Disclaimer: Not mine. Lyrics from "Woodstock" Time After Time. Quote taken from The Fellowship of the Ring, "A Conspiracy Unmasked." Some of the Tolkien discussion was inspired from the Internet mailing group that I moderator at Yahoo!Groups, LOTR Inklings. I especially need to acknowledge Teanna's wonderful essay "To The Sea: Mediations on the Sea-Longing" which you can read here at ff.net, under her profile. It's absolutely incredible and describes so powerfully what I was only able to fumble towards.
A big thanks to the four people who reviewed the last chapter, your words meant so much! So this chapter is dedicated to Jamie, Holly Gilmore, Kimlockt, and Kairbear. You guys are the best!
Chapter 5
And I feel like I'm a part
Of something turning round and round
And maybe it's the time of year
Maybe it's the time of man
And I don't know who I am
But life is for learning ...
"'...Suddenly he found he was out in the open. There were no trees after all. He was on a dark heath, and there was a strange salt smell in the air. Looking up he saw before him a tall white tower, standing alone on a high ridge. A great desire came over him to climb the tower: but suddenly a light came in the sky, and there was a noise of thunder.'" Jess finished, his voice rising slightly on the last phrase, startling Rory out of her stupor.
"What, you're stopping there?"
"End of the chapter. And you were asleep." He responded dryly.
"No, I'm awake." She fought the yawn that tried to escape and failed. She heard him laugh.
"You make a lousy liar. I heard you snore."
"I didn't snore!"
"I outta go, so you can get your sleep. It's late."
She resisted looking at her watch and firmly ignored her numb tailbone. Sitting on the hallway floor was not the most comfortable position, but Paris had gone to bed early. "No, it's not bad. I'll be okay. It's a light day tomorrow."
"It's after midnight. And you present your platform for your party tomorrow." Blast him and his perfect memory!
"I'll con Paris into covering for me."
"Things better with you and her?" he asked with concern.
"I don't know. I mean, it's always been weird between us. I only agreed to come out her because she guilted me into thinking I needed it for my applications. But this is bizarre. When we first got here, she talked to me nonstop, not caring if I cared, not listening to anything I had to say. I had to listen to her complain for an hour about how the quality of Chilton has gone downhill since they changed their policies-which, by the way, is how I got in, so how can I help but take that as an insult? But even that was better than it is now...
"Now, we're roommates and yet we don't say a word to each other, at least not directly. We go to class together, sit next to each other, come home, do homework. I usually go and talk to a few of the girls down the hall for a bit, she practices application essays. I call you, she goes to bed. Wake up, repeat in morning. End of story. It's been three days, Jess, and nary a word. You know how much I love to talk, heck, even she would talk my ear off normally." She ranted, picking at the fuzz of her pajamas, relieved to finally get this off her chest.
"You try, you know, opening your mouth, making a sound? Works like a charm and available without a prescription."
She laughed. "Yes and then the words freeze there or something. And it's not like she's mad at me, at least I don't think so. I've seen 'Beyond Livid Paris' and it's not pretty; she's not hesitant about making her feelings known. This is different."
"She's probably scared of you. You're pretty terrifying."
"Terrifying, huh?" Sheesh, she was already starting to talk like him!
"Yeah. The way you eat chicken, it'd scare, well, they couldn't even show that on Fox's "When Wild Beasts Attack" show, too traumatic." He baited with that infuriating mock serious voice of his.
"Is that right?"
"Yep. You're pretty dangerous when it comes to your wings."
"Huh, well, I guess that's another talent to add the resume."
He became serious. "Don't worry about it, Ror. You'll figure each other out eventually. If all else fails, you could always dye her hair blue when she's asleep."
"And exactly how would that help?" She was laughing hysterically, trying to muffle the giggles so as to not wake anyone up.
"You'd definitely get some words out of her."
She collapsed in giggles, her laughs echoing with his. After several minutes of deep chuckles that were starting to hurt her stomach, she straightened up with a sigh.
He heard her. "I gotta go now."
"You don't even want to know what I thought about the chapter?" She said, ignoring what he said.
"Alright. Tell me, Rory, what did you think about the chapter?"
"I liked it." She grinned impishly. She wasn't her mother's daughter for nothing and one thing she knew-the men of the Danes family got so irritated with glib remarks.
"That's it?"
"Yep. You?"
"I told you to read it, remember?" The sarcasm was layered three levels deep. Nobody could do distain like Jess.
