Defending Bjork

Chapter 11: A Book-and-Record Love

A/N: No, your eyes aren't deceiving you! This is a new chapter of "Defending Bjork." As I'm sure you know, it's been a long, long, long time coming, but I finally managed to jump various life hurdles and get writing again. As penance, I'm offering you an extra-super-duper long update. Insanely long. Unbearably long! I had a great time writing it, so I hope it was worth the wait. Along the way, I was about to give up on the whole thing, so I (and anyone who enjoys this story) owe some people a deep debt of gratitude. While I know no one likes long author's notes, I gotta do it. Jump ahead to the story, if you must. Ali, Green Eve, Kat, & Kim... you four are an endless source of gape-mouthed awe and inspiration! The fanfiction community is unbelievably lucky to have you. And Shannon, thanks for all of the brainstorming assistance! I couldn't have even begun this chapter without your help. Now get writing! J

This chapter is dedicated to the FanForum girls and the Literatis... and, most of all, to my sister Sarah, who read this chapter every step of the way and remained positive and helpful, despite my complaining. Lastly, to everyone who's stuck with this story so far, I hope you enjoy the chapter. I still like reviews! *nudge nudge*

Disclaimer: Any borrowed dialogue and/or plot points should be attributed to the brilliant writers of "Gilmore Girls" (except for the cherry bit, which, for the record, I wrote first. Pfft on them!).


Refilled coffee mug in hand, Lorelai walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, her eyes falling on the double-issue magazine she'd been reading and silently mocking just moments before. Taking a sip of her drink, she scanned the cover titles again.

"The Hottest Hemlines for Summer."

"From Flannel to Fabulous: Male Makeovers."

"10 Ways to Thaw Your Frosty Love Life."

Rolling her eyes, she glanced over at her daughter's bedroom door, hoping Rory would be awake and prepared to distract her. She listened carefully, waiting for any sign of activity. When she got nothing but silence in return, she sighed and, against her better judgment, allowed her gaze to trail back over to the magazine. As she read the titles again, she felt herself succumbing to the patented, grocery store check-out aisle brand of wisdom.

"Secrets About Spas You Never Knew."

"Rope a Bad Boy Without Getting Burned."

Before she could get sucked in even further, she tore her eyes away and leaned back against the couch. Bringing the cup to her lips for another sip, she made a concerted effort to focus on nothing, but, soon, almost of their own free will, her eyes journeyed back to the glossy cover.

"Quiz: Are You a Vampire Slayer or a Damsel in Distress?"

Her fingertips tapped lightly against the side of her ceramic mug as she mulled the inaccuracy of the score she'd gotten. After a moment, she leaned forward and flipped through the magazine pages until she reached the one she wanted. Her eyes skimmed over the questions as she quickly recalculated. After a second round of tallying, she tossed the magazine on the table and frowned. Then, slowly, a small smile began to spread across her face. Without another thought, she placed her cup on the table and headed towards the side door, stopping only long enough to grab her jacket from the closet.


Moments later, with fierce determination in her eyes, Lorelai dragged a rickety ladder out of the garage and across the front lawn. The vibration of the ladder against the cool morning ground sent tingles up her arms, but she refused to let it distract her from her goal. Reaching her destination, she yanked the ladder up to a standing position, leaned it against the house, and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Smiling proudly, she headed back towards the garage.

Once inside, her eyes scanned the perimeter for the necessary tools. It occurred to her that she wasn't entirely sure what those necessary tools were, but she figured she'd know them when she saw them. Her eyes fell on Rory's old bicycle, a lawnmower, a broken shovel... none of which would be very helpful at the moment. She had almost circled the whole area when she noticed a bag of unopened planter's dirt, a pair of unused gardener's gloves – complete with the ever-important floral pattern, and one of those scary gardening tools that probably had no purpose in life except to serve as a conveniently-placed prop in low-budget horror films. Silently thanking Rory for her brief flirtation with gardening, Lorelai snatched up the gloves and pulled them over her hands. Then, wielding the pick, she headed back towards the ladder. When she reached it, she didn't give herself time to second-guess her decision but instead started immediately up the rungs.

Once at the top, she carefully repositioned herself so she had a good angle and forcefully shoved the head of the garden pick into the gutter. As soon as the pick hit its mark, huge globs of black gutter sludge rained up towards her, splattering against her jacket and face. Surprised, she jerked back, causing the ladder to sway precariously. As her life passed before her eyes, instinct kicked in, and her body hurled itself forward towards the support of the house – her left hand scraping painfully against the edge of the gutter as she struggled to grab on.

Her heart racing and her breath coming out in erratic bursts, Lorelai clung to the side of the house in a state of shock. After a moment, she nervously shifted just enough to peer over her shoulder at the ground below. Too afraid to move, she did the only thing she could think of. "RORY!"


"So, are you gonna tell me what you were doing up there?" Rory asked as she walked into the kitchen, holding a spray bottle of disinfectant and a gauze bandage.

"Re-enacting a scene from 'The Boy Who Could Fly'."

"Suffering from a flesh wound, and she's still doing stand-up."

"How do you know I'm joking?" Lorelai asked. "It's common knowledge that 'The Boy Who Could Fly' is a cinematic masterpiece. Is it really so farfetched that I … ow… ow… OW! Hey! Hand there!" Lorelai exclaimed, as Rory gently rubbed some of the cleanser across her palm.

"I'm being as gentle as I can."

"Well, could you try channeling Ben instead because Gentle Rory is not so gentle? What's in that bottle? Lemon juice?"

"You do realize that I was sleeping ten minutes ago, don't you?"

"You do realize that I nearly died ten minutes ago, don't you?" Lorelai retorted.

"You didn't nearly die."

"You could've been an orphan."

"Actually, I'd only be motherless," Rory pointed out. "I'd still have Dad."

"Wow! I'm writing you out of my will."

"You didn't nearly die," Rory repeated. "You definitely embarrassed yourself in front of the whole neighborhood, but you didn't nearly die."

"I think I'm gonna sue."

"Who?"

"The magazine that made me believe that cleaning the gutters was good for me."

"What were you reading? 'Better Homes and Gardens'?" Rory asked, as she tied the gauze bandage around her mother's hand.

Lorelai glanced up at her daughter and frowned. "No, not exactly."

"Martha Stewart Living?"

"Are you sure this isn't too tight?" Lorelai asked, bending her fingers around the bandage.

"You said you needed a tourniquet," Rory smiled.

"Loosen it."

"No."

"Loosen it, Rory, or I'll hold you personally responsible when my hand is amputated."

"You're right-handed anyway."

"Remind me to wake up someone else next time I'm at death's door."

"Will do," Rory agreed, heading towards the hallway. "I'm going to take a shower, so we can get to Luke's in time for breakfast."

"You aren't going to loosen this?" Lorelai asked, holding up her injured hand.

"Nope."

"My fingers are turning blue."

"They are not."

"They're starting to tingle."

"Mom…"

"No, wait, now they're numb. I can't feel my fingers. I do still have fingers, don't I?"

"If I loosen it, will you promise to let me go take a shower?"

"I promise."

"Fine," Rory agreed. "Come here."

"Thank you!" Lorelai said gratefully, as she hurried over to her daughter.

As Rory began to undo the bandage, Lorelai looked at her thoughtfully.

Feeling her mother's eyes on her, Rory glanced up. "What?"

"Did you know we have a lawnmower?"


