Title: Rory Gilmore, This Is Your Life!

Chapter One: Letters and Hangovers

Summary: Rory has just recently gotten engaged, and here come the complications!

Spoilers: Pfft! Okay, a few. Maybe. No, never mind. No spoilers! (Except for the most obvious one: Jess left for Venice Beach to see his dad)

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Except for Kate. And Carol. And Josh. And Greg. And all the other new people. Oh, and the story.

Distribution: E-mail is nice. Please tell me if you wish to convey my words to anyone else! Sami57peace2u@hotmail.com (and you can't use it too much!)

A/N: Okay, the idea hit me one day, and I'm not saying anything about the pairings. You'll just have to read to find out. But don't worry, everyone will be happy. (at least in the story. You might not, if you're a certain pairing. But I'm not gonna tell you which one!) Yeah, I'm a little cruel.

READ ON!!

Oh, and the best thing about this story is all of the even-numbered chapters, so cross your fingers for chapter two!!! It'll be fun!!!

~~~~

"Are you coming are you coming are you coming?" Lorelai Gilmore shouted into the phone.

"Mom, calm down," Rory Gilmore winced at her mother's loud voice. "Try to be a little quieter."

"Why, you got a hangover?"

"Ugh," Rory groaned in response, holding her head.

"You do? Rory Gilmore, daughter of mine, love of my life, St. Rory—how'd you get a hangover?"

"How do you think, Mom?"

"Well, whenever I get a hangover, it usually means I spent all last night drinking, but that doesn't seem like you…. Did you get drunk last night?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why?"

"The girls threw me a congratulatory party."

"I still can't believe you're getting married."

"Yeah, I am," Rory cradled the phone between her head and shoulder and stared at the beautiful diamond on her left hand.

"I also can't believe I haven't even met the guy yet."

"You did too."

"I did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Yes, you did. Remember when you surprised me at Christmas and I had a guy in my apartment?"

"That's him?" Lorelai asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"You're marrying him?"

"Why, what's wrong with him?"

"Nothing, I guess. That was Greg?"

"Yes, Mom, that was Greg."

"I don't remember what he looks like."

"That's okay, we're coming."

"You are? When when when?"

"Mom, you quiet, me hangover, remember?" Rory held her head again.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. When when when?" Lorelai whispered.

"We're heading out there tomorrow after work."

"Ooh, for how long?"

"However long it takes."

"However long what takes?"

"Rory, Josh wants you in his office." Rory's assistant, Kate, stuck her head in the door of Rory's spacious office.

"Mom, I'm sorry, I gotta go. The boss wants me. Love you."

"I love you too, but you didn't answer my—"

"Sorry, Mom." Rory hung up the phone and started out of her office.

"By the way, congratulations," Kate said, pointing to Rory's hand.

"Oh, thanks, Kate."

"Is he a good guy?"

"He's a great guy."

Kate squealed. "Congratulations again!"

"Thanks again." Rory walked away from her assistant and into Josh Martins' office.

"Hey, Carol," she greeted Josh's assistant.

"Hey, Rory. Heard you got engaged."

"Yeah, I did." Rory held up her left hand, showing off the sparkling diamond.

"Ooh, fabulous ring! He pick it out himself?"

"Yeah."

"Anyone I know?"

"I think so. Greg Adams?"

"Todd Jenkins' PR agent?"

"That's the one."

"Didn't you used to date Todd?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Your ex-boyfriend introduced you to your fiancée?"

"Well, not really—"

"Carol! Stop gossiping and send Miss Gilmore in here, please." Josh's voice suddenly crackled through the intercom on Carol's desk.

"Yes, sir," Carol said back.  "Go on in. And congratulations."

"Thanks, Carol." Rory walked into Josh's inner office.

"Good afternoon, Miss Gilmore." Josh greeted.

"Afternoon, Mr. Martins."

"Sit down, please."

Rory obliged, smoothing out her navy blue skirt as she settled into the chair.

"I have something of importance I wish to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"I know that you are leaving for home tomorrow and I understand that home is Connecticut—far away from all of us here in New York."

"Yes."

"I have a favor to ask."

"Really?"

"Yes." Josh sighed and leaned forward in his chair. "Rory, someone very important is going to be around your area while you're there."

"Who?"

"She's going to be visiting her family, also."

"Oh. Who?"

"She's a very famous scientist, and we've been trying to get an interview with her for forever. She's just been nominated for a Nobel Award."

"And you want me to try to interview her?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Who is this again?"

"Paris Gellar."

"Oh, Paris? I know her."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's one of my best friends. She's heading home with me and my other friend, and we're going to plan the wedding."

"Really."

"You sound like you don't believe me. It's true. Paris and I went to high school and college together. I consoled her when she didn't make it into Harvard."

"She didn't get into Harvard?"

"Yep. So you want me to interview her?"

"Uh, yeah. And see if you can inject a little personal story, too."

"Sure."

"So you went to school with Paris Gellar."

"Yep."

"Who else did you go to school with?"

"You wanna know famous people?"

"Absolutely. This is a new side of you I haven't heard before."

"Okay. Well, you ever heard of Lane Kim and Dave Rygalski?"

"The drummer and guitar player?"

"Yeah. Lane's my other best friend."

"Wow. Anyone else?"

"Brad Langford, Kathy Fincher, Madeline Lynn—"

"Wait, Madeline Lynn, the editor-in-chief of Hot magazine?"

"That's the one."

"Huh. Cool. This is a very interesting development."

"Mmm. Maybe, just maybe, you should get to know your reporters better, so interesting developments such as this don't get buried and lost for five years."

"Eh, whatever. You can go now."

"Yeah, thanks, Josh." Rory stood from the chair and turned to go.

"You can get us interviews with these people?"

"Most of 'em, probably."

"Cool. Cool."

"No, actually, I believe the word is 'coo.' Just like that. No 'l'."

"Get outta here, Gilmore. Go home to your fiancée."

Rory smiled and walked completely out of Josh's inner office before realizing what he'd said.

"How'd you know?" she demanded, stalking back in.

"Todd told me." Josh said softly.

"Oh. Is he still mad?"

"Yeah, he is."

"Oh." Rory said once again. "If you see him, tell him I'm sorry."

"I'll try."

"That's all I ask. See you tomorrow." Rory turned to leave again.

"Wait, I thought you were going home tomorrow."

"We're leaving after work. Greg's busy."

"Oh, okay. See you then."

"Kay. Bye." Rory waved and left.

"Rory Adams." Josh tried out Rory's future name and shook his head. "Rory Gilmore. Much better."

