Defending Bjork
Chapter 19: Breathe
Disclaimer: If I were Amy Sherman-Palladino, the following would be true of this story: Rory would be an idiotic, cruel floozy; Jess would be a mis-portrayed plot device; and all roads would lead to Dean. I am not Amy Sherman-Palladino. She owns all of that crap.
Author's Note: Though I no longer have an interest in the show as it exists today, I will always be invested in the characters. Fanfiction must go on. This chapter is dedicated to those of you who persevere despite writer's block, disenchantment, and frustration. Without you, Stars Hollow would be a cold, bitter place. Thanks for your stories – past, present, and future. (Everyone check out angeleyez's stuff. It's fantastic; I promise!) – Becka
Her saddle shoes tapped lightly against the pavement as she made her way across town to the bus stop. She closed her eyes as she walked, letting the breeze wash over her face. The early morning spring air was slightly moist with dew. When she'd first stepped outside, she'd noted the way it clung to the tips of flowers and blades of grass like tiny crystalline tears. But now, against her cheeks, it felt warm and soothing.
She took a deep breath, letting it fill and expand her lungs. The sensation felt foreign and overpowering like her body wasn't quite prepared for it. She exhaled then inhaled again. With each breath, she felt stronger.
In the bright sunlight of the day, nothing made sense. Everything was still a mess. And yet her shoulders were more relaxed, her head felt a little clearer. With four voiced syllables, a weight had been lifted.
Leaves rustled in the trees while birds sang from their homes high amid the limbs. Rory smiled. It felt good, breathing again.
:::
"She told me."
"What? Who?" Sookie asked, turning from the stove to look at her best friend.
"Rory. We talked last night."
"See," Sookie said proudly. "I told you not to worry." She waved her spatula in the air and turned back to the food. "Didn't I tell you not to worry?"
"Tell me again."
Sookie shook her head, still eyeing the bubbling sauce. "What?"
"Tell me not to worry again," Lorelai said desperately.
Sookie giggled, not noticing her friend's tone. "Ok. Don't worry."
There was a pause then Lorelai shook her head. "Nope, didn't help."
"Don't worry," Sookie repeated, glancing at Lorelai over her shoulder.
"Not helping. I thought it would help, but it's not helping."
Sookie turned around. "Don't worry?" she said hesitantly, now frowning.
"Still not helping, Sookie! I'm freaking out."
"You're freaking me out," she answered. "Why are we freaking out?"
"She likes Jess."
Sookie hesitated, surprised. "Didn't we know that?"
"She likes Jess, Sookie. Jess Jess. She likes him. Like like."
"Right," Sookie nodded. "She has a little crush."
"She kissed him, Sookie. She kissed Jess. Jess Jess. She kissed—"
"You're saying everything twice. Why are you saying everything twice?" Sookie asked frantically, her anxiety rising to match Lorelai's.
"Because I'm freaking out!"
"You're freaking me out!"
"I know! But she likes Jess. God, someday she may even love him. Jess Je—"
"I know! I know!" Sookie interrupted. "Oh god, I'm doing it too. We need to regain control," she stated. "Sit down."
Lorelai sat down on a nearby stool.
"Tell me what she said," Sookie ordered.
"That she kissed Jess. Twice."
"Twice? Oh, that's not good."
"Not helping, Sookie."
"I'm sorry. It's just – usually I'm you, and you're me," she explained, jabbing a finger at Lorelai and then at herself. "I don't know what I'm doing."
"What?"
"Usually I'm doing the freaking, and you're doing the calming. This is all jumbled."
"Well, pretend you're me!" Lorelai demanded.
Sookie nodded. "Okay, okay, I can do that. It would help if I had a stool to stand on or maybe…" she babbled, looking around.
"Sookie!"
"Right. Okay. Ooh, deep breath. You always say that I should take a deep breath."
Lorelai nodded. "Okay."
They both inhaled deeply then exhaled.
"Ok, I've deep-breathed."
"Now, just calmly tell me what happened."
"Uh… well… Rory and I got home, and Dean was waiting for her. I went inside, they got into a fight, and she disappeared. Next thing I know, she comes home, sits down on the couch, and tells me she kissed Jess. Twice."
