A/N:  Wow, thanks for the feedback.  I love having a goofy smile plastered on my face.  As a warning for anyone who hasn't read / seen Mystic River, it's discussed in scene two.  I don't want to ruin any part of it for anyone.  By the way, I totally heart Becka.  Also, this chapter is dedicated to Lia because it's her birthday, and she's awesome.

Chapter Eleven

Rory stared down at the bag on her bed, her forehead creased in concentration.  Finally, she grabbed another sweater from her dresser, and placed it inside.  Taking a step back, she once again surveyed the interior of her backpack, before consulting the list in her hand.  She ran through it, mentally ticking off each item.  When she reached the bottom, she frowned.  Looking up for the missing object, she instead found Lane staring at her.

"You have books in there."

"I like to read.  After ten years of friendship, I would have thought you'd notice that by now," Rory responded, failing at sounding hurt.

"I mean textbooks," Lane clarified.  "You have school type related things in there."

"Do not!"  Rory insisted, heaving her bag to the ground.  The strain present on her face only added to her best friend's argument.  Quickly, she tried to kick it under her bed, but only succeeded in bringing great pain to her foot.

"Finals are over.  You are officially on Christmas Break.  What could you possibly be taking home with you?"

"In that bag I have some clothes, a few gifts that, now that I think of it, I hope are not breakable, and a few books for my own personal enjoyment.  Now, have you seen my purse?"

"Don't try and change the subject.  I'm only trying to save you from ruining your break."

"There's nothing to save me from."

"Rory."

"It doesn't hurt to read ahead."  At the look shot her way, she sputtered on, trying to defend herself, "Paris is taking a few books too!"

"Yes, but she's neurotic.  It's expected."

Immediately, Paris poked her head inside, obviously displeased.  "I'm only in the next room.  I can hear you.  Despite popular belief by most people, including the headbangers upstairs, the walls are not soundproof."  She glared down at her watch, unhappy with what it told her.  "Repeatedly checking the time does not make me neurotic either.  He's late.  It's allowed."  She turned back inside the common room, and flumped onto the couch.

"Jamie's late," Rory explained quietly.  "Paris may stone him when he gets there."

"We better hurry," Lane responded.

"My thoughts exactly.  So… book complaint dropped?"

"If it gets us out of here faster.  Almost done?"

"Just need one last thing:  my purse," Rory said, folding her list and putting it in her pocket.  She scanned the room slowly, pausing at the obvious places.  "I haven't seen it in three days.  I think it ran away.  I really wasn't treating it right."

"Either that or you threw it away."  Lane pulled a small bag out from the wastepaper basket, and placed it onto the adjacent desk. 

"I must have been in a finals haze."

"Looks like I found your Christmas list too," Lane said, grabbing the note card that peaked out of the open purse.  "It's just a list of people.  Not one mention of a possible gift selection for said people.  How disappointing."

"Oh yeah, I shredded the list of gifts.  And then I ate what was left, swallowed the evidence."

"Is that Jess at the bottom?"

"No," Rory responded, her answer coming too fast.

"It kind of looks like his name," Lane said, narrowing her eyes and bringing the sheet closer to her face.  "Wait, it's on here earlier… twice, but both are crossed off.  Feeling indecisive?"

"Do you get your ex-boyfriend slash sort of, almost-friend a gift?  I still have no idea." 

Before Lane could respond, the door of the common room burst open, and three people tore through it, ending up in the bedroom.  Paris and Jamie spoke heatedly, the words "traffic", "late", and "inconsiderate" used over and over.  The third person, an unfamiliar male, stopped in the frame of the door, looking back and forth between the arguing couple. 

"Will you two shut up?  People were staring at us.  Well, you two.  You look scary when you fight.  Jamie, I swear, there is this vein in your forehead…"

"Matt," Jamie interrupted.

"I refuse to sit in a car with you two if you're going to bicker the whole way."

"I'm not sitting in the car with you if you're going to be talking the entire time," Paris shot back.  "You never stop."

"It's part of my charm."

"If by charm you mean shortcoming."

"Hey whoa, remember it's Christmas.  'Tis the season not to rip each other's heads off," Jamie said.

"I'm Jewish," Paris pointed out, her words coinciding with Matt's.  Strangely enough, he had the exact same response.  The two stared at each other, surprised at the concurrence, and ashamed that it had happened.

