Disclaimer: The characters (except Paris's parents) as well debate towards the end do not belong to me. They belong to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB. The debate is from Season Two's episode There's The Rub.

Author's Note: Wow, how long has it been since I updated this? Forever, I know. What can I do, Paris and Jess weren't speaking to me. Anyway, I was out of town until Jan 1st so none of my fics were updated, which would explain my MIA status. I hope everyone had a happy holiday.

Dedication: To anyone who is keeping up with this fic, God bless.

Chapter 14: Escape

It was a scene she'd witnessed, been a part of really, countless times before and yet, it seemed strange to fall back into her role. It was a rare occurrence for the Gellars to have dinner, or any meal for that matter, together anymore. For breakfast Paris usually grabbed something on her way to school, had lunch at Chilton and dinner was spent with Renee, either in polite conversation, frigid silence or heated arguments. Arthur Gellar was hardly ever present; working overtime was the common excuse.

Paris didn't need a 4.0 GPA to know that that meant he was screwing his secretary.

On this particular night, when Arthur had arrived home just in time for dinner, the tension in the Gellar dining room could be cut with a knife. Paris was sure any minute Renee was going to start flinging accusations at her wayward husband that the servants would overhear - it was easy enough since Mrs. Gellar tended to shriek when she was upset.

Silently, Paris waited for the explosion, as she lifted her mashed potatoes off the plate. She planned on not letting it bother her too much; lately she had been in too good of a mood to let anything bring it down, least of all her parent's marital hi-jinks. It was surprising to find out this late in adolescence that having a boyfriend could make the rest of your life seem a little less bad. She would have focused more on that aspect of her life if she had known. Louise was right on the money with that one, who knew?

"How's school, Princess?" Arthur asked, using the childhood nickname Paris loathed because it wasn't borne out of real affection for her but rather from a need to overcompensate for all the times he had disappointed her.

Paris glanced at her mother, who barely glanced up at Arthur's question, and then smiled stiffly. "School's fine."

"And applications?"

"Fine too." Paris replied but when he kept staring at her, she sighed and continued, "Harvard, of course. Yale, Princeton, Dartmouth, Columbia…" she trailed off when she realized her father was barely listening as he kept glancing at his wife, waiting for the fireworks. So she finished with, "And Hartford Community College."

"Excellent," he replied absently. She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her Diet Coke. "All wonderfully prestigious schools. But you'll go to Harvard of course. Generations of Gellars have -"

"Gone to Harvard, yes, I know," Paris finished for him and this time had to check the urge to roll her eyes now that his gaze was on her. Confidently, she replied, "I'll uphold the legacy."

"Not if you keep seeing that produce boy," Renee Gellar finally piped in, raising a perfect eyebrow at her daughter before giving her husband an admonishing look. "Do you know that she's dating the boy that delivers our vegetables, Arthur?"

Her father looked at her, a bit taken aback and then stuttered, "I wasn't aware there was a boyfriend in the picture."

"Of course you weren't," Renee stated coldly before Paris could say anything. "You'd know something if you were home, wouldn't you? If you were home you'd know that your daughter has been sneaking out of parties, and missing dinners and breaking curfews to meet some hooligan in a truck who's probably high when he brings us our vegetables!"

"Jess does not deliver produce, Mother!" Paris yelled, slamming her fork onto the table. "And he's not a hooligan and I could really care less what you or Father thinks about him and what dinners? You mean the time you spend patronizing and yelling at me while I try to eat stupid food off stupidly pretentious china?"

"Do not take that tone with me, young lady," Renee managed to get out as Arthur watched the drama unfold, saying nothing. Paris stood up angrily. "Sit back down; I don't believe I have excused you."

"Go to hell," Paris shot back.

As she climbed the stairs, two at a time, she heard her mother start in on her father, reaming him about his latest infidelity. Scowling, she stalked to her room and shut the door behind her, controlling herself enough not to slam it. She leaned against the door and took a deep, calming breath and went to retrieve her cell phone. She was midway through dialing Jess's number when she realized that he wouldn't be able to answer.

Paris wasn't sure what really happened but Rory had heard from Lorelai that Jess had a semi-huge blow-out with his mother and Luke had, for the first time ever, grounded him for his misconduct and rudeness. While Paris applauded the implementation of discipline, she wished that it wouldn't have taken away his phone privileges for a week. The school work load this particular week was heavy and she had only been able to make it to Stars Hollow once to see him, for about an hour before leaving again.

