A/N: Happy one year to this fic. Two chapters remain. Thanks so very much for the feedback, and for sticking with me. To Marissa and Julia, two of my favorite people. Also, here's hoping that if I update, Rebekah will too. ;)
Chapter Ten: When the Stars Fall
The unfamiliarity of her surroundings had sunk in as she slept, spreading through her body, and coming to rest within her chest. A small knot formed, tightening around her heart, until it startled her awake. Rory sat up in bed, gasping for breath, as she clutched the sheets close to her body. Several seconds passed as she wheezed, nearly choking. She struggled to take an even breath, her fingernails digging into her palms. She squeezed her eyes shut, the total darkness almost a comfort, and inhaled deeply. Slowly, she exhaled, feeling the effort become easier. As her panic subsided, she glanced down at her hands. Red crescent moons had formed where she had pressed too hard. She looked away.
Outside, the sun was beginning to rise, sending a dim light through the window. The shade partially blocked it, allowing only broken pieces of sunlight to filter into the room. She used it to her advantage, trying to let her eyes adjust, so she could view her surroundings. Shadows gradually took shape as their blurred edges became more defined. A bureau loomed ahead of her, directly across from the bed, and she watched as the last of the darkness gave way to reveal a pile of books resting on its surface.
At the sight of them, her heart stopped.
She couldn't move as the feeling seized her body, an unfamiliar poison that turned her arms and legs into bags of sand. She fell fast, sinking into the dark. The panic from earlier came back threefold, slipping in through the space between her ribs, and attacking her from the inside. Scenes from the night before danced in her head, snapshots of him inside her, his mouth on her neck, her hands on his back. Memories of her hope, and love, her relief, and confusion. Memories of her lies, her betrayal. Movement was impossible as the night before helped to weigh her down, and before she knew it, she had hit the surface; she drowned.
It wasn't enough though; not a good enough punishment. Not with him lying in bed next to her. She felt a shiver slice through her, several cutting across her back. As numb as she was, she still felt the heat from his fingertips on her skin. She turned her head, and saw his brown eyes staring back up at her.
"Hey," he said simply.
"Hey," she choked.
She faced forward, overwhelmed and terrified, before twisting her body away from him, and getting out of bed. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she was quick to look for her clothes. Shy and ashamed, she wanted to hide her body from him. It was another infidelity, letting him see her like this. That was a privilege that only Sam was supposed to have.
Her underwear was close, and quickly, she pulled it on. Inches away lay her bra, and gratefully, she scooped it up. Behind her, he was moving. She heard the sheets rustling, and the mattress squeaking as his weight left it. She put her bra on fast, reaching behind herself to clasp it in the back. A strap slipped off her shoulder, but she ignored it, looking for the rest of her outfit.
She walked around to the front of the bed, stopping in front of his bureau. She was about to lean down to pick up her shirt, when she felt him behind her. His hand grazed her arm, as he pulled her strap back to its rightful position. He lingered there, touching her, reminding her of what she had done wrong, and how anything she did with him now, no matter how innocent, was another betrayal. The guilt she felt slid up her throat, taking hold of her vocal cords. It settled within her mouth, and she allowed it to speak for her, hoping maybe it could somehow fix this.
"Please don't touch me," she said, her voice hushed.
As soon as the words had left her mouth, his hand was yanked back. She turned to look at him; his eyes were wide, but there were no other physical clues to give him away. His mouth was a thin line, calm and waiting. His hand hung awkwardly by his side, now unsure what to do.
"Last night… was a mistake," she explained, the ache inside her worsening. "I didn't come over here for… for that," she said, eyes falling on the bed.
His expression didn't change; he didn't even move. His coolness unnerved her, but she went on, knowing that she needed to finish this.
"Jess, I'm seeing someone."
He took a step back, as if he expected her words, as if he had foreseen all of this. His head dipped down, then quickly, he looked back up, and met her gaze. "I need to go get ready," he said. "I've got work. You can let yourself out?"
His last statement was barely a question that required no response, as he turned and headed for the bathroom. The door closed quietly behind him, a gentle click signaling the lock. She stood, frozen for several seconds, before walking over to the door, and resting her head against it. She wanted to call out to him, beg him to let her explain, but the guilt blocked her voice, forcing her to remember his calm indifference to her confession.