Using the silence to her advantage, Rory took a step forward.  "Um, hi Jamie, Jamie's friend."  All eyes moved to her instantaneously, causing a blush to redden her cheeks.  Uncomfortable, she continued on, "You just get here?"

"We would have been here sooner, but there was some holiday traffic."

"You should have left earlier," Paris suggested, a sarcastic edge to her tone.

"We did.  Matt, how early did we leave?"

"We didn't.  We left at least twenty minutes after we should have.  But for being so late, I think we made pretty good time."

"I honestly have no idea why I'm friends with you."  With a shake of his head as if he actually had considered it but had come up blank, Jamie turned to Paris to take her luggage.

"I can get them."

Without even attempting to disagree, Jamie handed her the keys, and watched her walk out.  The tension left with her almost allowing a sigh of relief if an air of awkwardness hadn't fallen to take its place.  To avoid an agonizing stretch of silence, Jamie took charge immediately, and began the introductions:  Matt to Rory, and then Lane to both males.

"It's nice meeting you," Rory said, politely.  "But we've got to get going." 

She picked up her backpack, and dropped it onto the bed after grimacing at the weight.  She removed her cell phone from her purse, threw it inside, and zipped it up.  Meanwhile Lane glanced over at Matt and Jamie, an idea forming in her head.

"Can I ask you two a question?"  With a nod of approval from both, Lane continued, "If you and your girlfriend broke up, but remained friends… would you expect a Christmas gift from her?  Or think it strange that she got you one?"

"Wait.  Whoa.  Why is my girlfriend breaking up with me?  What have you heard?"  Matt asked, feigning panic.

"Do you see?  This is why you have trouble making friends," Jamie pointed out.

"I know we've been fighting, but there has been no mention of a break-up.  This is serious, I should call her…"

"You ever ask something, and then immediately regret it?"  Lane wondered out loud.

"Don't worry about it," Rory said.  "It's not a big deal."

"Buy him a gift," Matt said, his voice taking a somewhat normal tone.  "You two are friends, and you buy friends gifts.  He'll appreciate it if he's smart.  Just don't expect something from him.  You're lucky to get something when you're actually dating the guy."

"Very true," Jamie agreed.

"That's true?  Is that just another way of saying you didn't get me anything?"  Paris asked from the doorway.  "We both agreed to exchange gifts.  We even set a price limit.  That was the plan."

"I followed the plan, I was just agreeing with Matt, and now that I say it out loud, I realize how stupid it sounds, but I swear…"  His voice faded out as he followed Paris to the parking lot.

"I think they're fighting again," Matt concluded, sighing.  "This is going to be the best seven hours in a cramped car ever!"  He pumped his arm in the air enthusiastically before letting it flop down to his side.

"Sorry," Rory frowned.  "They usually get alone just fine.  I think her excitement about spending the holidays with him is making her edgy.  This'll pass."

"When?"

"On the way back here?"

"Great, yes, thanks.  You could have lied."

"Sorry," Rory repeated.  "Thanks for the advice."

"No problem.  I better get going before they leave me behind, which doesn't seem like that bad of an idea… It was nice to meet you."  He shot her a smile, before turning around and hurrying out to the car.

"Nice guy," Rory commented, watching him go.

"Uh oh.  I think we're late," Lane said, seizing her friend's attention.

Rory looked down at her watch and sighed.  "Jess is going to kill us."

----

"Lane's still a little confused," Rory said, taking a seat on the small wooden bench.  She was in the direct line of sight from the bathroom.  There was no way Lane would miss them when she walked out.

"Yeah, well that's expected," Jess responded, sitting beside her.  "You two only arrived twenty minutes late, therefore missing the defining moment of the three main character's childhood.  The reason their friendship fell apart.  The reason there's an awkwardness when the three see each other.  The reason —"

"Yes, thank you, I understand.  I read the book, too.  Unfortunately, Lane didn't.  She was also completely confused about Katie's killer.  As a matter of fact, so was I.  Where was that kid for the entire movie?"

"In the beginning of the film."

"You're kidding."

"Nope.  The book had no problem fitting him in without making you suspect anything about him, you'd think the movie wouldn't either.  It's one thing when it's a surprise twist.  It's another when you begin to wonder if the person was even part of the cast."

"I guess this adds to your theory of books should stay books."

"Yup," he nodded.  "That really wasn't worth it."

