A/N: I have reviews! Wow, that's so cool. You guys rock...My apologies about the last chapter. It was short, I know, but this one will make up for it. Also, Rory will make an appearance eventually but this story is not called "These Tortured Souls" because I am going to allow them to be gratified with even short, angry interactions. That and I wanted to ground a little bit in what I thought might happen if Jess came back.
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So Rory might not be at the family dinner for her mother's wedding? It was a 180 from everything Jess thought he knew about Rory, but he wasn't going to press his uncle for answers. He seemed uncomfortable enough mentioning it, let alone explaining what had happened to the town darling. Fair enough, Jess thought. He knew he'd find out eventually, whether he wanted to or not.
Luke took his leave shortly after, leaving Jess with the evening to himself in a town where there was nothing to do. He thought about helping out at the diner, but fielding questions from the crazy townies was not exactly his idea of entertainment. A book and the bridge, however, seemed sufferable, and he proceeded with the idea as quickly as it entered his head, craftily dodging the townies on the way out of the diner.
The bridge, like the rest of the town, hadn't changed. Despite years of fundraising, Taylor still hadn't made an intiative to get it fixed. Jess mused that Taylor kept it broken so that one rainy day, when he had nothing else to harp on his neighbors about, he'd have something to pull out of his sleeve.
Jess pulled a worn paperback of H.G. Wells short stories out of his back pocket. Inside, was one of his new favorites: "The Time Machine." He had never been one for sci-fi before, but Wells had the sort of humor he could appreciate. There was a sly rebellion in Wells that fell more in line with this older, more mature Jess. The rebellion of the Barney Rosset movement, the rebellion of art, content and style, the intense, in-your-face rebellion of authors like the Beats would always hold a fond place inside a heart he wouldn't admit he had, but it was no longer suited to him.
This new Jess reclined back on the bridge and tried to read, but in all its serenity, the place was distracting. There were too many memories here. Too many picnics. Too many early morning discussions. Beakings. Sudden swims. Last moments. It was the only place that meant anything to him in Stars Hollow, for no other reason than the memories and the people they invoked. Rory and, begrudgingly, Luke, had been the only people that meant anything to him during his tortured, fumbling adolescence.
Of course, it always comes back to Rory, Jess thought with a bitter smile. "And with that though, it's time to leave," he said aloud to himself and headed back to the diner.
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All heads immediately turned to Jess as he stepped in the diner door. "What are you looking at? You knew I was here already!" he grumbled, and (mostly) everyone proceeded to eat their dinner with only one eye on him this time. He picked up a few empty plates and headed back towards the counter when he slammed into Lane.
"Watch it!" Lane shouted as one of the plates fell out of her hand and clattered to the floor. She looked down at it and the delivered a condescending glare at Jess before marching back to the kitchen to reorder the plate with Ceasar. Jess was a little occupied sweeping the crumbs off his shirt to be concerned with any animosity Lane had sent his way, though.
Lane came back with a new table's order in her hand and to find Jess still in her way, albeit this time he was trying to clean up the mess that resulted from their collision. This did not impress Lane, who took the opportunity to be snarky again. "Jess, if you're not going to be useful, some of us need this job to eat so please get out of our way." Obviously, she had no reason to be pleasant today.
He picked up a floppy, ketchup-covered bun and slung it onto the plate with evident disgust. "Go around," he offered and made a gesture to the ketchup that the bun left behind. "I wouldn't want you to slip."
"You have no reason to take that tone with me. I work here and...you have no reason to be mad! If anyone should be mad, it's me. You ran into me and I had to replace that burger. And I don't need your help. If I want to walk through ketchup, I'll do it."
Jess thought her inecessant rambling invoked a tirade, punctuated by wild gestures unavailable by her full hands, that she bestowed on him when he first drove his car in town. He almost laughed, but didn't think it would be conducive to his face given the fact that he was crouched on the floor in such great kicking range. "Suit yourself," he relented, and took a few steps back, noting her caution as she stepped directly into the ketchup as if mocking him.
He picked up the last of the fries while she delivered the order and took up a few more. Taking up her suggestion to be useful, he filled a few coffee cups before taking all of the plates back to the sink. It was something he immediately regretted, spotting Kirk at his next table. Tight-lipped, he filled the coffee cup and tried to ignore the box of t-shirts in the chair next to him.
