Disclaimer: Jess has moved in with me, after ASP and Co. neglected and abused him; I gave him safe shelter and I'm not letting him go, but the rest don't belong to me. Lyrics: "Dark End of the Street", The Other Side (With Chuck Brown).
Dedicated as always to my reviewers: ren, fireman fred, AvidTVfan, LitJunkie and kimlockt, you have no idea how your words have encouraged me and directed where I was taking this fic.
Chapter 7:
At the dark end of the street
That's where we always meet
Hiding in shadows where we don't belong
Living in darkness, to hide alone
You and me at the dark end of the street
The phone was ringing as Rory walked into the room after spending four unproductive hours at the library. Delivering a glare to Paris who sat undisturbed on her bed, Rory dumped her books in the middle of floor as she made a mad dash to catch it before the other person hung up.
"Hello?" Silence greeted her. She cursed under her breath—she was sweaty and hot and it had all been for a prank call—and asked again, "Hello?" Her tone had a lot more bite to it this time.
This time, a deep voice answered her. "Talk or read?"
"Excuse me? I'm sorry, but I don't accept solicitations—" Never fond of telemarketers, she was rather angry by this point.
"Rory, it's Jess." His voice was mildly exasperated mixed with amusement. She could sense that infernal smirk on his face.
"Jess?" She questioned with more confusion, twisting the phone cord tight around her fingers. "What are you—how did you get my number?"
"Telepathy?"
"Jess, be serious." She couldn't say why exactly this upset her so. Despite the rapid beating of her heart and the exhilaration that was coursing through her veins, she felt out of control of the situation, exposed, vulnerable. His calling changed everything, things that she even hadn't known she was dependent on. It messed with her schedule: call Lorelai in the morning or early evening, Lane on Wednesday afternoons, and Jess at night, late night, so her mom wouldn't get a busy signal and wonder. She stalked across the room, her thoughts flustered, trying to ignore the dawn of a knowing sneer on Paris's face. She composed her face, calmed her breathing, releasing the cord from her finger—a nervous habit of hers, she was discovering. "I've always called and I know I never gave you this number."
"Not by magic either, eh?" He sighed loudly, even though she hadn't responded. "Your mom was in here the other day and she forgot her cell phone. So I swiped the number before I gave it back."
"You stole my number, Dodger?" She harassed lightly, her rational side kicking in, the momentary misgivings pushed aside. She was acting ridiculous. She forced herself to relax, concentrating on calming her pounding heart, trying not to think on why she had reacted so powerfully. He had just surprised her, that was all. She would have felt the same way had it been Lane or…Miss Patty or anyone else from back home who called unexpectedly.
"Yeah."
"Wait, my mom went to Luke's? That's great! I'm so glad they're talking again!" She changed topics quickly.
"Hold your horses, Sharpshooter. Pure desperation drove her to our little cafe. First time all summer."
"Oh," She frowned in disappointment. "She hadn't mentioned making up, but I had hoped..."
"Nope."
"Rats. Does Luke know that we....talk?" She asked hesitantly, embarrassed that after four weeks of daily conversation she was only now aware of what Luke might overhear. A faint rustle across the room distracted her; she glanced up and met Paris's eyes. The girl still had a smug gloat on her face as she strutted out of the room. The last time she could recall Paris looking so gleeful was when she found out about Mr. Medina and Lorelai. Rory groaned, wondering what new methods of torment Paris would come up with this time. And she was worried about Luke finding out!
Rory could hear Jess roll his eyes. "New bedroom finished, right? I sit in my room, he sits in his and watches baseball, thinking that I'm planning a robbery. And right now, he's cleaning up the diner."
"And why aren't you helping him?" She demanded.
"Morning shift, up at five stuffing napkin holders. Now, would you answer my question?"
"What question?"
"Did you want to talk first or read? Although I guess I should assume since you never shut up, it's probably the first." His tone was teasing.
"Ha ha." She felt restless, the adrenaline still in high concentration in her body. Normally, she was drawn into the story that Jess's voice painted for her, but tonight she knew she'd be unable to concentrate. "How about talk first, read, then talk some more?"
"You're a greedy one."
"Compromise is for weenies. I want it all."
