petitos grasshoppertje – After I wrote a reply to you this morning, I decided to go have a look at my story, and it turned out that this chapter was far more done than I thought it was. A few hours alone with the computer and a DVD player showing glorious season 2 episodes, and here we go.

kessemm – Not a large chance for a sequel. I suppose I could always come back to it later on…no, I don't want to install false hope. I think I'm done.

Sunsetstars02 – Thank you again for your help. I was completely mortified when I realized my literary mistake.

Well, my pretties, this is the second-to-last chapter. I'm sad too. But kinda happy. I'm not sure it turned out at all like I wanted it to; this is probably due to the fact that I lost interest in it a while ago. But my reviewers have been so great that they keep bringing me back to it, and here we are. Thanks to all.

Rory had forgotten to bring a book for the waiting room, so she peeked over Jess's shoulder at the worn copy of the Grapes of Wrath. He moved to turn a page she hadn't finished reading, and she swatted his hand away with a frown. Sighing, he handed the book over to her. She expressed her gratitude by settling back into her chair happily, smiling at the pages of familiar words.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mariano," a tiny, rude man announced from behind an impressive counter. The only ones in the waiting room, they stood up together, and Jess took her arm and led her towards the office, her eyes never leaving the page.

There was no couch as Jess had teased. Instead, the room was painted solid white, with furniture all different shades of blue. Even the desk was blue. Short of a phone, there was no technology of any kind in sight, computers or televisions. A sky-blue armchair sat in front of a dark blue loveseat, with a small, dark-haired woman perched on the armchair, flipping through an oversized book.

"Jess and Rory?" she asked without looking up.

"Dr. Bigley?"

"Well, now that we're all acquainted, have a seat on the ridiculously tiny couch." Taking the book away from Rory and slipping it into his pocket, Jess sat down, followed by his wife. The doctor still didn't look up.

"Um, we're paying you by the hour," Jess finally said.

"Why else would I be using this time to catch up on my reading?" Rory squinted her eyes at the rudeness sitting in front of her, while Jess scoffed. "Or was this an urgent thing?" She finally looked up. With a sigh, she put the book down. Art of the Italian Renaissance was visible on the navy blue coffee table an arm's length away from her.

"I take it you're both familiar with the Davids of Donatello and Michelangelo?" Silence. "Donatello's is made of Bronze. It holds a sword, with the head of Goliath at his feet. He much more resembles a little boy. The more popular one, made of marble, is obviously a man. He's very ostentatious, almost like a male model."

"I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with us, Dr. Bigley?"

"It's Drella. The psych books all say to establish a personal relationship with your clients." She waved her hand around in the air, as if demonstrating her flagrant disregard for most of the psych book rules. "First name, please. Now, I was talking about two very different sculptures of the same person, of the same scene. But their artists have interpreted him so differently. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes, we know the statues. But we came here to be counseled. It took a lot for me to make this appointment, but you're wasting our time now," Rory huffed. Drella shrugged.

"I have a point. Which statue do you prefer?" Baffled, Rory and Jess exchanged a glance.

"Donatello," Rory finally said with a shrug, just as Jess muttered "Michelangelo." Drella grinned.

"Rory, let's start with you? Why?" she asked with a vicious grin. She took pleasure in unraveling her patients.

"I don't know. He looks more like a person, instead of, like you said, a model. But he's not posing or anything, he's just...I don't know. Better?"

"Jess? Why do you not share in your lovely wife's opinion?" Rory glared at the woman. The compliment did not come across in the husky voice.

"He's not a wimp. He looks the part of a hero." Drella cackled.

"So, as you can see, very different things appeal to the two of you. Jess prefers the ideal. Rory, have you been the ideal wife as of late?"

"No..."

"So this pushed him away, unbeknownst to the both of you. Making him harder to reach. And Rory, you prefer real things, tangible things, things you have attained. Do you think this could stress things if Jess were to become more distant?"

