A/N: Thanks for the great reviews guys! I really can't tell you how much I love you guys for those. They're like pixie sticks highs to me, and that's saying something.
**Disclaimer: I own a Discman, a shelf full of books, and this laptop. I don't own anything related to this show. And even if you do sue me, all you're getting is the Discman and the books because there's no way in hell you're getting my laptop.**
A Whole New World
by Angel Monroe
Chapter 5: Too Much
As they walked, Jess and Rory smiled to themselves. Rory, who had hated the idea of coming to the city away from her friends and her mom, was actually having a good time. Jess was just happy having Rory hanging on his arm. It was so weird, he had never been one for that crap, but just the simple touch of her hand made him warm.
"So," she said after a few minutes of aimless wandering, "are we going to find something to do, or are we just going to do this for the rest of the day?"
"We could go back to the bookstore," he suggested, and he saw her eyes light up a little, "or I could show you a couple other places of interest in the city."
Rory was torn. On one hand, it was books. It was her classic activity of choice. On the other hand, she would really like to see other places. She really didn't know that much about the city and if she was going to be here for a while, she might as well find out.
"As much as I love that bookstore," she replied, "can you show me around a little more? I don't really know what's good here."
"Sure," he said. "I want to show you this record store. I swear, it's straight out of 'High Fidelity.'"
"Now this I have to see," she chuckled. "Does it have John Cusak, 'cause that would be cool."
"Not quite," he said in mock disappointment, "but it does have this guy who knows everything about every music group and garage band ever. Test him, it's freaky."
"Can't wait," she smiled.
He directed them through the streets of Manhattan making sure they stayed on the more savory streets. As they approached the record store, Jess stopped, swearing quietly.
"What?" Rory looked at him worriedly. "What's wrong?"
He didn't answer her. He was too busy looking at the group of his friends hanging out in front of the store. He didn't really care about what he knew they would say when they saw him with Rory. He was more worried about what they were doing at the moment. He knew them, and they weren't the kind of people to play checkers when they were bored.
"Come on," he said to Rory as he walked towards them. She followed, letting go of his arm. She could tell that he was worried about his friends, and her hanging on him definitely would not help.
"Jess," Keith greeted him as Jim, Ryan, and Randy hung back. "Rory." Jess saw her fall back a little as Keith's eyes skimmed over her. "What are you two doing?"
"I was just showing Rory around," Jess replied, his voice guarded, showing as little of what he was thinking as possible. "Thought I'd show her the record store."
"Very cool," Keith replied as the rest of the guys eyed them suspiciously. "Did you show her the spot yet?" he asked eyeing Rory unchastely. "'Cause if you haven't yet, I'd be happy to."
Jess glanced quickly at Rory. He could tell she was uncomfortable, her eyes darting quickly away from Keith. "I really think Patterson would have something to say about that," Jess said smoothly. "Or have you forgotten the last time he kicked your ass?"
Keith glared at him, and Jess could see out of the corner of his eye that Rory had cracked a smile.
"At least I'm being direct about trying to get into her pants," Keith shot at him. "I'm not playing prettyboy to get there."
"Not even an issue," Jess replied, his voice unscathed. He paused, weighing what to do next. "Rory," he said keeping his eyes on Keith, "I need to talk to the guys. Can you wait for me inside?"
"Sure," she said nervously. She didn't want Jess to fight with his friends because of her. Slowly, she opened the door, glancing back at him, and went in.
"Okay," he said a little irritably to Keith, "first of all, are you stupid or just plain suicidal? That's Patterson's little cousin. Do you know what he would do to any of us if he caught us putting moves on her? They'd have to drag Niagara for our bodies."
"Why are you so afraid of Patterson?" Keith asked him, his tone scathing.
"Because I have an IQ," Jess shot back, "and second of all, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't give you or I anything if we tried. She's not like that."
"And how do you know this?" Keith smiled. "You tried yet?"
"Again, stupid or suicidal?"
"Fine," Keith said with resignation, "whatever."
"So what are you guys doing?" Jess asked, having resolved the conflict for now.
"Why would you care?" Keith asked, still stung by the fact that Jess had gotten the best of him. "You're showing the princess around, remember?"