"God, I'm starving," Lorelai said, as she took off her coat and collapsed on the diner chair. "Must be from the loss of blood."

"Yes, that must be it," Rory teased.

"I'm getting pancakes with a side of pancakes," Lorelai grinned, scanning the diner. "Where's Luke?"

"I don't know. Storage room?"

"Oh no!" Lorelai complained, glimpsing Caesar out of the corner of her eye.

"Caesar's cooking," Rory moaned unhappily.

"Why is Caesar cooking?" Lorelai asked.

"I don't know."

"That's bad."

"His pancakes stink," Rory moped.

"They do stink," Lorelai agreed.

"Well, what do we do? Resort to doughnuts?"

"Wait here," Lorelai said confidently, before sneaking over to the stairway leading to Luke's apartment.


Reaching the upper floor, Lorelai knocked on the apartment door. "Hey, Luke, are you in there?"

The sound of falling boxes and Luke exclaiming "Ow" echoed out into the hallway.

"Luke, are you okay?"

"Stupid box! Stupid lamp!" Luke shouted.

"Hey, Luke, are you being attacked by your possessions again?"

Lorelai had barely asked her question when the door opened, and Luke appeared in front of her, a white, knee sock on his shoulder.

"Hi," she said casually.

"Hi."

"Whatcha doing?"

"I'm looking for my supply ledger," Luke stated.

"Is it going well?"

"It's going fine."

"You have a sock on your shoulder," she said, gesturing towards it. "Is it helping you look?"

"What are you doing up here?"

"Rory and I are starving. We need you to cook us breakfast," she explained as she followed him into the apartment and looked around. "Oh my God!"

"Caesar can make you breakfast."

"What happened to this place?"

"Nothing."

"This is what I always pictured the inside of my head to look like," Lorelai said, walking further into the apartment and looking at the complete and utter chaos that surrounded her.

"See if you can find a brown leather ledger," Luke told her.

"I've never seen so much stuff. It looks like a white trash Hearst Castle in here."

"On second thought, I'll find it myself."

"Where'd all this come from?"

"Jess. Liz shipped the rest of his stuff last week. He finally unpacked."

"Well, he did a very nice job."

"I know it's crazy now," Luke admitted, "but I just have to get it all organized, figure out where to put everything, buy another dresser, a portable wardrobe, some storage bins."

"Can of gasoline, box of matches," Lorelai quipped.

"Did I mention that Caesar can cook you breakfast?"

"But he doesn't make the good fluffy pancakes like you do," Lorelai complained.

"Then order eggs."

"No!" Lorelai exclaimed, holding up her injured hand. "See, I had a near-death experience today."

"Really?"

"Yes. I almost fell off the roof of my house trying to clean the rain gutters, so I have to have pancakes. Please? I'll help you shower when I become a superhero," she bargained.

Before Luke had time to respond, the bathroom door opened, drawing his and Lorelai's attention.

"You've been in there for two hours," Luke exclaimed at Jess as the teenager picked his way through the household rubble towards the apartment door.

"Yeah, well, my hair just ain't bouncin' and behavin' today," Jess retorted.

"There are other people living here too, you know."

"Huh. Learn something new everyday," Jess answered as he continued across the room, grabbed his jacket and some books, and walked out the door.

"Well, his people skills are really improving," Lorelai said after Jess was gone.

"Go downstairs," Luke gently ordered. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"How long is that?" Lorelai asked, glancing around the room.

"I don't know," Luke said, still rummaging through Jess's stuff, looking for his ledger.

"An estimate," Lorelai continued, her eyes narrowing as they fell on an object among Jess's things.

"I don't know," Luke repeated.

"Ballpark figure," Lorelai mumbled distractedly, not even listening for his answer but instead focusing her full attention on the small, plastic, red triangle lying on top of a pile of Jess's books. Curious, she walked closer and picked it up, staring at the number 9 etched into its surface. She slowly ran her fingers across the number.

"Lorelai," Luke said, looking up at her from the box he was searching. "Lorelai," he repeated more loudly, his voice cutting its way through the fog clouding her brain.

"Yeah," she said absentmindedly.

"What is that?"

"What's what?" she asked, finally looking up at him.

"That," he repeated, walking towards her and gesturing at the object in her hand.

"Oh, it's one of those table numbers they have at pizza places. I stole one of these once."

"Yeah, me too," Luke remarked, smiling at her. "Lucky number 7."

"Small world. I stole a 7 too," Lorelai said, smiling back at him.

"You did?"

"Well, I stole a few other numbers too, but one of them was a seven."

"Ah," Luke chuckled. "Right."

"Anyway, it just reminded me," Lorelai finished.

Luke nodded, accepting her story, and turned to look through another pile of belongings.

Meanwhile, Lorelai bent down and set the number on top of the pile of books again. As she moved to stand back up, however, she noticed a thin band of soft leather peeking out like a bookmark from between the pages of one of Jess's books. It looked strangely familiar, and she reached out to tug it from its location for a closer look, but Luke's voice interrupted her.

"A-ha!" he exclaimed, pulling his ledger from among the debris. "Found it."

Lorelai glanced over at him. "What?"

"The ledger," he said, waving it in the air.

"Ah, right; the ledger," Lorelai nodded, focusing her attention on him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. "Were you serious about that whole roof thing?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Lorelai said, shaking herself back to the present. "l mean, yes, I really did nearly plummet to my death this morning, but it's nothing a plate of good fluffy pancakes won't cure," she said, flashing him a hopeful smile.

"All right, come on," he consented, fighting a smile of his own.

"Thank you!" Lorelai said happily, darting around the boxes towards the door… the mysterious object momentarily forgotten.


Drumming her fingers on the table, Rory waited for her mom to reappear from upstairs, preferably with Luke in tow. She glanced over her shoulder at the empty staircase and sighed. Nothing. Bored, she looked around the room, observing the people at the other tables.

"Hey," a voice whispered right next to Rory's ear, causing her to jump in surprise. Looking over her shoulder at the uninvited guest, Rory was met with a satisfied smirk.

"How do you do that?" she asked incredulously. "Not two seconds ago, I looked at that staircase, and there was nobody there."

"You make it too easy," Jess pointed out as he slid into a chair beside her. "You pay absolutely no attention to your surroundings."

"I do too pay attention! For example, see over there," she said, pointing at a table. "That old couple is casing the joint."

"Huh. You don't say." Jess remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup," Rory nodded. "To the casual observer, they look relatively harmless, but anyone who's seen 'Dirty Dancing' knows that the elderly are not to be trusted."

"But the town delinquent sitting right next to you?"

"Completely harmless," Rory said, appraising him. "You don't even register on the trouble radar."

"Huh. You might want to get that radar checked out. It doesn't seem to be up to Stars Hollow code."

"I'm telling you; you better keep an eye on that couple," she admonished.

"I'll hang posters after lunch."

"Good," Rory smiled. "My job here is done."

"You're cracked," Jess chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

Rory's grin grew even wider at the sound of his laugh. Her eyes trailed over his face, focusing on the rare smile that was curving his lips. After a moment, she shifted her gaze upwards, and her eyes locked with his. The smile fading from his face, Jess quickly looked away, and Rory felt a wave of disappointment rush over her. She shifted uncomfortably. "So," she said, fumbling for a topic. "What are those?"

Jess glanced at her and then at the pile of books he'd set on the table. "Books," he said simply.

"Oh," Rory said, nodding.