He chuckled at her cheeky response. "Okay. Talk."
"Um, it was my first day at work today?"
"Work?" He questioned, "Oh, right, you became an intern today. How are you, Ms. Lewinsky?"
"Ha, that's a good one. Senator Riley wasn't even there today. All I did was fetch coffee and listen to the interns talk about how this was going to boost their resume and then at the end of the day, I got assigned homework. So, now, knowing absolutely nothing except that 'leadership training' sounds better than 'intern' on a resume, I'm to turn in my ideas on a solution to some social issue, as well as the weaknesses of Riley's new bill that he's submitting to committee."
"I thought you'd be overjoyed at the thought of rubbing shoulders with Washington's big guys." He remarked dryly.
"No, not me. I don't like politics that much. I've told you, the only reason that I ran with Paris was because she needed me as a running mate and Harvard wants leadership experience."
"Paris has that much power of you, huh? What does she do, hypnotize you in your sleep?"
"Oh no, you're not going to start on a lecture about being the 'master of my own destiny,' are you? Because then I'll have to drag out all of my astrology books to prove to you that it's all written in the stars. And don't tell me that it's good for me either!" She groaned, not wanting to get into a discussion about how she enabled Paris to exploit her. Their last conversation, he had called her a "moving sidewalk," because, as he put it, she was so nice that not only did she let people walk over her, she assisted them.
"What political party does your mom belong to?"
That wasn't the response she was expecting. What happened to the sympathy? The cheer-up talk? "Um, Democrat, I think."
"You don't talk about it?"
"No. I think she said something after the whole election mess last year, and she makes jokes about Bush, but that's it. Oh and I think my grandpa's Republican, but we don't talk about it much."
"So, there's never been a cause that has gotten you fired up? You didn't write your Congressman in the fourth grade telling him that the lily should be the state flower of Connecticut."
"No." She laughed. "I'd have asked for buttercups, anyway. That was my favorite flower then."
"No cause that's become your zeal?" He pressed.
I guess I'm more of an impartial, neutral kind of person. Call me Switzerland. And hey, that's what makes a good journalist, right, being able to objectively present both sides." She contended.
"No, a good journalist knows that politics and religion are what make the world go round. Every war, every problem, every solution, somehow one or both are involved. They use their activism to explore topics that interest them and then they report on them. Take your beloved Christiane Amanpour. You think she's in Afghanistan and Kuwait right now because she likes the sand? She's there because she lived in Iran, saw how abysmal things were there. Now, foreign policy's her life, not some assignment."
She desperately tried to ignore the sudden surge of happiness that Jess knew about Christiane Amanpour. Giving up completely on understanding her erratic emotions, much less controlling them, she focused on what he was saying. "So, you think I should get a cause?"
He laughed, a sound that came more and more frequently. Half the time, she forgot that he was the sullen, monosyllabic boy that she had first known. "Yeah, see if you can find one on sale at Wal-Mart. I just thought that you, of all people, would take more of an interest in some of the legislation going on. Take the issue of abortion—"
She groaned. "No thanks."
"What?"
"Come on, Jess, that's everybody's 'issue.' I've passed more pro-life and pro-choice rallies in the past week than there are residents of Stars Hollow. It's so overdone and not worth all the attention that everybody gives it."
His voice was light. "And you said you didn't care about anything." He grew more serious as he continued. "I actually thought that you might have more of an opinion on this one, though."
"Why?" She questioned.
"Besides your unnatural obsession with movies and emotional attachment to such works as Cider House Rules and High Fidelity?" He continued over her protests. "Your mom was sixteen when she got pregnant, right? She didn't marry the guy and from what you've told me, your grandparents don't seem like the type who would welcome the news. Did you ever ask her if she considered an abortion?" He probed.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because…I don't need to. My mom wouldn't do that."
"Yeah, but according to the Supreme Court, it was her right. Think about it. Her life could have been completely different if she had chosen to terminate her pregnancy and your life would never have been. You were a bunch of cells that she could get rid of and continue on with her life.
"Yeah." She was quiet. She had never really thought about how her mother's life would have been if she hadn't been born. Her mother would have finished school, and maybe married her dad, who wouldn't have been her dad, because she never would have been his daughter—The thought of not existing was rather distressing and she felt her chest constricting.