The shower turned on, the sound muffled and distant, and she began to cry.
-*-
By the time she arrived home, her tears had dried on her cheeks, leaving her skin feeling stretched too tightly across the bone. She entered the house quietly, the knot in her throat urging her to hurry to her room. Any second now, she would begin to cry again, and this time, she wasn't so sure she'd be able to stop.
She walked into the living room, her eyes skimming over her mother's sleeping form on the couch, and continued into her bedroom. She stopped in front of her nightstand table, but found its surface empty. She hurried over to her bureau, but it wasn't there either. Her gaze swept over the floor, searching for her clothes from the day before, praying she would find it inside one of her pockets. Finally, she dropped to the ground, and reached beneath her bed, but came up empty-handed. It wasn't here.
The dam broke then, blurring her vision. She stood up, her stance shaky, and she fell back into a sitting position on her bed. She buried her face into her hands, trying to get the rest of her tears out. She needed to calm down, clear her head, and think of what was going to happen. But she felt so lost. She couldn't picture herself beyond this room; what was she going to do?
"I thought I heard you," Lorelai's sleep filled voice traveled in from the doorway, causing Rory to pick up her head. One look at her daughter's face had her flying into the room, sitting down next to her. "Sweetie, what happened?" The question jumped out of her mouth even though she was certain she already knew.
It took several moments for Rory to regain some degree of composure. Her shoulders finally stilled, and the rush of tears slowed, only a few leaking out now. "I shouldn't have come here this weekend. I was stupid to come," she said. "But I wanted to see him…"
"Of course you did. It's been such a long time. It was right for you to come."
"No," Rory insisted. "I should have stayed away. Why come back? I have a life in New York."
"You have a life here too."
"Not with him," Rory whispered. She was silent for a moment, leaving her head on her mother's shoulder, enjoying the comfort. Tell her, her mind said. Tell her, and she'll tell know what to do.
"What happened?" Lorelai asked again, her voice gentle.
"I slept with him."
The full force of her actions hit her as she heard the words out loud. It was one thing to hear it over and over in her head, but now, with a confession, she saw her future. She would have to tell Sam. She'd never be able to live with herself if she kept it a secret. He'd never forgive her, not for something like this only a few days after he had proposed. She thought back to earlier that week, him down on one knee in front of her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And look what she had done.
"I couldn't… I just wanted…"
Her thought process was off. She didn't know how to explain this to anyone. She didn't even know how to think of all this herself. She was in love Sam; she wanted to marry him. But she missed Jess. He had caused a deep ache in her, a throbbing kind of loneliness that Sam had never been able to help. But she had buried it, lived with it, and done her best to get past it. But he had come back. And now she wasn't so sure she what she had was really what she wanted.
"I love Sam," she said suddenly. "I do, I swear. He's been there for me for so long… he's everything." She paused, disgusted with herself. "He asked me to marry him. He asked me, and I said yes, and he gave me this beautiful ring, one that I wouldn't even wear, and now I can't find it, and--"
"I have the ring," Lorelai spoke up, happy to find something she could help her daughter with. "I found it last night. I wanted to ask you about it, but I never got a chance to."
Relief flooded through her veins, doing little to thin out the guilt. "You do? You know exactly where it is, right now?"
Lorelai stood, pulling Rory's arm so that she would follow. She led her into the living room, over by the door. She pulled the ring out of the hanging coat's pocket, and presented Rory with it. She took it, holding it delicately, afraid it would break apart in her hands. She slid it onto her finger, and studied it closely; it felt heavy and unnatural. She hadn't worn it enough to feel its permanence. She had hid it; she had hid him.
"I don't know what to do," she said softly. "I don't know how to fix this."
Her mother remained silent, but Rory could almost hear her response inside her head:
You can't.
-*-
She sat on the couch, staring at the blank television screen, hoping that if she looked long enough, she'd find a solution in its black depths. It was afternoon now, the day having passed with an agonizing slowness, as she showered and changed with the distant hope that she could simply cleanse herself of the night before. A desperate kind of weariness had overtaken her, but she knew sleep would never come. She hadn't even tried.
