Part Three

He had taken her to a restaurant in Hartford. He wasn't hiding, he said, but until they were sure what they were doing, they didn't need all of Stars Hollow gossiping about them less than a week after they both returned.

And, oh, how Stars Hollow would talk, Rory thought, if they could see us now.

They had once been the town's poster couple for young love. Rory grew up there, practically raised by the people of Stars Hollow. Lorelai still loved to tell about the time a town meeting was held to decide if it was time for baby Rory to start solid foods.

Dean had found himself facing the microscopic attention of every citizen of the community when he started dating Rory. And he had passed with flying colors, becoming part of Stars Hollow himself in surprisingly little time.

And then the ideal had shattered. Through Jess. Through Lindsay. The human wreckage surrounding their relationship had piled so high they themselves were sacrificed to self-destruction.

Rory was convinced it was over when he left all those years ago. There was no way they could make it work after everything they'd been through. So she'd moved on, treating sex and relationships flippantly, because she had ruined the only one which might have mattered.

But after all that, here they sat, older, wiser, more cautious, but still with the same unforgettable something between them.

Rory had been in lost in thought, turning all these – and many more – things over in her head. She drew herself back to earth and looked across the table at Dean, only to find him watching her with an inscrutable look on his face.

"What?" she said, with an almost virginal blush.

"You eat cute."

"You've said that before."

"I know."

"It was a long time ago."

"Your eating habits haven't changed."

Dean smiled at her, and the red in her cheeks heightened. What was wrong with her tonight? Every little thing was turning her into a sappy fool. Butterflies ran riot in her stomach; she was surprised she could eat at all.

Although not too surprised. She was her mother's daughter, after all.

She needed to change the subject. Immediately. To anything that wouldn't provoke another horrid flow of blood to her face. "Um, how's Clara?"

Dean's mouth curved at her abrupt change of subject, but he didn't attempt to draw her back to anything more personal. "She's got a boyfriend."

There was an adorable protective note in Dean's voice. Rory grinned. "And you don't like him."

Dean shrugged. "Let's just say it's the first time I've ever been on the other end of one of those 'talks.'"

She giggled. "I'd have liked to see that."

"He's short."

"Well, that must have helped."

"Little, too. With glasses."

"Aw, now that's just plain mean."

"I hope so."

Rory suddenly noticed her and Dean's hands had met and clasped across the table, fingers playfully intertwining. She stared down at them, transfixed. It hadn't been a conscious action; it almost never was. But she couldn't be near Dean without wanting her hand wrapped in his, a small link to security and strength and him.

"Rory?"

Dean's soft question made her jump and hastily pull her hand away. She settled her fists in her lap, where he wouldn't see their nervous shaking.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, so this boyfr—"

"It's okay, Rory. The subject's been dropped." Dean gave her a small, conscious smile; then his face took on a more serious cast than she had seen since the night f their arrival. "Can I ask you something which may or may not be prying into something personal?"

"With an opening like that, how can a girl refuse?" Rory returned, with a wary, curious look.

"Why did you come back to Stars Hollow?"

Rory paled. How could he possibly know? "For Christmas. Why else?"

"I don't know. It's just…" Dean's words trailed off, as he looked beyond her with his jaw set. "You weren't supposed to be coming back."

"Thanks a lot."

"I didn't mean from my point of view, Rory. I meant…on CNN, your last report, they said they'd be checking in with you throughout the day to monitor the situation. But they never did."

"You sat around all day waiting? Okay, Dean, the flattering part of your watching my news reports has officially moved into scary stalker land."

"It wasn't like that. I was in the airport, the news was on, so I watched."

"All day? Two and a half excruciating hours of 'The Terminal' wasn't enough for you? You had to experience the joys of airport lounges personally."

"Don't think I haven't noticed you're completely avoiding my original question, but to save us both the trouble of continuing this circular conversation, I'm going to admit I was supposed to be boarding a flight to Italy, but it kept getting delayed. Remember that job offer I told you about? I was supposed to spend a week in Rome, get to know the company a bit better."

"You're supposed to be in Italy right now? Then why the hell are you here?"

Dean sighed and settled his gaze on her face before answering softly, "Because they never went back to you."

Rory froze. "Oh."

"I was sitting there in the airport, watching this tiny television I could hardly hear, and seeing all these horrible pictures come up of what was happening in the Dominican Republic. They even had one guy on speaker phone from the Embassy there. But not you. And then they called my flight, and I went and boarded the next plane to Hartford."

"But the night we got here, you said—"

"I'd been avoiding you, and I had been, and as far as I was concerned, I was. It wasn't like I thought I would run into you here."

"So what, you wanted to be in town for the funeral?"

Dean shot her a disgusted look. "Can you really think that?"

Rory felt instantly guilty. "No. Not of you. I'm sorry, Dean. Bad joke."

"Yeah, it was." Dean's voice was sharp, but he gentled almost immediately as he added, "I came because I knew news of you would spread faster in Stars Hollow than anywhere else in the world. Running into you…I'm sorry if I sounded upset or defensive or something, but I'd been so worried…it was such a shock to see you here."

