Disclaimer: NOT MINE. I WISH.
Summary: Set just before Fran's funeral. 3.20 "Say Goodnight, Gracie." What if Rory didn't walk away from Luke's Diner? What if she really did go inside, looking to settle things with Jess?
Author's Note: Reviews are highly appreciated. 3 I eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
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Her heart was beating ninety miles an hour at this point, and she wanted to just rip it out of her chest and throw it straight to the curb. She never knew how he could make her feel this way, so exhilarated, so insignificant, so helpless. It wasn't in her nature to feel like this, considering she was Superwoman to her mother, her friends, her town. She was surprised to say that he could do this, that he could empower her.
And the saddest part was, he didn't even know it.
She was tired of this game, and losing it all the time. Rory Gilmore wanted a victory and damnit, she would get it. There would be no more cat-and-mouse game, where she was constantly playing as the inferior. She wanted to prove herself a worthier title, and didn't want to constantly live by his thoughts. It would be her decisions on her time, and he couldn't do anything about it.
Not that he was even aware in the first place.
Her heels had already stepped to the top stair to Luke's diner twice, and she was now facing the walk to the church. She would do it alone, considering Lorelai was already off giving her condolences to Miss Patty, the dance instructor. However, Rory had a change of heart.
"Jess." she stated simply, although a harsher tone, she felt, was needed soon afterward. The bells on Luke's door chimed annoyingly as usual, but that wasn't on her mind at this point.
He looked up from his receipts, mouth slightly agape. She hadn't expected him to look this good. Where were the black eyes to remind her of his constant defiance? Where was the smug look which would anger her to no end? Jess' expression only consisted of pure innocence and wonder, two things she hadn't ever seen him wear before. His eyes flickered questioningly, daring her to do it.
He knew he thought what she wanted. She would want to break up, of course. What else could she possibly want with a failure like him? He fought with her ex-boyfriend all throughout a boy's house, trashing everything in his path. He was antisocial, and didn't seem to speak nicely to one person she addressed in public. He rarely called when he said he would, and always seemed to stand her up.
Jess assumed Rory would want to end it now, for good. She could go on with her life and they could possibly become friends.
Friends. Jess wasn't used to that word.
However, the silence consumed them, and she didn't say one thing. Nor did he. It was, as usual, an awkward silence, soon to be interrupted by anything possible.
"Hey Rory," Luke popped in through the floral curtain leading to his apartment upstairs. "Jess."
His voice seemed to put both at ease, for Rory's posture gave in a little, and Jess emitted a soft sigh. Neither, however, managed to speak.
"I'm going to the church," he continued, fastening his cuffs one hand at a time. "You know, Fran's funeral."
Looking up, he received no glance from either, seeing as Rory's eyes were on the ground, and Jess was only directed at her. With an awkward glance to both, he headed toward the door. "Jess, tell Caesar I'll be back in a bit."
Without even a grunt of acknowledgment, Luke exited the diner, and Jess' eyes followed his figure all along the length of the window. When he landed back on Rory, she spoke.
"I know why you did it."
Anticipating a skeptical look, Rory followed up. "Really, I do."
And she did. She knew why he fought with Dean; because Dean sucker-punched him. It was a ruthless attack on someone who had their back turned. Rory hadn't ever known Dean to do something like that, and she suddenly regretting not believe Jess once all along.
"Dean punched you, I get it." Dean, Dean, Dean. Let's always bring it back to Dean. Because the boy hasn't heard enough of him already. "I just want…"
He only sighed again, not giving her the sort of satisfaction that comes with words after an awkward silence. Or when only one is willing to put effort forth and speak. When he went back to sorting through receipts, Rory wanted to just throw anything she could at him.
"Jess."
Silence.
It was his well-known trait, to remain completely silent, when he wasn't controlling her completely.
"Do you enjoy paining me this much?"
"Only thought I could return the gesture."
Oh, so he could respond only out of pure resentment? Fine, she could play that way. With cheap shots and unanswered questions all the fucking time.
"Well at least I've gotten a response out of you," she remarked sarcastically, scoffing only slightly. "C'mon, Jess. Just talk to me"
"I am talking to you."
Rory was tired of the cold civility she was receiving. He was acting like a robot and she just wanted Jess back. Even if it was the same one who could tear her heart apart as quickly as he could capture it, she just wanted to forget the whole crashed-party night had ever happened.
