The Question of Inevitability
Author: Knowhere
Chapter 8: Transmit
Rating: Pg-13
Disclaimer: Nothing except for Ben—yep, he's mine.
AN: Sorry for the delay. This chapter was hard to get out and I stumbled onto some writer's block, among other things. But as always—enjoy.
Kimlockt: Even if you never see this message, may people know that you are an amazing writer and that I highly admire your work.
Summary: Rory left in search of an answer to the question that she didn't know how to ask. Now five years later she comes back to the city where she abruptly ended her life with Jess. Does he have the ability to forgive her? Literati/Au/Future Fic
He dragged the laundry bag behind him and stopped at his usual machine. Reaching into his pockets, he brandished several quarters and slipped them into the slots one at a time. Doing laundry became a practiced routine for him; he liked the effect it gave him. The entire process calmed him in a way that was indescribable for others. He would separate his clothes then wait for them to wash while to sat on the hard plastic chairs. Instead of bringing along a book, which has become the norm for his entire life, he chooses to do nothing but sit and think. He just watches the clothes spin in the washer and then in the dryer and it gave him a sense of complacency being able to watch the cleansing process.
After shoving in the last pair of jeans he backed up to sit down and ponder on his thoughts, however his eyes caught the sight of a young woman across the laundry mat. Glancing at her, he stopped and watched from a distance; she was pretty in a conventional way—nothing out of the ordinary or breathtaking. Her slightly wavy brown hair partially covered her face as she leaned down to take her clothes out of the dryer, and he could see her pursing her lips as she meticulously folds the clothing into an orderly stack. He leaned on knees with his elbows and sat still as he remembered a familiar memory that seemed so fresh in his mind, and yet at the same time seemed like a million miles away.
(Flashback)
The coolness of the air conditioner hit his face and he softly sighed at the gentle brush against his hot skin. The door closed softly behind him and he quickly headed over to the elevator. He knew for a fact that she would be home doing some last minute packing. He knew her like a book—her every action, movement, and decision was like routine to him. There wasn't a thing she did that didn't register to him as familiar. And yet, to him, everything she did was exciting—every time she would spark up a conversation, every time she rolled over and molded herself into his body, every time she failed to successfully make a meal—to him, everything was fresh and exhilarating. He couldn't imagine himself becoming bored with her and he couldn't see himself being alone anymore now that he had experienced being with her.
With his hands shoved into his pockets and his usual slouch, he waited patiently as the lift rose to the fifth floor and he walked the short distance to the small apartment. He could pick out the loud music coming from behind the front door, and he quietly unlocked the door with his key and slipped inside without her knowing it. It was two o'clock in the afternoon and her plan was to be in Stars Hallow by six that night. He was supposed to meet her at the diner for diner but he had arrived back in the city earlier than planned, so he decided to surprise her instead.
The bedroom door was partially opened and he could distinguish the many articles of clothing strewn about the room; pants, shirts, and jackets were all over the room in chaos with her in the middle of it all, standing in front of her closet, standing on her tip-toes trying to reach the top shelve.
Walking up, he playfully greets her. "Need some help Miss?"
Quickly spinning around and screaming in shock, she yelps, "Holy crap, what the hell?!"
He smirks at her while she takes a moment to compose her racing heart. In a split second, a full-blown smile erupts on her face and she throws her arms around him in a fierce hug. "Hey you! Your plans changed."
"Disappointed?"
"Nope, now you can help me pack or better yet, you can do it for me." He chuckles at her child-like request and he captures her lips in a powerful kiss that reveals how much he had missed her from the week they were apart. She moans and he relishes the fact that he can elicit that kind of reaction out of her so quickly. She immediately tries to gain control by running her hands over his chest and resting them under his tee-shirt, just above his hip bones—holding him and stroking the skin beneath her fingertips.
"Rory…the packing…" He trails off as she captures his lips once again and begins to earnestly tease him with her hands and lips.
"Later." They tumble onto her messy bed, tangled in each others arms and legs and he rolls over, landing on top of her while he takes the moment to enjoy the view of her beneath him—watching and waiting for what he had in store for her.
(End of Flashback)
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The elevator was silent as it continued its ride up to the planned destination and he waited alongside his duffel bag with his clean clothes as the lift paused to pick up another passenger. "Laundry night, eh Jess? What, no party tonight Son?"
"Nah, just having a night in, Mr. Hastings."
"Why waste a perfect Saturday evening? Go out and have fun…seize the day while you're still young and able to do things. Don't wait until you're an old guy like me."
"Sure thing, Mr. Hastings. See you later." The elevator door closed behind Jess and he nodded slightly to the elder resident who had always taken a liking to him. Mr. Hastings was friendly and always quick to dole out his words of wisdom; at first it was unnerving to Jess to have someone always give out advice to him, but then he learned to take those words to heart and put them to action.