"Right, so that means you must have some opinion. Come on, what great insights has Jess Mariano written in the margins of his book?"
"You're never asked before." He said slowly. Embarrassment colored his tone; he sounded rather uncharacteristically hesitant.
"It's not like I can read over your shoulder here. What did you write?" She pressed, now really desiring to here what he thought.
There was a pause and then a faint rustling. "Beginning of the chapter, where the hobbits are crossing the river, I've written," he cleared his throat with a dramatic harrumph, "'First mention of water archetype: birth-death-resurrection. Creation; purification and redemption; fertility and growth. River represents flowing of time into eternity; transitional phases of the life cycle, change.' Wanna know that I underlined change twice?"
"Archetype?" She questioned; it sounded familiar, but she had lost much of what she had learned at her prep school the past year.
"Universal symbol, found across cultures. Mother Earth, Father Sky kind of thing."
"Okay. So why is the water archetype important?"
"Tolkien hated allegory, irritated him. His friend, C.S. Lewis, that's all he wrote."
She interrupted, his mind whirling through the memories of books past. "The guy who wrote The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe?"
"Yeah, that's him. It didn't take more than 20 pages to figure out that Aslan's supposed to be Jesus Christ. He didn't even try to disguise it." Jess didn't bother disguising his disgust either.
"Yeah, I figured that out at age 10, and I probably hadn't been to Sunday School for a year. The Great Divorce was better, however. "
"Whatever, he's still a nut."
"So this has to with Tolkien and archetypes, how exactly?"
"It's not Tolkien's style. He got pissed when people tried to make connections between Sauron and Hitler, or that he was writing a political novel about of World War II."
"So if it's not an allegory, what would you classify it as?"
"Modern mythology that explores these archetypes. See, Tolkien's an English professor, and he dedicated his life to the study of the myths-Norse, German, Greek, whatever. He wanted a modern retelling of those myths. He didn't purposely say: 'I'm going to write a story and use Jungian mythological symbols to convey my meaning;' he wrote what he knew and loved." His voice took on the excited teacher-with-the-pointer enthusiasm that still surprised her. After many one-syllable conversations with him, this Jess still took a few minutes to adjust to.
"So what does this have to do with water?"
"Water's one of Tolkien's favorite tools for his brand of subtle symbolism. Much of the Lord of the Rings involves some element of water."
"Such as?"
"Nope, can't tell you, would spoil the books. You gotta keep your eyes open for them." She could hear his languid grin spread across his face. "Just think about water. Life requires it, just a few days without it and you're toast. And yet, it can completely destroy you at the same time, by a flood or by not catching on at summer camp. Can't fight its power, it's the great force of the universe. Yet, hard to grasp that when it's a little puddle on the ground.
"Anyway, back to this chapter, there's this short paragraph where Sam is reflecting on how he's never been in a boat before. It says, here I'll read it again: 'he had a strange feeling as the slow gurgling stream slipped by: his old life lay behind in the mists, dark adventure lay in front. He scratched his head, and for a moment had a passing wish that Mr. Frodo could have gone on living quietly at Bag End.' In this paragraph, the stream's this change that Sam has to experience-it's sweeping him along and suddenly he realizes that everything will be different and yet there's nothing he can do but accept it."
"Wow, that's a cool idea. I guess I've never really looked for connections like that before."
"You haven't?"
"Not really. I mean, I remember when we studied The Scarlet Letter in school, before Chilton. The teacher harped on and on about the symbolism of that rose outside of the prison that I couldn't bear to pick up the book again."
"You ever feel like that?" Jess asked.
"Like not reading a book again? Only rarely."
"No, like you've reached this point of transition in your life. A crossroads. Like you have to decide to either get in the water or go back to Bag End."
Rory smiled. Trust Jess to take symbolism and personalize it. "I think so," she pondered the question more deeply. "It's hard to say. I can't remember any big crossroads that I've encountered recently, but then I've heard that you don't always recognize the most significant moments of your life while they're happening to you."
"No fork in your road, huh? No 'Road Less Traveled'?"
"Not really, nothing that I can remember, anyway." Her mind circled back trying to recall some major occurrences. Deciding to go to Chilton, coming here... It dawned on her what event he might be referring to. He didn't want to talk about that, did he? They hadn't ever brought it up and Rory had been more than relieved. But why would he bring it up now? A sinking feeling gnawed at her stomach.
"So, if you came to that crossroads, something different, what would you do?" He pressed, his voice still serious and probing.
