A/N: You know I love you. This immediately picks up at the end of episode 5.05 "We Got Us a Pippi Virgin!"

Chapter One

"Like the old days."

The feeling was back. It had been coming more frequently lately; little tremors of doubt that overwhelmed her. Sometimes it happened in the middle of a class, during a test; other times she was on her back with Dean hovering over her, his hands in her hair, and she would have to ask to him to stop because she was having trouble breathing.

Tonight, she had been in her car, on her way back to the dorm, leaving behind the disastrous foursome of a date, when it had seized her, like a terrible virus that had finally turned malignant. She had spoken to Dean through her open window, forced a smile, asked for a kiss, trying to remember all the reasons why she was there, right then, in that exact situation. Her mind came up blank.

The dorm was dark and quiet when she let herself in. Paris's door was closed indicating either a study session or that she was in bed. Either way, the meaning was clear: Do Not Disturb. It didn't matter anyway; Rory couldn't share something like this with her. Discussing Dean would transform into some interrogation; Paris was too inquisitive and she knew Dean had been married. She wouldn't stop until she had the whole story and Rory was in tears.

With a resigned sigh, Rory headed into her room, hoping a good night's sleep would clear her head. She changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt, but stopped short of crawling into bed. Her cell phone was sitting on her bureau where it had slipped out of her discarded purse. She stared at it, seriously considering making the call. Her fingers curled at her side, as she mentally counted off the seven digits of his number. He would be home. He would listen.

She jumped when her phone rang. She frowned at it, not comprehending. Who was that?

"Hello?"

"Hi, babe," her mother answered cheerfully on the other end. "I was trying to time my call so it came after you had gotten back, but before you had gotten into bed, all comfortable and unconscious. It left me with a very small window. How'd I do?"

Rory sat on her bed, settling against the pillows. "Pretty good. I'm in my pajamas, but I have yet to get under any blankets."

"Perfect!"

"Is there any reason for this call? I saw you an hour ago."

"Don't you miss me already?"

Rory rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"I heard that eye roll, young lady!" Lorelai scolded. "There actually is a point to this perfectly timed phone call. It's about Luke."

"Oh."

"Luke's afraid that Dean's going to steal all your gold coins."

Rory blinked. "Excuse me? Is that some kind of… metaphor? "

Lorelai began to pace the living room, determined to explain this correctly. "Luke doesn't think Dean is good enough for you. Apparently, no normal boy is."

"Am I going to grow up into an old spinster?"

"Most likely with cats," Lorelai added, "from the way Luke was going on. The words 'prince' and 'not waiting in line for his brother to die' were used."

Rory frowned, cast back into confusion. "Right."

"Apparently, the pedestal he has put you on is dangerously close to where I hold you." Lorelai smiled, remembering Luke's worry. He just wanted Rory to succeed, be happy. "He compared you to Pippi."

"As in Longstocking?"

"Yep."

"As in the movie we watched tonight."

"Yep."

"The girl with the pigtails? The one who walked up the brick building? Luke did know which one was Pippi, right?"

"Trust me," Lorelai said. "He knew. And he thinks you can build hot air balloons and lift horses over your head."

"Oh yeah," Rory agreed. "I took a class in that last week: Quadruped Lifting and You."

"He said you were strong and independent. He said the whole world was waiting for you."

Rory stared down at her knees, silent. A blush colored her cheeks as she digested what Luke had said. It was nice to have someone that knew her well love her by choice. To believe in her because he had no reason not to. It was different from having the support of the rest of the town; it was Luke.

"You have every right to be upset about the Dean thing, but try not to hold it against him. He just wants what's best for you."

"And that's not Dean," Rory mumbled, speaking more to herself than her mother.

"No, no that's not what he meant. Well, that is what he meant. He just – " Lorelai stopped and regrouped. Why did Dean have to be such a tricky subject? "Luke supports all the choices you make," she finally concluded.

Like breaking up a marriage?

"I'm glad," Rory said instead.

"I'll let you get to sleep now. I just wanted to clear this up before you went to bed."

"Consider it cleared."

"Night, babe."

"Night."

Rory hung up and dropped her phone onto the mattress. The discomfort was still there, only vaguer now, fading from the good her mother had told her. But Rory would be unable to sleep like this; this feeling always led to tossing and turning, and a myriad of what if's.

With a determined attitude, she grabbed her phone and called him. He would cure her of this melancholy dread and then she would be able to sleep peacefully and wake up refreshed tomorrow. Yes, he would fix this.

As an afterthought, she held the phone a good two feet away from her ear as it rang. A click was heard followed by the unmistakable blaring of an air horn.

"Now who are you trying to avoid?" she asked, ignoring the formalities of a 'hello'.

"A former roommate," Jess explained, diving right into the conversation. "He says I owe him rent. I stayed with him a total of two weeks, and paid him for a full month. I even made him sign a receipt."

"He has no case."