"Think of it another way, rather in terms of life and death. In any other place except this godforsaken town, as long as I don't break any laws, what I do in my home and bedroom is my business and no one else's. A man, you don't know who he's doing, until you enter a locker room. But pregnancy is this blatant billboard that declares in no uncertain terms what's been going on. Some women don't feel like wearing that sign. That's more of what Roe vs. Wade was about legally, this right to privacy."
She didn't say anything, still attempting to picture her mother's life without her. He must have sensed her discomfort. "Listen, Ror. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable or anything. I just wanted you to see… My mom almost had an abortion with me. But my dad convinced her that he'd marry her, so she went along with it. Of course, he took off the day after I was born. Taylor's wishing she'd gone through with it."
"I don't think Taylor is pro-choice, though." She mused, unsure of whether she should be comforting him or even how do that.
"Oh, he's pro-choice. His choice. He chooses for everybody." He replied dryly. There was certainly no love lost between the two of them.
She felt better, reassured by this unexpected connection between them. She had never labeled herself as "unwanted," even with the jabs that her paternal grandparents had thrown her, but she knew that it had taken a long time for small town Stars Hollow to accept her mom and the scarlet letter that Rory caused her to wear. And it felt nice to know that Jess more than understood. "Hey, what happened to your cynicism, Mr. The-World-Don't-Treat-Me-Right?"
"Didn't offer it enough money. Took the job next door." He riposted in a deadpan.
"Huh." She mimicked his usual response. "Hate it when that happens."
"It's not like I believe any of this anyway."
"What??" She was completely thrown by this change in direction. If he didn't believe it…
"I plan on being a bum. Encompassing apathy is part of the job description. You on the other hand, Miss Foreign Correspondent… Ever read All the President's Men?"
"No, I watched the movie once for history." She was getting used to his Socrates method of answering questions, so she waited patiently for him to explain his reasoning.
"Read it, better than the movie. Take that one incident, Watergate. A break-in in a hotel, right down the street from where you live now. That was it: a normal, rather mundane crime. And suddenly, these two reporters start investigating and you have this whole conspiracy, a resigned President and a now apathetic country of voters."
"Okay??"
"Politics is a lot like that—it looks simple on the outside and before you know it, there's a whole web that you're caught in."
"Then why—"
"I'm getting to it. You got the chance now to get an understanding of how one government works: the basics, the ABCs, the nitty-gritty, the inane. So when you do become like that cute Michelle Pfeiffer reporter on that movie, you'll know what's going on underneath. Or maybe by the end, you'll decide that a career as a manicurist is more your thing." His voice took on a cowboy drawl by the end; he was obviously baiting her with his chauvinistic attitude.
She refused to be goaded. "Okay, I'll give it a try." She grudgingly agreed.
"That's my girl. Whatcha reading?" He switched subjects smoothly, leaving her to wonder if she had only imagined the slight emphasis on the phrase.
"Same as you, since you're reading it to me." She replied, perplexed. "Did you want to get back to it?"
"Uh-huh. I'm supposed to believe that you, a literary harlot—"
"Hey!" exclaimed Rory, "that's a little strong!"
"Fine, a literary devourer, has refrained from reading anything else because I'm reading to you? You inflate my ego."
"Okay, fine. Yes, I read other books. Happy now?" She grumbled.
"Such as?"
"Well, earlier this summer, I read all of Dante's books, along with a really great translation of Goethe's Faust—"
"Not sure where your soul's going, eh?" He interjected.
"They're on the reading assignment for next year."
"Ah."
"And right now, I'm trying something a littler bit...lighter."
"Hmm. You sound guilty."
"I do not!" She protested feebly. How was it that he could sense any wavering on her part, clamping down with steel jaws, until she gave in?
"And you still won't admit what it is, this guilty pleasure. Spill, Gilmore." He commanded in a falsely stern voice.
"You'll laugh." She weakened, giving in to the inevitable.
He sighed. "What, do I have to pinky swear that I won't? Jeez, just tell me."
"Okay! One of the girls down the hall, Kate, she brought the whole series with her and so I've been reading...Harry Potter." She finished in a near whisper.