"Would you like to be a collectible 'Jess is back in town t-shirt.' It's available in stylish, rebel black for only fourte-" Jess gave him the look of death mid-spiel, but Kirk, after 'a hard swallow and a sound that most often uttered out of a pubescent boy, was no longer intimidated. "My therapist told me that I need to stop letting people have the upper-hand. You don't scare me anymore, Jess! You don't..." Jess swirled the hot coffee in the pot and looked at it like he was contemplating dumping it on top of Kirk. He was, and of course Kirk took notice. "Okay, you scare me," Kirk conceded and took a big bite of his hamburger. Mouth full, he mumbled, "Great burger. Give the chef my compliments," but Jess was already half-way back to the sink, craving a break from the insane asylum.
He wasn't granted much reprieve, though, because Lane was quickly echoing her less-than-polite "Get out of my way" request again.
"What's your problem?" Jess leaned comfortably against the sink, folding his arms to block her access of it.
"What's my problem? What's your problem, James Dean!"
Jess tried not to let his trademark smirk slip and attempted to adopt a genuine, caring, concerned manner. "No, really, Lane. Open up to me- I want to know what I did to make you so upset." The sarcasm betrayed him.
"Ohhh, don't you get smart with me, mister! I'm wise to you!"
Sighing, he tried harder this time. "Come on. I'm going to be here a few days. At least tell me what I did, and I'll throw you my tips."
Lane narrowed her eyes, clearly distrusting this spectre of a sincere Jess. "What you did! Like you don't know. And bribery! You're a clever one, but you won't win with me. Now step aside. There are customers waiting." She tried to reach around him to put the dish in the sink, hopefully resulting in a satisfying splash that would ruin that David Bowie-- she couldn't ruin a David Bowie shirt and faultered just long enough for him to snatch the plate out of her hands.
"Lane. Tell me. I really don't know."
"You don't know? You don't know?" Her anger waivered, as if she couldn't quite remember, and then it suddenly came to her. "You walked out on my best friend! You just left her without a word! You didn't call! And then you came back and shouted things at her and didn't let her get a word in! I mean, what is that? Don't you have any sense of decency?" At the end, she was incensed.
"Whoa, whoa...Lane, chill out. If Rory's over it, I think it safe to say that you can be over it too." He thought to chuckle, or do something to diffuse the intensity of the situation, but look on Lane's face was pure rage.
"Oh? And when was the last time you talked to Rory, huh, huh? You don't know how hurt she was! You don't know, mister! And the stupid things she did because of you!"
Jess was worn out with the exchange soon, and hoped a customer would complain so that Lane and he would have reason enough to end it without whatever dangerous resolution it was about to come to. "I'm sure you two were stabbing pins into a voodoo doll yesterday, lamenting my existance. And what stupid things because of me? Princess Rory doesn't have to take responsibility for herself? Please. Lane, move on. Do that whallow thing you chicks do, but move on. I have."
Lane suddenly got quiet. She whispered, "No, I didn't do anything with Rory yesterday." She said nothing for a moment, and Jess shuffled a foot awkwardly on the floor as she just kept standing there, as if the one day of silence was an ocean between her and Rory. "Or the day before, or the week before or the month before...I haven't talked to Rory in a long time. She just left without a word, didn't call!" Lane's voice started escalating to an almost intolerable pitch. She was mad, bitter, and showing it. Obviously, the previous tirade had nothing to do with him, either. " She came into town one day, acted very strange. She shouted 'Hey Lane,' to me and didn't let me get a word in! And then she was gone again! I mean, I heard she stole a boat, but nope- no call to her best friend! You'd call your best friend if you were in jail, right? I mean, if she can tell me about sleeping with Dean, why couldn't she tell me about stealing a boat? Usually, breaking up a marriage is something you keep secret, but what is she going to do to hide a stolen boat? A felony is on her record forever! The whole world can know about it! What's her problem? Doesn't she have any sense of decency?" Lane became quiet again and wiped something from underneath her glasses. "I shouldn't have..." she whispered, and walked quickly out, mortified.