"Alive and well," Rory retorted dryly.

Dean gave her another rancorous look.

"Sorry." She bit her lip, knowing Dean deserved an equally honest response but finding it difficult to give voice to her feelings. It was so much easier to find shelter in humor. Finally, she sighed and confessed, "If it makes you feel better, I felt the same way."

"You did?" There was mistrust in Dean's voice.

"Well, not exactly the same, obviously. I hadn't spent the day thinking you were dead. But, you know, the shock, and relief, and defensiveness, that was all going round my head, too."

"Because you didn't expect to see me?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's you…and it's me, and that's never going to be nothing, is it?" Rory fidgeted awkwardly in her seat. She'd been much happier discussing Clara's short boyfriend.

"No, it isn't," Dean said quietly. Then he shot her a reassuring smile, one which showed he'd sensed her mood and would adjust the situation for her comfort. Like always. "So would book did you bring?"

She loved that he didn't even need to ask if she still carried one with her. He just knew that. He just knew her.

"Oh, WutheringHeights. It's an old favorite."

"Do you like the older generation better or the younger?"

Rory blinked. "What?"

"In Wuthering Heights, do you like the first Catherine better or the second? Personally, I like the second generation, but the movies tend to overlook them."

"You…you read it?" Rory stammered.

"You asked me to," Dean answered simply.

"I did? When?"

"When we were dating. The first time. After I read Emma."

It was so long ago, Rory could barely trace the memories. But the more she thought, the more she remembered. Dean had read Emily Bronte and Jane Austen and Leo Tolstoy and many more authors simply because she had asked him to. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"For what?"

Rory shook her head, pushing back the guilty tears which sprang too readily to her eyes. "For undervaluing you. I forgot…Jess made me forget. He played with my head, and I—"

"Forget it," Dean said brusquely. Apparently, Jess was still a sore subject with him.

"No, please, Dean, I need to say this." She reached out and covered his knuckles with her much smaller hand, and Dean nodded, though the tense set of his back showed how unpleasant these reminders were to him.

Rory took a deep breath and then began again. "Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of you, Dean. Of who you really were, I mean. The more I listened to other people – Jess first, and then later, well, everybody – the less I saw you with my own eyes, the way I used to. I should have seen you and known you and understood you the way you've always known me, and I let go of that. I'm so very sorry."

Dean turned his hand over, pressing her palm tightly to his. This time, Rory didn't pull away.

"I had a good time tonight."

"Yeah, me too."

The awkward pauses had died away as Dean successfully moved the discussion onto more general topics. He'd asked her about the places she had visited and made her feel so at ease that soon she'd been talking as freely she had ever done. It had been perfect.

"Thanks for dinner," Rory added. She was stalling, buying time as they sat in his rented BMW in her driveway.

"Thanks for the company."

She didn't want him to go. She didn't want the night to end and Dean to quietly slip out of her life again. But he was being no help, staring out the dashboard window at the lighted windows of the house. His hands were both wrapped tightly around the steering wheel as if ready to speed away the moment Rory stepped out of the car.

Rory braved being the forward one herself. "Would you like to come in – for a cup of coffee or something?"

Dean's jaw clenched and unclenched as he stared determinedly at her front porch. "I don't think that's such a great idea. Luke wouldn't like it."

She let out a relieved breath. "Oh, that. Luke's not home. He's at a poker game with Jackson and 'the guys,' as such additional men whose sole purpose in life is drinking and belching will forever be called. And Lorelai's out with Sookie and Babette as the result of an argument with Luke about women staying home while the menfolk are out."

"Luke told her to stay home?"

"No. But the lack of an opponent rarely stops my mother from arguing, as you well know."

"You weren't invited for ladies' night?"

Rory frowned. Dean still wasn't facing her. "I was, but I already had plans with you. Dean, what's wrong? I thought we were having a good time."

"We were…are."

"Significant verbage there."

Defeated, Dean sighed and turned toward Rory. "I want to come in and have that cup of coffee, Rory—"

"Then why—"

"But if I do that, and I look at you and talk to you and see the funny way your hair curls on your shoulders, and the spot of coffee that lands on the corner of your lips, then I'm almost going to want to kiss you."

"You think I'd have an objection?" Rory tried to flirt.

"That's not what concerns me."

"Oh, so my possible objections wouldn't matter to you?"

"Not what I meant."

Rory sighed, giving up all pretence at fun. "I know, but I'm failing to see the problem here, Dean. You want to kiss me; I think I've made it pretty clear I want to kiss you. And that's what the federal code calls 'consenting adults.'"

"If I kiss you once, I'm going to want to keep kissing you."

"You don't know that. I might have terrible garlic breath, or my kissing skills may have degenerated over the past seven years. Only one way to find out."

"Forever, Rory."

"Huh?"

"I'll want to go on looking at you, talking to you, holding you, and kissing you forever."

Rory slowly drew back, all impulse to tease deserting her at the intense, solemn look on Dean's face. "Oh."

"Yeah. 'Oh.' Look, Rory, I didn't want to put all this on you now. You just got back home; you're obviously going through something you're not ready to talk about yet – at least not with me. The last thing you need is some ex-boyfriend showing up and making demands on you. So this isn't a demand, or even a question. It's just how I feel. And so I shouldn't come in for that cup of coffee."