"Harry Potter." Jess repeated slowly.
"Yeah."
"That's it? Thought it was some of those soft porn novels that masquerade as romances."
She grinned sheepishly. "I guess I was afraid that you'd think it childish."
"Nope. Bought any toys yet? I hear you can get matching sheets and towels."
"You promised you wouldn't tease me!" She was laughing despite herself.
"You believed me?"
"I certainly know better now!"
"Despite being the latest stampede-in-the-mall craze, you like it?"
"You know, I really do. Oh, it probably doesn't deserve all the popularity and hype that it's received, but it's pretty good. I just finished the third book last night and I'm amazed at Rowling's creativity and imagination. But don't worry, I still like Lord of the Rings best." She teased back.
"Favorite character?"
"Um, the twins, Fred and George Weasley. They're pretty minor, but they make me laugh. 'But we're not stupid -- we know we're called Gred and Forge. '" She quoted with another laugh. "I think I'll keep this away from Mom—they would give her new ideas."
"How long did it take you to realize that Sirius was one of the good guys?"
"Not until the end, I was—" She stopped, amazed. "You've read them yourself."
"Me?" His voice was angelically innocent.
"Don't deny it! I'm on to you! You just pretend that you're above all of the merchandising and New York Times Bestsellers lists, but I know you."
"Feel better?" he interrupted her rant with mock sincerity.
"Yes." She replied primly. "At least, I am a liberated woman. Self-actualized, actually."
"Don't start waving wards. And no English accents. Uh no. Now, I've given you ideas." He moaned with a theatrical flourish.
"How really corking to see you, gov'nor!" She laughed at his groan and couldn't help continuing, "So, mate, who you been snoggin' this holiday?"
There was silence on the other end. Too late, she realized what she had said. "Um, that means kissing…" Nope, that didn't improve things either. Why couldn't she just keep her big mouth shut?
"Just the girl down the street." He responded, his voice low and…sexy. Did she just think that? A hot blush spread over her cheeks. Since their talk almost three weeks ago, when she had asked him for more time, their conversation had been completely friendly. The Pillow Talk-type innuendo no longer garnished his banter, which for some reason she missed sometimes. And then, she had to do something like this.
"Oh." She whispered. The pause lingered and the tension was making her heady. She felt as if she couldn't breathe, didn't want to breathe because that would break this indefinable flash. For a moment, she swore that magic was real—she could feel the spell he cast, draping over her, enclosing her.
She opened her mouth. The door opened. Paris marched in, grabbed a notebook, and left, slamming the door in her wake. Rory shook her head.
"Um, so you, you're reading what?" She said desperately, trying to bring the conversation back to safe ground. Books, always a good choice.
"Oh, a little known book called Lord of the Rings." Jess's voice was light again, although it seemed to ring with regret. "Have you tried it?"
"No. Although this strange guy seems to think I'd like it and for some reason he's been reading it to me." She joked back, relieved that he was willing to let it go.
"And?"
"I don't know. I think it's about a ring. I try not to fall asleep."
"Maybe it's the guy."
"Maybe."
"It might be better if I read it to you." He said slowly, as if contemplating the matter deeply.
"Hmm, maybe so. Shall we make it an experiment?" She giggled back.
"Might as well. Got nothing better to do. Previously, on Lord of the Rings, our brave heroes had split up yet again. Aragorn had decided to fulfill his destiny and had traversed the Paths of the Dead while Merry had refused to be left behind and so now is riding into war behind a young man named Dernhelm, who seems very familiar to the readers."
"You're doing that deliberate foreshadowing thing again."
"Am I?" He replied nonplussed, "Our story continues with Chapter 4: The Siege of Gondor. 'Pippin was roused by Gandalf. Candles were lit in their chamber...'"
Two days later, Rory arrived early at Mr. Riley's office. She had to admit, it felt pretty cool walking up to the senate end of the Capitol Building and showing her pass at the employee entrance. She wondered briefly if she could bribe the guard into taking her picture in front of the metal detector—Lorelai would absolutely love it.
She quickly settled down to a large pile of papers that needed to be sorted. Jess had, as usual, been right. While she couldn't say that she relished her job any more than she did, she was amazed at how much she was learning and how comfortable and interesting the daily routine was becoming.