"You're going to let that one thing ruin the whole film?  It was amazing.  I'm glad I got to see it play out on screen like that.  The acting was excellent.  I have a whole new respect for Sean Penn."

"He certainly has come a long way since Fast Times at Ridgemont High," Jess agreed.  "Fine, I'll give you that.  But I still didn't like it.  I couldn't stand Celeste."

"You didn't like the actress?"

"The character."

"Wouldn't that have more to do with the book?"

"I guess I didn't realize how much I hated her until I saw her incredibly dumb actions on screen."

"Hey," Rory said.  "I really liked her.  I felt bad for her for all the difficult choices she had to make."

"You felt bad?  She made so many mistakes.  Why was she so quick to turn on Dave?"

"Um, I don't know, maybe because he came home one night covered in blood?  That would be enough, but it also happened to be the same night Jimmy's daughter was killed.  His story had holes in it, and he began acting really creepy and suspicious."

"Right, so that warrants a complete change in opinion?  She was his wife.  I'd like to think there's some kind of loyalty there.  The guy was screwed up, and he didn't know how to tell her why.  He acted weird, and instead of trying to help him, she turned on him."

Her argument in Celeste's defense died on her lips when the full impact of his words hit.  An onrush of guilt immediately followed, a cold wave trickling down her back.  She looked over at him, but his face held no trace of anger.  There was only a steady concentration present, the kind he got whenever the two of them slipped into a debate.  His words were without vicious intent; he didn't even realize the meaning his opinion held.  She had made the connection on her own.

She had been his girlfriend.  They had dated for over six months.  You'd think there would have been some loyalty there, an unquestionable instinct to stick up for him, be there for him.  Instead, his attitude had changed, and she hadn't tried hard enough to get through.  What had she expected?  He may have been overwhelmed, but he wasn't going to instantly break down in front of her, pouring his heart out.  That wasn't him.  Instead of waiting it out and simply trying to be a silent source of comfort, she had just… given up. 

The night of Kyle's party flew through her mind, bringing with it an intense regret that she could barely keep out of her voice.  "I never thought of it that way."

Still oblivious, he offered her a smirk, "Glad I could give you a new perspective."

A silence fell then — suffocating for her, comfortable for him.  She stared at the door, begging it to open and reveal Lane.  Her wish seemed to be granted when seconds later, Lane stepped out, her cell phone attached to her ear.  She waved at them, and Rory returned the gesture, before jumping up to meet her.

"Listening to your voice mail?"  Rory asked, once her friend had put the phone away.

"Yeah, who was it that called in the middle of the movie, almost getting us kicked out?"  Jess asked.

"Dave," Lane replied.  "He's coming in a day early.  He wants me to pick him up at the airport tomorrow."

"I miss Dave."

The two girls stared at Jess, dumbfounded at his words.  He shrugged, "On days like this, his presence would have been appreciated."

"Come on, shopping won't be that bad," Lane said, as the three of them started for the escalator that would lead to the rest of the mall.  "Besides I thought you didn't like Dave." 

"Who said I didn't like him?  I didn't know him.  I don't even know where he is." 

"He's in California," Lane explained.

Rory's stomach clenched at the mention, and Jess's words faltered in his throat.  He somehow managed a, "Huh."

The change in atmosphere went unnoticed by Lane, and she continued, "He went to college down there.  He left in August, a couple of days before Rory came home."

"He like it there?"  Jess asked.

"He loves it.  I'm sure we'll all be hearing tons of stories when he gets here.  He's coming to Rory's house this Wednesday."

The three continued their walk through the mall when suddenly Lane and Rory stopped in front of a clothing store.  Jess looked up at it, obviously unhappy with where they had ended up.  "I'm not going in there."

"You don't have to.  We won't be long," Rory assured him.

"I'll be back here in an hour."

"We won't take that long."

"An hour," he repeated, beginning to walk backwards.  At Rory's nod, he turned, and continued his trek.

Rory felt some of the uneasiness dissipate as Jess moved farther away.  She wanted to forget her realization, and the guilt that came with it, but it was a song stuck in her head.  This wasn't going to go away.

"Coming?"  Lane asked.

"Yeah," Rory mumbled, falling into step behind her.