Jess shrugged. "I know. But the guy's a coke addict…"

"No need to go on," she interrupted. "No wonder he's looking for money." She paused, eyeing her alarm clock. "You know it's after twelve, right? Do you really think he'd be calling this late? Shouldn't he be clubbing or passed out in an alley by now?"

"Anyone who is calling after midnight is either someone who has nothing better to do with their time than harass me, or it's you. Which is basically the same thing."

"Hey!"

"Either way, the horn is needed. Then they'll never call again. Except for you, who knows what to expect."

She snuggled down beneath her blankets, and curled an arm around her pillow. "I think you should get a caller ID."

"Nah, this is cheaper. Simple, yet effective."

"Until the day you pop someone's eardrum and they sue you for hearing loss."

"And how do you think I'll avoid their lawyers' calls?" he asked.

She let out a resigned sigh. "Fine, you and your cruel caller ID win."

Ten miles away, he sat alone in his apartment, trying to suppress the smirk that refused to leave his face. It killed him that she still had this effect on him.

"So, is this phone call random or with a purpose?"

"Um." She swallowed, suddenly nervous. "With a purpose. I had my double date tonight."

He ignored the pinprick of jealousy and the even harsher pain of isolation. She had been out with Dean and Luke. They had been some bumbling, sitcom foursome having a good time together. Jess had sat alone tonight, sprawled out on the couch with only Mistry's woeful tales of India to keep him company.

"How'd it go?"

"Well, Luke thinks I'm Pippi Longstocking. He also tried to kill Dean with a Bop It."

There was a pause. "A Bop It?"

"It was a two person Bop It."

"Oh yeah," Jess nodded. "Makes sense."

Rory laughed. "Everyone made it out unscathed. Well, physically. There may have been some emotional damage."

Jess grinned; a full blown smile. The mental image of Luke bashing Dean over the head with a plastic toy brought him too much joy. It made him want to phone his uncle; congratulate him while simultaneously chewing him out for doing to Dean what he never allowed Jess to. But the thought was lost as Rory continued.

"Jess?" She wanted to bring up how she felt; the problem that was nagging at her, but another issue surfaced first, the words jumping out of her mouth. "Does it bother you when I talk about my dates? I just… you never say anything about it. You always let me go on."

"Of course not. I thoroughly enjoy hearing the sordid details."

The sarcasm did not go unnoticed. She bit her lip, remembering guilt; the unique kind that accompanied only him. It was like a faint stirring sharp with thorns. "Does it bother you because it's Dean?" she asked softly. "Or does it bother you because it's me?"

Jess stifled a groan. Their friendship worked fine as long as they stayed clear of that line separating comfort from regretful, guilt-ridden pain. Why did she always insist on toeing it? She danced around it like it meant nothing; as if she could cross it and pull back in a blink of an eye without hurting either of them. It didn't work that way.

"Rory." He ran a hand through his hair, at a loss of what to say.

"I'm sorry." She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like a fool. "I should go."

"You don't have to hang up. You just – "

She spoke suddenly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I think I'm trying to recapture the past with Dean."

"What?"

"It's not working. I think it's making everything worse." She exhaled, letting out what she had been holding in. "And that's the reason I called tonight."

"To sort everything out."

"Yeah." Her voice was soft now, whispered uncertainty over the phone. "But I think I should go to bed instead."

"You don't…" He leaned forward, resting his head in his hand. This hadn't started out as a difficult conversation; how did it so often come to this? "You can talk about this kind of stuff."

"Okay," she answered tentatively.

"We haven't been together in a year and a half."

Both thought: that long? The years seemed to stretch across the ten miles that separated them; for a moment, she felt his loneliness and his ache. A sense of longing filled Jess's chest, but he confused it with his own.

"Do you want to come over tomorrow?" she asked, her tone quiet, thick with the past.

"Where? Yale?" The surprise was evident in his voice; she strained to hear whether it was certainty or hesitancy that accompanied it.

"Yeah."

"What happened to keeping me stashed away?"

She glared at her wall, imagining his cocky expression. "You're the one who said you didn't want people knowing you were back. I just happened to go along as to not give Dean an aneurysm." After a thought, she added, "It's not like Luke's going to be here."

Jess exhaled, deflating into a recumbent position. "Where's Dean tomorrow?" he asked, avoiding the other subject.

"He has work all day. It would be nice if you came. I can show you around."

"Sure," he said, envisioning her in his mind, balancing on that thin line. He didn't know what attracted her to it; a sense of revenge or leftover feelings. "I'll come for lunch tomorrow."

"See you then."

After they hung up, she switched off the lamp and slid further down her bed, hiding herself in the dark. An ease came over her. It was nothing like certainty or perfection, but something else – like a small piece of hope blossoming despite the lack of light. She thought she loved Dean. She thought that no matter what she was trying to capture, that much was true. Still though, she thought it would be very nice to see Jess tomorrow.