A/N:  A billion and one cookies to Lia.  Thank you so very much.  As always, thanks to the three M's, lol.  And thanks for all the great reviews!  Comments and suggestions are always welcome.  

Chapter Four

Fifteen hours had elapsed.  She had spent seven of them sitting on the wooden bleachers, wishing her mother hadn't dubbed her "my personal blue-eyed bubbly cheerleader".  Apparently, Lorelai couldn't win this without knowing her daughter was rooting for her.  Rory personally thought that she could do this from the comfort of their home far away from the Stars Hollow gymnasium, but Lorelai insisted otherwise.  So being the ever dutiful daughter, Rory had succumbed to her mother's wishes.  After staying in one spot for two hours straight (she was prone to sporadic breaks), she had come to the foregone conclusion that no matter if she was spectator or participant:  dance marathons were not fun.  They were draining, dull at low points, and long.  Very, very long. 

Also, she was beginning to suspect that this yearly tradition would be the death of her.  Dancing for twenty-four hours was tiring and painful.  Sitting for that amount of time was excruciating.  High school stands?  Not exactly a cozy spot.  She was constantly shifting positions because once twenty minutes had passed, what she had thought was comfortable had become unbearable.  Once this was over, she was certain she'd have the appearance of Quasimodo.  Her back was aching.

Well.  At least she wasn't lining up, preparing to partake in the runaround.

Lorelai and her partner this year, Ryan Wyles, — a.k.a. person number five to fall for her womanly charms and / or manipulations — were dragging themselves over to join everyone else.  There was no question that the runaround was the worst part of the entire event.  At that moment, Rory had never been so relieved to be sitting on the bleachers from hell, even though the damage done to her posture was most likely irreversible.

The horn sounded and they were off!  Her eyes followed her mother's form around and around the circumference of the gym.  Lorelai looked awake and vibrant, but Ryan, on the other hand, appeared to be very close to falling into a coma.  To think he still had nine more hours of this.  He just had to keep moving.  Hopefully, he was a master of the art of sleeping while standing, and would survive this.  If not, he would have to incur Lorelai's wrath, something that should always be avoided when possible. 

Rory stood up as the runaround came to an abrupt stop — the dancers hit the ground.  She made her way over to her mother, and took a seat on the floor next to her. 

"Mom?"

"Why am I doing this again?"

"Because you want to prove you're still young and vital?"

"Everyone knows I have the body of a twenty-three year old.  I don't need to do this to prove it."

"Okay, then because you love to dance?"  Rory offered.

"God, no."

"Because you enjoy conforming to society and participating in these borderline insane town events?"

"Still no."

"Because you want to make Kirk cry?"

"Almost there."

"Trophy."

"Bingo!  I really want that trophy.  I want it so bad, I can taste it," Lorelai said.

"Um, trophies aren't known for their excellent taste."

"I know.  It's kind of coppery.  Oh, and a hint of chocolate!"

"You're idolizing it.  Very nice," Rory nodded.

"I'm never moving again."

"And when you said 'never again' you actually mean for the next ten minutes?"

"Unfortunately."

"Isn't the floor uncomfortable?"

"Extremely, but I'm fairly sure that standing up would cause the room to spin and spin and spin and spin--"

"Mom?"

"Right, sorry.  I've lost control of certain parts of my bodies.  If I were to hit or kick you right now, it'd be random loss of nerve control."

"I'll keep that in mind.  How's Ryan?"

"Dead," A male voice came from the left of Lorelai. 

"That's worse than I expected.  Is there anything you need me to do before I go and visit Lane?  Like… help you into a sitting position?"  Rory asked.

"No, just let us rest in peace," Lorelai said solemnly.  "The feeling in our legs will eventually return."

Rory nodded her head sympathetically and stood up.  She crossed the gym floor and headed outside and over to Miss Patty's.  A majority of the town was shoved inside, milling about in colorful costumes and uncomfortable dress shoes.  There were very few people who were not dressed up, and most were the ones in charge of the food tables.  Rory immediately spotted Lane at her usual location — Mama Kim's sandwich table — and weaved her way through the throngs of people towards her. 

"Hey, Lane," Rory said, stopping in front of her friend.  "I see you are, once again, on sandwich duty."

"This is my fate.  I've accepted it."

"If your band fails, at least you have something to fall back on."

"Because the college thing… that won't help me get ahead at all," Lane teased.

"Oh, how is Mama Kim's choice for the pure of heart and well disciplined going?" 

"I think I'm going to run away."

"To join the circus?"

"I was thinking rock n' roll band, but the circus sounds kind of appealing.  I could be a trapeze artist."

"You don't like heights," Rory pointed out.

"I could be the ringmaster."

"As long as you're not a clown."

"Oh, I forgot about them.  Never mind.  I like to be at least one hundred yards away from clowns at all times."

