Title: The Empty Space
Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls, the characters, or the WB. And if I did would I be here writing fan fiction? ;)
Dedication: To the lovely reviewers at Stars-hollow.org who were so kind, helpful and sweet. Especially Lorena, Arianna, Jenz, Shannon, Kelly and stargazer. *hugs* I hope to see you around here for the revised version. :)
To Mai, who's wallpaper based on the same poem inspired me.
A/N: Thank you for reviewing. :D Just wanted to say again: This is a revised version of a fic already done.
Please R&R.
Chapter Three: The Endless Dear Rory's
He sat upright in his bed, looking up every now and then to take a quick glance at Kate. Peaceful. He slowly closed his book, as if the sound could wake her.
He was too exhausted to read, but not entirely to the point where he was on the edge of sleep. Though he knew very well he shouldn't have, he stared directly at the empty space in the wall. There was something that fascinated him about the space. Maybe it was the fact that a flood of emotions tumbled over him as his eyes met the space. It made him feel… alive… if it made any sense.
He glanced at Kate again, guilt seeping through him. She was innocent in all of this--his newly-found situation; an accidental victim. Kate had no knowledge of Rory, or much of his past that had taken place in Stars Hollow. In a queen-sized bed, lay Kate, calm and clueless; beside him, sat Jess, desperately trying to solve his fate.
It was unbelievable that after all these years, the happiness and love that filled his life, could be doubted in one dream about his past. It turned his live around, looking to be conceived as fake. He had thought about Rory plenty of times, mainly when he had first arrived in Venice Beach, but she had been far from his mind lately.
Ever since Kate had moved in, his thoughts about her became less frequent. Just when she had finally vanished from his mind, that's when she appeared. Fucking karma.
He had been so preoccupied in another world where Kate and Rory didn't exist these past few days that he never noticed the changes that he hadn't recognized until today. It's the way he feels when Kate is around him. When she places her hand on his face or tiptoes to kiss him.
No heart racing or choked breaths. Not even the nerving butterflies that swarmed inside the stomach. The golden rush that lasted for three years was cut off and shoved elsewhere. Even that, he felt guilt for.
He slipped out of bed, and grabbed his wallet along the way. He tiptoed quietly out of the bedroom, and down the stairs. He slowly descended past the steps, so afraid he might wake her.
He made his way into the kitchen, and switched a few light switches on. His naked feet are cold against the hard tile. He placed the wallet on the kitchen table, and barely picks up his feet as he moved across the kitchen. He opens a kitchen cabinet and takes out a dark coffee mug, and soon reaches for the cold pot of coffee nearby. He pours himself a cup and reheats the mug inside the microwave.
In less than a minute, the smell of fresh coffee has returned. He takes it with him as he takes a seat at the table. He takes a long sip, filling his mouth with coffee. It's warmer than he expected, and it burns his tongue. He licks his lips, small drops of liquid on his mouth.
He stares at the wallet in front of him, and hesitantly picks it up with one hand. He lets it sit in the palm of hand, feeling strangely heavy as he does so. He believes he's just imagining things. He doesn't open it, but instead, brings it along with him to the living room. He shuts off the kitchen lights and leaves the coffee on the table. It doesn't cool down as it should.
He turns on a small lamp light, near two symmetrical filing cabinets. He sits on the ground and pulls a key from behind a piece of furniture: his hiding place. His fingers fumble with the key as it slips into the lock in the bottom drawer.
He hears the click and opens the drawer hesitantly. He knows what lays inside the bottom drawer. He knows what's inside that he's not sure he can face. Inside is a collection of letters, letters he had never sent.
They fill the drawer as a messy heap, piling on top of the other. Some lie folded, some opened. Some are tucked into envelopes, the ones that were so close to being sent. His eyes scan over the first layer, reading her name more than a hundred times. Rory Gilmore … Rory Gilmore … Rory Gilmore … Dear Rory… Rory-- … Stars Hollow, Connecticut…
He feels sick as he reads the tiny words. He wonders why he puts himself through this type of torture. But there is no escape. He can shut the drawer and push it all aside, but the hundreds of Dear Rory's can haunt him forever.
Both of hands move through the letters, he brushes them, looking for something in particular. As he does, sappy lines and apologizes meet his eye. Finally a brown package is revealed, under the pile of letters. He takes it out slowly and places it on the ground.
It's wrapped with brown paper and white string. He reads the label with her name again. The thread is so loose he can remove it in seconds. He turns the package over where the folds are and rips the tape away. Soon, the back cover of a paperback can be seen. His tired fingers turn it over to the front.
E.E. Cummings: Complete Poems 1904-1962
He sighs and flips through the yellow pages. He stops the task when his fingers meet the desired page; a note between the pages.
Rory--
I can't keep this.
I'm sorry.
- Jess
It lies between the pages of the poem he hopes she would read after the note. He closes his eyes briefly, feeling a kind of indescribable sadness. It felt so much more terrible after being avoided for so long.
Reluctantly, he brings the book closer so he can read the words.
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
As he finishes, a voice upstairs calls for him. He almost jumps at the sound.
"Jess, where are you?" he hears Kate call.
Her voice is so sweet and loving. It makes him want to cry from shame. He stares blankly at the words in front of him, lost.
"Jess?"
"Here," he croaks.
Silence.
"I'll be right up," he adds.
He gathers up the brown paper and string and shoves it back inside the filing cabinet. He locks it shut with his key and returns it back to its original place.
He gathers what he needs and turns off the light.
Unknowingly, he carries the book along with him.
But he does know that he'll never be able to speak to Kate in the same tone: loving.