Jess looked back up at her again and saw the telltale crinkle in her forehead that he'd come to recognize meant she was upset but trying not to show it. He sighed. "When I left New York, I grabbed some books, but, once I got here, I decided I wanted to read the ones I'd left behind instead."

Rory nodded knowingly. "Whenever my mom and I travel, I lose all desire to read the books I have with me. I always want the ones I decided not to bring at the last minute."

"Exactly. So I went to the library and got them. But Liz sent my stuff this week so…"

"So that means you're here for good," Rory interjected.

Jess shrugged unhappily. "I guess."

"Well, at least you have all of your books now," Rory offered. "And Stars Hollow isn't so bad, right?"

Without thinking, Jess looked at her in disbelief. "Yeah, right," he mumbled.

Hurt, Rory fixed her eyes on the table and fidgeted with her sleeve. Jess watched her for a second, trying to come up with something to say. Then, deciding he didn't owe her an explanation, he shifted his eyes to look at the table as well. After a brief, uncomfortable silence, Luke and Lorelai emerged from upstairs.

"Guess what, Ro-!" Lorelai began enthusiastically, stopping short when she saw Jess at the table.

"I was just leaving," Jess said, taking Lorelai's blatant pause as a perfect opportunity for escape. He stood up and pulled on his jacket. Grabbing his books from the table, he glanced quickly at Rory. She was looking at him hopefully, searching for any sign that he didn't mean what he'd implied earlier; he broke the connection without offering her anything, glanced at Luke and Lorelai again, and walked out the door.


"Two rocky road hot fudge sundaes and two cans of whipped cream," Rory ordered at the ice cream parlor counter later that night. Then, remembering what Lorelai had said right before Rory had left her with Luke and his micro-television, Rory added quickly, "Oh, and a ton of maraschino cherries, please."

"I'm sorry, Rory. I can't do that," Kirk said in a grave tone, sending her a sympathetic smile.

"What do you mean, Kirk? I see a gallon of rocky road ice cream right there," Rory argued, pointing to its location in the glass case below the counter.

"You can have the rocky road, but unless you define 'a ton'," he finger-quoted, "of maraschino cherries differently than I do, I can't complete your order."

"We always get extra cherries."

"I find that hard to believe," Kirk disagreed. "Giving extra maraschino cherries to a customer is in direct violation of Section 4.71 of the employee handbook and would result in immediate termination."

"What are you talking about?" Rory asked.

"During my lunch break at the employee training session, I committed the whole manual to memory, and it clearly states in Section 4.71 that each customer should be given exactly two maraschino cherries. Not one and not three. Exactly two. I'm surprised you'd even ask for more. After all, most places only provide the customer with one maraschino cherry. We're quite generous in offering two. We even waive the cost of the second cherry in the posted price."

"We always get extra cherries," Rory repeated.

"What's the occasion?"

"Movie night with my mom."

"Lorelai's here?" Kirk asked, looking around the shop nervously.

"No, she's at Luke's."

Kirk breathed a sigh of relief. "In that case, sorry, only two cherries. Not a cherry more. Not a cherry less."

"What happens if a customer doesn't like maraschino cherries?" Rory asked, searching for a loophole.

"They still get exactly 2 maraschino cherries."

"Okay, but what if they're allergic to the cherries?"

"Two cherries," Kirk said calmly. "Exactly two."

"So there's no addendum to the cherry clause that stipulates what will happen if a customer who has a severe allergic reaction to cherries orders a sundae?"

"According to Section 6.45 of the employee handbook, if they're allergic to cherries, they should order a cone."

"Aren't you worried about discrimination lawsuits?" Rory asked.

"I don't write the rules, Rory. I just follow them."

"Fine. Exactly how much does a maraschino cherry go for these days?"

"According to Section 9.12 of the employee handbook, one maraschino cherry costs exactly .056 of a cent," Kirk replied.

"Is there anything anywhere in the employee handbook that says a customer can't just buy additional cherries?"

Kirk paused. "Well, no, I suppose there isn't."

"In that case," Rory finished, pulling money out of her pocket. "Here are two extra dollars. I'd like two rocky road hot fudge sundaes, two cans of whipped cream, and a ton of maraschino cherries."

"It'll be just a minute," Kirk replied, as he pulled out a calculator and began mumbling to himself. "Two dollars divided by .056 cents equals…"


Sundaes and whipped cream now in hand, Rory hurried across the street towards Luke's. Shifting the food to one hand, she pulled open the diner door and walked inside.

"Hey Luke," she said happily as she reached around to shut the door.

"Rory, perfect, get her out of here," Luke said, annoyed. "Go," he directed at Lorelai.

"But, uh, okay," Lorelai stammered. "Fine. I'm leaving. Think about what I said." She got up from the chair and headed towards the door.

"Oh, hey," Luke called, turning around in his chair. "Did you ever hire anybody to do that work for you?"

"What?" Lorelai asked.

"The rain gutters."

"Oh, no, not yet. Are you offering?" she smiled.

"No, actually, I was thinking about Jess."

"Uh, Jess?" Lorelai asked, thinking back to what had been going on in recent weeks and instantly not liking the idea.

"Yeah, he's always looking for a little extra cash. He doesn't make that much here, and, you know, I hate to think of where else he might try to get it, so…"

"Huh," Lorelai nodded.

"I mean, you don't have to pay him the same as you would someone else, and you save a little, he keeps busy."

Rory nodded in agreement. It seemed like a good plan.

"Yeah, well, maybe," Lorelai hedged. "Um, I actually have to check with a couple of people I'm supposed to hear from…"

Rory looked at her mother doubtfully, knowing a lie when she heard one.

"But if they can't do it," Lorelai finished. "Then sure."

"Great," Luke accepted. "Just let me know."

"I will," Lorelai agreed, pulling open the door. "Bye."


Now safely outside Luke's, Rory turned to her mother. "So who are all these people you asked to clean out the gutters?"

"Oh, well, you know," Lorelai said, apparently by way of explanation.

"I do?" Rory asked skeptically.

"Sh—yeah."

"Remind me."

"Okay, well, there's Sid," Lorelai began hesitantly.

"Oh, Sid, right," Rory exclaimed, eyeing her mother suspiciously.

"And then there's… Lou."

"Yeah, a good man, Lou."

"Oh, and also Moose. That is, if Doris will let him out of the house again, you know, after that incident at Chicky's bachelor party," she rambled, pretending not to notice that her daughter had stopped walking.

"I thought you said you were gonna give Jess a chance," Rory reminded her.

Lorelai sighed and walked back towards Rory. "I am."

"Then why don't you hire him?"

Lorelai paused, as a million reasons flew through her mind. Because he's trouble. Because he has a gigantic crush on you. Because all indications suggest that his crush is not unrequited. Because he's only going to hurt you. Because I just found out this morning that you still aren't telling me the whole truth. Because every time he opens his mouth, I want to take a muzzle and… "Because there's… Dean," she blurted out instead.

"What?" Rory asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah," Lorelai nodded, going with it. "Dean could clean our gutters."

"Oh," Rory said quietly.

"I think it's a great idea!" Lorelai exclaimed, beginning to walk again.

"But Dean's my boyfriend," Rory reminded her.

"All the more reason!"

"We can't make Dean clean our gutters," Rory disagreed as they crossed the street.

"Are you kidding me? He'll jump at the chance. He loves you; he loves helping me. It's a win-win situation."

"Mom…"

"And he's tall," Lorelai continued.