"Gilmore, was this yours?" One the interns, Jamie, asked, waving some papers in front of her that looked vaguely familiar.
"Um, yeah. That was my proposal outline."
"You ought to put your name on it, if you expect credit. I had to track you down by elimination. Don't let it happen next time."
"Wait, I thought Senator Riley was reading them…" She questioned, slightly flustered. She had been working with Jamie and the two other interns in the office for three days now and still hadn't had more than a glimpse of the Senator.
Jamie laughed. "Ol' Bob's too busy wining and dining for support for his latest bill. No, Dave and I grade your papers."
She flipped through her paper. No grade. No comments. No pen marks anywhere. She looked up at him in confusion.
He leaned back on the desk, arms casually folded, a bored expression masking his face. "So, welfare reform. Haven't seen that one before."
She blushed at his sarcasm. "It's overdone. I knew I should have gone for the stuff on the privacy act. I can give you a new one by tomorrow—"
"Hey hold on." He placed the paper out of her reach. "No need to shred it yet. You had some interesting ideas: welfare as extended loans, extended tuition tax credits, government supported job network."
"I just wrote what made sense to me—sir." She amended. Jamie was only a few years older than she, but if he was grading her, it wouldn't hurt to maintain that respect. "Welfare's been one of those issues that everybody loves to argue about how best to fix it but nobody really knows how. I think the main problem is that it's basically a free program, benefits with very little responsibility—"
"Ah, but you've idealized the problem, turned it into an 'After School Special.' There are people like your family who need very little assistance and then there are those whose livelihood is getting welfare checks, and that's all they want. So what's your solution?"
"I don't know." She faltered. She never did well put on the spot.
He looked at her intently for a long moment, a frown still creasing his features. Then he broke into a friendly smile. "Good work, Gilmore."
"Really?"
"Yes. Of course, you forgot to factor in some arguments and it's too impassioned to ever pass Congress--you've watched too many Mr. Smith Goes to Washington inspired shows, and I'd keep all personal references out. You telling me about how your mom was a single parent at age sixteen and avoid welfare was too much pathos for a proposal—but you've shown some ingenuity, researched the facts thoroughly and came up with a unique solution. In fact, I'd say you have a knack for this."
She smiled inwardly, thinking of her rants to Jess. "I did kinda enjoy it." But that didn't change the lack of grade…
He noticed her puzzled glance back down on her paper. "Don't worry Gilmore, it's a pass/fail system and you earned your 'P'." He handed her another stack of papers. She repressed a sigh at the growing mound of work. "So, you're from where? Stars Hollow?"
"A small town in Connecticut, near Hartford."
"Hmm. Doesn't show as much as I thought it would. So, you're one of the kids from Chilton, right?"
She bristled at being called a kid, but nodded.
"I heard your speech last week. Riley wanted to make sure that the kid we got in the office knew something about how the big machine works. There was another girl from your school, unusual name, like Spain or something."
"Paris." She supplied.
"That was her. She did an unbelievable job talking about the Separation of Powers Doctrine and how it weakens the effectiveness of cooperation between the different branches." He gushed, showing more passion about that subject than he did her paper.
"Paris knows a lot and can deliver a good speech." She refrained from adding that she would also harp on you until you agreed to her view of things.
"So, you know her then?"
"We're roommates here, so, yes, I do." She answered distractedly, as she squinted at the small print on the pile, trying to figure out how much time she'd have to spend in the library, researching the facts and information for accuracy.
"Wasn't she also at the Introduction to Lobby Day luncheon on Monday?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah, she was there, with the rest of us from Connecticut. I believe she was chasing Senator Liebermann down the hallway asking why she wasn't assigned as one of his interns."
"I thought that was her. You don't forget people like that. Does she have a boyfriend?"
"No, not that I'm—what?" She startled, sure that she had misheard him.
He grinned. "Your roommate. Paris. She's a nice girl, yes?"
"Yes." Nice wouldn't be the word that Rory would use to describe her, but the meaning could stretch to cover Paris. And she did have her moments…
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" His grin widened slightly. "You," he pointed at her, "have a roommate. I," he pointed at his chest, "am interested in meeting before mentioned roommate, as in a date."