"Okay," Sookie nodded. "What did you say?"
"I said okay."
"And then?"
"And then she told me everything. It just spilled out of her in a rush. It all started with that snowman, that stupid snowman. That wasn't exactly new news, but it just irritates me all over again every time I—"
"Snowman?" Sookie interrupted. "What snowman?"
"Oh, that's right. You don't know. Rory and Jess destroyed that snowman. That's the only reason we won."
"The Scrooge snowman from the contest?"
"That's the one."
"But I always thought that was you."
"Thought what was me?" Lorelai asked, confused.
"I thought you killed the snowman."
"You thought I did that?" Lorelai repeated, aghast. "Sookie! I would never cheat!"
"Right," Sookie giggled. "What about the time you—"
Lorelai cut her off. "We're getting off-track. The point is that all of this time Rory has been hanging out with Jess. I knew most of it, but hearing it listed off like Letterman's Top Ten of Secret Dates… it just… I just –"
"It took you by surprise."
"That's putting it mildly."
"So what did you do?"
Lorelai's brow furrowed. "I said okay."
"That's all?"
"What else could I say, Sookie? She likes Jess."
"So you said okay, and then what? What'd she say?"
"She asked me what she should do."
"Oh, no! You didn't…"
"Scream 'get thee to a nunnery'?"
Sookie couldn't help but smile. "Please tell me you didn't."
"I didn't. It was there… on the tip of my tongue… but I didn't."
"What did you say?"
Lorelai sighed. "I told her I love her."
"Much better choice."
"And that I want her to be happy."
"Good," Sookie encouraged. "That's good."
"And that it's her decision."
"See, this all sounds very good."
"Yes, Sookie," Lorelai exclaimed, frustrated. "Except for the Jess part. Do you remember Jess? He's a disaster. Dean will be history, and she'll be with Jess. What if she gets pregnant? Then, suddenly, there will be a little baby with a smug smirk and hair gel holding its little curls in place. It'll scowl and read."
"Smart baby," Sookie chimed in.
Lorelai ignored her and kept going. "And swear and smoke and be a big jerk. And they'll have to live in a car because Jess has no ambitions or goals, and Rory will be too busy taking care of the baby. There'll be no college. No Harvard. No CNN. It'll just be Rory and Jess and the smirking gelled baby in a car by the side of the road."
"You could give them a room in the Inn," Sookie suggested.
"I'm serious, Sookie. This is her future."
"Okay, but, honey, that's the worst case scenario."
"No, it isn't. As bad as that is, that isn't even the worst case scenario."
Sookie frowned. "What could be worse than that?"
"He could break her heart."
"Oh, sweetie," Sookie said sympathetically. She sat down on a nearby stool and wrapped an arm around her.
"She was sitting there, talking, and all I wanted to do was chain her up in the closet to keep her away from him."
"Probably not the best idea."
"No, the best idea is to chain him in a closet to keep him away from her."
Sookie smiled. "That can be our Plan B."
"I didn't know we had a Plan A."
"You've already started Plan A."
"I did? When did I do that? What is it?"
"You support her."
Lorelai sighed.
"And I support you."
"This plan seems a little weak."
Sookie smiled and rubbed her arm. "It's a good plan."
Lorelai nodded and leaned her head on her friend's shoulder. "Can I at least buy the chains? Just in case?"
Sookie giggled. "Sure."
"Sure?"
"There's no reason not to be prepared."
Lorelai smiled, but, after a moment, she sighed again. "You should've heard her. She really seems to like him."
Unsure of what to say, Sookie rested her head against Lorelai's, and they sat together in silence.
:::
Rory had just stepped off the bus and started towards home when a voice called out from behind her.
"Rory!"
She turned around and saw Dean jogging towards her, a Styrofoam cup in one hand and a small paper bag in the other.
"Hey," he smiled, reaching her side.
She avoided his eyes and mumbled a 'hey' in return.
He held out the cup of coffee. "Peace offering."
She glanced at it and then took a quick peek at him. "Thanks," she said flatly, taking it from him.
"I had a feeling that wouldn't do it," he stated, holding out the paper bag.
Confused, she met his gaze directly.
"Peace offerings," he rephrased, emphasizing the 'S'.