"Yes, Dean is tall, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, in case you've forgotten, our ladder tried to kill me this morning."

"The jury's still out on that, but that has been your story, yes."

"Well, see, if Dean cleans the gutters, we won't have to worry about our homicidal ladder killing him because he's so tall, he won't need it."

"You do realize you're being ridiculous now, don't you?"

"All right, so he'll probably need a step stool," Lorelai conceded, causing Rory to look at her mother and shake her head.

"You belittle him, and yet you still expect him to do manual labor at your beckoning."

"Blame my mom's genetics for that one," Lorelai joked.

"Dean should not have to clean our gutters."

"Okay, maybe not. But how do you think he'd feel if we asked Jess to clean the gutters and not him?" Lorelai asked, looking at her daughter.

Rory glanced at her mother and sighed. "Okay, you win," she reluctantly conceded.

"See, it's a good idea," Lorelai said, intertwining her arm with Rory's. "This way, we get our gutters cleaned, and Dean knows that we appreciate him."

"I think you're the only person I know who could turn an offer to clean our gutters into a symbol of our appreciation."

"I have many talents," Lorelai agreed, grinning.

"You're actually gonna ask Dean to clean our gutters?"

"Well, actually, you're going to ask Dean to clean our gutters. Coming from me, it'd seem like I view him as my errand boy or something."

"You do view him as your errand boy."

"Yes, but he doesn't need to know that."


"I can't believe you're making me do this," Jess complained bright and early the next morning.

"Jess, look around," Luke said as he put a red circle around an ad in the paper. "We're living in Lorelai's head."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Nevermind. Put on your jacket."

"You do realize you could get the crappiest apartment Stars Hollow has to offer, and I wouldn't care, don't you?"

"You're coming with. End of story."

"I have things to do."

"Complaining will get you nowhere."

"Fine. How about sarcasm? Where will that get me?"

"How about Peach?" Luke asked, ignoring him. "Do you know anything about Peach?"

"It's a color and a fruit. There, I helped. Can I go now?"

"I was talking about Peach Street," Luke explained.

"You've lived here your entire life, and you're asking me about Peach Street?" Jess asked in disbelief.

"Plum, it is," Luke said, circling the last ad and standing up. "Where's your jacket?" he asked, looking at his nephew.

"Huh, I dunno. Guess I can't go. Wouldn't want to catch a chill."

"I'm sure I have a flannel shirt you can borrow," Luke told him, rummaging through his dresser. "It'll keep you nice and toasty."

"Wow, look over there," Jess said, pointing at his jacket. "Guess it wasn't lost after all."

"Great. Let's go."

"Fine," Jess mumbled, accepting defeat. "The sooner we go, the sooner I can sneak out a back entrance."


"As you can see, this apartment is one of our two bedroom/two bath models," the rental consultant explained. "It comes with hardwood flooring in the entry way and a ceiling fan in each room."

"Can the blades support the weight of a human body?" Jess asked.

"Excuse me?" the woman inquired, looking at Jess curiously.

"Ignore him. He forgot to take his happy pills today," Luke said, shooting Jess a look. "You were saying…"

"Um, right," she began again, looking with concern at Jess. "Why don't we just go take a look at the apartment and see what you two think?"

"Sounds great," Luke agreed.

"If you have some rope, I can test it out while we're there," Jess offered.

"Hey, Jess," Luke said as they walked down the street towards another apartment complex. "Why don't we play a nice game of 'Who Can Be the Quietest?' when we get to this next place?"

"As long as the rental consultant has to play too," Jess quipped.

"Come on. They're just doing their jobs."

"Fine, but why do they insist on pointing out every room on their little maps? Do they think we can't figure it out? I've never understood that."

"To be honest, me either," Luke admitted.

"The last place even had the names of the rooms written on the map, and she still insisted on telling us what each room was! Don't blame me if I make fun of them; they practically beg for it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Luke sighed.


"Hey Mom!" Rory called as she entered the house. "Is Dean here yet?"

"Come here, come here, come here," Lorelai called excitedly.

"I'm here," Rory said, jogging into the living room. "What's the matter?"

"Sit, sit, sit," Lorelai ordered while she fiddled with a piece of equipment on the coffee table. "Okay, that should do it."

"Do what?"

"Wait."

"What are we waiting for?" Rory asked.

"Patience, grasshopper."

"Hey, anybody home?" Dean called, pushing open the front door.

"Ah! Dean! Hurry!" Lorelai shouted.

"What?" Dean asked as he entered the living room.

"Hurry, hurry. Sit," Lorelai demanded.

Dean quickly sat beside Rory on the couch. "Hey," he greeted, leaning down to give her a small kiss on the lips.

"Hey."

"What are we waiting for?" he whispered.

"I have no idea," Rory answered.

"Ready, and – " Lorelai said.

Oink! Oink! Oink!

"The clock is grunting," Rory observed in amusement.

"This, my friends," Lorelai explained after turning off the alarm, "is a state of the art CD/clock radio that enables you to wake up to the barnyard animal of your choice."

"That is great!" Rory exclaimed.

"It's definitely unique," Dean agreed.

"I have selected the perky piggies. You might choose the cheery chickens or the goofy goats."

"That is the closest to a farm that I ever wanna get," Rory declared.

"Amen, sister friend. Hey Dean," Lorelai said, belatedly greeting her daughter's boyfriend.

"Hey."

"Talk about good timing."

"Well, I never like to miss a good barn-raising," Dean joked.

"And, with those historic words, your boyfriend is a native at last."

"I never stopped dreaming," Rory crooned.

"So, Dean, thanks for agreeing to clean the gutters. We really appreciate it."

"It's no problem. I'm happy to help."

"Not as happy as we are to have your help. So, before Rory got home, I put everything on the porch. Gloves and buckets. I wasn't really sure what you'd need but…"

"That sounds about right," Dean assured her.

"Okay, great. I suggest spending as little time with the ladder as possible though; it seems to have an attitude problem."

"Rory already warned me," Dean said, smiling at his girlfriend.

"She's good like that. Oh, and there's some of that new Coke with lemon in the fridge if you get thirsty. Feel free to help yourself."

"Okay, thanks."

"All right, well, I'm just going to play with my new toy here. Thanks again for doing this."

"It's no problem. Really," Dean said. "I guess I'll go get started."

"I'll come with you," Rory said, following him out of the living room while trying to ignore the self-satisfied smile on her mother's face.


A short while later, Dean climbed down the ladder and set a full bucket of gutter sludge on the ground. Brushing some loose strands of hair out of his eyes, he looked over at his girlfriend. Rory smiled at him from her position on top of the hood of the jeep and held out her can of soda. He smiled gratefully and strolled over to her, taking the can out of her hand and gulping down several large mouthfuls.

"This stuff isn't bad," he commented, looking down at the can.

"Careful! That's how they pull you in," Rory warned, squinting up at him through the morning sun.

"Addictive?"

"Mom and I are about two cans away from a trip to Betty Ford."

"Uh-oh."

"Mom's convinced it's the Coca-Cola-cocaine controversy all over again."

"Makes sense," Dean nodded, smiling.

"Only this time," Rory continued. "Instead of cocaine, she swears she can taste the tiniest hint of coffee."

"You know, now that you mention it…"

"Oh boy! Betty Ford, here we come," Rory said, shaking her head sadly.

"You could always go cold turkey," Dean suggested.

"But we miss Betty," Rory pouted. "We haven't seen her since the summer we discovered Sno-Caps."