"Just wondering," he said nonchalantly.
"Just plotting," Randy replied. "We tried to call you, but you were already out. I guess we know now where you were."
"Steve and Patterson both had to work," Jim spoke up, "so it's just the four of us on this job."
"Job?" Jess questioned. "What's goin' down?"
"Not much," Ryan replied. "Just picking something up for an acquaintance. Pays big though. You wouldn't be interested, would ya?"
Jess was tempted. The money really wouldn't hurt. Still, what about Rory?
"Maybe next time," he replied nodding toward the record store. "Gotta look after the princess."
"Whatever, man," Ryan said smirking. "We gotta book. Catch ya later."
Jess watched them go, feeling a little different. It was one of those moments when he knew something big had just happened, but had no idea what it was. He shook off the feeling, turning his mind back to the store and the girl he had come there with.
He opened the door, glancing around the interior of the store. He spotted Rory near the back, flipping through a box of vinyl records. As he neared her, he could tell that she was still a little upset. He couldn't really blame her; Keith had talked about her like she was a hooker while she was standing right there. He hoped to God he had never been like that, but he knew deep down that he had done that before.
It wasn't that he didn't care about girls' feelings; he did. But most of the girls he had hooked up with weren't really interested in chit-chat. They were pretty much all action girls, bored easily but easily pleased. He hadn't really met any other girls besides Rory who could be happy reading in the park.
"Hey," he said softly coming up behind her.
"Hey," she responded, not turning to look at him.
"I'm sorry about that," he said shoving his hands in his pockets. "Keith has a problem keeping his foot out of his mouth."
"It's fine," she assured him, though he could tell something was still bothering her.
"Rory," he touched her arm. She stopped what she was doing to look up at him. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Really," she said stuffing her hands in her back pockets, "I'm okay. I guess I was just embarrassed."
"I understand," he said. "Keith is an idiot. He doesn't really see the point in talking to girls like they're people. Most of the girls he's dated haven't really cared about talking."
"I get it," she said looking down. "I just . . . is that how all your friends are? Is that how this city is?"
He could see how much this was disturbing her. "My friends . . . yes. That's pretty much them. Steve and John actually have heads on their shoulders most of the time, but the rest of them are pretty much all brain dead. But no, Manhattan as a whole is not that bad. It has its rough points, but it has its good points too."
She nodded, seeming to understand. She visibly relaxed, smiling a little through her unrest. "Okay," she said, and that was that.
"So," he said shuffling through a box next to her, "whatcha looking at?"
She smiled, holding up a record.
"The Go-Gos?" he questioned.
"My mom is in love with them," she explained. "And look, it's signed."
"Very cool," he smiled at the way her eyes lit up. "I wonder how much it would cost to send that overseas."
"I dunno," she replied, her expression falling. "I guess I didn't think about it. I don't even know if she would have time to listen to it. Between chemo and . . . "
"Chemo?" Jess was stunned. 'Cancer?' he thought. 'Oh God.'
Rory slapped her hand over her mouth. "Why did I say that?" she asked herself aloud. "I can't believe I just said that." She felt tears spring to her eyes.
"It's okay," he said quickly. "You don't have to talk about it."
"I haven't told anyone about mom," she said distantly, tears gathering behind her eyes. "Not even my best friend. No one knows outside the family. I can't believe it just slipped out like that."
"I won't tell anyone," he promised. "I mean seriously, who would I tell?"
She smiled up at him through her tears. "I guess it's been on my mind a lot. I didn't mean to lay it on you like this."
"I don't mind," he assured her. "You can talk to me about it if you want. I'm here."
"Thanks," she said. "I might just take you up on that sometime, but right now, I really can't."
"That's cool," he told her smoothly, but a twinge of concern slipped out in his voice. "I'll be here when you can."
"I know," she replied. She looked up into his deep brown eyes and she did know. Somehow, she knew he was there, and would be. A small comfort in a chaotic world.
"So are you getting it?" he asked nodding towards the record still in her hands.
"Oh, I dunno," she said looking at it. "I guess I don't really have any use for it. I don't even know when or if my mom is coming back."
"You're getting it," he told her. She looked up at him questioningly. "You're getting it," he repeated, "and you'll give it to her when she comes back. Just call it hope for the future."