~~~~

Rory jostled the objects in her hands, sliding the video she had just rented and the mail she had just received into her purse. Doing so freed up her left hand, so she switched her thermos of coffee and bag of take-out from her right hand to her left, which allowed her to dig in her purse for her keys. Flipping the key ring around, she somehow managed to pick out her apartment key, and as she tried to stick it in the keyhole, her phone started ringing.

"Ahh, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Rory said, frantically trying to slide the key into the door, while pulling the door towards her, and turning the key to open the door. Mrs. Baker, the building sourpuss, leaned out of her apartment and scowled as Rory's purse dropped to the floor. "Hey, how ya doin?" Rory nodded, and Mrs. Baker just leaned back into her apartment. Rory finally managed to get the door open and she burst into the room, setting her take-out bag on the end table just inside the door.

"Hello?" Rory grabbed the phone from its spot on her couch, and then turned to head back outside to get her purse.

"However long what takes?" Lorelai moaned into the phone.

"Mom?"

"Rory." Lorelai acknowledged her daughter with a normal tone of voice, and then started whining again. "You hung up on me without answering my question!"

"Sorry, Mom, but Josh wanted to see me."

"Stupid boss."

"He pays me. And he's nice." Rory hung her purse over a dining room chair, pulled the videos and mail out, and started flipping through the envelopes.

"Just as long as he pays you."

"That's what I think. So what were you all freaked about?"

"I asked how long you and Greg were going to be here, and you said 'however long it takes,' and I said, 'however long what takes'—"

"And I never answered you."

"Right."

"Okay, well, it's a secret."

"Uh! A secret? You are keeping a secret from your dear old poor mother?"

"You are not old," Rory protested, ripping into a letter. "You're only forty-four."

"Yes, see, I'm already in my forties. Death is not far off."

"You are so melodramatic. You need coffee."

"Yes, that is true."

"Okay, I'm gonna answer you indirectly." Rory picked up her take-out bag and placed it on her dining room table as she sat down.

"Stupid Yale and its stupid big words."

"Indirectly is not a big word."

"I told you I needed coffee."