"Yea..." Drella crossed her legs, and picked up a notebook to begin jotting things down in.

"Let's begin."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Two hours later, exhausted, wide-eyed, limply holding hands, Rory and Jess exited Drella's office. Jess had given the secretary Drella had nastily referred to as Rune the financial information he asked for while Rory stared off into space.

"Do you want to drive?" Jess asked her, talking directly to her for the first time since they'd left the office. She shook her head dreamily. "So that was enlightening," he made a stab at conversation as they were heading back home. She nodded. "Do you feel glad we went?" She shrugged. "Are you hungry?" he asked, changing tactics.

"A little," she said in a small voice.

"What do you want?"

"You pick." Jess raised his eyebrows. Even on her bad days, Rory loved food so much that she wanted an input. Then he grinned.

"How 'bout we decide as a team?" She had to smile at that, lowering her head and letting hair fall into her face as she recalled the psychiatrist's words.

"I think you enjoyed getting your head shrunk."

"I think it will help. Do you want sustenance, or a treat?"

"Treat. Do you want a deli or a grill?"

"Deli. Familiar or adventure?"

"Adventure!" she grinned.

"Okay, I have no idea where we are in relation to anything, so the next promising exit, we're getting off and finding us some sandwiches." She smiled at him, and turned the radio on. NPR serenaded their ears until Jess pulled into a parking lot next to Andy's Dandy Deli. Taking her hand more tightly than before now that the after affects of two full hours of Drella breaking every inexplicable problem of theirs down into textbook explanations had begun to wear off in the immediate, they opened the door to a tinkling bell.

She ordered an Italian sub, and he took a meatball sandwich. Sitting in an empty corner and looking at the black and white photos of what Andy's Dandy had been like back in the day, their eyes locked as they chewed, and they found themselves unable to look away.

"I love you," she said out of the blue. He wrinkled his eyebrows. She shrugged. "I just felt like I had to say it. I've been thinking about it for a while, and it got to the point where I knew if I didn't vocalize it right then, I'd choke on it."

"I love you too. Even when you're being moody and bitchy and depressed and mopey."

"That's good. Because that's what I do."

"It's not your fault. Drella said-"

"I know what Drella said. Postpartum depression, separation issues, feelings of mediocrity spurred by a flashy lifestyle, Chris being a prick, stubbornness to vocalize problems, career stress, shyness, PMS gone wrong, jealousy, horrible coping habits. Anything I'm forgetting?"

"Perfectionism. And when things aren't perfect, anxiety problems."

"See, it makes me sound like a basket case. But if you analyze them all, there's NOTHING in there that each and every person on this planet doesn't have. When Drella pointed them out, they all seemed like serious problems. But they're not. They're part of life. Everyone else can deal. For some reason, I just can't. So disregard them all. I'm not strong enough to deal. That's our problem."

"Hey, it's not like I'm perfect. She threw that book at me when I was talking about the girls. I don't even think that's legal, but she made it very clear that you're not alone in this. That's why we both were there. If you were the only screwed up one, I'd have sent you on your own."

"But everyone is screwed up! Why are we the ones who were falling apart?"

"WERE falling apart, Rory. We got our acts together. We're pulling through. We're going to keep pulling through – together. As a team. Like she said with that smarmy smirk, quoting a psych book."

"She was a character, wasn't she?" Rory asked after a minute. Jess had to laugh.

"She was very interesting. Do you want to go see her again sometime?"

"I never want to subject myself to that woman again. Lets. It was good for us."

"I'll make an appointment in a few months. Maybe we'll be doing better by then." She nodded, and returned to her sandwich, feeling more at ease now. He watched her eat, for a while, just admiring her. She shined when she was happy.

"Hey Rory? Can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"No more alcohol. It started as a way to solve little problems, and made them big." She thought about it.

"Never ever?"

"Well, how about not in the house? At social events sure, maybe I'll take you to a nicer bar every now and then. But if that habit gets up again...we might both fold." She swallowed a large piece of bread.