"Or addiction is good too," Dean finished, handing his girlfriend the can of soda before moving to lean against the jeep beside her.

Rory smiled and took a sip. As she lowered the can, she glanced quickly at her boyfriend out of the corner of her eye. Then, slyly, she looked down at her watch. Trying not to think about the minutes ticking by, she pulled her sleeve down over her wrist.

"You don't have to keep me company, you know."

"I know," Rory said. "But I want to."

"You're bored," Dean stated.

"I'm not bored," Rory disagreed, her watch feeling heavy on her wrist. "This is very exciting."

"It is?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Well, it's not often that a girl gets to watch her boyfriend do something… like this…" Rory said weakly. "It's very…." She paused, searching for an appropriate word.

"Boring," Dean filled in.

"Manly," she blurted out.

"Manly?"

"Sure. There are… ladders and… there's… climbing… and life endangerment. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure that's Webster's definition of manly."

"But I'm spending most of the time at the top of the ladder, in one reasonably safe position, scooping gunk out of a gutter," Dean pointed out.

"And it's very exciting," Rory finished, trying to sound genuine. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"There isn't?"

"Nope."

"Nowhere else?"

"Nowhere else," Rory said, shaking her head for added emphasis.

"What about the book sale?"

"What book sale?" Rory replied, feigning ignorance.

"The book sale you've been looking forward to all week."

"Oh, is that today?"

"You should go."

"Nope, I'm fine right where I am."

"You're telling me you don't want to go to the book sale? The book sale you've been talking about for weeks now?"

"You've seen one book sale, you've seen 'em all."

"I know you want to go, Rory. You've been checking your watch every other minute for the last hour."

"Okay, fine," Rory reluctantly admitted. "It would be nice to stop by the book sale at some point, but it'll be there all day. We can go when you're done."

"I thought you said all the good books go in the first five hours."

"Well, then get back to work," Rory said, shooing him with her hand.

"Rory, I've been cleaning these for an hour, and I've barely made a dent."

"Pish-posh! You just haven't entered your zone yet."

"I'm not going to let you miss your book sale just so you can sit here and watch me clean a gutter."

"But…" Rory protested.

"Go to the book sale."

"You shouldn't even be cleaning our gutters," Rory sighed. "I won't just leave."

"I don't mind. You know books aren't really my thing."

"So I'm supposed to go have fun at a book sale while you're here at my house, up to your elbows in toxic waste?"

"Yep," Dean said simply.

"I'm not going," Rory argued. "If you have to spend your Saturday doing this, then I'm going to keep you company. There'll be another book sale."

"They only have the book sale once a year."

"See, it's just around the corner."

"Rory…"

"I already have enough books," Rory said, frowning slightly.

"If you say so," Dean answered, walking over to dump the full bucket of sludge into a garbage bag.

"They probably don't have any first editions this year anyway," Rory continued.

"Probably not," Dean agreed.

"And besides, who needs a first edition anyway? They're a dime a dozen."

"If that," he replied, fighting a grin as he walked back over to the jeep.

"It's not like the world will end if I miss one Stars Hollow book sale."

Dean smiled and leaned forward, resting his hands against the hood of the jeep on either side of her waist. "I have an idea," he said. "How about you go to the book sale while I finish the gutters? Then, when I'm done, we'll go see a 'Lord of the Rings' matinee together. That way, we both get to do something fun."

Rory immediately shook her head. "That won't work."

"Why not?"

"Because then I'll get to do two fun things. It'd be like I was getting rewarded for ditching you while you cleaned our gutters."

"What if I make you pay for the movie?"

"Not good enough."

"And popcorn…"

"Oh, great! I get popcorn too? Why don't you just throw me a party!"

"Okay, no popcorn."

"But you should get popcorn," Rory said sadly. "You deserve popcorn."

"Rory, this is crazy. You want to go to the book sale. I want you to go to the book sale."

Rory sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll go to the book sale, but then you and I are going to the movies, and I'm buying you popcorn and soda and Goobers and Sour Patch Kids and Sno-Caps and anythi…."

"Deal," Dean agreed, cutting off her tirade by pressing his lips gently against hers.

After a moment, he pulled away and smiled.

"You're sure you don't mind?" Rory asked.

"I'm positive."

"Okay," Rory sighed. "But I'm not going to be gone very long, so you better hurry. Cut corners if you have to."

"I'll do my best," Dean assured her as he moved aside so she could hop down from the jeep.

"And if my mom mentions anything about waxing the jeep…"

"I'll handle it."

"I'll be back before you know it, I promise," Rory said, giving him one last quick kiss before heading inside to tell her mother about the change of plans.


"The next apartment is on Plum," Luke announced, looking up from the folded newspaper he held in his hand.

"Are you serious? Haven't we seen enough?"

"Until we find an apartment we can agree on, no."

"This is ridiculous," Jess muttered.

"I heard that," Luke said out of the side of his mouth as they continued towards Plum Street.

Jess shot Luke a look of complete annoyance but said nothing.

Luke glanced at his nephew and saw that all-too-familiar look on his face. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, he turned to Jess and folded his arms over his chest. "Okay," he said patiently. "Go ahead."

"What?" Jess asked, confused.

"I'm sensing you're about to launch into one of your rambling, sarcastic hissy fits," Luke calmly explained. "Just figured I'd stop now and let you get it out of your system. So, go ahead. I'm ready."

"You're annoying as hell, you know that?" Jess asked.

"So I've been told," Luke replied. "Now, go."

"Fine. Do you realize we've been doing this for almost three hours?"

"Really? Amazing!" Luke mocked nearly inaudibly under his breath.

"We've seen pink apartments and apartments with two full-size refrigerators and apartments with cats and dogs and canaries that squawk 'Polly want a Triscuit!' over and over and over again," Jess ranted, gesturing angrily. "Now a person might think, 'Canary? Canaries don't squawk!' But in Stars Hollow, the land of nightmares come true, canaries squawk. And Triscuit, for God's sake!? Who even eats those? Oh, and then, there was the apartment with the 70s shag carpeting that looked like it played an important role in the potty training of a dozen children, if not more. And let's not forget my favorite, the apartment with the blinding, fluorescent floral wallpaper in every… single… room," he fumed, jerking his arm to punctuate each word, before pausing to take a breath.

"Did you just say 'potty'?" Luke asked, grinning.

"Why don't we just find an apartment with nice, padded walls? Given the amount of insanity in this town, it shouldn't be hard to find."

"Are you done?"

"Can you honestly say you think we're going to find an apartment in this town?"

"Well," Luke said calmly. "So far, it seems unlikely, but we still have Plum and Peach…"

"No way!" Jess interrupted. "I've been participating in this farce for almost three hours, and for the past two hours, I've even managed to do so seriously. If you want a new apartment, you can look alone."

"You don't want to move?"

"I don't care."

"You're happy with no privacy?"

"I've got plenty of privacy."

"Yeah, because I'm sitting downstairs, in the dark, watching a two-inch tv."

"Hey, you're the one with the problem, you make the choice."

"Fine, floral wallpaper, it is," Luke declared.

"Great! Go sign the lease! See you later," Jess said, heading in the opposite direction.

"I'm not kidding!" Luke called after him. "Jess! I hear that canary's for sale!"

Jess kept walking.

"Jess!" he tried again, watching in bewilderment as his nephew rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. He waited a moment, entertaining the crazy thought that Jess might come back, then, sighing, he headed towards Plum Street.


