She wakes with a start the next morning. Her hands she finds are clammy as is her forehead along with the remainder of her untouched body. However, this is so normal to her; she merely flops back onto her bed. Her dreams, since the accident have not been the least bit appealing. Some occur with deaths or tragic losses. Some frighten her almost to the point that Clark will wake her to tell her she's been screaming horrible things in her sleep. Her restlessness, at times is even more sacred to her, because she feels at ease.
She showers, eats and dresses with no more nightmares. Her appointment book lies open on the kitchen counter and she groans as she realizes that she has another meeting with Kristin. It's not entirely that she dislikes Kristin, but she finds that when Clark hired a private investigator to make sure she remembered, he might not have thought what was best for her. She can no longer drive, because just the thought of it frightens her. Her walks, she thoroughly enjoys because it gives her time to think, clear her head and above all be alone. When she does reach the bus stop, she waits patiently until it pulls up in front of her, in which she hops on. She walks towards the back and sees an all too familiar face.
"Jess."
He looks up startled and puts the book he had been reading into his back pocket.
"Are you following me?" he asks her, grinning.
She grins back and accepts this as an invitation to sit down next to him.
"I didn't know you took the bus," he tells her.
She shrugs at him, deciding that he probably wouldn't give two shits why she can't drive, but looks at him and decides he might be worth it…
"I'm afraid," she says.
"Of?"
"Of driving," she answers.
He looks out the window for a moment and then replies.
"Do you remember…stuff?"
She starts playing with her hands, something he knows she always used to do when she was nervous.
"Well, I remember things, like I know where I live, and I know who my mom is but nothing before the – accident," she adds quickly.
He nods at her, not attempting to continue with such a touchy subject, but a sudden realization dawns on her.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
He tries to conceal a grin and suddenly his stomach does a backflip.
"I was going to – to well…nothing really," he adds dully.
"Do you just ride around on buses for fun then?"
He grins at her usual sarcasm, finding it all too comforting.
"Are you doing anything today? You want to see a movie?" he asks, before he realizes what just left his mouth.
"I love movies!" she squeals grinning at him, like she just divulged her most dire secret.
"Really…?" he says as if this was new to him.
"But I have to go see Kristin first," she tells him, matter-of-factly, as if it was the most important thing in the world.
He nods thinking, Let the games begin.
When they arrive at her office, Rory knocks softly, and Kristin's face pops into view so fast, Jess could have swore she flew.
"Rory and…Mr. Mariano," she says flatly.
She invites them in, and Jess is sure that it's only because of Rory otherwise she would have made him stand outside.
"Rory, I'm glad you came I've got great news, I have someone else for you to meet," she says as she gestures towards the chair nearest to her desk. In it sits a man with a small beard and mustache, who obviously standing up would have been over six feet tall. His beefy body and hearty stare fixes on Rory and then a grim smile overcomes his face as he sees Jess.
"Rory, this is Dean Forrester."
She steps forward to greet Dean who had already strode across the room to greet her. His eyes wash over her, fixedly staring at her. Jess suppresses the intense protective side of him, and decides today's not the best time to bring up the past.
"Do you remember me Rory?" he asks hopefully, still gazing over his lost prize.
Rory takes a step back, obviously trying to get his whole body into view, which considering his size, is no small task. Almost immediately she frowns and shakes her head, she simply doesn't remember him.
The frustration on Kristin's part is obvious by the heavy sigh she gives. In which she leads Rory into a room connected to her office saying she has some picture that might help. She closes the door and leaves both of the men together in a quandary of silence, as Jess realizes she's left him with the giant scumbag. Neither says anything for a moment, then a giant grin spreads across Dean's face.
"I slept with her," he says.
Jess looks away, not wanting Dean to see the anger in his eyes. So he suppresses the intense urge to punch him at that very moment. He does notice though the intensely smug look on the jackass's face, as if proud that he deflowered the lovable girl. The words hover in the air though, they seem to wrap around his neck and nearly choke him, because once the anger in him subsides. The resentment and hurt flow through.