The pressure in her chest was an odd feeling; she'd never missed a boy before.

The cell phone vibrated and she glanced at the name of the caller, sighing, she held the phone to her ear. "Hey Louise."

"Do you have the assignment for Kowler's class handy?" she asked, her usually drawling tone now a desperate plea. "I need it. I didn't know it was due this Friday!"

"It isn't due this Friday," Paris replied, flopping down on the bed behind her. "Which genius told you that?"

"Janet Evans."

"Figures." Paris examined her fingernails. "I thought you and Madeline were going on that double date with those twins tonight."

"Maddie bailed last minute. I'm telling you, something is up with her," Louise responded with a sigh. "I thought I had the assignment so I bailed too. Anyway, what's up with you?"

"Oh nothing," she replied sarcastically. "Mother had a hissy fit about Jess because she didn't want to yell at Father about him screwing his Barbie-doll secretary. The usual Gellar drama."

"I thought he was doing the maid."

"Last month."

"Ah," Louise stated. "Want to sleep over?"

Her lips curved. Paris was grateful that Louise knew her well enough to know that she wanted to get out of her house after a debacle like that. "Give me an hour."

"Paris," her friend admonished. "We have everything you can possibly need; you're only staying the night. Pack lightly."

- & -

Liz hesitated before she sat down on the couch next to her son who was engrossed (or at least pretending to be) in a novel. Jess had been avoiding her since their knock-down drag out a week ago. It amazed her how he could find a dozen different reasons to leave the room or avoid looking at her or speaking to her even when he was grounded and confined to the apartment, the diner and the small parameter of Stars Hollow.

"Haven't you read this a thousand times before?" She tapped the cover of On The Road.

"I want to make sure I didn't miss anything," he shot back, not looking up from the pages instead, subtly shifting away from her.

She sighed; of course he wouldn't appreciate her raising the white flag. "Jess, we have to talk. You can't keep avoiding me forever."

"Why not? You've been avoiding me for years."

"That's not fair," she returned, knocking the book out of his hand so that it fell on the floor and closed shut.

"Life's not fair," he returned predictably, not bothering to glare at her as he reached down to retrieve the book. "I get parole in five minutes, Ma. Then I'm outta here."

"Jess, please," she stated, desperation entering her voice. "I need to tell you what happened and explain things."

"I don't want -"

She cut him off this time. "Yes, you do. That's why you're so pissed off at me, Jess." He shook his head and the telltale muscle in his jaw twitched as he reined in his anger.

Tentatively, Liz reached over and put her hand on his cheek, turning his face towards her. Reluctantly, he met her gaze. "Jess, please, let me talk to you. I need you to understand why I did what I did and I want you to stop hating me."

"I don't hate you," he responded after a pause, standing up and moving away from her. "But one conversation is not going to change anything."

"Probably not," she conceded as she stood up and came to stand behind him. "But it doesn't have to be one conversation, Jess. I'm here now. Don't you at least want to try?"

Jess turned around and shrugged. "Paris is coming over. I have to get out of this apartment."

Liz gave him a wry smile. "Fair enough. I tried to get Luke to let you free."

"Because you felt guilty?"

"Partly," she answered truthfully and crossed her arms. "And because grounding was never my style. That's probably the reason I suck at being a parent. I'm on diner duty in five minutes. Why don't you go out with Paris and we'll take a walk after you get back?"

"I might be back late," he answered, raising an eyebrow, testing.

"You still have a curfew." She mirrored his expression. "You'll be home at eleven, Jess. Then we'll go for a walk. Maybe even get some hot chocolate. After all, it's not a school night. How does that sound?"

He waited a minute and then nodded slightly, "Fine."

She smiled a little then grabbed her purse from the sofa. "Alright, I'll see you then."

- & -

Paris ran into Liz Mariano in the hallway on her way to Luke's apartment. Jess's mother gave her a smile, not too wide and not long enough to be considered friendly. She had no idea why the woman didn't like her; usually people spent at least two minutes talking to her before they went screaming for the hills. She had barely exchanged more than two words with her boyfriend's mother and yet Liz seemed wary of her from the get-go.

Well, Renee didn't like Jess either so Paris figured they were even.

"Hi Paris," Liz greeted a little too eagerly and then looked at her watch. "Perfect timing. Jess is ungrounded it about two seconds."

"Thanks."