----

Jess walked through the bottom level of the mall, hating every second of it.  He had never been a fan of Christmas, or really any holiday that advocated family togetherness and forced cheerfulness.  But the worst part about it was the way the public completely embraced each celebration, going overboard with decorations.  Plus there was that constant flow of Christmas Carols that were played twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week starting the day after Thanksgiving.  He could hear them now leaking from the invisible speakers, some pop group singing a cover of a traditional song that was slowly but surely losing its true message.

Despite this though, quelling his desire to take off wasn't so difficult.  The thought had occurred to him only briefly when he had sat down inside the movie theater, alone.  He had figured he could watch the film, and then he'd take off whether or not Lane and Rory ever arrived.  But then they had showed up, found him in the dark, and taken a seat next to him.  Rory had leaned toward him, apologizing softly, her hand on his arm.  After that, he had figured hanging out with them for the day couldn't be that bad.

So far, it wasn't.  Lane had been an enjoyable companion, balancing out what could have been an uneasy, stilted afternoon if it had only been him and Rory.  But she had thought ahead, deciding to bring her best friend, knowing it would save the trip from disaster.  He found himself almost looking forward to meeting up with them again.  If he was going to be stuck walking around this fake Winter Wonderland, he might as well have good company doing so.

His and Rory's debate over Mystic River still lingered in his head, her brow knit in surprise, determination, insisting on her own opinion, but listening to his.  It reminded him of the early days of their friendship, when his attempt to pick a fight with her had been a good thing.  Natural, even.  Arguments than were over different authors and disappointing films.  To do that with her again today… it had left him feeling nostalgic but elated.  The right words were coming back to him, slowly but surely, and his movements had loosened, no longer so wooden around her.  Finally, their friendship was becoming less artificial, their actions now fluid with meaning and honesty.

He passed a display case during his walk, and he paused, staring at the contents inside.  He had been thinking about buying her a gift since the weekend before when she had invited him inside after the SAT fiasco.  Something simple that she would appreciate, something that'd make her smile. 

After another minute of consideration, he walked into the store, thinking of the upcoming party at her house.  Maybe this year, Christmas wouldn't have to be so bad.

----

"My mother has been dropping subtle hints about the future.  And when I say subtle, I mean outright asking what I wanted to do for the rest of my life," Lane said, raising her voice so Rory could hear her from the neighboring dressing room. 

"You should be a doctor.  I think your mother would appreciate the irony," Rory said, frowning at the skirt she had slipped on.

"I was actually thinking of being a cameraman.  Then you and I could travel the world, bringing live news to viewers at home."

"Or I could come on your tour bus with you and be your full time groupie and part time roadie.  All I have to do is build up my arm muscles."

"I'd pay to see you list heavy objects."

"I think that was an insult," Rory pouted, trying on a different colored skirt.  She smoothed down the fabric, and tilted her head.  "But I really can't argue with you.  I'm weak.  It's sad.  I can barely lift more than three pairs of pants at a time."

"Guys like weak girls."

"How offensive.  Where'd you get that?"

"Cheerleaders.  It stuck with me."

"I knew being a cheerleader would ruin you for life," Rory said, throwing on a different shirt.  This time she was satisfied with what she saw; outfit complete.  "I'm coming out.  What about you?"

"Ready."

Both girls emerged in the tiny hallway containing the fitting rooms.  They faced each other, and nodded approvingly at the selections they had made.

"You sure you like it?"

Rory nodded.  "And you?"

"Love it."

"Then, Merry Christmas.  Take it off so I can pay for it."

"Should we even bother wrapping the clothes?"

"It's not Christmas if they're not wrapped," Rory said, shocked at the thought.

"Does this mean you're done shopping?  I was the only name on the list that wasn't crossed off.  Well, almost the only one…"

"The subtlety of that statement astounds me," Rory deadpanned.

"I'm just curious."

"You know this is kind of ridiculous."

"What is?"

"A couple of months ago, I was worrying about what I'd say to him, how to avoid him, how to not think about him… Now, I'm nervous about getting him a Christmas gift?"  Rory asked incredulously. 

She had become stressed after kissing him, wondering if he'd do it again, wondering if she wanted it again.  Then the two of them had fallen into a vicious cycle of a quasi-friendship that stemmed from one of them apologizing, only to let the anger return full force, sending them back to square one.  But now they were at a point where she was worried what he'd think if she bought him a gift, if she could find him something perfect.

"That's progress for you," Lane stated.