"Apparently. Anyway, I just want you to know that you should keep the summer pretty clear of any big plans."

"Ooh! Why?"

"Because we're probably going to be there for a while."

"Ooh! Why?"

Rory laughed. "You'll see. Greg wants us to tell everything to everyone at the same time."

"Why? So he can be fair? That's so overrated."

"A man gives me a diamond, I do what he says. But not everything, of course."

"Of course."

"So, how've you been doing?"

"Oh, my God! I had the worst date of my life last night!" And Lorelai was off.

"Uh-huh. Oh, yeah," Rory murmured at certain intervals, still looking through her mail. She'd received about twenty bills, and was just now getting to the actual mail. There was an invitation to a movie premiere, a couple of invitations to different parties, a letter from a friend of Rory's that she'd met in Brazil, and a final, thick letter, in an almost yellowing envelope, postmarked from Venice Beach, California with no return address. Still murmuring affirmations to her mother, Rory used the nearby letter opener to slit the envelope open. Out flowed a plethora of letters, some folded multiple times and almost ragged, some almost brand-new, and some small slips of paper, with one word notes.

"Oh, my God," Rory whispered as she recognized the handwriting.

"What? It's not that shocking. He did tell me he was weird."

"No, I just got the most interesting letter."

"Ooh, whose movie is it?"

"Only movie premiere I got was from that girl you don't like."

"The one with the--?"

"Yeah."

"Uch. What's the interesting letter?"

"It's from someone I haven't heard from in a long time."

"Chris?"

"No, I've heard from Dad. I just talked to him yesterday."

"Oh. Dean?"

"No. And what made you think of Dean?"

"Oh, I dunno. Actually, yeah, I do know. I hired Clara to work at the Inn today."

"How is Clara?"

"Pregnant."

"What?"

"Yep. She's been going to college, but she's dropping out to have the baby."

"Oh, my God."

"Yeah. She's moving back here, and she needed a job. So I offered her one."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty."

"Where's the dad?"

"Gone."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Hits close to home."

"Almost too close."

"Yeah."

"But anyway, who's the letter from?"

"You don't like him."

"Ooh, it's a him! Uh…George W. Bush? Mark Wahlberg?"

"Mom, not every piece of mail I get is from someone famous."

"Well, who is it then?"

"Jess."

"Mariano?" Lorelai asked incredulously.

"Yeah."

"Nephew of Luke?"

"Yeah."

"Luke Danes?"

"Mom, yes! It's a letter from Jess!"

"Ooh, you rhymed!"

"Ooh, I did. I'm spending too much time with you."

"You can never spend too much time with me."

"I disagree."

"That was rude."

"I agree. I'm hung over, though. And you keep yelling."

"Oh, sorry."

"Yeah. Listen, Mom, I love you and everything, but I'm gonna go now."

"Okay. You read the letter from Jess that I know you really wanna read but don't wanna tell me about, and I'll go watch another episode of Friends. I tell you, it's on, like, twice a minute."

"It hasn't been new for years."

"I know! But it's still on all the time!!"

"Okay, well you watch that, I'll read, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"That works for me. Love ya."

"I love you too, Mom."

"See you tomorrow. Seven or so?"

"Hopefully."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye." Rory pressed the off button on the receiver and lowered it onto the table. She stared at the letters spread all around her. Making up her mind, she started arranging all the pieces of paper according to the date. After ten minutes she'd counted twenty-seven dated letters—ranging from late May 2003 to late April 2011—forty small notes, and three one word slips of paper. She stacked the three piles one on top of the other and stood up, taking the rest of her mail with her. She placed the bills on her kitchen counter, tacked the invitations to her bulletin board, and threw away the advertisements. Then she walked past her dining room table again, staring at the letters.

"Maybe…. No." She shook her head and walked away from them, into her kitchen. She pulled her hamburger and french fies from her brown take-out bag, piled them on a microwave-able plate, and stuck them in her microwave. Waiting for her food to get warm, she grabbed a bottle of water from her fridge and stood in her kitchen doorway, staring at her dining room table. Finally steeling her nerves, she took one step toward the letters, but the microwave beeped, and she got her food, the letters pushed to the back of her mind.

Her doorbell buzzed and, carrying the plate of food and the bottle of water, she ran to her front door.

"Hello?" she inquired, trying to press the button with one finger.

Static… "man" …static… "ring" …even more static… garbled word… "up?"

