A/N: Please be patient with this chapter and the next one. I know this story is mainly for Literati shippers (although a Sophies outcome is not out of the question), so it will be frustrating to see something that doesn't fit into the classic Jess-or-Logan dichotomy. But, this is an important step in making sure all the characters are ready to make the necessary decisions. Also, thank you to the reviewers. Your support is makes this story worth writing.

The wedding rehearsal was mercifully uneventful and Rory-less, even if it was at the unholy morning hour of eight. She had disincluded herself from the wedding party early on and due to events unrelated to Jess. He would be walking Sookie down the aisle.

Luke had made several attempts to talk about what happened at family dinner with him, but he remained tight-lipped about it and his affinity for monosyllables that afternoon prevented anyone else from even approaching him.

Jess, flatly, didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. All he wanted to do was fullfill his obligations and leave.

After the rehearsal, Jess returned to reclusive behavior and hid in Luke's old apartment. Reading allowed his mind to wander too much, watching television made him disgusted with humanity, and working in the diner felt like masochism. So Jess chose tortured slumber over tortured consciousness and willed himself to sleep with a couple of sedatives that would repress any subconscious wanderings. The whiskey he washed them down with was just insurance.

Sometime later, after his self-medication had worn off, he heard a knocking at his door. The resulting "Go away!" didn't discourage his visitor, who obviously wasn't Luke or they would have known to just come in. Only he had ever locked the door, anyway.

The visitor didn't identify him or herself and ultimately went away. By the time they knocked again, Jess was blissfully hovering in that place just before sleep, where everything is a combination of reality and imagination. This time, the dreamy haze prevented him from responding.

He vaguely heard the door creak open and feet shuffle towards him. The footsteps stopped, perhaps behind him, but he had yet to see his visitor. It wasn't until he heard the bottle of Jack Daniels picked up and set back down on the nightstand he faced away from that he could identify his or her location.

"Jess," a voice whispered, identifiably female. Hands gently rocked him from side to side, trying to rouse him. He grabbed at one of the hands and shoved it off, falling into consciousness.

"Jess," it implored, a little more desperate. "I need you to wake up. I need to know how many of these pills you took. Jess, wake up." The hands were persistent.

He growled, fully awake for brief seconds, "Two, fourteen hours ago," and snatched a pillow off the floor and shoved it around his head. He hoped 'she', whoever 'she' was, would go away. He wasn't even going to identify her. He was done with this town with the exception of standing at the altar with Luke. A bus was waiting for him immediately after: forget the reception.

The weight on the mattress shifted, accomodating 'her' as she sat down next to him. Jess wondered if it would be too aggressive to smack her, regardless of who she was, in the face with his pillow. Better judgment, and a lazy arm, decided against it.

"Jess," she whispered again, and the weight shifted as if she was lying down on her side. One arm slide up his back to wrap around his stomach, and fingers delicately caressed his abs and pushing his shirt up. "Jess," the voice continued before planting kisses on an exposed shoulder. A second hand led a finger to trace his spine and he involuntarily shuddered.

The gesture was unmistakable. He knew who she was and allowed her to push the pillow off his head. Butterfly kisses outlined his jaw and he shifted onto his opposite side to meet her mouth, unwillingly to open his eyes. He had expected this to come; her goodbye, an explanation. Just not now.

He cradled her neck with one of his hands and rested the other innocently on her hip. They continued their exchange of kisses for a few final moments. She started to pull away, but he held her close.

"Jess," the voice gently chided.

"Just a few more minutes, then we can talk." There was a pleading quality in his voice, so she remained. They both fell into sleep shortly afterwards.

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The hour was painful despite the excessive amount of sleep he had recieved the day before. The space next to him was warm, but empty and Jess could only manage a whine as he struggled to put the pieces together.

"Lane brought us up breakfast. Apparently she brought you up food last night, too." Jess' eyes opened just enough to see a hand pick up the note for emphasis and then point to the burger. "Jess-," she began to read, "I'm sorry about the dinner. I'm here if you want to talk (and I know you won't), but here's something to eat in case you get hungry later. -Lane...She's a nice chick, although nosy. I had to answer a dozen questions to get up here last night. I guess she was closing."

Jess saw her lips move into a delicate smile, and then caught a glance of those vivid green eyes. He was too groggy to read into them, though.

"Come on, Jess. Get out of bed, have something to eat and we'll talk. I'm not rescheduling my flight twice because of this."

He reluctantly conceded and managed to get himself out of the bed and into one of the chairs at the table. "So you're taking the job in Seattle, then?" The question was casual and nonchalant. Truly, it didn't matter if she was leaving. He had expected her to have taken the job already, to be honest.

She slid the breakfast in front of him, transfered from the styrofoam carton to a plate she had fished out of the cabinet. It wasn't until he saw the food in front of him that he recognized how hungry he was. He figured it was a good excuse for her to do all the talking, all the explaining, anyway, if his mouth was constantly full.

"Yea. I figured if there was ever a time to do it, it was now." Jess couldn't even begin to understand the double entendre that was about to reveal itself in her words. He figured it only pertained to him. She wanted to start over; new life, new job, new boyfriend.

Jess merely nodded, shovelling a spoonful of eggs into his mouth. What was he supposed to say to that, anyway?

"I'm sorry I left like I did. Can I blame the hormones?" She chuckled softly, although the expression on her face gave it away as distinctively nervous, if not a little afraid.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jess managed between bites, a little more bitter than he intended.

"I was pregnant, Jess."