The thought startled Rory, before she quickly warmed to it.  Progress.  Yeah.  This was progress.

----

He was near the back of the store, hunched over, one hand resting on the adjacent shelf so he wouldn't fall over.  She walked slowly, trying to stifle the sound of her footsteps, so she wouldn't startle him.  She could not see what he held in his hands, but she figured he was reading.  Of course he was.  That was how she knew he'd be here.

"Hey," she said softly, bending down to touch his back.

There was no jump like she expected.  He simply turned his head, showing no surprise that she had crept up from behind, interrupting him.  Almost as if he had expected her.  He stood and faced her, his arms hanging at his sides, one finger inside the book, saving his place.

"Hey.  Aren't we supposed to meet —"

"A half hour ago?"

"It hasn't been that long," he insisted.

She lifted up her arm, allowing her sleeve to slip slightly to reveal her watch.  He reached up and gently gripped her wrist, his thumb resting on her pulse point.  A familiar tingle swirled inside her stomach, and she didn't bother to suppress the smile.

"Your watch lies," he declared, dropping her arm.

"Does not.  You're late.  Do you know we searched all over the mall for you?"

"No wonder your watch lies.  He's got you as a bad influence.  You knew I was here."

"Maybe."

"Right, so let me guess, you checked the sports store first?"

"I was shocked that you weren't there," Rory said, her eyes wide.  "But don't worry about it.  Sit, read without paying, be the mysterious loner in the corner… Lane and I were going to look around for awhile."

"Sounds good," he nodded, and then returned to his former position, his back to her.

Instead of heading out to find the book she had read about, the one she wanted to buy for him, she found herself leaning over to tap him again.

"Can I talk to you?"

He stood, and looked at her.  "We were talking."

"Then, can I keep talking to you?"

"Okay."  He slid the novel onto the shelf next to him, somehow sensing this would require his full attention.

"I've been thinking about what you said all day."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"About Celeste," Rory elaborated.

"You've been thinking up a rebuttal all day?  You're not as quick as you used to be."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.  "I shouldn't have given up on you, turned on you —"

"Whoa, wait.  Rory, I was not talking about us."

"But you could have been.  We dated for over six months, and then I was just so quick to let it go.  I keep thinking about Kyle's party…"

"Can we not talk about that?"  Jess asked, suddenly finding the carpet much more fascinating to look at.  His stomach turned with the memory of that night.

"You were miserable that night, and I tried asking you why, but you just shrugged it off.  But the signs were smacking me in the head!  I should have taken you home, or sat with you, or something.  Instead, I ran away from you.  I didn't run to Dean, you know that, right?  He was just there… and then you two fought.  I shouldn't have let you walk away after that.  God, it was like I abandoned you or something."

With each word she said, he felt the knot loosening.  Slowly but surely, it unraveled within his chest, the intensity of that bound up anger losing its spark.  He hadn't realized that he had been waiting for something like this, a realization and an apology that she had been wrong as well.  She had said she was sorry before, but it had been to go along with him, and then because she had screwed up now.  But finally it seemed as if she was reevaluating last spring, owning up to what she should have done different.  And this was what he had wanted.  He could feel the calm overtaking him, this relief that his breathing would no longer be impeded by a half year old anger that he couldn't shake.

"I did everything wrong," he said.  Because he had.  He knew he had.  He couldn't let her take the complete blame for that night.  Let's face it, his behavior had caused the fight.

"Me too."

"I should have just told you what was going on.  I shouldn't have yelled at you.  You didn't deserve that."

"I should have stuck around for you.  But it was hard when I thought you were mad at me, and I had no idea why."

"Did I really treat you that badly?"

His question caught her by surprise.  He had jumped to something further than what they had been discussing.  She froze.

"It's what everybody says."

"You… I…"  She struggled to find the right words.  "You really hurt me." 

"I didn't mean to."

"I know.  I just…don't want it to happen again."

"It won't."

She tilted her head down, suddenly uncomfortable with eye contact.  "I need to go find Lane."

"Rory… it won't," he repeated. 

She looked back up at him, hesitating.  "I hope you're right."

And then she was gone, disappearing down the next aisle, searching for her best friend.  He turned back to the shelf to pick up his discarded book, thinking of the meaning her words held.  She could simply have been expressing hope, wishful thinking for something better between them.  Or perhaps it was foreshadowing of the choice she had already made.  

He liked to think it was the latter.