She smiled, nodding her head in agreement. "You're right," she said, her voice lightening a little. "I'm going to go pay for it." She turned to leave, but then turned back. Squeezing his arm lightly, she whispered, "Thank you. This helped."
"I try," he replied as she went to purchase the vinyl. 'God,' he thought, 'no wonder she's so sad about her mother. Hell, I don't know what I'd do if my mom had cancer, and I don't even really like her much.' He pondered this for a few minutes, unable to wrap his head around the idea.
"You wanna look at anything here?" Rory asked coming back with the record in a bag hanging from her wrist. "I don't mind waiting if you want to look around for a while."
"No," he replied snapping back to reality. "Hey, do you wanna go to Washington Square Park for a while and read?"
"Sounds good," she replied. "I brought a book."
"What book?" he asked as they exited the store.
She took Howl out of her bag and handed it to him.
"Good book," he commented.
"You've read it?" she really wasn't surprised.
"A few times," he replied handing it back to her. "You wanna switch?"
"What do you have?" she asked him, and then smiled as he held up a Hemmingway. "You aren't going to get off my case about this, are you?"
"Come on," he urged, "just try it one more time. I swear, I will make you love Hemmingway if it kills me."
She smiled at his puppy dog expression. She had never thought she'd see him doing that. "Okay," she conceded, throwing her hands up in surrender. "Okay, I give in. One more try, and then you have to stop trying to convince me of his genius."
"Deal," he laughed as they reached the square.
They sat on a bench, leaning against each other shoulder to shoulder. Each took out their respective book and began reading. Jess pulled a pencil from his pocket and began writing in the margins. Rory, bored with her book, looked over to see what he was doing.
"Jess, that's not my book," she told him a little panicked. "I borrowed it from my aunt."
"I'll buy her another copy," he assured her. "It's okay."
"How is it that you are so loaded?" she asked him. "You keep buying me things."
"I have a night job at a restaurant on 7th," he replied nonchalantly. "Plus a lot of odd jobs. A lot of people in Manhattan would rather have some kid fix their roof or clean their gutters than pay outrageous amounts of money to have it professionally done."
"Nice to know," she replied thoughtfully.
"And besides, I only bought you coffee and a hotdog."
"And now a book," she pointed out teasingly.
"I don't have to buy the book," he said with serene sarcasm.
"Nope," she replied. "You already offered. Can't back out now."
"Well okay then," he said, and they both went back to reading.
An hour and several pages later, the two of them put down their books.
"How far did you get?" Jess asked her.
"About halfway through," she replied. "I can't stand much more of this."
Jess smirked. "Come on," he said, "it's not astrophysics."
"But it's so boring," she whined.
"Fine," he relented, "next time I'll bring something else, but you have to promise me you'll get through that book."
"On my life," she vowed sarcastically. She tried to give it back to him, but he waved it away.
"Keep it until you're done," he said.
"Thanks," she replied putting it in her bag. "So what now?"
He thought for a moment. "It's lunchtime, isn't it?"
She looked at her watch. "Yeah, it's almost noon. Why?"
"Come on," he said smiling.
He began walking towards the subway, and she followed, intrigued. They got off at the stop they took to get back to Aunt Grace's, but instead of turning left on her street, they turned right.
"What's going on?" she asked him, looking back at where they had turned. "We aren't going back to my place, so where are we going?"
He stopped in front of an apartment building very similar to hers. "My place," he said. He took out his keys and let himself in, but she hung back, unsure.
"Rory, I won't bite," he assured her. "I just want to show you something."
"Okay," she replied following him in. Two flights of stairs later, they stood in front of a door.
"Can you wait out here for a moment?" he asked her, and she thought she saw him blush a little. "I just need to make sure my mom or one of her boyfriends isn't here."
She nodded, and he disappeared through the door, closing it behind himself. She could hear him swear quietly and throw a few things around. She assumed he was tidying the place up or something. A couple minutes later, he reappeared, opening the door for her.
"It's kind of a mess," he told her sheepishly, "but the kitchen is clean."