"Sure," Rory answered her doorman, and then walked back into her kitchen. She placed the food on the counter, along with the water, and then dug in her refrigerator for the ketchup. She found it and started pouring it over her french fries. Satisfied with the amount of tomato-ey goodness over her potatoes, she grabbed her salt and pepper shakers and made a small pile on her plate, making sure it didn't touch the fries.

"Hello?" Greg called, using his key to enter her apartment.

"Hey!" Rory smiled, walking from the kitchen to the living room, carrying her dinner. "How was your day?" she asked, amending her path to lead her to her fiancée.

"Unimpressive," he responded, kissing her on the cheek. "You?"

"Hung over."

"Hung over?"

"Extremely. What'd you do last night?" Rory smiled and led Greg to the couch. She placed her plate on the coffee table and sat on the floor. Greg sat on the couch.

"Uh, called my mom."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's so sweet."

"Thank you. What'd you and the girls do? Drink?"

"Oh, yeah. Apparently when you get engaged, you're supposed to get completely trashed with all of the famous people you know."

"Who ended up going?"

"Ashley, Jamie, Remy, Kimmy, Ceci—"

"Anyone whose last name doesn't end in 'y'?" Greg asked jokingly.

"Hmm, no." Rory laughed. "Yeah. There were a few."

"Ah." Greg leaned over and stole one of Rory's french fries; she slapped his hand as he was lifting it to his mouth. He laughed and ate it anyway. She glared at him playfully. "So what time are we going to see your mother tomorrow?"

"I was hoping we could leave around four?"

"Sure." Greg slid down from the couch to sit next to Rory. He slid one arm around her shoulders and used the other hand to steal another french fry.

"Are you sure you can leave that early?" Rory asked worriedly.

"Ror, sweetie, don't worry! I don't have anything to do tomorrow. No clients to see at all."

"But…I thought you did."

"Nope. Nothing."

"Oh. Well, then, can we leave at eight?"

"At night?"

"Morning, Greg, eight a.m."

"Oh, sure. Although we should probably wait till about ten or so, to beat the traffic."

"That is a perfect idea! Thank you so much!" Rory leaned over and kissed Greg softly on the lips.

"For what?"

"For arranging your schedule so we can leave early! I'd love to officially introduce you to my mother as soon as possible."

"Should I be expecting anything?"

"She's crazy and off-the-wall, like an older, more caffeinated version of me."

"That bad, huh?"

Rory hit him playfully in the stomach, and he laughed.

"Okay, so she's like you, only older. I'll probably love her, too."

"You are being so sweet tonight!"

"Even sweeter than when I proposed?"

"Not quite. That was a good night."

"I agree." Greg smiled, and this time he leaned in for the kiss.

After a movie and many more stolen french fries, Greg stood up from the floor, stretched, and announced that he had to leave. Rory protested the proper amount of time, and then kissed him and bid him adieu. As she was walking into her kitchen to deposit her dirty plates, she noticed the letters from Jess again. She ignored them for another five minutes, and then finally ran to the table and picked the first one up.

Rory--

       

If you're reading this, than I'm gone.

Yeah, I know that's clichéd, but I've redone this letter so many times, and that's the only thing that really works.

I'm gone.

Yeah, I know I'm gone. Yeah, I know I haven't seen you in days, and yeah, I know that I'm writing this in my dad's apartment in Venice Beach, CA.

But I'm gone. That's the only way to say it.

I'm sorry.

I never meant to hurt you. I know I should have given you a proper goodbye, but, hell, at least you got one this time, you know?

I hope you haven't cried over me.

If you have, or are planning to, don't. It's a stupid thing to do. I'm a stupid guy to cry over, and you're way too smart to cry over a boy.

This is a crappy letter. I should end it soon. I should have ended it about a hundred words ago.

Whatever. I don't think I'm mailing this letter, anyway, I'm just using this to get my thoughts out, my thoughts that I'd wished I'd voiced to you before I packed up and left.

I still remember the day we said goodbye.

I bet you do too.

It was only a few days ago.

Don't cry.

I won't if you don't.

Graduate with honors. Be nice to everyone around you. Drink coffee. Laugh with Lorelai and Lane.

Be you.

Jess.

Rory shook her head, folded the letter, and placed it gently back into its envelope. Disbelievingly, she pushed her chair away from the table and walked to her room.