"I've never really thought about it before. I guess, I'd look around, you know, analyze all the different directions, check out the roads, figure out what I want, where I want to go and then I'd pick one. And hope for the best." She said quickly, hoping that it would stop the conversation.
"Sounds like a time consuming process."
"I suppose. But, what's that famous quote, 'marry in haste, repent in leisure'? I mean, not that we're talking marriage here, that would be scary, but it's good advice in any case." She giggled nervously. He didn't join her.
"Huh," Jess replied, his voice strained. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you just don't like change? That you won't even look to see if you're at a stream?"
"What do you mean?" The direction of the conversation had definitely changed, and Rory was at a lost on how to get things back to something less...worrisome.
"Why do you read, Rory?" His voice had taken on a somber tone that she was unable to read
"I like to, I guess. Should I have more of a reason?" She questioned, still slightly uncomfortable.
"You always have a book. Entertainment? As an escape?" The derisive tone tore at her. Incredulous at the abrupt change in him, she gripped the phone in bewilderment.
"I don't know, a whole bunch of reasons, I guess. It's different for every book, author. I've never thought about it, really. I just do, I have since I was a kid; Mom used to joke-" He cut off her ramblings.
"Come on, Rory!" Now he really was angry and he made no pretense of hiding it. She clinched the phone cord tightly. "Your world is so perfect, why would you need to seek solace in your books? Is it just because you like it or are you trying to check out of life for a while? You live in a cotton candy world, full of fluffy sugary sweetness. You have your whole life mapped out! Harvard, a world-class reporter, a picket fenced house with a trophy husband to boot. It's what you've always wanted and you're afraid to even look and see if that's changed, if you've changed!"
His anger hurt her and she could only stammer, "That's not...I mean-"
He interrupted her. "Are you still with Dean?"
"What?" A numb feeling spread from her fingers and she couldn't shake the emotion of dread.
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"Yes! You know that!"
'And yet, you call me every night. Why? Have you even asked yourself that question? Or are you afraid of the answer?"
"Jess, I don't understand. What's-"
"You kissed me! We've been dancing around this for weeks, refusing to bring it up, pretending that it didn't even happen! But it did, and face it, Rory, it means that things aren't as hunky-dory with Bag-boy as you pretend. And you know what I think-you're standing on the edge of your own personal river and you're too scared to even get on the boat, never mind seeing if you actually enjoy the ride."
"And what about you?" She countered angrily, her voice rising. "You go on pretending that you despise everyone around you, that the world had given you this horrible deal, just because you're scared to let anyone close, to let anyone care." The tears gathered force behind her eyelids, but she forced them back. She would not let him hear her cry. Down the hall, a girl peeped out of her room, then shut the door tightly behind her. Rory ignored her, not caring how many people she awoke.
"Hey, I've always been completely open about how I feel about you, but it's you who doesn't care. In fact, I moved back to this stupid town of yours and you just ran away!"
She sucked in her breath, pain stabbing at her chest. She didn't say anything. A long, oppressive, cloistering silence descended over the phone line.
Finally she spoke, quietly, tears now streaking down her face. "I can't handle this right now."
He was bitter. "Yeah, well, until you've got things figured out, I don't think I want to talk to you."
She dropped the phone to the cradle in a rush. Dumbly, she opened the door to her room. She placed the phone back on the desk, crawled into bed, pulling the sheet tight around her. She stared at the ceiling. Paris murmured something in her sleep, but Rory didn't hear her, for her thoughts pounded madly away in her brain.
Rory stood on the edge of the Potomac, staring down into the sluggish river. The edges reflected with green from the grass and trees waving softly in the breeze, the sounds of the few tourists muffled in the early summer heat. Across the banks she could see Arlington Cemetery, misty through the heat and smog, Robert E. Lee's House standing guard over the city. She made a mental note to visit the cemetery on her next afternoon, and then turned her attention back to the river.
It was Saturday. Her first Saturday here, although she felt like she had lived an eternity in that one week. Her dorm counselor ruled by the mentality that they were nearly adults and had informed them that they could do whatever they wanted with their weekends as long as it was legal and they were back for bed count that night. The dorms had promptly emptied out. Paris had latched onto her group and insisted that they rewrite the draft for their proposal for next week. Rory had been more than slightly relieved; the thought of spending the day with Paris had been unbearable.
Unsure about the Metro system, she had walked down from the campus to the National Mall. Her plans earlier that week had included visits to a couple of the Smithsonian museums, but after she had walked listlessly through the Lincoln Memorial, barely looking up to read the engraved inscriptions, she had made her way down to the waterfront instead.
