Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it. The plot and any original characters (specifically Claire)belong to me, but everything else is stuff I only wish I could take credit for.

A/N: Thanks for the positive feedback, guys! It's all much appreciated. Remember, reviewing makes the world go 'round. :)

Chapter 2: Little City

"Well, you've really got it made here, kid." Lorelai said to her daughter. They were sitting on the steps of the townhouse while the driver Emily had sent waited patiently to take Lorelai back to Stars Hollow.

"Yeah." Rory said, looking around her. "This is going to be a good thing. I need the time away from…from Dean."

"And from me." Lorelai added quietly. She slung an arm around Rory's shoulders. "We'll still talk though, and I'm going to try my hardest to spend a couple of days up here with you. You can't shake me that easily." Rory was ready to protest but Lorelai put a hand to her mouth to quiet her. "I know, I know. That's not what you're doing. You just need the time by yourself. Save your breath, kiddo. It's all right. The time apart is going to be good for me too. I'll get to spend a lot more time with Luke." Lorelai broke out into a sappy smile.

"Eww. Mental images!" Rory exclaimed, bringing her hands to her ears.

Lorelai removed Rory's hands and touched her forehead to her daughter's. "I love you, baby."

"I know. I love you too, mom." Rory responded.

Lorelai stood up and pulled Rory to her feet. They embraced for a long moment before Lorelai pulled away. "You have that pepper spray I gave you?"

Rory nodded. "And the list of the worst places in New York City, and the book on defending yourself without knowing martial arts."

"Did you like that? Kirk suggested it." Lorelai said. Without letting Rory respond she continued, "OK. I'm going to get going." She kissed Rory on the head. "See ya soon."

"Bye, mom." Rory said. She watched her mother get into the car. She watched the driver drive away. She watched the car turn the corner. As she watched the car vanish from her sight, she smiled. Alone at last.

The townhouse was lovely. There was absolutely no doubt about that. It had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, dining room, a den, a study, and a nice kitchen which was well equipped with a telephone to order takeout.

Rory had set herself up in the smallest of the three bedrooms. The largest was the one her grandparents had used, and the other the one her mother had occupied as a child. So, she'd chosen the smallest because she didn't feel right using either of the other rooms, even though they almost completely bare. There were still a few personal affects and knickknacks strewn about sparsely, but that was it.

Saying the room was the smallest, however, didn't mean it was small. It was at least double the size of her room at home. She'd unpacked her clothes, books and CDs. It was still strange, but it made it more comfortable for Rory. She was ready to let the healing begin. She was ready to forget about Dean and adultery and fighting with her mother. She was ready for six weeks of quality time with herself to think things through and read some good books and listen to some great music. She was ready to sightsee and do some shopping and loiter in Central Park. She was ready to have a nice, calm summer by herself.

Fate wasn't ready to let Rory Gilmore have her way.


It was one week later when Rory got the call from Dean. Well, actually, the voicemail. She'd been sitting in the kitchen, observing the plumber as he fixed the pipes, and she hadn't heard her cell phone ring. She stared blankly at the words on the screen. 1 NEW VOICEMAIL. She stared and stared until her eyes got tired and the words blurred together to form one hazy, illegible line. She blinked and, to her dismay, the words were still there.

With shaky hands, Rory dialed her voicemail and punched in her password. The automated voice came on the line and said, "You have one unheard message."

It was Dean's voice that spoke next. "Rory, its Dean. I know you're gone for the summer. I don't know if you'll call me back. Part of me hopes you won't. Look, I'm sorry. Lindsey and I, well, we're going to stay together. We were talking and we really think we can work some stuff out. Look, I know I made you think that we…Don't think that night wasn't special, ok? Because it was. I…I really loved you. But, I have to try to work things out with my wife. I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

There were tears streaming down Rory's pretty face as she erased the message and quietly closed the phone. She placed it back on her dresser before going back out into the kitchen. The plumber saw her enter and stood up.

"I'm done here in the kitchen, Ms. Gilmore." He said, smiling patronizingly at her. He made it clear as soon as he walked in the door that he didn't want her watching over him. "I'll just get started on the bathroom pipes."

Rory narrowed her eyes at him. "No. Leave."

The plumber sputtered for a moment before asking, "Are you firing me?"