Her eyebrows scrunched together uncertainly as she reached out for the bag. She peeked inside, and a tiny smile curled up the edges of her lips. "Caramel roll?"
"With lots of pecans, just like you like it. That one had the most pecans in the whole store."
She gave him a skeptical look.
He smiled. "I made Kirk count."
She nodded as the grin overtook her face. "Well, thank you, but you should know that I don't respond to bribes."
"What about apologies?"
"Apologies tend to be more effective," she agreed.
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I shouldn't have freaked out like that. I don't know what happened."
"It's my fault," Rory admitted. "I should've told you about helping Jess as soon as you got back."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, you should have, but it's okay, and if you really think you need to help him again," he added, each word painful to speak out loud. "Then, I guess I'm okay with that too."
"You are?"
He shrugged. "I don't think I have much of a choice."
Rory sighed. "I promised Luke."
"I know."
"This will be the last time."
"Okay," he accepted.
Rory smiled and looked down at the bag. "I'm starving."
"I figured," he grinned. "Here." He took the bag from her and pulled out the sticky bun.
She reached out with her free hand to take it, but instead he held it up to her lips. She glanced at him, slightly uncomfortable. Then, carefully, she took a small bite.
As she started to chew, he moved the roll aside and leaned down, grazing his lips over hers. As he pulled away, he whispered another apology.
She smiled, and, satisfied, he handed the pastry to her. But as they walked towards her house, she looked down at it and frowned. She was no longer hungry.
:::
"Hey Michel," Lorelai greeted, as she moved behind the desk to check messages before she headed home.
"That man has been calling incessantly," Michel complained, gesturing at the slips of paper.
"Which man?"
"The one with the month for a name."
"Who?"
"I don't know. March, July, October, whatever his name is."
"August?" Lorelai asked, glancing at the papers.
"Perhaps."
She grinned. "August McCullough."
"Is that a name or a skin condition?"
"Down boy," Lorelai chided. "No need to get jealous."
Michel rolled his eyes.
"Wait," Lorelai stated, flicking through the slips again. "He called once. I thought you said he was calling incessantly."
"It seemed like more."
"He called once, and you're complaining?"
"He tends to go on."
"This message just says, 'Tell Lorelai to call'," she said, holding it up. "What else did he say?"
"I cannot remember."
"Did he say more than that?"
"He gave his number."
"And that was it?"
"It seemed like more."
"Marcel Marceau says more than that."
"Marcel Marceau is not as annoying."
Lorelai narrowed her eyes and slipped the message into her pocket. "I'm going home."
"I'll try to restrain my weeping."
"Good-night, Michel."
"Good-night."
She glared at him as she grabbed her coat off the hook and headed towards the door. As she was about to leave, she saw a man sitting nearby. Glancing at Michel to make sure he wasn't watching, she hurried over to him. "Hey," she said quickly, using her most flirtatious, damsel-in-distress voice. "I'm the manager of this inn, and our phone doesn't seem to be working. Could you do me a favor and call the front desk ten or twenty times?"
"Uh, okay," the man answered.
"Here's ten dollars. The longer the call, the better."
He nodded and took the bill. She patted him on the shoulder. Then, with an evil smile, she walked out the door.
:::
"Rory! These bags are trying to kill me!" Lorelai called as she tried to wedge herself through their front door.
Moving her textbook off her lap, Rory stood and hurried to her mother's aid. "What is all of that?" she asked, eyeing the purse, two medium-sized paper bags, and giant plastic bag that her mother was carrying.
"Help now, ask questions later."
"Right," Rory agreed, grabbing the paper bag that was slipping from Lorelai's grasp.
They shuffled into the living room where Lorelai loudly dropped the rest of the bags onto the floor. "Why is it that the purse always falls off the shoulder at the worst possible time?"
"Gravity?" Rory offered.
"Evil demons."
Rory smiled. "Or that."
"Evil purse-snatching demons that wait until you're at your weakest and then drag the strap down your arm at painfully slow increments, just so you think you have a chance of saving it."
"I've never seen these demons."
"They're invisible."
"Oh."
"And everywhere."
"Oh!" Rory exclaimed, glancing at the floor.
"Don't worry. They only want purses."
"Good to know," Rory nodded. "Do I smell food?"