Every so often, she would glance down at her left hand, at her ring that now sat in its rightful place. The more she stared at it, the more she wondered how she could have ever taken it off in the first place. If she had just left it on, none of this would have ever happened. She wouldn't be certain that her relationship with Sam was over, and that she had ruined things with Jess. The worst part was she wasn't so sure she completely regretted it. The guilt still held strong, assuring her that what she had done was wrong, but despite this, a small, secret part of her was reveling in the leftover emotions from having sex with him.
She didn't think she could ever completely regret it. Not after years of longing and waiting. Something like this was inevitable; this was something she had needed. She almost wanted it to have cured her of him, a finalizing action: they had reunited, and now they could both move on. But she didn't want to move on. The idea of pushing him out of her life forever terrified her. She was losing him all over again.
And it killed her that she had hurt him. He had trusted her to be honest with him; to stop what was happening if it was wrong. But she hadn't. She had given in to what she wanted, what she needed, and look where it had gotten her. She had hurt them both.
She needed to talk to Sam, although she had no idea what she was going to say. She couldn't call; this was a face to face matter. But she couldn't go back to New York, not yet — not without talking to Jess first. But every time she thought about earlier that morning, any kind of confidence she mustered up evaporated. She was stuck — hiding inside her house, terrified of what the next hour would bring.
A knock at the door snapped her out of her stupor, and she jumped up, surprised. The back of her neck tingled at the thought of who could be out there. Maybe Jess had decided to seek her out. Maybe he wanted to talk to her. Maybe he'd listen.
She opened the front door, and nearly slammed it shut at the sight of Sam standing before her. He smiled at her, voicing a hello as he pulled her toward him. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shirt. She breathed in his cologne, and was rewarded a momentary reprieve from the emotions that raged inside her. His lips brushed her ear as he pulled away, sending a rush of warmth down the side of her face. He met her eyes then, a smile still on his face, and her lungs collapsed from the weight.
She pulled at his elbow, wanting him to hold her close again. He leaned forward, lightly touching her face, and kissed her. For a few more seconds, she was able to forget, pretend that this was just another day for the two of them. She took a step back into the house, taking him with her, and her mind traveled to days earlier — accepting his proposal; being carried off into the bedroom. Abruptly, she ended their connection, turning away from him to shut the door. Guilt was beginning to seep into him now. His touch wasn't going to save her.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, finding she couldn't quite meet his eyes.
"I told you I'd try to make it up today. I called your cell yesterday, but no one answered. I left a message."
She remembered the day before, lying on the couch after having gone through her Jess Box. Maybe if she had answered the phone, allowing his voice to fill her head, reminding her that he wasn't so far away… maybe she never would have done anything wrong. Maybe it would have given her the confidence she needed to confess.
"I'm glad you're here." She hoped she wasn't spouting off another lie. She could no longer tell what was true.
He leaned forward again, surprising her. He pushed her back against the door, deepening the kiss. This time, there was no comfort, only a desperate pain that screamed inside her head. She quickly broke the kiss, fearful that he could taste her remorse. His mouth moved to her jawbone, and then her neck.
"You know of all the stories you told me about this place," he began, his breath tickling her ear, "You never told me the most important thing." Her eyes widened, her mind jumping to hurtful conclusions, but he continued, "Your address."
Now that she thought of it, she never had. Sam had never been to Stars Hollow.
"The people here are very protective of you," he explained, "I had to answer some strange personal questions about you just to get your road. I had to tell the woman I was your fiancée, and supply photo evidence to get your house number."
Her body stiffened against his. Immediately, he pulled back, "What's wrong?"
"Who did you ask?"
"Some dance teacher… I think her name was Miss--"
"Patty?" She interrupted, her eyes wide.
"Yeah. Rory, what's wrong? You look…"
Everybody knew by now. In the time that it had taken for Sam to drive over here, the gossip would have spread all over. Her engagement would be big news; it would be the topic to discuss. Everybody had to know. Everybody.