"I told you there would be serious repercussions when you insisted on watching It."

"Stupid Stephen King appeal.  That movie gave me nightmares," Lane explained.

"More so than Pet Semetary?" 

"I just stopped thinking about that!  You're horrible."

"You saw that three years ago."

"It has a lasting effect.  Like Kujo."

"Mean!"  Rory exclaimed.  "I used to love dogs.  Now I suspect each and every one them."

"You're paranoid."

"We need to never go on a Stephen King movie spree again."

"Agreed," Lane nodded.  Then, as an afterthought, "What were we talking about originally?"

Rory paused to think.  "We were…  I think I said…"  She trailed off.  "I'm stumped."

"Me too."

"I hope it wasn't anything important.  You know, sleep deprivation does not work well with us."

"Once again, I agree."  Lane's face suddenly brightened up as a new thought occurred to her.  "Case in point:  my mind is going slower.  I didn't tell you that Dave called!"

"I don't think we were talking about--" Rory cut herself off.  "Dave?  When?  What'd he say?   Did he fall all over himself explaining how much he missed you?  Did he recite poetry?  Did he cry?"

"Let's see… yes, last night, I don't know exactly what he said, but I doubt he was falling all over himself.  If he ever recited poetry I'd have no choice but to kick him… and somehow I don't think he cried while he was talking to my mother."

"Your mom?"  Rory raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't there, so she answered and took a message for me.  'Dave called.'  It was quite informative."

"Did you call him back?"

"Should I?"

"I'm sorry, is this a trick question?"  When Lane remained silent, Rory continued in exasperation, "Of course, yes!  Why wouldn't you?"

"The last time I spoke to him, he said he'd call me soon.  That was three weeks ago.  That's not soon."

"Well, he's in California.  You know there's the time difference…"  Rory trailed off, her futile attempt to make light of this going unnoticed.

"This is it.  He's found someone else and this is the courtesy call to let me know."

"Do we really need to go through this again?  Dave has not--"

"Found someone else because he is crazy about me.  Evidence supporting this statement includes putting up with my mother and escorting me to prom after reading the entire bible in one night," Lane recited.  "So I'm being paranoid?"

"Call him."

"But--"

"Call him."

"I really don't--"

"Call.  Him."

"You're bossy," Lane complained.

"It's not one of my better qualities."

"Since you're lecturing me on my love life," Lane began ("Lecture?  There was no lecture," Rory insisted), "I suppose this means you've taken care of yours."

"How do you mean?"  Rory asked, the bottom of her stomach dropping out.  She really didn't need this tonight.  Or any night for that matter.

"You settle things out with Jess?"

"Why are you so insistent I clear the air with him?  You don't even like him."

"But you do, so me being the wonderful, helpful friend must encourage this.  If I thought this was bad for you, I would definitely advise against it.  I'm not talking about getting back together with him, I'm just saying--"

"If you say talk to him," Rory broke in, "I swear I will have a tantrum right here in the middle of the floor.  We've done the talking thing.  It really didn't go over well.  There's nothing else to say.  That's it."

"There always something left to say.  And it's obvious that you're not okay with how it is--"

"What?  What's obvious?  I'm not obvious.  I am the opposite of obvious.  I am… unobvious."

"Is that even a real word?"  Lane waved her hand as if to dismiss the subject.  "Doesn't matter.  Alright, Miss Unobvious, I'll call Dave if you talk to Jess."

"Is she even listening?"  Rory mused out loud.  "I said 'I've talked to Jess and nothing came out of it' and then she said--"

"She says stop talking to yourself."

"I think we should give up guys and become nuns."

"Only if I can call Dave from the convent."

"Never mind," Rory sighed.  "You know what?  Fine.  I bet he's at the diner right now, and I'll go over there and we'll talk and have coffee and be merry.  It'll be great."

"Be merry?"

"Go call Dave," Rory insisted before turning around and exiting the studio. 

As soon as she breathed in the outside air, it was as if reality hit and she froze.  What the hell was she doing?  Just because Lane had said to talk to him, she was going to go through it?  Lane wasn't even fully informed on the entire situation, so she really didn't have enough credit to be making suggestions.  Sure, Rory had ordered her to call Dave, but she knew he had not found another girl.  He was merely busy.  He probably felt horrible that so much time had passed between their last talk, and the longer Lane waited to call back, the worse the guilt for him would be.  So hopefully she'd take the advice and ring him up.  Unlike Rory, she had to try because there was something there.  The two of them were going to last.  Rory and Jess were another matter entirely.  They had been over long before it had officially ended between them.