Lorelai grinned. "You might."
Rory sniffed the air. "Cheeseburgers and cheese fries."
"And cheesecake," Lorelai added, handing over the other paper bag.
Rory set it on the table and started pulling out the plastic containers. "We haven't had a Cheese Night in forever."
"I thought it was about time."
"Good thing I'm not lactose intolerant," Rory stated, eyeing all of the cheese products.
"I traded that baby in for you."
Rory shrugged. "Nobody wants a dud."
Lorelai pulled off her coat. "Unless it's a Milk Dud," she said, kissing the top of Rory's head as she sat down on the couch.
"Don't tease the poor lactose intolerant baby."
"You're right; I'm cruel. Hand me the Cheez Whiz."
Rory passed it over and settled back with her food. "So, if the paper bags held food, what's in the plastic bag?"
"Oh, I almost forgot," Lorelai said, reaching out to grab it. "This is a surprise."
"For who?"
"My little Milk Dud."
Rory grinned. "Me?"
"Could be," Lorelai teased.
"What is it?"
"Plan A."
"Huh?"
"Put your food down."
Rory set her container on the coffee table and turned to her mother.
Lorelai took a deep breath. "So, I was thinking about our talk last night."
"Oh," Rory frowned.
Lorelai smiled at her reassuringly. "I know that you know I like Dean."
"Mm-hmm," Rory nodded, her lips set in a tight line.
"And Jess is… well… Jess."
"He is," Rory agreed.
"But, regardless of my feelings for Dean or Jess, what's important is that I love you, and I want you to believe it."
Rory met her mother's eyes.
"So I got you a few things," she finished.
"Okay," Rory said hesitantly.
Lorelai grinned and reached into the plastic bag. "Number 1: The teddy bear," she stated, holding out the medium-sized, brown, plush teddy bear. "Floppy hair and all."
Rory smiled nervously and took it.
"Now," Lorelai continued. "I don't want you to think I'm biased so… Number 2: The Barbie." She pulled out a pink box and handed it to her daughter. "A Ken doll in a leather jacket. It was the closest to brooding I could find. I never noticed how happy-go-lucky Ken is."
Rory grinned and looked at the doll, then back up at her mother.
"Now," Lorelai said. "I can't help you choose. You and I both know that. But I also know that you are the smartest, wisest, most thoughtful and beautiful person I've ever known. No matter what you do, it will be the right thing, and no matter what happens, I'll support you."
A painful lump formed in Rory's throat.
"And, despite the floppy-haired teddy bears and brooding Kens that will walk in and out of our lives, you and I are a team, and we always will be. You're what matters to me, Rory, and I always, always want you to remember that." She reached into the bag and pulled out the last item. "So, in keeping with the childhood theme tonight, I got you this."
Rory glanced down at the book her mother held and smiled. Then, she looked at Lorelai again, tears tingling at the backs of her eyes. "Thank you," she said softly.
Lorelai pulled her close. "You're welcome."
Rory sniffed back her tears. "Will you read it?"
Lorelai laughed. "Our food is already getting cold."
"That's what microwaves are for."
"Ok, but this very special moment threatens to give Cheese Night new meaning," Lorelai joked.
"I don't care," Rory said, resting her head onto her mother's warm shoulder.
Lorelai smiled. "Me either." Flipping open the book, she turned to the first page. "God, I haven't done this since you were three and could do it yourself."
"I know," Rory said wistfully.
Lorelai glanced down at her, remembering back to the days when Rory was just a tiny, wide-eyed girl with a mop of brown hair, and they'd lay side-by-side on the creaky bed in the shed they called home, reading. It was a long time ago, and yet it seemed like yesterday. She smiled and turned her eyes back to the book. Softly, she began to read:
Little Nutbrown Hare, who was going to bed, held on tight to Big Nutbrown Hare's very long ears. He wanted to be sure that Big Nutbrown Hare was listening. "Guess how much I love you," he said.
"Oh, I don't think I could guess that," said Big Nutbrown Hare.
:::
"It's Thursday." That was Rory's first thought when she woke up the following morning. "Thursday." From one second to the next, her stomach fluctuated between being excited and sick. "Thursday."