Rory looked at her surroundings, a little taken aback but tactful enough not to let it show on her features. The place was by no means as nice or homey as her current residence. One beaten up couch sat across from a small television in the living room, and a small table with two mismatched folding chairs constituted the dining room, but otherwise there was no furniture. No family pictures or cheesy porcelain figurines. Nothing personal. The carpet was a few shades darker than she was sure it was supposed to be, and everything seemed to be covered in a film of grime. This wasn't a home, it was a prison cell.
"It's fine," she told him evenly, stepping in without hesitation, "but why are we here again?"
Jess smiled. "I'm teaching you how to cook," he replied.
She looked at him as if he had three heads. "What?"
"Cook," he said as if talking to a child, "like on the stove. You said you didn't know how, so I'm teaching you."
"Really?" she was smiling now too.
"Yeah," he replied. "I figure you should learn sometime, and there's no time like the present."
"What should we make?" she asked him eagerly.
"I dunno," he said turning to the small kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, and she could see several brands and bottles of beer and hard liquor stacked on its shelves. Finding scarcely anything there, he opened the freezer. "How about stir-fry?" he asked her pulling out a bag of frozen ready-mixed ingredients. "It's quick, it's easy, and it's pretty much foolproof."
"Sounds perfect," she replied. She wanted to ask him about the liquor, but she didn't want to be rude. His business was his business.
"Okay," he said reading the package, "it says here that first we need . . ."
Twenty minutes later, they sat at the kitchen table eating their lunch.
"I made food," Rory announced proudly.
"Yes you did," he chuckled. "And you didn't even need my help."
"What about when I almost set the towel on fire?" she looked embarrassed.
"That was just a minor mistake. Could've happened to anyone," he assured her, his trademark smirk set in place. "And besides, the fire department is always just a few streets over."
She poked him playfully in the stomach. "I'm proud of myself. Don't ruin it."
"You did fine," he told her. "You'll be a master chef in no time."
"And don't you forget it," she teased him haughtily.
"This is pretty good," he said taking a few bites. "I think you should cook for me more often."
"Ha! You think so, do you?"
"Oh yeah, I could get used to this," he laughed.
"Keep dreaming," she told him.
They fell into a comfortable silence as they ate their food. When they were finished, Rory helped Jess wash and dry the dishes.
"I just thought of a book you might want to check out," he told her putting the last dish into the cabinet. "I'll be right back." He headed through one of the three doors coming off the hall. Rory waited for a few moments, but felt the strange need to follow him.
Pushing the door open a few inches, she poked her head in. The room was somewhat clean, but there were books and magazines lying chaotically on every available surface. She saw that his bookshelf was already overflowing with everything from to Maya Angelou to Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. Right then, Jess was skimming over the spines to find the right one.
Finally he pulled a thick volume from the shelf. He turned around and was surprised to see Rory peeking in. He quickly glanced around to make sure there was nothing objectionable showing, then said, "You wanna come in?"
She entered timidly. She wasn't exactly sure what she should do, so she sat down in his desk chair. He flicked the book to her, and she looked at the cover.
"The Chronicles of Faerie," she read the title aloud.
"Have you read it?" he asked.
"No," she replied shuffling through the pages, "but I've heard it's really good. Did you like it?"
"It was good," he said sitting down on his bed. "Seems like something you'd like. I actually read all three of the books separately as they came out, but when they published a three-in-one, I had to pick it up."
"You don't seem the type to like fairytales and that sort of thing," she pointed out.
"Not fairytales," he told her, "But I have a thing for retold and modern fairytales." She was still looking at him strangely. "They show a different side to the story, and most of the time it's not so cute and innocent. It makes them a little more real. Like in this book called Rose and the Beast, Sleeping Beauty is a heroine addict."
"Interesting," she nodded, starting to understand a little. There was a somewhat awkward pause as she wondered what other surprises were hidden in the dark facets of his personality.
"So, you wanna borrow this?" he asked pointing to the book she still held in her hands.
"Yes please," she replied enthusiastically. Jess watched as she opened it, turning to the poem written in the first book. She read aloud, her voice almost a whisper, "'Come away, O human child!/ To the waters and the wild/ With a faery, hand in hand,/ For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.'" She paused, letting the words sink in.
"Yeats," Jess said quietly.