Rory rolled her eyes. "No. I don't have the authority to fire you. Unless you hit on me or break something. And if you hit on me, I'll do more than fire you. I've read the book my mom gave me. Come back tomorrow to do the bathroom pipes. Alright? Good. Have a pleasant day."

The man looked at her in shock, but nodded and said, "I'll be back at 10 tomorrow." He left without saying another word. Rory calmly walked into the living room and picked up a blue vase that was sitting there. She held it in her hands for a few moments.

"I'm an idiot." Rory said to herself. "I'm nothing but an idiot. I slept with a married man and assumed he was going to leave his wife for me. His wife! Lindsey is his wife. I'm just…some girl he slept with." Tears were falling from her face and rolling down her chin. "I really thought he loved me again, that he missed me. What the Hell is wrong with me? He got in a fight with his wife, and I was just-." Rory brought her arm back and hurled the vase against the wall. It shattered into pieces in front of Rory's eyes. She dropped down to her knees and released several wracking sobs.

"I was just convenient."

Rory wrapped herself up into a ball on the living room floor and cried until she fell asleep.


Rory woke up about two hours later to sunlight pouring in on her from the windows. She was still curled up into her little ball. She stretched out and tried to relax her sore muscles.

"Sleeping in the fetal position is now on my list of things never to do. Right after any former member of a boyband." Rory mumbled to herself. She looked at her wristwatch. It was 4 in the afternoon. She'd been sleeping since one. She looked down at the shards of the vase that were still on the ground.

"OK, I've got to get out of here." Rory said decidedly. She went into her bedroom and changed into a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt. She brushed out her short brown hair and stared at her bloodshot eyes. She looked worn and tired and she was still shaking a little bit. She looked like a drug addict.

"Yup. That's me." Rory said, rubbing at her now dry eyes. "Addicted to pain." She took a moment to think about her statement. "Wow. If I get anymore country, I'm gonna have to buy a cowboy hat and start singing about cheating hearts." Rory shook her head at herself. "Stop pitying yourself, Gilmore. And stop talking to yourself too. It's kind of creepy. Ok, I now officially need to get out of here."

Rory grabbed her purse and walked out the door, locking it behind her. She hailed a taxi and requested to go to Greenwich Village. There was a bookstore she had seen there on Sunday, but it had been closed. Now was a perfect opportunity to try again.


Rory was in literary heaven. No Page Unturned was a place that a girl like Rory could only dream about. They had copies of almost every book she could imagine, and because it was in Greenwich Village, it had a huge section on up-and-coming authors and poets. Rory was practically salivating over the book in her hands- it was a true account of a girl who had gone for years pretending to be blind to observe people's reactions to her because they thought she couldn't see.

"It's not as good as you might think." A female voice said behind her.

Rory turned around and saw a girl a little older than her across the aisle, looked at the inside cover of a book. She was a very pretty girl with hair that was dyed a deep shade of purple. When she looked up at Rory, she revealed her large, ice blue eyes that were heavily lined with black eyeliner. She had a full mouth that was curved up into a smile and high cheekbones that a model would kill for. She was dressed in faded jeans with holes in the knees and a tank top that read 'Drop Bush, not Bombs.'

"What'd you say?" Rory asked her.

"The book. It started out good, but by the end it was just pretentious whining. It actually made me want to burn it, and I've never said that about a book before. Well, unless you count Hemmingway…and I don't."

Rory laughed. "I hate Hemmingway! The man should die…again."

The girl laughed and eyed Rory up and down. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"What makes you say that?" Rory asked defensively.

She shrugged. "Call me crazy, call me stereotypical, or hey just call me a sighted person. We don't see a lot of people who look like you in the Village. It's all artsy types, angsty types, and wannabe hybrids of the two."

"And what are you?" Rory snapped.

"Me? Oh I'm a wannabe hybrid, and perfectly OK with that. But my original question stands. What are you?"

Rory sighed deeply and shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea." I will not cry in front of a stranger. I will not cry in front of a stranger. The mantra did nothing though. Rory quickly rubbed her eyes to rid them of the tears that she felt forming.

The girl cocked her head to the side. "Wow. I've never made someone I didn't know cry before. Are you alright?"

"That depends. Is absolutely disgusted with yourself an acceptable definition of 'alright'?" Rory asked, still struggling to hold in tears.