"You want me to set you up?"
"Well, yeah."
"But, but you don't even know her! She doesn't know you. I mean, yeah, you kinda met at the luncheon, but I doubt she'd remember you." She stammered, certain the next moment he would declare that he had gotten the months mixed up and thought it was April 1st.
He strummed his fingers against the desk impatiently. "Look, I don't go for the Barbie types—I'd rather have them with brains and spunk. Paris intrigues me. So I'd liked to get to know her."
She stared at him, mouth agape. Jamie had struck Rory as rather smug and infuriating when she first met him, and while her opinion of him had improved over their short acquaintance, well, the thought of dating him, of being interested in him, had never crossed her mind. But Paris? She studied Jamie intently, trying to see him as Paris would. She had no idea what kind of guy Paris found attractive—the only basis of understanding was her crush on Tristan and at the time, Paris was too busy hating her to tell her exactly why she liked him. Jamie did remind Paris of Tristan—not in looks, but the attitude was similar. And Jamie definitely had brains and ambition, traits that Paris demanded in everyone she associated with. He was a nice guy too, for the most part, and Paris would probably appreciate his sarcasm.
And Paris was probably pretty lonely, she mentally justified. Rory herself was a little lonesome, but she had made a few friends with some of the other girls and she had her mom and Jess to talk to. With a surge of guilt, Rory thought of the many times that she had passed Paris sitting alone in the campus library or the hours on her bed studying, where Rory hadn't said a word to her. She had seen Paris with Brad a couple of times, but hadn't processed that it meant that Paris was pretty desperate for company if she would put up with him. Perhaps Paris wouldn't mind meeting someone new, a new friend.
"Gilmore? You still there?" Jamie waved a hand in front of her face.
She snapped out of her reverie. "Jamie, I can't just set you up, she'd never forgive me. But I could give you our phone number and tell you where she studies in the GW library. Anything else is up to you."
He beamed in appreciated, words of thanks gushing from his mouth. He really was a nice guy. As she wrote the number down, she tried hard to silent the little niggle of warning that was worming to the front of her thoughts.
The phone was once again ringing when Rory opened the door. Sighing, she managed to avoid throwing a death threat towards Paris, who this time, was sprawled on her bed doing absolutely nothing that Rory could see. At Rory's insistence, Jamie had indicated that he was going to try to talk to Paris in the library before he called; that left only one possible person on the other end. And she had so much to tell him.
"I found a cause!" She announced loudly as she raised the receiver, plopping down on her bed.
"And the police told me that I was forever lost! I'm so relieved that I am no longer a lost cause."
"Mom, what have I told you about puns?" Rory demanded, feeling disappointed that it wasn't Jess.
"That they're not very punny? Get it, punny?" Her mother giggled as if she had invented the most humorous joke.
"Ha ha. Twice is going overboard."
"I know! See what happens when you leave me! Next, I'm going to be only able to talk in limericks!" Lorelai wailed dramatically. "I have no one to balance my brilliant repartee! You have to come home now!"
"Only two more weeks, mom. I think your comedic career can stand to wait until then."
"Fine. But when you get home, we're crashing Saturday Night Live."
"Mom, you have a life-time ban there from the last time we did that." She joked back,
"That wasn't my fault! Besides who could say no to my pretty face?" Lorelai continued in a more serious voice, "so, who were you expecting?"
"What?"
"When you answered, you sounded as if you were expecting someone else."
"Oh, um, no one really…I was telling…Lane, yesterday about a paper that I had to write about a social issue, and I thought…it was her again." She sweated, praying her mother didn't pick up on her hesitations. Across the room, Paris snorted loudly, the flaunting smirk again on her face.
"Oh, okay. What was your issue? You sounded really excited about it."
"Welfare reform actually."
"Welfare reform? Aw, my baby's getting a social conscience!" Rory waited a moment for some probing comment about how she felt about the current system and why she thought her ideas were good enough to fix it. She was disappointed when it didn't come. She shook her head and reminded herself that this was her mom here—deep philosophical musings were not her forte—and not…Jess. But there was a subtle deficiency in the chatter, a lack of substance that she had never noticed when talking to her mom, and it was disconcerting.