The river was slow here, wide and lazy as it flowed on to join the ocean, miles downstream. She plopped down on the ground underneath a friendly birch, resting her head in her hands, unable to move her eyes from the drifting waters. She felt troubled, disquiet deep inside that she was unable to even completely acknowledge, and the worst part was, she knew exactly why she had felt that way. It amounted to more than just lack of sleep, although staying up until one or two every night to talk to Jess all week and then up again at six was not productive to healthy thinking. And that had been before all the drama.
Just the thought of Jess made her stomach queasy. It had been two days since her argument with Jess; two impossibly long days. The nightly conversations had become ritual and she had missed him abominably. It was almost weird how comfortable their banter and discussions had become. Somehow, in a week, he had slipped into the position of confidant and best friend and she wasn't sure why that terrified her. Her mother had always had that spot in her life. Even as much as she loved Lane, she had always ranked her second.
And in just five days that had changed. She had called Jess when she would have called her mother just two months ago. Yeah, sure, she talked to her mom frequently, close to every night, but she found herself censoring the conversation, not telling her certain things because she had already told Jess.
Jess's accusations had more than hurt. Yesterday, she had been so angry at him for blowing up, over what? Because she didn't go looking for arcane meaning in every book she read? Because she read purely because she enjoyed it? Because she didn't want to think about what her link with Jess really was? It grated at her, gnawed at her thoughts, festered in her soul and she said goodbye to him with good riddance. Her mother was right, Stars Hollow was right: he was just a self-absorbed jerk.
The anger drained in her second sleepless night and she cursed herself for her selfish, thoughtless actions. It was she who had been the jerk, the one who had, what was the phrase, "strung him along." She couldn't blame him for being upset, but the night had ended before she had been able to sort through her tangled web of emotions.
So, she found herself on the edge of the Potomac, gazing into the water, thinking about what Jess had said. Water was an archetype for change, he said, and she was afraid of change, afraid of breaking up with Dean.
Dean. She sat for a moment and thought of Dean, thought about the first moment when she had noticed him, really noticed him, the way that his green eyes lit up when he saw her. The warm feeling in her belly the first time he had kissed her. When she told him that she loved him. The many sweet, tender things that he had done for her. He adored her, she knew that and she was happy with him. He had understood when she left for DC, quiet and disappointed but he knew about her aspirations. Yes, she had left before they had talked about it completely, but that was normal-she had already gotten a letter from him and a postcard had been sent back the next day.
But she had kissed Jess. And she still didn't know why. Since they had started talking, she didn't have any desire to kiss him. His conversation and companionship satisfied her. It wasn't like she was still attracted to him, was it? Ever been attracted to him, right? Oh, he was cute; a weak word for even now seeing his face in her mind, she couldn't deny that there was something very attractive about him and his dark hair and piercing eyes. So maybe on some level, there had been something there, but she certainly wasn't thinking about him and her in a relationship... She certainly didn't wonder what he wore to bed or what it would be like to kiss him again (she snapped her mind shut when it pursued that thought a little too far). No, she didn't think about him like that! It was his friendship that she had missed when he moved to New York, and she had just been incredibly happy to see him, right?
It was too difficult. Yes, she could admit that she had feelings for Jess, friendship feelings that she didn't completely understand, but that didn't change the fact that she loved Dean.
Water archetype for change.
None of this was altering the growing awareness that she didn't know what she wanted. It was true, she had planned out her life since before she was twelve. Chilton had been a surprise, but it still was on that path, that dream she had sought since she had first seen Christiane Amapour on CNN. She had spent her whole summer that year watching Amapour cover the desperate situations in Rwanda and Bosnia. Her heartfelt, passionate reporting tugged at Rory and she had been filled with the desire to do that herself. She had never looked back, never doubted her fate in life.
Water archetype for change.
She had been disturbed with doubts since coming here, even before Jess had confronted her; she just hadn't bothered to let them bother her-they were tiny gnats that she swatted away without a second thought. The other girls in her dorm chatted merrily about the different schools that they were applying to, arguing about which was the best major to get into, what they had heard about the application process. A few had ideas about what they wanting to do after college; most brushed it off and said that they'd probably change majors six times anyway. She had squirmed slightly at their gaping looks when she said she was only considering Harvard-and then could not give a better reason than it was a good school. Paris would have said those girls were the "Madeline and Louise's", who would always be wishy-washy, but Rory hadn't been so sure. She had felt rather...immature and out of the whole process. And that bothered her.