"No one really knew yet," she said. "No one but my mom." He looked crestfallen at this; she had kept them a secret? "You don't understand… the people in this town… they're going to flip," she rushed to explain, "They're going to make such a big deal out of this. You know I hate the attention. I'm sorry." Oh god, she was sorry.
"No, no, I understand. I'm sorry I ruined the surprise."
"It's fine," she assured him. "Don't worry about it."
But all she could do was worry. She should have just told Jess the full truth that morning. Now he was going to hear it from someone else.
"Now when you say flip, do you mean that if we were to go outside right now, we'd get mobbed?"
"Possibly. The people here are unpredictable. Staring, whispering, and pointing are guarantees though."
"Well, can we take the risk?"
"What risk?"
"Of being mobbed. Because I'd love to grab some lunch, and for you to show me around."
She bit her lip to keep it from trembling, as she tried to picture herself walking through the town, her fiancée on her arm. Under any other circumstances, this would be exciting. Him and her, engaged, together, ready to spend the rest of their lives with each other. But she couldn't imagine it with Sam so blissfully unaware, and herself sinking under the knowledge of what she had done. But she wasn't so sure how she could refuse. Any time they had discussed him coming to visit, she had promised to drag him everywhere and allow him to experience everything. He really wanted to see it. He wanted to understand this other part of her.
If she steered clear of the diner… they could have lunch at Al's, visit her mother at the inn… this could work…
They went out the door, and headed down the sidewalk. He slipped his arm around her back, and she leaned into him, trying to ignore the discontent his touch was now causing.
As they walked, she pointed out certain sights to him, explaining the significance and history. She detached herself from the surroundings, thinking about the town in a general, almost tourist like way, and found that this eased her tension. Her muscles slowly relaxed as they moved deeper into Stars Hollow.
"I've counted six ceramic unicorn stores," Sam stage whispered, eyeing the shops.
"We used to have more."
"More? Is there ever really a need for more than six ceramic unicorn stores?"
"In this town… yes."
She gestured to the dance studio, explaining that that was where Miss Patty worked, all while trying to speed up their walk. They had just passed it, when she heard a voice behind her, calling out her name. Sam instinctively stopped, forcing her to do the same. They turned around to face Miss Patty walking towards them.
"Rory, dear! I haven't seen you at all this week."
"I've been busy catching up with Mom, and helping at the prom…"
"You went to the prom?" Sam asked.
"I was a chaperone."
"First sign you're getting old," he teased.
"So, this must be your fiancée," Miss Patty said, over-enunciating the final word. "It's so nice to hear that you're getting married! I have to admit I was very surprised under the circumstances."
"Circumstances?" Sam asked.
"Well, Rory hasn't been back in town since her graduation. It's just surprising that her first time back here, she's engaged. Funny how things work out."
"Hey, Sam, why don't you head off to lunch and grab us a table. We'll go to Al's, you'll love it," Rory suggested, desperate to end this conversation.
He looked confused and uncertain, and she knew he had finally picked up on her mood. He may still have been in the dark, but he knew something was going on. He'd leave it alone, wait for her to approach him, but it was inevitable now. This was the beginning of the end.
"Sure." His smile had become forced; it unnerved her. He nodded a farewell to Miss Patty, and turned the other way.
"How many people know about this?" Rory asked.
"I only told Taylor… and Babette… and a couple of the dancer's mothers because they were inside when Sam arrived."
"So basically… the whole town," she muttered under her breath.
"He's a good catch," Miss Patty said. "You two look great together. Congratulations, it's nice to see you happy and… moving on with your life."
Rory simply nodded and mumbled a goodbye, before heading back down the sidewalk. She was just in time watch the remaining pieces of her life crumble as Sam waved at her before entering Luke's. For several seconds, she felt rooted to the spot, positive she had to be seeing this wrong. She had said Al's, he had agreed… that was the plan. But this was her punishment, this slow torture gradually killing her. This had to happen sooner or later.
She hurried inside and found Sam at a booth in the far corner. A couple of the customers were staring, but no one had approached him. Luke was at the cash register, and Caesar was just heading back into the kitchen — there was no sign of Jess.
