned. "Bye." He said, shutting the phone. No sappy goodbyes for him.

She got used to it. To him. She learned to despise anything sappy.

He taught her a lot. He rubbed off on her. He caused her to change, even if it was only a little bit.

He caused her to fall for him.

It's been months since he last mentioned Rory. He told her something about how things didn't work out. That was the last time he mentioned her.

She seriously had no idea what happened there. But she wasn't very interested in finding out.

She splashed down on her bed with a smile on her face.

Maybe now he'll see. Maybe now she'll have him as more than a friend.

The phone rang. She chose to ignore it.

It rang again. And she chose to ignore it.

And it kept ringing. And she kept choosing to ignore it.

And it stopped.

And it started again. And she chose to ignore it.

And it rang and rang and rang. She eventually rolled off her bed and limped over to the phone, picking it up.

"Hello?" She asked, accompanied by a yawn.

"Why, hello to you, too." Came a fierce response. "Thank you for blessing me with your attention."

"Paris?" She frowned, wiping the sleep out off her eyes.

"Gilmore." She stated coldly.

"Paris, it's 7am." She stated with a sigh. "7am on a Saturday morning."

"Don't you think I know that?!" Came a reply that was loud enough to cause Rory to move the phone away from her ear for a moment. "Don't you think I have something better to do than sitting with the phone, waiting for you to pick the darn phone?!"

She cringed. "You might have something better to do." She agreed. "Like sleeping."

"Sleeping is way overrated." She lectured, fiddling with a pen. "We need to work."

"In 7am on a Saturday?!" She asked desperately.

Paris stood up and started to pace, the phone in her hand. "I call Madeline, her door is locked. I call Louise, she hasn't even came home yet!" She rambled.

She sighed again. "Well, some of us have a life." She said. "Or are sleeping!"

"Let's get to work, shall we?" Paris ignored her, moving to sit near her desk. "I just got back from the library." She informed Rory, who raised her eyebrows in pure shock. "I found documentary files, commentaries, speculations, historical exhibitions, old papers, graphs, articles and columns written by an unauthorized bunch of clueless halfwits. All that will help us get a better view of what really happened in the 20th century's Russia."

A heavy sigh was heard from Rory's side of the line as Paris gratefully paused talking in order to look for all she needed to look for.

"Oh my dear, dear god." Rory heard coming from the other line. She narrowed her eyes with confusion.

"Paris?" She asked.

"You tell a girl to not get a stupid invitation anywhere near you. Trying doing so." She said as she tilted her head to get better access to the speaker. "See if girl ends up slipping the invitation into your backpack!" She shouted, and Rory covered both her ears as a reflex.

"What did Louise do?" She sighed. It was obvious. It was Paris's daily ranting ceremony. Surprisingly, asking for details was the only thing to calm her down.

"She got this invitation." Paris started, way too fast, like she was waiting for Rory to ask, like she knew she would. "For this stupid party in New York. She's so excited about the whole thing; she never stops talking about it. Party in New York, party in New York. It's like there's all to this world. It's what her life is about, it's the freaking meaning of her life." She kept shouting into the phone.

Rory's heart missed a bit. Party in New York. She remembered the time she was in a party in New York. It was her first time. It was also her last time. She sighed thinking about what happened through it. About how it ended. About the consequences it brought along with it.

"Like I even go to parties, let along in New York." Paris finished her rant with a vital need for air.

"What is it with that party, anyway?" Rory asked, trying to tame the hints of interest and curiosity in her voice.

"Beats me." Paris replied, still panting. "It's this stupid grand opening of this stupid club named 'Glitter'. That name is hideous. It should be slayed, it should be chopped, it should be drowned." She insisted into the phone. "There's probably going to be a convention of the 'I've only got an ounce of a brain' club."

She wished for her to calm down. "Where is this club?" She asked, wondering if it was anywhere close to… Well, him.

"Why do you care?" Paris frowned.

"Just do." Rory replied impatiently.

She sighed and turned to her page. "35th W 3rd street." She read. "Happy?"

It rang a bell. The address. It rang a bell. "Will you please wait a second?" She asked Paris, then rested the phone down without waiting for an answer. She stepped into her room and pulled one of the drawers of her nightstand open. She took out a folded shopping bag. Unfolding it, the title "Mariano's" pinched her. Hard. She looked at the bottom. There was an address at the bottom. There was an address, which read '35th W 3rd St.' at the bottom. And she froze.

It took her a few moments to regain herself and to go back to the phone. To Paris. To human contact.

"I'm coming." She stated as she picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Huh?" Paris asked with confusion.

"To the party. I'm coming." She replied, determinedly.

Paris paused. "Why?" She eventually asked, her face frowning."

"Just because." Rory let out, hiding behind a dark quilt of enigma.

"Are you a member of the 'I've only got an ounce of brain' club?" She asked, crossing her arms to her chest.

"I just wanna go, Paris." She stated, sick of this. "When is it?"

"It says it's tonight." Paris replied, reading from the paper. "9pm."

"Thank you." She said, scrabbling something down on a random pen and paper she found seconds ago.

"Will you please work now?" She asked harshly.

Rory rolled her eyes. "I'll call you later, Paris."

Her jaw fell. "But…"

"Bye." Rory said before hanging up the phone, getting back to her room. She looked down at the bag once again.

Whatever happened, she was going to figure out. Whatever she broke, she was planning to fix.

Whatever happens. happens. She had to be there.