AN: I've been so frustrated with the way this season has handled Jess so far. And I was so determined so hate this season, but damn them! I really like it. Anyway, one night last week, I decided to force myself to write something. Thanks to some feedback from Stew and Laura, I worked on it a bit, and ended up with something I really like. I hope you like it too.
(Inspired by "What If" sung by Kate Winslet)
Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls or anything pertaining to. Although I would give anything to own Jess for like, half an hour. Or he can own me, or we can alternate.....
Summary: Rory's first night alone at Yale. The end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Literati-kind of. One parter
**Special thanks to J.C. for staying up with me and putting up with my endless crazyness.**
Dedication: To Stew. I'm always there is spirit.
Across the Universe
I'm lying here, the sounds of my roommate snoring soundly permeates the room. But my thoughts aren't here. They aren't on my classes, which start tomorrow, or on my mother who's spending her first real night alone. They're on you. I can't help but think about what you're doing now. I thought about you a lot at first, but now, not so much. Europe was beautiful, and I was busy. Every now and then I'd see something, and wish I'd could tell you about it. I'd be sitting in a café, reading a book, and I'd swear that you were sitting there with me. But when I looked up, I was alone.
Everyone's done a really great job of not mentioning you. In fact, I haven't heard your name pass through anyone's lips in months. It's weird. I came back, and I thought that I'd be flooded with memories of you. Maybe if I had more time I would have been. I don't miss you. Not in the way that a jilted girlfriend is supposed to miss the guy who left her. I miss seeing your face though. It's so easy to pretend the past two years didn't happen. To pretend that you never came here, that I never loved you, that you never broke my heart. Why is that? Did I not really love you? Did you not really mean anything to me? I don't know. I thought it would be so hard, and it's not. And I feel so guilty because of that.
Is it like that for you? Do you miss me, or do you just want to? I hope that you're happy. I don't mean that in a condescending way, I really do hope things are ok. I can't pretend to understand that I know why it is that you left. I mean, I get that things were hard here, but I don't really understand why you just couldn't be here anymore. I wish I could have helped you. I wish you would have trusted me. I don't know if there is anything that I could have done, but if you had tried to talk to me, maybe, just maybe, I would understand why you had to leave.
It's funny, I've seen you almost every day for two years, I dated you. And in my struggle to understand why we ended the way we did, I realize that I never really knew you. I don't think that changes how I felt about you, but then again what do I know.
So I've been lying here trying to figure out why it was that you left, and the only thing that I can come up with, is that you had your reasons. I know that you had your reasons, and that they were legitimate-to you, anyway. I know that you must have felt strongly. I know that you wouldn't have left unless you were sure that it was the right thing to do.
So on that note, I hope that you were right. I hope that you find some peace. I hope that you're happy, and I really hope that wherever you are, you feel like you belong there.
You will find your place in this world. I know that it wasn't here, and that it wasn't with me and that's ok. And I don't know how long it will take you, or where it will take you or what experiences you'll have along the way, but I want you to know that I have faith in you. I always have.
You will find your place in this world Dodger. I promise you that.
And remember that you always have a home here if you want it.
Rory looked down and saw a few wet spots smudging her words. She hadn't realized that she'd been crying. With a sigh, she put down her pen and stared out the window.
"I wonder what you're doing now?" she whispered into the vacant night.
She was broken out of her reverie by Paris's sudden snort. Something she knew she'd have to learn to get used to. Either that or buy some "breathe right" strips and convince Paris to wear them.
She looked back down and visually caressed her words before closing the front cover of the book. Tracing the title of the Dickens classic, she once again whispered into the night,
"You will find your place, Jess."
She nodded to herself as she placed the book on her night table. In the morning, she would go to the used bookstore and trade this copy for another; sending her words across the universe and closing the door on this chapter of her life.
Tomorrow, a new one would begin.