She slipped into the seat across from Sam. He glanced over the top of his menu at her, his express calm but curious. "Hope you don't mind I came in here, instead. I had to try the so called 'best coffee ever' and then steal his recipe, so you'll like mine more."
His tone was light, and she picked up on his teasing. He seemed to have regained his happy attitude from before. Maybe he would ignore what Miss Patty had said. After all, it had been rather vague. She was about to respond when she was interrupted by two mugs being place on the table in front of her. She looked up to see Jess with a coffee pot in his hand.
"Coffee?" He asked, already pouring a cup for her. Sam nodded, holding his up, and Jess obliged.
"Hey, Jess," she said, before he had finished. She didn't feel right ignoring him. She couldn't pretend that she didn't know him. After being without him for so long, she would never do that.
"Hey," he said back. His tone was emotionless; it was an automatic response. She pushed a piece of hair back behind her ear, fidgeting. She figured he'd walk back behind the counter now. But then, "Nice ring. Have you been wearing that all week?"
She stared up at him, startled. Nothing had changed in his face. She hated this icy calmness he held up around her. She almost wanted him to explode.
"Typical guy," Sam laughed. "We're not supposed to notice things like that. Girls, on the other hand, have a built-in radar for these kinds of things."
"Right," Jess nodded. "You must be Rory's fiancée."
"I'm Sam." He stuck out his hand, and much to Rory's surprise, Jess shook it.
"Jess," he responded.
"You a friend of Rory's?"
"No, I just work here." Jess turned back around and disappeared behind the curtain, leading to the upstairs.
"He's the least friendly person I've met today. I like him," Sam said.
"Me too," she responded softly.
She wanted to believe that he didn't care. She wanted to pretend that all that was left was hate, bitter and overpowering. But she knew that everything Jess did, everything he said was an act. At first, this morning, she had almost believe that he could brush it aside that easily. That it just had been meaningless sex with an ex-girlfriend. But she remembered the night before, talking with him in the kitchen; the way he had kissed her…
She had hurt him deeply. He was trying to save himself by acting as if it didn't matter. But she knew. And she couldn't sit here and eat lunch like this. She needed to talk to him.
"I'll be right back. I'm going to go use the bathroom," Rory excused herself, standing up. Sam nodded, looking back down at the menu, not noticing her head up the apartment stairs.
She hesitated outside the door, wondering if she should knock, but in the end, she headed right in. He stood in front of the kitchen table, his back to her. She approached slowly, but she knew he heard her.
"Jess?"
He turned to face her. "You up here to defend yourself? You going to tell me you had that ring on all week? I know you didn't because I checked when I first saw you."
"I--"
"And then I asked you about your life. I figured you'd tell me if you were seeing someone. I mean, a fiancée does fall into the category of how your life is, right?"
"I wanted to tell you--"
"Hey, don't worry about it. It doesn't matter, I know now."
"I should have told you," She began. "And last night…"
"Last night was a mistake, I remember. But hey, it was good sex, so it wasn't a total loss, right? Now, I need to get back to work…" He walked forward toward the door, but she backed up at the same time. She laid her back against it, blocking his exit. He stood in front of her, close, his hand on the doorknob.
"I have work."
"I'm sorry. Believe me, I am so--"
"Sorry? Yeah, everyone's so sorry. Everyone feels so bad. I didn't need your guilt. I just needed you to be honest with me." He turned the knob and the door opened slightly before she pushed back against it, shutting it.
"I want to talk to you. Jess, please," she begged, her voice cracking. He wasn't letting her explain. She needed to make him understand. "I don't want to lose you again."
"Oh, come on, Rory. When'd you ever really have me back?"
Her eyes widened, his question hitting her in the chest. He was here, right in front of her, and she didn't have him. He was as good as gone, lying comatose miles away. He wasn't hers, never would be again. Last night had been a brief interlude, a dashed hope that they both had had. Then they had woken up to morning, to reality, in which he was lost, still trying to return to the natural flow of life, while she was already light years ahead of him with a life of her own.
She took a step to the right, and allowed him to move past her and out the door. His words stayed with her though, bringing with them a numbness that made her forget her guilt. As the silence of the apartment settled around her, she breathed in deeply, waiting for nothing.