After showering and dressing in her Chilton uniform, she took a deep breath and glanced around her room. Her eyes moved to her standalone shelf, focusing in on a particular book. She walked towards it and picked it up, breezing through the pages with her fingers. Memories of a distant night flashed through her mind. As she skimmed the text, however, she realized that was all she felt: warm recollections of a time past… and nothing else. No anticipation or excitement or giddiness.
Still holding the book, she looked at the two objects she'd set on her desk the night before. A calm sadness swept over her.
She walked to the desk and ran her eyes over the books lined up neatly on the shelf above it. When she found what she was looking for, she pulled it from its place. Opening to a random page, she began to read – not the typeset words but those scrawled neatly in the margins. Her heart began to race as she reread the words; she couldn't remember how many times she'd read them before, but she nearly had them memorized. She smiled as her morning butterflies settled on excitement. She grabbed her backpack from the back of the desk chair and tucked both books inside. Then, without looking back, she left the room.
:::
"He called again," Michel whined, holding out the piece of paper as Lorelai walked past.
"Gus?"
"Yes. Would you please just call him back and put me out of my misery?"
Lorelai smiled. "Were there any other calls yesterday?"
Michel glared at her. "Your joke was not funny."
"What joke?"
"Next time you pay someone to harass me, I suggest telling him to leave the vicinity first."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said innocently
"I threatened to confiscate his cell phone, and he ratted you out."
"How many calls did he get in first?"
"I will never tell."
"C'mon, Michel. It was funny."
He looked at her with a completely straight face.
"It was funny," she repeated.
"No. It wasn't."
"It was a little funny."
"Call the skin condition."
"Fine," Lorelai moped. "But I'm supposed to wait at least a week."
"Says who?"
"Those women who wrote The Rules."
"Since when do you follow rules?" he asked.
Lorelai grinned. "You know, that's a really good point. I really like you today, Michel."
"I could not be more thrilled," he said sarcastically.
She scooted past behind him.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling Gus."
"Right now?"
"Yes," she said, picking up the phone.
"Here?"
She dialed the number. "Hey, you told me to, buddy."
"I hate you."
She grinned at him. Then, after a beat, "Oh, hi, Gus. It's Lorelai."
Michel folded his arms over his chest and glared at her. "Someday, I will grow tired of this and quit."
Lorelai winked and nudged him with her shoulder. He rolled his eyes.
:::
The day went by in a blur. Somehow, she'd managed to focus on her classes, taking neat notes and participating in the discussions. For the first time in weeks, Paris hadn't even looked at her like she belonged in a padded cell. But now standing outside of Miss Patty's Dance Studio with a book clutched in her hand, she wasn't so sure about that herself; a padded cell looked pretty cozy about now. What she'd been so sure of that morning suddenly seemed like complete insanity. Maybe she didn't know what she wanted… maybe she needed more time to think… maybe…
"Rory?"
She whirled around. "Dean."
"Hey," he greeted, leaning down to kiss her. "Sorry I'm late."
"Oh," she stammered. "That's okay. I just, uh, I thought you were inside already."
"I got held up at practice."
"Oh."
"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly.
"Why did you want to meet here?"
"Um… I guess, well, dance classes are over for the day, and I thought it'd be… private," she explained, shifting nervously.
He smiled. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," she mumbled. "But if you wanna go somewhere else, we coul—"
"Let's go inside," he suggested, pulling the door open for her.
She hesitated.
"Rory?"
She gave him a small smile and walked into the studio. He followed her in, closing the door behind them.
Rory started further into the room when she felt Dean's arms around her waist. He brushed a kiss against her neck and smiled. "So, what's going on?"
She moved out of his arms and turned to look at him. He was clearly confused, his forehead crinkled in bewilderment.
"Rory, what's going on?"
"Do you remember the night of the Chilton dance?" she asked abruptly, folding her arms over her chest.
"Yeah, of course."
"You were so… perfect," she stated, her voice shaking a little. "You were – are – the perfect boyfriend. You always make me feel safe."
"Good, I'm glad," Dean nodded, still confused.
"And that night… I'll never forget it," she continued.
"Me either," he agreed. "I fell in love with you that night."
Rory's eyes had been on the floor, but as he spoke, they shot to his face. "You did?"