"Yeah," Rory said softly, gently opening the car door. "Yeah."

Rory entered the house quietly and headed toward her room.

The light in the kitchen was still on, which wasn't all that unusual, given her mother's wastrel, thoughtless habits. She nearly screamed when she walked in and saw Luke sitting there.

"I thought you were out," she said, once her heart-rate had slowed to a reasonable pace.

"Sorry. Got home early."

"I'll say," Rory agreed, checking the clock. Only a quarter to ten. "Must have been a lousy game."

"I was losing."

"Definitely lousy then."

"But that's not why I came home."

Rory sighed. She'd seen this discussion building since Dean had shown up on their doorstep on Christmas three days before. It was written across Luke's face long before he said a word. "I don't need the protective father speech, Luke," she said wearily.

"If you're considering getting back together with him, you do," Luke persisted.

"Luke, please, just stop. I love you like a father, you know that. And I respect your words as I would a father's. But there are things about my life you won't ever understand. And I don't want this to come between us."

"I don't understand, but he does!?"

The blood froze in Rory's veins. "Don't do this, Luke," she pleaded, with one more attempt at averting the argument.

"Explain it to me, then, Rory. Explain what it is about this…boy—" He left no doubt the kind of word that was substitute for "—that keeps you letting him back in, no matter how often he breaks your heart and treats you like crap."

And there it was, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. "Dean? Dean treats me like crap? Since when!? When he built me a car? Or how about when he went to a dance just to make me happy – or, hell, even a debutante ball? Yeah, there's the sign of a real jerk. The times he made me relax when I was stressed, or unwind when I was angry, or listened when I went on about whatever I was going on about at the moment. The times he defended me from other jerks – among whom I might be able to name your nephew, but I won't because I do love you, no matter what you think. Or there's always the fact that somehow, miracle of all miracles, he still loves me after all I've put him through. Yeah, can't see what I'd ever see in a guy like that."

"He cheated on his wife, Rory!"

"Yeah, and I cheated with him, so maybe we're both evil enough to deserve each other!"

"Stop that. You weren't married. He was."

"And so that somehow makes what I did acceptable? I'm sorry, Luke, but you seem to be under some mistaken notion Dean seduced me and robbed me of my virginity." She saw Luke cringe at the dreaded 'v' word but proceeded undeterred. "He didn't. Most of the time, I pursued him.I knew what I was doing. Granted, I didn't see the consequences of my actions very clearly, but neither did he. We were both young and stupid and – I need you to understand this, Luke – in love. With each other."

"So you're defending adultery now." Luke looked like he was about to be sick.

"No, I'm not defending it," she said sadly. "I've had to live with the guilt of it for the last seven years. I'm not defending the action, Luke; I'm defending the person. Dean isn't the monster you want him to be. He's…he's…extraordinary."

Luke heaved a sigh of resignation. "So basically, you're back together now, and nothing I can do will change it, huh?"

"We're not back together," Rory admitted.

"But…I thought…"

"You thought wrong. He's not willing to risk another heartbreak on someone who still isn't exactly sure what she wants."

"You sounded pretty sure just now with me."

"I'm absolutely, one hundred percent convinced Dean is the best man I've ever known or ever will know," Rory said emphatically. "Whether that means I can make it with him remains to be seen."

"I'm confused here."

"Welcome to my world."

"Rory, what…?"

Rory sighed before attempting to explain. "I have a history, Luke. A history of running away, of choosing the worst men over the best. Why do I do it? I don't know. I get bored with being happy, maybe. Tired of contentment. I go looking for adventure in all the wrong places and find heartbreak instead. I've done that to Dean too many times already. Mom gives better advice than you. And she told me what Dean couldn't have done better himself; this is my last chance. I'm not going to screw around with his heart again unless I'm sure."

"Then where were you tonight?"

"With Dean."

Luke released an exasperated sigh.

"We went to dinner. As friends. To talk."

"Talk?"

"Yes, Luke, we talked."

"About what?"

"Everything." Rory smiled, a free, innocent, happy smile. "Like when we first met. I babbled on about books and foreign places, and he made me laugh with stories about his family. It was great."

"And that's all you did?" Luke's tone was more than a little suspicious. "Talk?"

"Look at the time, Luke."

He did and smiled – or as close as Luke ever came to a smile. It showed relief. "That's all you did."

"Worry averted?"

"For the time being. Oh, a message came for you while you were out."

"Who? Lane?" she said hopefully. Her best friend was now a full-fledged rock goddess and rarely returned to Stars Hollow, but she'd left a message with her all the same.

"No, some guy. Reporter. It's on the machine."

Rory's gut clenched. She didn't want to listen to the message. She knew what it would be, knew the choice it would force her into. But compelled by that same unseen hand which had forced her to do every stupid thing in her entire life, she went to the living room and listened to the message.

"Hi, this is Grant. I work with Rory. I don't know if she's there or not, but if she is, would you have her give me a call? She knows the number."

She knew it far too well.