A/N: This is probably the last chapter of this. I feel like I'm being really repetitive with this story, so I think it's best to just end it. Just humor my fantasies that Jess would call Rory "darlin'."Also, humor my fantasies that Jess would listen to Sigur Ros (side note: gorgeous Icelandic music, check it out). I feel like I made Rory seem really weak in this chapter. But, I don't know. Anyway, on with it.

By the end of the week, I'm so in love with him that I throw up the morning of my last day there. I'm lying in bed next to him, his lips resting gently on my shoulder and suddenly I feel sick. Because this won't happen again, not for a while. This is the last time I will be able to lie next to him. This is the last time he will unconsciously let his lips graze my skin. This is the last time I will feel his warm, moist breath against my skin.

I run into the bathroom and let it out, hoping he doesn't hear me and wake up. I want to be able to climb back into bed with him. But, he's standing in the doorway looking concerned. He sits on the edge of the bathtub across from where I am currently kneeling in front of the toilet.

"What's wrong, darlin'?" His voice is laced with tiredness and I smile at the pet name he has given me.

"Nothing." I reach up and flush the toilet, wiping at my face. I stand and start to brush my teeth.

"Well, something's wrong. You just threw up." He pauses in thought for a second and the gasps audibly. "You're not…That wasn't…."

I look at him in the mirror with a smile. "No, that was not morning sickness. I am not pregnant. At least, not to my knowledge…"

His face contorts in fear again and I laugh. "It's not funny."

"You're right."

"So, why were you sick then?"

"Just…It's nothing." I don't want to tell him. It sounds pathetic as I form the sentence in my head and I don't want to say it to him. That I'm sick because of him. That I'm literally ill at the thought of leaving him.

He comes up behind me and places his hands on my hips. "Tell me." He says, kissing my shoulder.

"This is my last day." I say after I rinse the toothpaste out of my mouth.

"You got sick because you were leaving?" He uses his hands to gently turn me around.

I look down, ashamed. "I guess…"

He smiles. "Adorable." And kisses me sweetly.

This is when I have my first breakdown of the day. I start to sob there in his arms against the sink as he kisses me. He pulls away and I speak before he can question me.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to just be a phase. That's what I told myself after we first got together. That this wasn't going to be anything real, anything serious. It was just going to be something I did because I wanted it. I wanted you. I wasn't supposed to…You were supposed to hurt me and I was supposed to learn from it and move on. You were just supposed to be the complete opposite of Dean. Something new."

He backs away from me and I know that he's mad. The things I'm saying to him, while true, are horrible. Anyway, I only thought them in the beginning. They're not true anymore which is why this hurts more than it should. I keep going, grabbing onto his arm so he'll look at me and stop pacing in front of me.

"Don't you get it? The novelty didn't wear off like it was supposed to! You turned about to be something completely different! Not just a phase, not just something I wanted to do. You did hurt me and I did learn from it, but I didn't move on! I dwelled. I…I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you."

And I collapse against him, my forehead resting on his bare chest, my fingers gripping at his hips for stability. I don't want to leave him. I want him to come back with me. He's gently massaging my neck through my hair and gradually my breathing returns to normal. He pushes me gently away from him.

"To be honest, you were just supposed to be a distraction. From being stuck in that crappy town." He smiles down at me and I try to return it.

"Come back with me." A pause. "Please." He still doesn't respond. "Jess. Please." I look him in the eye and he holds the contact for a few seconds before looking away with a sigh.

"I can't."

This cues breakdown number one and a half. This mostly consists of me walking away from him angrily and slamming the bedroom door in his face. I throw myself onto the bed and immediately regret it. The sheets smell too strongly of him and I'm trying to be mad. I get up and start to pace around the room. I can hear him knocking softly on the door, but I don't open and I don't respond to him calling out my name.

Eventually, he stops knocking and he stops calling my name. I find the phone and I call my mother.

"California, here we coooommme." She sings in her off key voice and I don't laugh.

"Mom.."

"Sorry. I should've known you'd prefer the Rufus Wainwright song."

"Mom…" I'm hoping she'll detect the upset tone of my voice and stop making jokes.

"Sweets, what's wrong?"

"I'm coming home today…"

"Yes. You're coming home to me today." I can hear her grinning through the phone. She pauses. "Wait. Why do you sound upset about this?"

"It's just…" And this is officially breakdown number two. I try to choke words out around my sobs, but it proves to be fruitless so I wait for them to pass.

"Rory, honey, calm down."

"He won't come home. He doesn't want to be with me. I can't…I thought I'd be enough…"

"Oh, sweetie, he's got so much going on in his life right now. He's gotta get to know his dad. He's gotta figure himself out. You can't expect him to just come back here. He needs time. It has nothing to do with you."

She's right, of course. "I guess. I just don't like him being so far away. This week has been…wonderful and now it's over. And I have to come home and face Dean and his wedding and…"

"You'll be fine. You'll come home and you'll start getting ready for college. It'll take your mind off of things. I swear."

I'm sitting on the bed, playing with a thread that is unraveling form the sheets. I look down at it between my fingers and frown. "Yeah, okay. Well, I gotta go. I sort of freaked out on Jess. I should find him."

"That's a girl. I love you."

"Love you, too." I hang up the phone and stare at it for a few moments. I jump up quickly and go to look for Jess.

He's sitting at the kitchen table in nothing but his boxers and I can't help but laugh. He shoots me a look and I abruptly cease my laughing.

"You locked me out before I could even put clothes on." He says, dryly without looking up from the cereal he's eating.