Rory headed toward the diner, sighing at the internal debate that had erupted inside her.  Talk to Jess, talk to Jess… it was what Lane and Lorelai had both said.  It was what she had attempted to do herself.  But she was tired of talking and getting nowhere.  The circles they continued to go in were making her dizzy and weary, and she was prepared to throw in the towel.  She was ready to accept things the way they were.  She had tried and tried and tried, and there was nothing to show for her efforts.  She didn't trust him, he would end up hating her soon enough, and that was that.  She stopped in front of Luke's.  That was that, she repeated in her head.  She was giving up.

It took her a full minute to tear herself away from the dark building.  He probably wasn't even home, she assured herself, although why did that even matter?  It didn't.  He didn't matter anymore.  The sinking feeling in her stomach lingered no matter what she thought though, and she internally groaned.  If it had been over for so long, why did it feel like it was happening all over again tonight?  God, she was sick of feeling this way. 

Her eyes flickered across the street to the lit up gymnasium.  The mere thought of sitting back down at the bleachers, watching couples dance around the floor made her uncomfortable.  Heading back inside was no longer an option.  Instead, she found herself walking in the opposite direction, and then cutting across the bridge.  A bad choice, she immediately realized, but maybe this was a test.  Walk across and not think about him, and then perhaps everything would be fine.

Unfortunately, halfway across, she heard her name.  She continued to walk, although unconsciously, she slowed down her pace.  He called out again, and she stopped, turning around to face him. 

"Hey," she called out nonchalantly.  This was how it was going to be from now on, she reminded herself.  Casual, noncommittal conversation.  She could do this. 

"Why didn't you knock at the diner?"

Oh.  So he had been home.  "I didn't need to.  I was just passing by," she lied.

He didn't corner her with the fact that her so-called 'passing by' had taken her several minutes.  Instead, he changed the subject, "Déjà vu."

"Excuse me?"

He gestured around him, and realization slowly came over her.  Oh.  "The dance marathon," he said.

She needed no further explanation.  "Yeah," she nodded.  "I remember."  She took a few steps forward, and he followed suit, so that they were no longer so far apart.  She nearly smiled at the memory, even though it was a painful one.  That night she had been so upset.  She had sat in the center of the bridge, her shoulders hunched from shame and defeat.  But the mind games had been over; it was all out in the open.  And then he had appeared to confirm it.  The beginning of something new…

"So how's the dance going this year?  Lorelai attempt to trip Kirk yet?"

"My mother plays fair," Rory jumped to defend.  "But there have been some comments and mocking."

"Wouldn't be a town event without that."

"Taylor is still surprisingly in touch with what's going on, although Miss Patty seems to be pretty drunk despite the fact there is absolutely no liquor being served."  Jess seemed quite amused by this, so she continued, "For the past couple of hours, she's been trying to get Lindsay to take her ten minute break so she can have Dean all to herself."  Jess smirked at this comment, but she instantly regretted saying it. 

The conversation between herself and Dean came flying back to her.  It played over and over in her mind, distracting her. 

"I'm sorry if you have a crappy relationship with Jess."

Yeah.  So was she.

Jess waved a hand in her face, snapping her out of the reverie she had fallen into.  "Sorry," she said.  "I'm just tired."  She really was.

He nodded as the conversation came to a stand still.  To save it from death, he brought up the one fall back subject.  He asked her something he hadn't inquired about in months.  "Read anything good lately?"

She was actually startled by the question, and had to think for a moment.  The title seemed to fly from her head.  Then, "I'm reading The Time Traveler's Wife."

"Huh.  I don't think I've heard of it."

"Now that's a terrifying thought," she smiled.  Yes, yes!  This was excellent.  Maybe it didn't have to be completely over.  But then she quickly squashed the small hope that had developed.  The hope for friendship—anything—with him.  She couldn't set herself up for a let down.  "It's pretty new.  It's by Audrey Niffenegger.  It's her first novel."

"Oh.  The plot?"

"The main character Henry has Chrono-Displacement Disorder.  He gets zapped back into time."

"Sounds like a fun disease.  Now when you say zap, you mean…"

"Just kind of randomly transported usually when he gets stressed out.  It's a love story."

"Of course it is," Jess said in disbelief. 

She chose to ignore his tone.  "It's a fascinating concept though.  I think you'd like it.  It's one of those things that if I try to explain it to you, you'll just shoot me a blank look and nod like you get it.  It's easy to understand once you read."

"Perhaps I'll borrow it."

"From?"  She teased. 

"A friend?"

"Maybe," she smiled.  "I'm only halfway through it.  I love it though.  I like the way the author tells the story.  She always includes the full date and the age of Henry and his love, Clare, and it saves from confusion.  It takes place in the present and the past.  I like it when he goes into the past more, I think, because sometimes he knows what's going to happen but he can't change it."  She paused.  "Like most works about time travel, it's saying that no matter what, you can't change the past."  It was out of her mouth before she could give it another thought.  She really wasn't trying to apply it to their situation.  But by the look on his face, it was obvious that he thought otherwise.