Jess wandered through town towards the book sale he and Luke had passed earlier that morning on their way to Cantaloupe Court or whatever ridiculous fruit-named street it'd been. "Watermelon Way?" he thought to himself. "Grapefruit Grove? Banana Boulevard?" Giving up, he shook his head and turned towards the library where the tables and racks of books were set up. There were quite a few people milling about – picking up books and reading their descriptions, deliberating over whether to buy or pass. He had to weave his way around several browsers in his efforts to get to the tables of classic novels. However, once he arrived at his destination and started reading the spines of the rows and rows of books in front of him, everything else melted away.


Awhile later, Jess was deeply engrossed in Franz Kafka's short story, "The Judgment", when he felt someone approaching him. After years of living in New York, even the most interesting book couldn't deactivate his finely honed skills of self-protection. His eyes remained on the page, but his mind was no longer focused on the words. As the person drew closer, a faint but familiar perfume wafted over him, and he relaxed. Smirking, he waited until she was right where he wanted her, and then he quickly turned around and leaned nonchalantly against the table. "Hey."

Rory's mouth was half-open to say something when he spoke. The devilish glint in her eyes quickly disappeared, and she frowned. Then, recovering quickly from her botched attempt at startling him, she held up a book.

"Inherit the Wind," Jess read aloud.

"Seventy-five cents," Rory announced proudly. "Beat that!"

Jess held up a like-new copy of Oscar Wilde's collected works. "Fifty cents."

"Seriously?" she asked, frowning. "How did I miss that?"

"It was buried under a pile of Jane Austen."

"That explains it," Rory accepted.

"I almost skipped right over it too," Jess assured her.

"I should've looked though. I've obviously gotten lax over the years."

"Well, you never had competition before."

"It is true that the majority of Stars Hollow pours over the romance tables," Rory agreed, glancing in the direction of the romance novel section.

Jess looked over as well and saw two women struggling over a copy of Danielle Steele. "Is that Miss Patty?"

"Her brawls over Danielle Steele are one of the book fundraisers' traditions."

"Huh. So," he said, turning back to Rory. "What else did you find?"

"Well, I found this copy of Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet – which I already have, but in hardback," she began, holding up the slim volume. "This is a paperback – fits perfectly in a coat pocket, and it's only a dollar. I'm torn. Opinions?"

Jess reached out and took the book from her hand. Rory began to protest as he flipped easily to a desired page and began to read out loud. "But I can tell you that even later on, one moves through these books, again and again, with the same astonishment and that they lose none of their wonderful power and relinquish none of the overwhelming enchantment that they had the first time one read them. One just comes to enjoy them more and more, becomes more and more grateful, and somehow better and simpler in one's vision, deeper in one's faith, happier and greater in the way one lives."

Rory smiled. "So you're saying I should get it?" she asked, taking the book from Jess's hand before he could answer and setting it on her pile.

"Rilke seems to want it that way."

"How many times have you read that?"

"A few," he answered, smirking.

"Of course."

"So is that all you found?" Jess asked, looking skeptically at the small pile of books in her hands.

"This round," Rory smiled. "That's me over there," she finished, pointing at three piles of books tucked over beside the library stairs.

"Huh. How do you plan on carrying those home?" Jess asked.

"Good thing I found you," Rory replied before moving to walk to another table.

"What about Dean?" Jess asked, walking beside her.

"He's not here."

"Really? I'm surprised. I figured he would've heard the words 'book sale' and rushed on over."

"Dean reads."

"What? Comic books?"

"No."

"'Mad' magazine?"

"Very funny," Rory said, frowning.

"Okay. War and Peace?"

"Would you stop?"

"You should get him something."

"What?" Rory asked, looking at Jess.

"A book. Since he reads. How about this one?" Jess said, holding up Go, Go, Go!

"That's the children's table."

"But I bet Dean would love a little 'Dick and Jane'."

"I'm leaving now."

"Too hard? Okay, how about this?" Jess asked, holding up Good-night, Moon. "It's a classic with very few words."

"Jess…"

"Where's Waldo?" Jess offered, holding up the over-sized book.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with Where's Waldo?"! Rory argued.

"You know, actually, if you take off the glasses and the hat, Dean kind of looks like Waldo," Jess said, studying the back cover of the book.

"He does not!" Rory disagreed, yanking the book from Jess's hand.

Jess watched as she looked at the picture. Slowly, a small smile spread across her face. "See, I told you," he teased.

Rory fought the smile away and looked firmly at Jess. "Where's Waldo? is a very fun book."

"If you say so," Jess smirked.

"In fact, I think I'll get it," she stated, adding it to her pile before walking away from the table.

"I knew you'd find something he'd like," Jess joked, following her around tables as she headed towards the library steps to add the books to her pile.

Rory ignored him and kept walking towards the stairs. When she reached them, she bent down to add the books to her stack. Then, standing back up, she looked around and realized Jess was nowhere in sight. She searched the tables a little more thoroughly and, still not finding him, tried to convince herself she didn't care. But soon, she grew curious and headed off in search of him.


"Dean?" Lorelai called up towards the roof. "Hey, Dean!"

Dean stopped cleaning the gutter and looked down at her. "Hey."

"How's it going up there?"

"Uh, it's going."

"That bad, huh?"

"I've seen worse," he assured her.

"Yeah? Care to tell me some gutter-cleaning war stories over lunch?"

"I probably shouldn't. Rory and I have plans once I get done so…"

"Rory would want you to eat."

Dean hesitated and looked at the length of gutter he still had left to clean.

"I think she'll be more upset if you pass out from starvation," Lorelai called. "No girl wants to find her boyfriend, dead, on the front lawn."

"You may be right," Dean agreed, smiling.

"I'm always right. I'll meet you inside."

Dean nodded and climbed down the ladder. As he walked into the kitchen moments later, the smell of cold Chinese food filled his senses.

"It smells good," he said, walking over to the sink and washing his hands.

"Rory and I decided to take on the entire chicken column last night," Lorelai explained proudly. "There's garlic chicken, Kung Pao chicken, Szechuan Chicken, chicken in brown sauce with some variety of potentially lethal red pepper mixed in…"

"No chicken and broccoli?" Dean asked, peering into the containers.

"Oh, believe me, if they'd had it, we'd be staring at it right now. We're guessing it had something to do with the broccoli part. Although that wouldn't explain the whole beef and broccoli craze, but anyway, dig in."

Starving, Dean scooped up some food from each of the containers and walked over to the microwave to heat it up.

"So, how's life treatin' ya?" Lorelai asked, filling her own plate with food.

"Not bad. Basketball's half done, but the team's pretty good this year."

"Wow. There just isn't a season without some sport these days, is there?"

"Uh, I guess not."

"But it keeps you crazy kids busy, so that's good. Now that I think about it, maybe I should've taken up cheerleading in high school… or tennis… or football. That 'Quarterback Princess' movie was really inspiring. Have you seen it?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, don't worry. I'm sure Rory will entertain you with an 'early Helen Hunt' night one of these days."

"I can't wait."

"Hey, some of those films teach real life lessons. For example," Lorelai said, waving her fork in the air. "Don't disobey your drill sergeant father unless there's a cute boy involved."

"I'll try to remember that," Dean said, smiling.

"Good. See, you learned something today. So, what position do you play?"

"In basketball?"

"That is this season's sport of choice."

"Well, actually, it looks like I might be the starting center next game."

"That's great! Congratulations! Pretty impressive for a junior."