Jess shifted the bag to his right hand while he fished for his keys in his pocket. Not paying attention to his front door down the hall, he jingled his coins and whistled tonelessly as he searched for his house keys. Finally coming up successful, he fingered the right key and lifted his head to look up. There was someone crouched at his front door with a curtain of brown locks surrounding her face—burying her, sheltering her from the world. He paused in shock but he hid his surprise and just asked in an even tone, "What are you doing here?"
She scrambled to her feet from her position on the floor and looked down at her shoes in fear that she was imagining him standing in front of her. "To be honest…I really don't know."
He forgot all about opening his door and just stared straight ahead at her face. For five years he hadn't seen the face in front of him right now; for five years he had spent nights laying wide awake in bed wondering what she was doing and what she looked like. He had often wondered if she had changed her appearance, but with one single sweep of his gaze, he could see that physically—nothing had changed. She looked a little more tired and weary and her eyes didn't have that blue sparkle, but she didn't change much. At least on the outside. He suddenly felt extremely weak and he dropped his bag and sunk to the floor with a thud.
She nodded in silent acceptance and also dropped back down to the floor and crossed her legs in a typical Indian style. He subconsciously matched her position and she stared at her hands while he couldn't take his eyes off of her. It bothered her that he was staring so intently, but she knew that it was his own way of trying to get a handle of things. She had the time to get use the fact that he was living in the city and to his lifestyle, but he hadn't had that same privilege of getting an inside look on her life like she had on him. He needed his time and although his gaze was burning a hole straight through her, she didn't comment on it because she understood that she had no right to ask him to stop.
He wanted to run. Badly. It was instinct for him but he also wanted to stay. Badly. The situation was a double edged sword—on one hand, he wanted to leave and forget he ever saw her face; but on the other hand, he wanted to hear the reason. That one reason that held him firmly planted to the ground also made her want to burst into tears at the sight of him.
She finally got the courage to look at his face and she slowly brought her gaze up to match his. Their eyes locked and she tried her best to read them but failed. His brown eyes were dull and empty, but at the same time, they reflected a million emotions. Anger, confusion, longing. They were all there—wanting desperately to be understood by the woman that sat in front of him. She was there for a mission and so she broke the ice. "So…this is where you live, huh?" Her voice was barely above a whisper but he heard her loud and clear, like a foghorn in a dark night.
"Yeah, this is home."
"It's nice." Their conversation was going nowhere and it began as a dead end, but at least they were talking now.
"Yeah." But that was it. Their talking ceased and both turned to listen into each other's breathing. It was rhythmic and it followed a pattern until he abruptly got up and unlocked the door. He didn't invite her in but he left the door open, so she took that to be her invitation.
He walked into the apartment, not caring about the noise he made when he dropped his bag or the clatter that bounced off the walls as the shut the fridge door after grabbing himself a bottle of beer. Her, on the other hand, walked in timidly without a sound and stood awkwardly at the junction of the kitchen and the living room. He passed her on the way to the couch and she followed his lead and sat on the chair opposite the couch where he perched. He tilted the bottle, needing that drink more than he had ever needed one before; it calmed him as the liquid passed from his lips to his throat and he occupied his fingers as they picked at the label.
Once again she broke the silence. "So I guess Ben told you about what's been happening."
"Yeah."
"Yeah…" She repeated his statement but trailed off into the abyss of silence once again. The silence was unnerving and comforting at the same time. It intimidated her because she didn't have a clue what was going through his mind, but it was consoling to be able to sit in his presence once again. She didn't know what to say so she said the first thing that popped into her mind. "You look good…I mean, it looks like you're doing good, right?"
His eyes flickered to hers for a moment and then back down again to the floor. His cynical chuckle escaped his lips and she recognized the sound. "Yeah well, looks can be deceiving."
"Oh…" It was time to get to the point. She was torturing the both of them by dancing around the topic and it was unfair to him. "Listen Jess, I want you to know that I'm not here to hurt you or anything, it's just…"
He cut her off swiftly, "It's a little late for that statement, isn't it?"
That silenced her quickly and she ducked her eyes. "Ouch." He looked away, ashamed for his comment and yet the anger brewed beneath the surface. She looked back up and regained her composure. "I guess that was well deserved."
That surprised him. In the past, the Rory Gilmore he knew would had been disheartened at his curt response but this woman who sat in front of him had a new sense of self-esteem. It impressed him to see her be able to pick herself up again even though he had just shot her down—and now; he was more intrigued than ever to stay.
"What I meant to say, was that I'm not here to cause any more problems. And I know that I don't have the right to be here right now, but when I ran into Ben and he gave me that lecture of his…well, he made me realize that I owe you at least an explanation. I realize that I owe you a hell of a lot more than that, but it's the one sure thing that I can give you."
He listened to her and then all of the sudden he spoke up, startling them both. "You're different, you've changed." His voice sounded nostalgic and regretful.