"No more girls. Never ever."

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Okay. Deal."

"And let's...keep the lines clear. If we don't talk about stuff, we'll drift again."

"Agreed. We should do more stuff, just the two of us. France was nice, but we should go out every once in a while. Not to a publicity thing, but dinner and a movie or something. We haven't in almost a year."

"Good idea." He brushed the crumbs from his hands, and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"And Jess?" He stopped fidgeting with his trash. "I think...I think I can be happy with me, and with you, if I try. I've never tried very hard. You have to help me try. It's the only way this will work."

"I'll try. I promise you, I will try my hardest to keep you happy and healthy." She smiled at him and reached across the dirty table to take his hand. He saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"This is crazy. We were so fucked up...and we're so not now. Damn, she was good."

"You know this wasn't the shrink, Rory. She didn't solve any problems. She just apparently motivated you to solve them."

"Yea, I suppose."

"I know. I think it's a combination of my coming clean, of talking to Drella, of being pregnant, and of having a continuously sober mind...but this is you. You know you don't need to pretend. You know you can have the real thing if you just try."

"We'll see." She stood up to leave, and deposited her napkins and plate in the trash receptacle nearest them.

"We will." He couldn't resist tipping her chin up to kiss her as they left the deli, the little bell above the door tinkling goodbye.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

"I'm going to miss you so much, Mom," she sobbed into Lorelai's shoulder. The older woman patted her back comfortingly.

"Chin up, Bunny. You'll be so busy procreating with Rabbit that you won't notice I'm gone...Oh my God! Bunny and Rabbit! Procreating! I didn't know I was so clever! This is the first I've realized that!" Rory laughed out of courtesy at her mother, but nothing inside her saw this occasion as one with room for joy. She'd lived with Lorelai her entire life, and even when her mother moved upstairs with Luke, she'd been a short walk away. Even in a towel, the journey could be made easily. But she was moving to another state now. Damn realtors; she and Jess were from Jersey Girls, so they'd made every attempt to move them to New Jersey. The shore was lovely; their house would be a castle for them to grow old in together, with little bunny rabbits. But today was not a day to look forward to the future. Today was a day to remember the past, and clutch onto it, refusing to let go.

"Ror, we should get going soon so we can get up early and hit the antique stores."

"Why antique stores?"

"Rory vetoed the modern idea. We're going old school deco."

"I'm moving in with you," Lorelai joked.

"Yes!" Rory muttered into her shoulder. Lorelai and Jess laughed. She shot an angry glance towards her husband of four days – didn't he know how hard this was for her? No; he didn't. He was as happy-go-lucky as could be about getting married and moving away. She didn't understand. These weren't things you did for fun; these were huge milestones in life. She had had so many doubts about getting married, going so far as to write the runaway-bride note, before burning it and showing up anyway with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She was signing her life away. Jess didn't seem to care. She did. And though she was as romanticized as the next girl by the thought of happily ever after, the greedy part of her kicked and screamed when she became Jess's legal and spiritual partner. It didn't want a partner. It wanted just Rory.

She gulped when she realized what she was feeling. They were still newlyweds! This time was supposed to be all about rose petals and writing thank-yous! What was wrong with her? She loved Jess; she should just say goodbye to Lorelai and ride off into the sunset with him.

The problem was, she would later realize, that she didn't particularly want to do either of those things.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Now was different. Now she knew what she wanted. She would always have separation anxiety in regards to Lorelai, but she had two children, and another on the way, to bestow benefits of the maternal bond on. And she was still iffy about having signed her life away, but there was so much to be gained by having done that. Maybe it had taken a few years of her fears and frustrations manifesting themselves, but she was positive now that she certainly did want to be Jess's wife in their house by the sea, with their lifestyle and their children and their hang-ups and their excelling areas. She wanted it now. And she hoped it would make the difference between being miserable, and being able to be content.