"Yeah, sorry about that." I sit down across from him, grabbing the cereal box and grabbing a handful.

"Rory, you have to know that my not coming back to Stars Hollow has nothing to do with you or me not wanting to be with you."

"I know. I'm sorry. I realize that you just need time to get yourself together." I chew the cereal slowly, looking at him. "Do you think you'll ever come back?"

"I don't know." He says softly, meeting my eyes.

"Okay." And just as he shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth I add, "Dean's getting married, you know."

He almost chokes on the cereal and milk comes seeping out of the corners of his mouth. "To that blonde chick?"

"Lindsay, yeah."

"Huh." He swallows both visibly and audibly. "Had to marry him before he got too tall to talk to, I guess."

I laugh. "That's exactly what my mom said."

He rolls his eyes. "Is that what this is about?"

"What? You and my mother being separated at birth?"

"No, I mean. Is the reason you came here because Dean is getting married? Did you feel like you had to prove something to him?"

"No, that's not it at all."

He stands and walks over to the sink, rinsing out his bowl and putting it in the dishwasher. He turns around and leans back on the counter, looking at me. "Okay." But it's a very unconvincing okay.

"Really. I mean, yes, he said some things to me when he told me about the engagement. But, that's not all why I'm.."

"What sort of things did he say to you?"

"He said…" I look at my feet briefly before looking back up at him, meeting his eyes. "He said that he was sorry I had a crappy relationship and that you treated me like dirt…"

He pushes himself off of the counter angrily. "So, this is about him. That's why you want me to come back there so badly. So you can rub it in their faces. This isn't even about me, is it? I can't believe…" He trails off and just walks away. I hear the faint close of the bedroom door and I sit back down at the table, defeated.

Surprisingly, breakdown number three doesn't happen then. I expect it to. I sit there and wait for it, thinking it's better that I wait before I go talk to him. When I realize it's not going to come, I make my way to his room.

I hear music playing softly and when I open the door, he's lying in bed a hand over his eyes. I sit down gently on the edge of the bed.

"You're listening to Sigur Ros."

"Yeah?" He doesn't lift his hand from his eyes.

"Just…You listen to this when you're upset."

"Well, I am upset. Besides, it helps…clear my head."

I nod dumbly. He can't see me. It doesn't matter. I walk around to the other side of the bed and lie next to him. He still won't move his hand. I close my eyes and focus my attention on the song. The swell of the strings and the oddly soothing sound of the Icelandic vocals. It does clear your head. Suddenly, the entire morning is forgotten and I see nothing but hope. I open my eyes and turn on my side to look at him intently.

"Jess. I'm sorry. I didn't mean…I didn't come here because of what Dean said. He just forced me to think about things."

Finally, he moves his hand and lets me see his eyes. They're beautiful and I make a note to tell him this later. "And what did you think?"

"I thought that you did treat me badly then…"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that. I know. It doesn't matter anymore. There's something between us. You feel it, don't you?"

He smiles at me. "Yeah. I think I do." He places a hand gently on my cheek and I turn into it, reveling in his touch. "Did it make you jealous?" He says it softly.

"Did what make me jealous?"

"Dean getting married. Did it make you jealous? Did you wish our relationship was stronger?"

"…Yes."

"Well, I'm not going to propose." He laughs and leans in to kiss me.

"I'm a little disappointed. I was ready to throw my life away for you." I'm joking, but both of our faces become serious. I kiss him again, harder. He pulls away and I say, "You know, that never gets old."

"Well, like I said, whatever else happens, at least that works."

I want to kiss him again, but I don't. "I love you."

"Back at ya." He grins and gets out of bed. "We should probably get dressed."

"Probably." I look at the clock. "My flight leaves in four hours. That means…"

I'm about to have breakdown number three finally, but he stops me. He leans down to me and takes my face in his hands. He says steadily and strongly, "Don't think about it."

"Okay."

I watch him move as he gets dressed and try to assure myself that I'll be fine. I tell myself it's only a matter of a few months before he comes home. I tell myself that I didn't want to be this girl in the first place. I didn't want to be desperate and helpless without him. I tell myself to be strong about this.

It's strange how much has changed in this week. Before, I hated him. After he left, I promised myself I'd be done. I'd get over it. But, he forced his way back into my life. He was always forcing himself into places he shouldn't be. I thought that if I was having trouble thinking of concrete reasons for being with him, then it must really be something. This must really be love. It's not his jaw line. It's not his hands. It's not his reading habits. It's not the way he laughs. It's something else completely. Something I can feel in the pit of my stomach when he says my name. When he walks into the room. It's something nameless, but I feel it now when I look at him against the California sun pouring in through the window. I feel it when he smiles, something he never did before he came here.

It hits me. I want him to stay here. I say it out loud, "Stay."

He looks at me in the mirror above the dresser. He doesn't ask any questions, he never does. He nods. He says, "Okay." But then he says, "Rory, this isn't home for me. I'll come back, when it's right."

At the airport, I hold him like he's on his deathbed. My arms firmly around his neck, his tightly gripping my waist. I press as much of my weight against him as I can without causing us to topple over. I'm crying, but I'm not hysterical. They call for my flight and he looks at me. I kiss him and try not to think of it as the last time. I pull away until we are just holding hands loosely, still not losing contact.

He says it first, delicately and almost like a question. "I love you."

I bite my lip hard. "I love you, too." And then I turn towards the gate, looking back at him and saying, "Home, I guess."

He kisses me quickly, not wanting to drag it out any longer than is necessary. And with a nod of his head he says, "Home."