"Yeah," he smiled. He took a step towards her. She took a step back. "Rory?"
A tear slid down her cheek. "I'm sorry."
His eyes searched hers. "What for?"
"Here," she said, holding out the book.
"What? Why are you—"
"Take it," she pleaded.
He reached out and took it from her hand. "Why?"
"I marked a page. I didn't know how else to… I don't know how to do this."
"Do what? What's going on?"
More tears slipped down her cheeks. Dean watched her for a moment.
"Just… can you read it?" she asked. "Please."
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." He looked at the book. "Isn't this the book we read that night?"
She nodded slightly, brushing her hand across her cheek.
He flipped to the passage she'd marked and, after glancing up at her again, began to read. "Once when I was young and true, Someone left me sad – Broke my brittle heart in two, And that is very bad." He looked at her again.
"Keep reading," she prodded, sniffling.
He turned back to the page. "Love is for unlucky folk, Love is but a curse. Once there was a heart I broke; And that, I think, is worse." He swallowed. "Rory, what's going on?"
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I just –" Losing her nerve, she looked around the room helplessly.
"Just what, Rory?"
She turned her eyes back to him.
"Rory?"
"I don't think we should be together anymore," she blurted.
"What?"
"It's just—"
"You're breaking up with me?" he asked incredulously.
She wiped her hands over her eyes again then looked at him. Seeing the pain and confusion on his face, she quickly looked away.
"Is this about Jess? Because I thought we figured that out yesterday. I thought everything was fine. Yesterday, you were fine," he insisted.
Rory met his eyes, her cheeks tear-stained.
"Rory, yesterday, everything was fine," he repeated.
A sob escaped her throat.
"I can't believe this. Do you want to be with him? Is that what this is about? You want to be with Jess?"
When she didn't respond, he stared at her, fire in his eyes. "Fine. You know what? FINE!" He threw the book on the floor, and Rory jumped. "But when he makes you miserable, which he will, Rory, don't except any sympathy from me."
"Dean…"
"Don't expect anything from me," he spat. Then, he turned and yanked the door open. It slammed shut behind him, and Rory collapsed to her knees, sobs wracking her body.
:::
Eventually, the tears slowed and then stopped. A little dazed, Rory looked around the room and took deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. Standing, she walked to one of the mirrors and looked at her reflection. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, and her hair was rumpled. She brushed her hands through it, smoothing it back into place. As she watched herself in the glass, her eyes drifted to the bracelet tied around her wrist. Lowering her hand from her hair, she looked down at the smooth, worn leather; she fingered it gently, tracing it around her wrist. Then, despite the small stabbing pain in her chest, she pulled it loose and freed it from her arm. A single tear fell down her cheek as folded it in half and slid it into her pocket.
She moved across the room and retrieved the book, placing it gently into her backpack. It was almost five. She didn't want to see him, didn't know if she could, not when everything was so fresh. But she'd promised Luke. With a heavy heart, she left the studio and walked across the street to the diner.
When she got inside, Luke smiled, happy to see her. She smiled back, attempting normalcy, and took a seat at a nearby table. While she waited for Jess, she pulled out a textbook and tried to study. But instead she found herself wondering what she should say, what he would say. The last time she'd seen him, they'd kissed. She'd left. Would he be angry? Would he care? The butterflies started again, and she glanced at the clock. 5:10. She looked towards Luke, and he shrugged.
"He promised he'd be here."
She nodded and focused on her book again.
Twenty minutes later, he still hadn't come, and she felt disappointment set in.
Ten more minutes. She ran her fingers over her lips, remembering the kiss. She sighed and looked at the clock. Then, she pulled out the copy of Howl she'd grabbed that morning and started to read.
At six o'clock, the phone rang. Rory didn't notice it until she heard Luke arguing with someone and looked up. He slammed down the receiver and ran his hand over his face. Then, he glanced at her. Her breath hitched in her throat.
With a deep sigh, he walked around the counter and approached her table. She watched him, waiting.
He shook his head in disbelief and said quietly, more quietly than she'd ever heard Luke speak, "I'm sorry, Rory. He isn't coming. That was Liz. He went back to New York."
The air surged out of her in a rush, as if she'd been punched. He was gone.