"Ya know, I've never looked it up before." The girl said with a smile. "Look, I don't know what's wrong and I don't expect you to pour your heart out to a stranger. But my name is Claire, and if you'd like, you can come upstairs with me, clean yourself up, and I'll give you my copy of Blind Spot so you can be disgusted with it too."

Rory cocked an eyebrow. "That's really creepy. Are you aware that was really creepy?"

Claire laughed. "It might've been. I probably should've mentioned that I live above the store. My roommate's up there too. I don't girl preppy college girls or anything, I promise. Now put you in some torn denim and a Distillers T-shirt and maybe."

Rory had to laugh at this girl's bright and open personality. She actually reminded her a little of Lorelai. "Sure. But just so you know, I carry pepper spray and am capable of defending myself in ways not reliant on martial arts."

Claire just nodded. "My dad bought me that book when I moved out too. C'mon. Oh, what's your name?"

"I'm Rory." Rory said, letting Claire lead her to the back of the store.

"Good to meet you." Claire said, still smiling.

As they went to go up the back stair, a surly, chubby man said, "Where the Hell is your roommate, Peterson? Tell him he's fired."

Claire just laughed. "He'll be down soon Tony. He's showering. You don't want him to smell again, do ya?"

The man she called Tony just grunted and agreed. "He smells disgusting when he doesn't shower. Tell him he as 10 minutes."

"Will do." Claire agreed before motioning for Rory to follow her.


Wow. Just wow. Rory thought, looking around Claire's apartment in awe. It was small. The living room and kitchen bled together, there was one bedroom, and Rory could only hope that the closed door led to a bathroom. It was amazing though. There were books and CDs thrown about haphazardly. There were classics like Tolstoy and the Bronte sisters mixed in with modern books, and great CDs like The Who and David Bowie mixed in with obscure bands, some that even Rory hadn't heard of. There were paintings, drawings, and posters all over the walls. A long stretch of unfinished canvas covered one entire wall. There were the beginnings of what looked like a man's profile on it, but it wasn't anywhere near being finished.

"It's going to be my roommate eventually." Claire said, noticing Rory staring at it. "He was meant to be immortalized in paintings and poetry. Have a seat. Want some coffee?"

"Sure." Rory said, still sniffling. She sat on the worn out sofa and continued to look around.

Claire handed her a cup of coffee and some tissues and said, "So, what brings you to New York?"

"I'm spending the summer house sitting for my grandma." Rory said, dabbing at her eyes with the tissues.

"That's pretty sweet." Claire said. "Where ya from? Wait. Let me guess. Connecticut?"

"Yeah. How'd you know that?" Rory asked, amazed, impressed, and a little nervous.

"Just a guess." Claire said with a smile. "That's where I'm from too, actually. You just struck me as a Connecticut girl."

Rory sipped her coffee and said, "What do Connecticut girls look like?"

Claire shrugged. "We just have a look about us. Something that screams 'born and bred in suburban Connecticut! I think only other Connecticutians can see it. Kind of like how dogs can always smell their own."

Rory tilted her head to the side. "Do dogs do that?"

"I think I just made it up, but maybe!" Claire said. The two girls shared a laugh. It was an awkward situation, but Rory still felt unusually comfortable with this girl.

All of a sudden, the water stopped running in what Rory was still assuming was the bathroom. Claire stood up. "Gotta play mom for a second."

Claire stood and skipped over to the bathroom where she knocked obnoxiously loudly on the door. "Mari! Mari! I know you can hear me! Tony says you're fired, but I think I got you 10 minutes! So hurry up, Mari!" She turned and walked back over to Rory, who was wearing a confused expression.

"I thought your roommate was a boy." She said, raising an eyebrow at Claire.

Claire took a sip of her own coffee and said, "He is. Mari is a little nickname I gave him that pisses him off beyond reason. It's actually short for his last name."

"She knows what it's short for." A familiar male voice snapped into their conversation.

Rory's heart sank to her feet. She'd know that voice if she were deaf. Slowly, she turned to the bathroom. The door was now open and Jess stood in the doorway, hands on narrow hips. He was wearing jeans and no shirt. They stood there for a few moments, Rory's shocked gaze wavering under Jess' annoyed and angry one.

Claire looked back and forth from one to the other. "Umm, do you guys know each other?" She asked, confused.

Jess nodded slowly and he sneered at his ex-girlfriend. "Small world, isn't it?"