His odd statement made her pause for a second. "Yeah well, you've changed too. I guess it's the one thing you can't avoid—change."
And then all of the sudden the anger that was hiding came into full view. Something had snapped and his calm and cool exterior betrayed the emotions that he had hid so well. He was angry and he couldn't stop the words from escaping. "Rory, let's just cut to the chase. Why don't you just say why you left? Okay? Why don't you just reinstate the fact that the small state college kid wasn't good enough for the big-time ivy-leaguer? Why don't you just say it and get it over with so you can go back to your fairy tale life and go drink a cup of coffee and call it a day? Another thing you can check off in your life-list—tell the guy who was so fucking desperately in love with you the reason that you left without a word." He hadn't meant to say that last statement. It revealed too much—much more than he had ever wanted anyone to know, but he just couldn't help it. Five years of bottling up emotions was taking a toll on him, and this was the way it was escaping.
She was stunned. Was that truly what he had been thinking for all those years? That he wasn't good enough for her? God, she wanted to just curl up and die. It was bad enough that she had to leave the man that she loved, but hearing him say those words was like a knife to her heart. "God Jess, when did my life become so screwed up? I can't believe that's what you think."
His chest was heaving from his burst and he sat back down as he heard her declaration. "What?" His whispered, not trusting his voice for fear that he would break down.
The tears ran steadily as she buried her face in her hands. She was choking on her own tears; they ran hot down and over her cheeks—burning her and barely giving her a chance to catch her breath. "You were everything to me, Jess. Everything that meant something had to do with you and it scared me how much I depended on you. I was so afraid of being without you that it dawned on me." She paused. He was staring straight at her once again—begging her silently to continue. "I realized that it seemed that I couldn't be without you. It was like, we weren't even two different people anymore. It felt like we were just one person—so deeply encased and deep into one another that it scared me."
"I don't understand. What are you trying to say?"
"The night before, well…" She didn't want to say it. She didn't want to say aloud 'the night before I left.' He got the idea and she continued. "I remember asking you what I would do without you. And it frightened me because I felt that I couldn't exist without you. As if I couldn't live, literally live, without being with you."
He finally got the idea and he couldn't decide whether the truth was better or worst than what he had believed to be the truth all those years. "It looks like you're doing fine without me. Congratulations, you succeeded—you can live without me in your life."
"I wouldn't exactly call what I've been doing living. More like merely existing."
"After five years you basically show up out of nowhere to tell me that you just got fucking scared? That's the reason you left; because you had some sort of screwed up dawning of your conscience? You know what the ironic thing about all of this is? Every time I got scared and had that urge to run from us, I never went through with it because I would come to realize that I couldn't put you through the pain of such a bullshit excuse of leaving. Back then I didn't think I could live without you either, Rory. But I had thought that it was more of a flattering comment, not something that makes person want to run away."
"I never said that it was a good reason…it's just the truth."
"Yeah well, you've said it—it's done. You happy now?"
"Happy? You're not the only person who's hurting, Jess. I totally realize that everything was entirely my fault, but I'm not exactly jumping for joy. I haven't been able to fully sleep at night because of the guilt that eats me up alive. And I can't even be with anyone else for more than two weeks without thinking that I'm somehow betraying you even though I haven't seen your face for years."
"Oh, I'm sorry I'm putting such a crimp in your dating life." His tone was low and dangerous. His eyes flashed with anger and disappointment.
"That's not what I meant. Don't twist my words."
"Dammit Rory! What the hell do you want from me now?" His voice rose so loud that it echoed throughout the apartment.
She matched his tone and also elevated her voice. "I don't know! But I know that being without you is just pure hell and that I'm sick of wondering what you're doing or where you are, practically every moment I'm alone. I'm sick of wondering how much you hate me and I'm sick of the fact that the only way I can see your face is through old pictures."
"What are you trying to say?" His voice returned to its normal decibel after her confession.
"I don't know." She spoke barely above a whisper.
"Then I can't help you." He got up off the couch and walked towards the door. He opened it and then turned back to face her. "I think it'd be better if you just left now."
It wasn't a request, it was a command and she nodded. Heading for the door she departed without another word. She continued and waited patiently for the elevator to arrive. Stepping inside she breathed in deeply and pushed the button for the ground floor. She did it and that was it.
AN: Okay, so it didn't really play off exactly as I had planned. I had started this story with pretty much one definite thing—the reason behind the departure. And for some reason, I never saw myself writing it like that but what the hell. It's an AU and they've grown up—they've matured and finally both of them realize what can actually happen in the real world. I hope that this chapter was at least some sort of surprise for you; that is my only goal—to have a reason that the average person would not foresee. The next chapter will be the last and that's it. Tell me what you think—tell me anything, this chapter would be the one chapter that feedback is highly requested.