Lorelai hadn't noticed her daughter's silence. "So the strangest thing happened today?"
"Really? Did Kirk move out and now is your roommate?"
"Stranger, although can I say 'ew'?"
"Babette and Morie adopted a platypus?"
"No, but I shall have to suggest that to them."
"I give up, what happened today?" Guessing games with her mother could last a very long time.
"A daughter of mine giving up after only two tries, can it be? Who are you and what have you done with Rory?"
"Ah ha! You found out that I was abducted when I was fourteen and am really just a clone of your daughter?"
"Yes! Or no. So I go to work this morning, same as usual, and guess who I found leaving coffee on our front steps?"
"You caught the coffee fairy! Oh Mommy, is she pretty?"
"Honey, how many times do I have to tell you that the coffee fairy isn't real? No, this 'fairy' was none other than Jess!"
"Jess?" Rory questioned, trying to keep a steady voice. Her heart had suddenly started beating in double time.
"None other than the resident hoodlum himself. I asked him what he was doing and he made up some story about how Sookie had ordered some from the diner and skedaddled. Sookie was as mystified as I was." Lorelai still sounded puzzled, as if she was still working on the mystery.
"Was the coffee any good?"
"Well, after we feed it to the cat, and it didn't die—"
"Mom, really."
"You never know! Yes, the coffee was good. And so were the Danishes."
"He gave you Danishes too?" Her heart hadn't slowed down; instead it was pounding madly against her temple.
"Yeah, the strawberry cream cheese ones I like so much."
"Maybe he was trying to apologize for what happened with, you know, me and …Luke."
"It'll take a lot more than free coffee and Danishes to make things right, Rory."
"I know, I just wish… Maybe you could give him another chance."
"Maybe, honey." Lorelai's voice resonated with skepticism. "Hey, you knew that Jess was back?"
"Um," she stalled, suddenly feeling like that proverbial deer in the headlights. Caught. Panicked. "Lane must of mentioned it." She invented quickly, praying that she sounded convincing, making a mental note to call and corroborate the story with Lane. She hated lying, but in the circumstances…. She had managed to avoid all mention of Jess in her conversations with her mother, with anyone, not on purpose exactly. His name never came up and it was too…awkward bringing him up herself. Lorelai would probably be on the verge of homicidal, finding out now about their nightly chats, even with free coffee.
She breathed a sigh of relief as once again, Lorelai did not pursue the exchange and went on to regale Rory with Sookie's latest cooking mishap. The conversation didn't last long. Rory had lost interest in any of the town news and begged off with excuses of papers. She hung up the receiver with a deep sigh.
"Hear any roosters recently?"
She jumped at Paris's mocking voice. "What?"
"Lying to your mom, what was it, three times? Surely a cock should be crowing his head off. That is what happens to liars, isn't it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She denied coldly, picking up her book in a determined effort to ignore her roommate.
"And all over a boy. Jess. The diner boy, right? I remember…I lied to your boyfriend about him too, covering your guilty conscience. Interesting."
Rory remained silent, her face and ears burning, forcefully disregarding the satisfied look on Paris's face.
Paris leisurely slid off the bed, deliberately keeping her gaze on Rory as she slowly tied her shoes, arranged her books and sauntered across the room. She paused at the door. "You know," she remarked sardonically, "maybe Miss Moral Gilmore isn't as perfect as she'd like the rest of us to believe. But would Jess really remain your friend—" her emphases were biting "—if he knew how ashamed you were of him. Think about it."
The slamming of the door did nothing to alleviate Rory's guilty conscience. For a long time, she didn't move and her face burned in shame, as the shadows encased the room.
A/N: A couple of things. I tried really, really, really hard to avoid sounding like I was taking a stand on the issue of abortion (which seems to be the cause of the week on ff.net). I know what a tricky and tender topic it is to many people, and as a doc-in-training, I'm expose to both sides on a daily basis, so that's what I tried to portray. Also, I know next to nothing about politics and the government—all of the stuff about welfare, I pretty much just pulled out of a pretty box, and I tried hard once again to avoid shoving it down your throats. That said, if anybody feels like telling me that I failed and ideas on how to improve would be greatly welcomed: jcd1013@yahoo.com.