They stared at each other for a minute, each unsure of what to say and Paris was getting tired of smiling. Liz, thankfully, broke the awkwardness. "Well, I'll be late for my shift. You have fun."

"Thanks," she repeated and then heaved a sigh of relief when Liz hurried past her and down the stairs to the diner. Squaring her shoulders, Paris lifted her hand to knock on the door of Luke's apartment when the door swung open, revealing Jess who looked like he was about to bolt out of there. Automatically, her lips curved into a smile. "Bailing out of hell so fast?"

He smirked and relaxed as he leaned against the doorframe. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"Oh I think I have a pretty good idea," she replied as she took a step closer and he brought his mouth to hers. She sighed as he cupped her face with one hand and settled into the kiss, realizing just how much she missed the feeling of his lips on hers. When he pulled away, she kept her eyes closed a little longer, loving the tingly sensation that was rapidly spreading through her entire body. When her eyes fluttered open, he was smirking again, his hand resting at the base of her neck. "Missed me, did you?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," he repeated and then kissed her again, thoroughly; leaving her insides a mess of needs. Although they had decided to go out, Jess pulled her inside as he continued to kiss her neck, his arms coming around her waist.

"I thought we were leaving," she murmured breathlessly, tangling her fingers in his hair and kicking the door shut behind her.

"In a bit," he returned before covering her mouth with his again. Paris pulled him closer, pressing her body against his so there was nothing between them and kissed him back with equal fervor.

Still kissing and now groping, they managed to make it into the middle of the room. His hands slid under her jacket and pushed the material away, letting it fall to the floor. Then they skimmed under the hem of her shirt, softly caressing the skin of her back; spreading fire across her skin. The back of Jess's knees hit the sofa and they tumbled onto it causing Paris to laugh a little as he groaned beneath her. She was very much aware of their positioning, her knees were straddling his legs and she could feel his arousal pressing against her stomach. It was surreal but she'd gotten used to the intimate feeling of him so close to her own aching center quite quickly; she reveled in the power she had over him instead of freaking out like she thought she would. "Graceful."

He grinned, playing with the strands of her hair with one hand while the other rested at her side and gently kneaded the skin. "Well, I was preoccupied."

His lips returned to the sensitive spot on her neck as she caught the title of the book he must have been reading on the coffee table. "On The Road. Jack Kerouac."

"You've read it," he asked against her skin.

"A tragic waste of paper," she stated, closing her eyes.

Jess stopped kissing her and his eyes widened with incredulity. It was an interesting thing to witness; Jess was rarely shocked or surprised by anything. "I can't believe you just said that."

She shrugged, determined to keep her ground. If there was anything she was confident, even arrogant about it was her debating skills. "Well, it's true; the Beat's writing was completely self-indulgent. I have one word for Jack Kerouac – edit."

"It was not self-indulgent," Jess argued, as he sat up from under her, balancing on his elbows. "The Beats believed in shocking people, stirring things up."

Paris rolled her eyes, pressed her palms on the cushions under him to keep herself at eye level with him. "They believed in drugs, booze, and petty crime."

He looked at her oddly and she could tell he was trying to come up with another way to convince her. "Well, fine. Then you can say that they exposed you to a world you wouldn't have otherwise known. Isn't that what great writing's all about?"

Well, he did prove to be quite an excellent debater himself. He could quite possibly be the perfect guy, she mused even as her mind formed a rebuttal. "That was not great writing. That was the National Enquirer of the fifties."

It was his turn to roll his eyes and fell back against the couch, hands resting lightly at her sides. "You're cracked."

Paris shook her head and settled against him again. "Typical guy response. Worship Kerouac and Bukowski, God forbid you'd pick up anything by Jane Austen."

His head came up again. "Hey, I've read Jane Austen."

Oh yes, she thought holding back a smile. Just perfect. "You have?"

"Yeah," he stated and then added glibly, "and I think she would've liked Bukowski."

"Cute." She grinned and kissed him before pushing herself up and tugging him along with her. "C'mon, let's get some fresh air."

"I kinda liked what we were doing right now," he stated as she picked up her jacket from the floor.

"I thought you said that if you didn't get out of Stars Hollow you'd go insane."

"That was before," he responded vaguely, even as he followed her out.

She rolled her eyes and called over her shoulder, "I'm buying."

"Well, if you put it that way." He smirked, pulled her back to kiss her once more and then followed her out, closing the door behind him.