"Well, it's not official yet," Dean downplayed.

"Technicalities," Lorelai dismissed. "I bet Rory's really proud."

"Actually, I haven't told her yet."

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know. I guess I haven't really had the chance."

"Yeah," Lorelai said, frowning. "She's been busy lately with school and … everything."

"I know," Dean nodded.

"You better get moving; that game must be comin' up soon. I bet she'll wanna go."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean halfheartedly agreed before taking his plate out of the microwave and sitting down at the table.

Lorelai smiled reassuringly at him and turned to heat up her own lunch. A few seconds later, she glanced back at Dean and sighed.


Roaming among the tables, Rory scanned the heads of the fundraiser-goers, looking for Jess. Occasionally, she stood on her tiptoes to get a better view of the area, but she was having little luck tracking him down. Giving up, she walked towards the tables she hadn't visited yet and started sifting through the books. She hadn't been standing there more than a minute when she glanced over at a nearby table and saw Jess crouching down, looking through some books that were tucked underneath.

"Nice disappearing act," she said, standing above him.

He glanced up at her and motioned towards the books beneath the table. "Did you see these?" he asked, his voice animated.

"No," Rory replied, so intrigued by his excitement that she forgot she was annoyed. "What are they?"

"New releases."

"You're kidding!"

"Look for yourself," he said, moving over to make room for her.

Rory immediately crouched down and scanned the titles. "Dr. Atkin's New Diet Revolution," she read aloud. "The Summons. These books all came out within the past few months."

"Hence the term, 'new releases'," Jess quipped.

"Do they have price stickers?" Rory asked, assuming they had been placed there accidentally.

Jess picked up The Summons and flipped it over, revealing a seven dollar price tag. "It's not exactly seventy-five cents, but it's still a lot cheaper than the jacket price."

"The fundraiser never has new books."

"And yet here they are," Jess remarked.

"Is there anything good?" Rory asked, even as her eyes fell upon a title. "David McCullough's biography of John Adams," she said in awe, snatching it up. She flipped to the title page to make sure the jacket sleeve and the book inside matched. Finding that they did, she flipped back to the cover and searched for the price tag. "What does that say?" she asked excitedly, showing him the tag.

"Ten dollars."

"That has to be wrong."

"Ah, but it says ten dollars, and the customer is always right," Jess reminded her.

"I'm never going to be able to look through all of these," Rory sighed, looking at the rows of books.

"Move over to the other side. I promise I'll tell you if there's anything good over here."

Rory smiled gratefully and, without a word, stood up to move around the table. Then, face to face across the expanse of books, they started weeding through the titles.

"Hey, have you ever read this one?" Jess asked a half an hour later. He held the book out for Rory to reach, and she took it from his hand.

"The Eyre Affair? What's it about?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Well, according to the back, it's set in Great Britain in 1985, but it's an alternate universe. The Crimean War is still going strong, and the nation is obsessed with literature. The whole society revolves around it. The main character is a detective or something who's investigating a criminal that steals characters from classic books. When the characters are taken out of the original manuscript, the ending of every copy in print is altered."

"It sounds interesting," Rory commented, flipping through the pages.

"Characters from the novels are characters in the book. Jane Eyre, Mr. Rochester… some characters from Dickens and Poe."

"That's ambitious."

"And risky," Jess agreed. "First-time author."

"Okay, this is the last one I'm getting," she vowed, adding it to her stack.

"Should we go?"

"Not so fast. I found something for you," she teased, waving a book in the air, just out of his sight.

"Yeah, right. Is this payback for the Dean thing earlier?"

"No," Rory replied. "You'll like it."

"What is it? Larry McMurtry? Tami Hoag?"

Rory flipped the book, so she could read the title. "We've Got the Neutron Bomb: The Untold Story of LA Punk."

"Sure, it is," Jess scoffed, standing and brushing the grass off his pants. "Do you need some help carrying those?"

"Jess, I'm serious," Rory said honestly.

"And I'm Dweezil Zappa."

"You're gonna regret doubting me," she warned, as she walked around the table and handed him the book.

Jess took it out of her hand. "This book was under that table?"

"You're not the only one with a good eye," she retorted with a grin. She knelt down to grab some of her books.

Jess looked over at her, noticing the way wisps of her hair dangled in her face as she gathered her choices. He glanced down at the book in his hand, shook his head, and smiled slightly.

"Should we find a box?" she asked, standing up.

"Or ten or twelve," he complained good-naturedly, tucking the book under his arm as he grabbed a stack of her books and followed her back to the library stairs.


"Wow, you made out like a bandit," Gypsy commented as she tallied Rory's purchases.

"Well, you've got great stuff this year."

"And I see you found our secret stash."

"Secret stash?" Rory repeated.

"The new releases. We like to hide them under a table, so people have to work for the cheap prices."

"They've been there every year?" Rory asked, wide-eyed.

"Every year," Gypsy nodded.

"And I didn't know. I can't believe it!"

"If we told people, it wouldn't be a secret."

"Who usually finds them?" Rory asked.

"Out-of-town book collectors. They leave no table unturned. Literally."

"I can't believe it!" Rory repeated. She turned to Jess. "And I can't believe you found them your first year here."

Jess looked up from the L.A. punk book and smirked. "Face it, Gilmore; your skills of detection are not as good as you'd like to think."

"Should I return that book then?" she threatened.

"You better be careful, Jess. This one can be vicious," Gypsy teased, winking at Rory.

"Consider me warned," Jess stated, turning back to his book.

Rory scowled at him and handed her money over to Gypsy.


"They need to find a lighter way to make books," Rory complained to Jess as they lugged her boxes across town.

"They already have online versions of some books," Jess pointed out.

"That's pretty impersonal."

"And lighter."

"What about the musty smell?" she asked.

"It's lighter."

"And the feel of the pages turning under your fingers?"

"It's lighter."

"And curling up in a cozy armchair?"

"It's lighter."

"A big, bulky computer is lighter than a tiny hardcover book?" she quizzed him skeptically.

"A big, bulky computer is lighter than a thousand tiny hardcover books, packed into a hundred bulky boxes," he remarked.

"Complain, complain," she chided, smiling.

He rolled his eyes, and they walked together in silence until they reached Luke's.

"We should stop for a minute," he said, pausing by the diner door.

"Wuss! Your arms hurt already?"

"My arms went numb two blocks ago," Jess replied.

"Then we probably shouldn't stop, or you'll have to go through the whole process all over again. You know, first, there's that moment when you pick up the boxes, and you think, 'Ha! Piece of cake!' … until you carry them about ten or fifteen steps, and the dull ache starts. Then, before you know it, searing pain is radiating up and down your arms, and you pray for the pain to stop. Thankfully, it does when your arms go numb, and…"

"I want to give you something," he interrupted, shuffling the boxes so he could pull open the door.

"Like what?"

"Something."

"Something what?" she asked again.

"Just come on," he answered, holding the door open with his back as she walked past him into the diner.


"Okay, I knew it was a bad idea to stop," Rory moaned as she plodded up the stairs to Luke's apartment. "My arms feel like they're going to shrivel up and fall off."

"Now who's the wuss?" Jess asked, turning to raise an eyebrow at her.

She struggled against the urge to make a face at the back of his head as they climbed the rest of the stairs. Reaching the top, they turned and headed towards the apartment door. Glancing over his shoulder, Jess pulled it open and started to walk inside. Before he had even cleared the doorway, however, he paused abruptly and turned around to face Rory, nearly bumping into her in the process.