Why did she want to go to Harvard? The million-dollar question weighed on her mind. Was it just because it was a dream of hers? It had been fun seeing the campus, pretending that she belonged there, but in all honesty, she had gotten that same feeling from GWU too. College, that's what felt right.
Water archetype for change.
She sighed. Nothing was becoming any clearer. The only thing she knew was that she didn't know anything. Her thoughts continued to swirl as she gazed down at the river.
The day had become twilight by the time she returned to the dorms. She walked in, placed her backpack carefully on her desk. She pulled out a copy of The Divine Comedy from one of the pockets and plopped on her bed to read. The phone rang only moments later and she was unable to repress the fear (or the thrill at the same time) of who might be on the other end, never mind the fact that she knew quite well that he didn't have her number.
"Rory!" Her mom's voice reached over the phone and Rory felt as if her mother had given her a gigantic hug that bowled her over. Waves of homesickness flooded her and she had to choke back tears that suddenly were there.
"Mom!"
"You are never leaving me again, do you here me?" She threatened, the emotion also thick in her voice.
"What about college?" Rory regained control and smiled. It was so good to talk to her, her best friend and mom.
"I'm going to be your roommate, remember." Her mother teased back.
"And when I married?"
"First of all, you're never getting married and second of all, hello, that's where all the good sitcoms come from, with the good live-in mother-in-law repartee."
"Name one."
"Um, Everybody Loves Raymond."
"In-laws live next door, and I said good ones."
"Mad About You?" She replied cautiously.
"Nope. Not even close," Rory adamantly shook her head.
"Well, I thought she reminded me of your grandma. Lavern and Shirley!"
"What? No! Where'd you come up with that? That doesn't even fit at all!"
Lorelai laughed. "So what have you been up to, my dearly departed daughter?"
"You make me sound like I'm dead." Rory grumbled, deciding instantly that bringing up her problems with Jess wouldn't be a good idea. Since she had never mentioned that she was talking to Jess, it probably wouldn't go over that well. "It's been good. Just studied basic government functions. Next week we're putting together a bill."
"A duck's bill or a platypus?"
"No, silly, a bill for Congress. And oh, I got to tour the FBI yesterday."
"Really? Run into Mulder and Scully?"
"Unfortunately not. They must work someplace other than the first floor."
"Duh! They work in the basement. 'Nobody here but the FBI's most unwanted.' " Lorelai mimicked Mulder's deep voice.
"Right, well, I couldn't figure out how to get there-but I saw lots of guns and what they use to solve a crime."
"Duh, you know that from watching CSI."
"Have you done anything besides watch TV?" She accused her mother.
"I learned a new way to tie my shoes. It's much faster and this way I won't be late for work."
"Yes, you will be saved from hitting the snooze button five times by three extra seconds." Endearing sarcasm dripped from Rory's voice. "Oh, I bought you a key chain, it's all official looking, well, except for the part that says FBI Tour, but we could white that out."
"Atta girl! I'll put it next to Winnie."
"Winnie?" Rory questioned, her mind flipping through the hundreds of items her mother had named, unable to come up with a Winnie.
"Winnie the Hippo, remember?"
"Ah, yes. How could I forget little Winnie?"
"So, Paris."
"The person or the city?" Rory bantered, perfectly aware of what her mother was referring to.
"Well, I hear the city is quite lovely this time of year, but no, I was referring to Paris the Person." She joked back.
"Oh, well, she's good." Rory replied, winding the cord around her finger.
"Getting along okay? Not driving you nuts."
"No, we're good, I think. We're not assigned to the same groups, which helps."
"So basically you never see her."
"Just at night." She admitted, feeling a little guilty. It wasn't as if she was avoiding her, it was just easier not hanging out with her.
"Is she there now?"
"No, one of her group drafted something that she didn't approve of, so they're working on that."
"Sounds like Paris."
"Yeah, it's okay though."
"How's the place?"
"GW's great! The room's a little small but I really love the campus. They play this song; I think it's called "Hail to the Buff" every hour. But I've haven't seen anyone going around in the nude yet." She gushed, feeling a little bit of pride for knowing what was going on.
"GW?" Lorelai questioned, puzzled.
"George Washington University, way too long to say. Everyone calls it GW, the ones that have been here forever kinda slur it together so it's "j-dub."
"I was just worried that you were referring to our pres."