He fingers the lace of her top and puts his hand underneath it to touch the soft, smooth skin. She laughs playfully at him, her head against his pillow. He kisses her bare stomach, while slowly lifting up her shirt. He carefully fingers the waistband of her jeans while focusing his eyes solely on her own. His fingers find the button of her jeans and undo it, simply out of old habit. He feels her stiffen, and he withdraws his hand. She looks up at him, her eyes nervous as ever. He doesn't like to wait, but he will, for her. He just needs to hear her say it.
"Jess…not now," she tells him, embarrassment creeping into her voice accidentally.
He falls into place next to her. Both of them lying on his twin bed, fitting perfectly together. She takes this as an invitation to rest her head on his chest. While she hears the soft steady beat of his heart, she knows it's the rhythm that guides her all together.
He remembered, she had said she wasn't ready. She had protested to him, that she wanted to be in love, that it was supposed to be planned and at the right moment. He feels his heart ache and nearly drop to the pit of his stomach. He was supposed to be her first.
His anger is too much to bear, and he doesn't want her to see him like this. He rushes out of the office, onto the sidewalk. His own heart is beating unusually fast and unfortunately for him, he finds himself reliving past memories much more than he'd like. He leans himself against the brick wall, and heaves a sigh as the day workers brush up against him. He turns to leave, but he hears her voice behind him and he stops.
"Where are you going?" she asks cheerfully, oblivious to his anger.
He doesn't say anything he merely keeps walking. Her bewildered stare follows him, and she wonders whether he hasn't heard her or doesn't want to answer.
"Are we still going to the movies?" she asks wonderment spreading across her face.
He finally turns around facing her; he realizes they're in the park. Unfortuneatly for his memory, he remembers this park all too well. He remembers her, what she was wearing, the grim look on her face and lastly what she told him.
Her skirt blows dreamily in the wind. He fingers the softness of it, not tempting to reach father than he should because he knows he'll be trespassing. The smile that once adorned her angelic face is no longer visible and he doesn't know what's caused the sudden change. He hopes he hasn't done it, because there could be serious repercussions. The book in her hand holds her attention for a while, but soon she begins to fidget and he finds that she's expecting a conversation. She withdraws her body from next to him and it automatically sends an alert to his head.
"We need to talk," she tells him.
His first impulse is to run and hide because he hates confrontation and in all previous occasions has done all he could to divert it. But he finds himself still seated next to her, she finds herself even shocked to still have him there in front of her.
"I'm not happy," she says softly.
She begins to wring her hands together, fiddling with the ring on her index finger. Something he had won for her at one of the horrible Carnivals they had gone to. He knows if she pulls it off, it'll be the end. Not that it has any significant meaning in their relationship, but to him it's the signal of their life together. When she was mad at him for a week she had worn it on her middle finger, giving him the obvious signal she wasn't happy with him. But now he sees her toying with the idea of pulling it off all together. He feels no need to ask her why she's not happy, because he knows he can't.
"Can we just see how this goes for a while?" she asks.
He doesn't acknowledge this but lest with a simple nod. He feels himself drifting even farther apart from her. Father than he could have possibly imagined.
"Did something happen?" she asks him again, as he breaks from his concentration.
He shakes his head and then softly whispers, "How could you?"
Her smile has slipped off her face. He can't tell whether one of anger or confusion has replaced it, but he knows it's not good for him.
"What did I do?" she asks softly, and by this he knows she's angry.
"You slept with him."
"With who?"
"Dean!"
"But I –"
"How could you Rory?" he asks her, letting his emotion seep into his voice. "I thought – well I thought, god damn it."
"I don't know what I did."
"I just thought when you said you weren't ready, it was because of the timing, not the person –"
"Jess!"
He turns to looks at her.
"Who's Dean? The guy we just met?" she asks cluelessly. And for a moment the realization hits him over the head. She hasn't a clue as to what he's talking about. Because she doesn't remember. She doesn't remember him or Dean, or much of anything else for that matter. He suddenly regrets these words and for a moment he wants to desperately pull them back out of the air, but like many other things: He's too late.
"I have to go," he tells her. With that he starts to walk away.
"Go, leave, I'm sure you're good at that!"
He stiffens at her response and nearly jumps from the shock of it. He looks back in her direction, but she's no longer standing there, instead he can only see her retreating figure, marching roughly down the sidewalk and turning the corner out of sight. He sits on the nearest park bench, and thinks to himself. She couldn't have remembered him, she couldn't have. Right?