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

"No," she insisted.  "I didn't mean…"  She trailed off.  "Never mind."

This time the bump in the conversation was unbearable.  She turned toward the water so she didn't have to look at him, staring at his feet.  The reflection of the two of them stared back at her.  They were standing so close.  It didn't matter.  She wasn't within his reach anymore.

"I would have lied less," he admitted very, very quietly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced his way.  His eyes were on the water.  "I would have trusted you more.  Before," she added as an afterthought.  "Before… everything."

"Trusted me about what?"

"I don't know," she answered vaguely.  "My grandmother's house," she came up with.  "When we had a fight, and you walked out.  I should have just left it alone."

"I lied."

"No you didn't," she insisted.  Oh god, what was he talking about?

"The black eye thing," he explained, looking up at her.  He looked amused, so she took a quick breath.  This was nothing serious, she told herself.  This was fine.  "I didn't get hit with a football."

Oh.  No. 

"It was a swan," he nearly laughed.  "A crazy swan that probably still lurks somewhere out there," he gestured across the lake. 

She turned to face him.  "You lied.  About the eye.  A swan."  She spoke in sentence fragments, trying to grasp this new concept.  He had lied about this?  "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!"  She snapped.  "I cannot believe you lied about that!  Of all the stupid things…"  She trailed off.

"I shouldn't have told you."

"No, no.  I'm glad you did.  It just makes everything easier," she said almost to herself.  Nothing.  It was over.  Let all of this go.  "I can't believe you…"

"Come on, it was a stupid swan!"

"It doesn't matter what it was about, it was still a lie, Jess!  God, did you ever tell the truth?"  She kept talking, not expecting an answer.  "This is what I mean.  You were never honest with me.  It was always one of two things.  You either clammed up, or you lied.  I am sick of this.  Of you lying, of you never telling me anything," she began, not paying attention to the fact that she was finally voicing what she felt when they had been together.  "I'm sick of wondering if you're going to be here tomorrow!"

"What exactly does that mean?"

She looked back toward the water, trying to control her emotions.  She hated when she let loose like this.  She needed to get a grip; she needed to breathe.  This was good though; he was going to know.

"After you stayed, it was really great at first.  I was happy; I guess I thought you were in love with me or something," she shook her head, quickly dismissing the notion.  "But then it was like what if everything gets too hard again?  What if we have a fight and you leave?  I wanted to know more about what was going on.  I wanted to help you, but I was afraid it would start a fight and you'd just take off.  And then I slept with you…"  She stopped at the subject they had already beaten to death.  There.  It was out there.  She was done now.  She had told him all she had wanted to.  What he did with it was his decision. 

But he was silent.  He was absorbing every word she had said, taking it to heart.  He got it; he understood.  He had told too many lies, held back too much until they finally reached the point where she was afraid of having an actual conversation with him.  She feared he'd run.  Maybe he would have.

"Tell me what to do."

"What?"  She asked, startled at his voice.

"I don't know what to do, Rory.  I don't know how to make this better." 

"You can't."

But he wanted to.  He wanted to fix this.  "So that's it?"  He asked, doing his best to suppress his rising anger.  "We're back to being people who only talk when absolutely necessary.  I'll say hi, you'll say hi, I'll take your order."

"I guess."

"Okay," he conceded.  Fine.  It was fine, everything was fine.  This was how she wanted it.  He couldn't do anything to change her mind.

"I should go," she said.

"Yeah, I'll see you around."

She moved forward, prepared to walk past him, but then he stepped back as well.  "Jess," she warned.

He didn't move from her path.  "Wait."  And then he kissed her.  Sometimes, it really was that easy.

He caught her off guard, but the shock of it wore off quickly.  It was the sudden onslaught of emotions that really surprised her.  A wave of familiarity hit her, and she drank it in.  It was tainted with longing and desperation, but she ignored this.  She gave into what she wanted, into him.  The past conversation hadn't happened.  Nothing had happened.  There was only the two of them; her eager hands pulling him closer, and his tongue begging for entry.  She allowed him to deepen the kiss, but it didn't last.  The dizzying effect was only temporary, just as he was.  She wasn't sure she could handle this.  God, she didn't want to fall.  Not again.  He couldn't make this better, because no matter what he did, no matter what happened…

"You're never going to change," she blurted out, only seconds after she pulled away.

He stared at her for a moment; her hand still rested on his chest.  He made no move to shake if off.  "And you'll change too much."

She looked past him, towards the end of the bridge.  Her hand dropped, and she walked around him without a goodbye.  It wasn't until she was back on the street that she let herself touch her lips.  Despite what had been said, the small spark of hope was back.  This time, instead of dismissing it, she let it burn inside her.