"Wait here," he ordered, not even waiting for her response before he scooted into the apartment and shut the door. Somewhat frantically, his eyes darted around the room, taking in the disaster area he'd created when he'd unpacked the things that Liz had sent. He started to grab things off from backs of chairs and throw them into the closet. But, the more he got rid of, the more that seemed to appear. Giving up, he sighed, walked over to the door, and pulled it open. "Come on in," he said resignedly, moving aside.

As Rory walked past him, she glanced around at the chaotic disarray that invaded every crevice of the room. "Aw, Jess, you didn't need to clean up," she commented, stifling a laugh.

"Very funny," he replied stiffly.

"What happened in here?"

"I unpacked."

"Next time, you might want to aim for the dressers and closets."

"So that's how it works," Jess remarked before walking over to a corner and kneeling down to shuffle through some of his things.

Rory smiled and started wandering around the room. "I've never been up here before."

"No?"

"Nope. It's bigger than I expected," she said, her eyes skimming over some books Jess had left piled on the floor.

"Not big enough," Jess replied, flicking through a stack of cds he'd retrieved from beneath a pile of clothes. "Luke seems to think we're moving."

"Luke wants to move?" Rory asked. She picked up one of the books and flipped it open. As she did so, something fell out from among the pages and landed on the floor.

"Apparently," Jess answered, turning back to Rory just in time to see her bend down and retrieve the item from the floor.

Confused, she stared at it for a moment, then pushed up her sleeve and glanced at her empty wrist.

"I've been meaning to give that back to you," Jess said, walking towards her.

"Where did you get this?"

"You dropped it. The day of the picnic."

"That's impossible. That was two weeks ago," Rory stated. "I would've noticed."

"It was on the bridge after you stood up."

"And you didn't give it back?" she asked, trying to process the situation.

"I forgot."

"You forgot?" she asked disbelievingly.

"You stormed away, so I put it in my pocket, and then I forgot it was there. Is it valuable or something?"

"Dean made it for me," Rory answered, running her fingers gently over the soft leather.

Jess nodded slightly, fixing his eyes on the floor. On anything but her.

Rory had half-expected him to make one of his typical comments, and her brain registered a brief flicker of surprise when he didn't. But that thought soon joined the millions of others racing through her mind and was lost. She was having a hard time focusing; questions just kept shooting through her consciousness one-by-one like some sort of twisted cognitive assembly line. Dizzy, she looked up at Jess, hoping for answers. At that exact moment, he turned his gaze back up to her, and their eyes locked. Instantly, the frantic flurry of questions narrowed into an infinitesimal point. For reasons she was unsure of, Rory didn't ask her questions. Instead, she returned her attention to the bracelet and stubbornly attempted to refasten it around her wrist. As she struggled with it unsuccessfully, tears started to sting at the corners of her eyes, which only served to frustrate her more. She was just about ready to give up when she felt Jess draw closer. Hesitantly, one of his hands reached out and took the bracelet from her, while the other gently held her wrist steady. She kept her eyes glued to her wrist as he carefully put the bracelet back on; she refused to look up even as she felt the warmth of his fingertips disappear from her skin, leaving it cold in their absence. She folded her arms over her chest protectively and stared at the ground.

"Here," he said quietly, his voice surprisingly normal.

Not sure what else to do, Rory shifted uncomfortably and lifted her eyes just enough to see his outstretched hand holding a cd out to her. She reached out and took it, glancing at the cover of the album, The Shaggs.

"I kept forgetting to give you that too," he said calmly.

"Thanks," she replied, finally raising her eyes the rest of the way to meet his.

"You're welcome."

"I have to go," she said softly, trying to ignore the strange feeling in her stomach as she looked at him.

"Okay."

"I'll see you later."

"Okay," he repeated.

Without another word, she left.


"I'm sure she'll be back any minute," Lorelai assured Dean after seeing him glance at his watch for the tenth time. "She loses track of time when books are involved."

"I should go," Dean said sadly.

"Give her ten more minutes."

"The last matinee of 'Lord of the Rings' started forty-five minutes ago."

"Dean, I know for a fact that she is incredibly sorry about this."

"It's not a big deal," Dean replied, standing and heading to the door. "Can you have her call me when she gets home?"

"I won't even let her take her jacket off first."

"Thanks for lunch."

"Hey, thanks for cleaning our gutters," Lorelai answered with visibly forced cheerfulness.

"Anytime. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Dean," Lorelai said, shutting the door behind him. Frowning, she went to the window and watched him walk dejectedly down the sidewalk. Then, flopping down on the couch, she looked at her watch and sighed.


After wandering around Stars Hollow's more secluded areas for a while in an attempt to gather her thoughts, Rory walked slowly in the direction of her house, twisting her bracelet absentmindedly. By the time she reached the front stoop, she realized she couldn't remember crossing intersections or turning corners or any other action she'd taken on the way home. Mechanically, she pulled open the front door and walked inside.

"Where have you been?" Lorelai asked, rushing over to her before she'd even made it all the way through the door. "Why didn't you respond to your pager? Are you hurt?" she said quickly, scanning her daughter for any visible injuries.

"I left my pager in my room, and, no, I'm not hurt," Rory answered, her mother's anxious behavior suddenly jerking her back to reality. "What's going o… Oh, no! Dean!"

"You forgot?"

"I completely forgot! Oh my God, he must hate me!"

"We'll get to that later. Where were you?"

"At the book sale," Rory said, pulling off her coat and collapsing onto the couch.

"This whole time?" Lorelai asked, sitting beside her.

"Well, no," Rory admitted. "I—Lane stopped by, and she was having a crisis, so I went to her house, and I guess we lost track of time," she rambled, wondering absently when she'd become so adept at lying.

"Is Lane okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Crisis averted. It's like it never even happened."

"Well, that's good, at least."

"How mad is he?"

"Hmm… well, do you remember that movie 'Falling Down'?"

"Yeah," Rory said hesitantly.

"And do you remember when the fast food place wouldn't serve Michael Douglas breakfast, so he went ballistic and started shooting?"

"Uh-huh," Rory prodded, worried.

"Dean wasn't that mad."

"That's the best you can do?"

"You're supposed to call him."

"I cannot believe I forgot! Oh my God! And I forgot my books," Rory said, putting her hands over her face.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you can get them from Lane's tomorrow."

"Yeah, right," Rory mumbled under her breath. Sighing, she looked at her mother. "How mad are you?"

"I'm not mad. Just try to remember to call next time, okay? It's hard to reassure your boyfriend when I'm freaking out myself."

"I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," Lorelai said, kissing the top of Rory's head. She wrapped her arm around her daughter and pulled her into a hug. "You look exhausted. Was Lane's crisis really that bad?"

"I'm just tired," Rory sighed, resting her head on her mother's shoulder and closing her eyes for a second. They stayed that way for a while until Rory groaned and moved to get up. "I better go call Dean."

"Probably a good idea."

Rory nodded and rose from the couch, but Lorelai quickly grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "He's not that mad."

"Thanks," Rory replied, squeezing her mom's hand back before pulling away.

As Rory moved, Lorelai glanced down and noticed Dean's bracelet wrapped around her daughter's wrist. A thin band of soft leather. A thin band of soft leather that looked suspiciously like a bookmark she'd seen recently. By the time she'd recovered enough from her surprise to say something, Rory was already walking into her bedroom.