"Alright, fine." she folded her arms dejectedly. "If you're going to act this way, I'll be waiting for when you decide this little charade is over."
Rory turned, headed for the door, and her hand was millimeters from the door handle before his voice, yet again, had made her stop dead in her tracks.
"Rory."
It was softer than she expected, but she wasn't going to back down. She'd done this too much, and always gave in. Rory was always the push-over in these sorts of situations, and she was tired. Tired of this game, tired of losing, tired of hurting. It was the same shit over and over and over again. She was only one person. She could only take so much.
That's why she didn't bother to turn, holding her hand clear at the door. "Yeah?" she answered feebly, well spent.
"How much damage do you think ol' Dean and I really did cause?"
She could've heard the smile in his voice if she were even a mile away, instead of a yard or two.
Rory dropped her hand from the door, defeated, and found herself facing her alleged boyfriend again. All doubts she had been carrying the past day about his title, and if he still carried it, or about his own feelings toward her, just seemed to fade so quickly.
With a light smile, and nearly inaudible, short laugh, she brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Well, let's just put it this way." she spoke with a blithe breath. "You'd better hope Luke has really good insurance."
She couldn't tell if it was intentional or not, but a slight smirk was ever-so visible on the very edge of Jess' lips, his trademark, crooked grin. But at this point, Rory was loving every bit of it, not wanting to resort to the coldness that had driven her to the brink of insanity, but only costing her own skin.
"Good thing my guardian's just so damn reliable."
"I couldn't imagine Luke without insurance."
"Oh, it'd be like Santa without his sleigh."
"Or celebrities without their publicists."
"Bush without Cheney."
Rory giggled a bit at this, then retreated to the nearest bar stool at the counter, which was too conveniently located just in front of Jess.
"I'll be done in a bit." she heard him say, although Rory was only half-listening. It was as close to Cloud Nine that she could be at this point, considering making up with Jess was the only thing she had been wanted to do. And it seemed so easy. "Cesar can hold down the fort."
She nodded lightly, smiling to herself as he emitted a soft sigh of relief. This was drowned quickly by the sound of papers rustling, Jess gathering the last of the receipts in his hand and tucking them into the register, closing it with small chuh-ching.
"Wait here," he said. "I'll be right back."
And he disappeared upstairs, but Rory hardly noticed. She had done it, and Rory silently gloated. She had ended the fight. Well, technically, they both had, but she only gave herself the credit. For any reasons, she deserved it.
And she secretly knew that he hadn't apologized directly to her face, but this was his own version. His odd way of saying he was sorry for doing something for stupid, for upsetting her so. She also knew deep down that he was sorry for treating her as he did, that he should have been nicer, he should have called. After all, she knew it was the treatment she should have received.
Rory was well aware that Jess wasn't the sort of person to live by a schedule, but it still bothered her when he wouldn't show. She knew he wouldn't be tied down to his promises, and answer every phone call to precise times, but it still hurt her.
She shouldn't have ever compared him to Dean; Rory was just setting herself up for disaster. Not to mention, it was one of the top ten rules of she and her mother's "Coping With Jess" handbook. But she still did it. She was only human, after all.
But, that's when she decided, he's only human too.
Rory was so caught up in the ecstasy of forgiveness, that she hardly noticed Jess clunking down the stairs, or his hand intertwining her own. But her fingers seemed to take on minds of their own and responded to his, interlacing almost instantly. It was her natural instinct, considering Jess always had a thing with hands.
Whether they were kissing, talking, walking, or vertical on a couch, he always loved to interlock fingers and hold on almost to the point where it hurt.
Not that she was complaining.
When his lips brushed against the side of her forehead, just above her eyebrow, Rory snapped out of her odd daydream of sorts. With a light squeeze of her hand, she slipped off of the stool, following him out of the diner. His right arm slid casually around her waist, and she leaned into him, nearly forgetting their previous "fight", if you could call it that. And as her own arm found its way around his stomach, clutching his other hip affectionately, they made their way into the sunlight, to the church, to Fran's funeral.
It was done, she secretly told herself. The game was over. Both were victorious.
But Rory knew that it was she, not him, not both, who had truly won. Even if it was just this one time.