"Have we ever referred to him?"
"Not in nice terms, no. That's why I was worried."
"There was a presidential escort through here the other day. Lots of black cars and sirens."
"Wow! Did you sneak a peak?"
"No, his bodyguards were kind of scary-looking and completely unflirtable. But, hey I got to go onto a CNN show, Crossfire, last night."
"Yea! Did you make faces and yell obscenities?"
"Mom. It wasn't that kind of show. Lots of politics."
"Fine, so you're not me." She pouted. Rory just smiled; she knew her mother too well to fall for any of her guilt-trip tactics.
"Mom?" Rory asked, gathering her courage. She was dreading this part, afraid of hurting her mother. The cord was tight around her finer and she clenched it in her fist. Somehow it made her feel slightly better.
"Yeah, babe?" Lorelai could read her daughter well. The joking and teasing were gone from her voice and Rory could hear the unspoken concern.
"What if I'm making a mistake?" She asked hesitantly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, this. I like this school. I sat in on one of the English classes and met a professor. She was really nice. We've only ever talked about Harvard, and the other girls, they have visits to all these different schools lined up. What if Harvard's not my school, but I don't know that because I didn't explore my options." The words poured out, tripping over themselves in her rush to get it all out.
"So, you want to look at other schools." Rory wasn't sure what to make of her mom's quiet voice. Lorelai was never quiet.
"Yeah, not like community colleges, no, but maybe Princeton or Georgetown, 'cause I really like DC and maybe UConn. Or Yale." She filled in the last one with a rush.
"You would consider a state school? Connecticut?" Her mom sounded like herself again, incredulous and laughing at the same time.
"Well, they have a cool mascot." Rory defended her choice.
"Since when have you cared about the mascot? Do you even know what Harvard's is?"
"Well, no. Maybe an elephant?" She replied thoughtfully.
"So Yale too." Her mother brought the conversation back to the topic, serious again and once again Rory didn't know how to read her tone.
"Yeah. I mean, I know you don't like it because that's where grandpa went, but Mom, it's close to home and it's a good school and it's still Ivy League and-"
"Rory, breathe. It's okay. No, I agree, you should check out other schools. Even Yale, although don't tell my dad right away. He'll start getting ideas. Harvard's still on the list, right?"
"At the top, I mean, I still want to go there."
"Okay, then we'll start collecting college information, plan some road trips." Lorelai brightened at the thought of road trips.
"You know what this means, right, Mom?"
"No, what?" She bantered back.
"Mail!" Lorelai gave an excited hoot at the increase of one of the many small joys in her life.
"So how's home?" The cord relaxed around her finger and she tucked her feet under her, the adrenaline draining from her body. The sense of relief was so sweet.
"Oh, you know. Sookie got married, did you know?"
" I was there!" She protested dryly.
"Oh that's right. It's just been so long since I last saw you, you've probably been gone since last December. Nothing's happening here, and I want to hear about you! What are you doing next?"
The banter continued. Rory finally hung up the phone an hour later, a mixture of happiness and deep homesickness swirling in her mind. The need to cry was more pressing than before.
Presently, she gathered her composure and with trembling hands picked up the phone again. Her fingers dialed the familiar numbers alone-her fretful mind had not enough thought to direct to their action.
The phone rang twice, an agonizing pause between each ring. She recognized his hello instantly and blurted out before she could stop herself, "I'm sorry."
Silence, terrible, unforgiving silence, and she almost hung up the phone again. Then, hoarsely, emotion-thick, "Me too. I shouldn't have-"
"No, don't. I needed it. I treated you awful." She paused and then continued slowly. "You're right. I don't know who I am anymore. But, you gotta understand, I can't figure this out all at once. I think I need time. And I need you. As my friend." She couldn't stop the tears and she sat there, rocking back and forth slightly, the tears flowing into the receiver. She didn't know what she'd do if he didn't forgive her.
He cleared his throat. "Deal. Now, where'd we end up? I think we're on chapter 6, The Old Forest..."
With those words, the world became right again. Rory settled back down on her bed, listening to his voice. It was okay.
A/N: Whew, that was a long one! I tried putting them as two separate chapters but it worked so much better as one. I have visited GWU twice before, but I gravitated towards the hospital side of things; it was one of the schools that I had considered for med school. So, if I have gotten any facts wrong, or misrepresented the school, please let me know, because I'm extremely fond of the place. As always, please review and tell me how I'm doing: jcd1013@yahoo.com.