"Yeah," Rory sighed, her eyes a little sad. "Smart man."
Silence hung in the air for a few minutes as she stared down at the poem. Jess guessed that she was thinking about her mother again. 'How could someone tell her kid that she has cancer and then ship the kid off to deal with it herself?' he asked himself silently. He couldn't grasp the concept.
"So," Rory said finally looking up at him, "It's almost one. What now?"
"Well," he thought for a second, almost unable to believe what he was about to do, "I hate to cut the day short, but I think I should catch a nap before I start work tonight. I didn't really get much sleep last night."
"Oh," he could swear he heard a twinge of disappointment in her voice as she stood, "okay. I'll get going then."
"I'll walk you," he said following her out to the living room.
"You don't have to," she told him. "I think I can walk a block down the street by myself."
"Really," he insisted. "I would feel better knowing you got there."
"Fine," she relented. "But you know that I can take care of myself. I'm not a child." Her voice had a little edge in it that she really didn't expect or intend. She just felt a little like he was patronizing her, treating her like an infant.
"I know," he assured her, his voice not at all sarcastic or teasing. "Trust me, I know." It took every ounce of will in his being not to let his eyes roam when he said that.
"Good," she replied as they walked out of the apartment and down the stairs.
Once they were out of the building and in the warm summer air, she felt the tension slip out of her shoulders. That apartment just made her edgy. It wasn't really a home. It was a place to try to escape. All of a sudden, certain things about her new friend seemed to make more sense: his guarded demeanor, his unwillingness to open up to people, his need to escape into books. All of these things stemmed from that house and its absence of comfort.
As she let herself and Jess into the apartment, she was instantly confronted by John and Grace.
"Where have you guys been?" John asked worriedly pulling Rory into a brotherly hug. "I tried to message you like twenty times. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied confused. "I forgot my pager in my room this morning, that's all. Why, what's wrong?"
"The police called a few minutes ago," Grace replied as they all went into the living room.
"What? Why?" alarm washed over Rory's features. 'Don't let it be Mom,' she prayed silently. 'Please, God, don't let it be Mom.'
Instead, John turned to Jess, his face grave. "The guys are dead. All of them but Steve. They were killed late this morning," he told him.
"What?" Jess was shocked. He had spoken to them only hours before. "What happened?"
"The police said it was a drug pickup that went wrong," John replied. "I don't really know the details."
'The job,' the realization struck Jess like a sledgehammer to the gut. 'This was the job they were talking about. Oh God, I almost went. I almost . . .' His mind refused to go there.
"I thought maybe you guys could have been somewhere around there," he heard John say to Rory, but the words seemed so distant, so indistinct. "The police didn't tell us which of the guys were there, so we didn't know if Jess was with them or if you had been around. The only way I know Steve wasn't there was because I called his work."
"I have to go," Jess said abruptly, suddenly feeling like he might hurl or black out or something. He turned to leave, but something caught his arm.
"You shouldn't go out like this," Rory told him, her eyes deep with concern.
"I can't stay here," he told her, his eyes wild and almost frantic. "I just . . . This is too much. I have to get out of here."
Reluctantly, she let go of his arm, and he bolted out of the building and into the open air. Suddenly, it wasn't warm and it wasn't comforting. Suddenly, everything around him was cold and callous. There was no good, there was no bad. There was only a frigid apathy that spread over the world like a plague of locusts.
Jess walked quickly and without aim. He didn't know how long or how far he had walked, and nor did he care. He couldn't even see three feet in front of his face; he was so out of it.
He couldn't get passed the fact that it could have been him. He could just as easily be lying in some alley somewhere with white chalk around him. If it hadn't have been for Rory, he probably would be. If he had left her there at the record store or sent her home earlier, he would have had no excuse not to come, and then . . .
He remembered the last conversation he'd had with the guys. Keith had made fun of him for protecting Rory. He'd been mad because Jess had one-upped him. 'He died angry with me,' Jess thought absently. Somehow that made things worse.
After an indistinguishable amount of time, he found himself back at his apartment building, unsure of how he had gotten there. As if sleepwalking, he let himself in and went straight to his room. Falling into his bed, he slipped into a restless sleep, not even waking to cover his shift at work.