Title: Remembering Floyd Nightingale
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Jess is a nurse, with a doctor for a girlfriend. He's older, more mature, and has made friends with the people he works with. So, the one thing to sour his life? Rory Gilmore. However, she doesn't seem to remember much, as she might have amnesia.
A/N: Oh my LORD. You guys! Fifty reviews for four chapters? That is crazy amazing! Thank you guys so much!

Sorry for the extra-long wait. What can I say? Writer's block and life got in the way. But I'm officially a high-school graduate!

Okay, so, betas are my favorite thing ever, especially Asa and Lydia. They are my life-savers, and just plain awesome on top of that.

The next chapter is already written, and awesome in my opinion, so I just need to write chapter 7 before I can get it out. And 7 is my lucky number. So hopefully that one will just flow.

Enjoy!

--

Jess was tired, and Rory felt badly for yelling at him and then making out with him, so she graciously invited him to use his own bed and took up his spot on the futon. He tried to protest, but it was half-hearted, and she was thrilled about being in a room with so many books, so she waved him to bed.

She was browsing through the books when she realized that one, a very short, small one, boasted a familiar name. Surprised, she pulled it carefully from the shelf, as if it were going to go up in smoke if she handled it too roughly. Somehow, it remained in her hands even as she walked from the bookcase to the futon. She sat down carefully, never changing her position, allowing herself to stare at the cover without pause.

The Subsect, written by Jess Mariano. The Subsect, written by Jess Mariano. The Subsect, written by Jess Mariano.

It was his. He'd written it. He'd finally gotten himself together and sat down and wrote a book. A book! He was a writer, not a doctor. Writers were so much better. She could identify with writers.

She opened the book carefully, cracking the binding. Was it new? She checked the copyright date. 2005, re-issued 2006, 2007. It had been re-issued? Had it been that successful?

Suddenly, she was giddy. She had to fight the urge to run into his room and jump on his prone form and scream, "You wrote a book!" She knew that the second she saw him in the morning, she'd do just that, but for now, she should let him sleep.

She curled up and began to read.

--

She was halfway through The Subsect for the third time when she heard Jess' alarm go off in his room. She paused in her reading and listened for signs that he was awake, but there was no groan, no slapping of the clock. Instead, the beeping ended suddenly, to be replaced with what sounded like CNN. Unable to contain her excitement--for the book, for the fact she might be on CNN, for the fact that she had kissed Jess last night--any longer, she jumped from the futon and raced into Jess' room.

Though physically she was 31, and she thought she was 19, she acted as if she were five when she leapt onto Jess' bed and jumped up and down a few times.

"Holy shit," he groaned, sitting straight up. "What, did you lose a few years mentally during the night? Jesus Christ. What an awakening," he complained.

She ignored him and continued jumping up and down lightly, the huge grin still on her face. "You wrote a book!" she exclaimed after a minute.

He groaned again, this time of embarrassment, and covered his face with his hands. "I can't believe you found that."

She nodded enthusiastically. "And I read it. Three times."

He looked up at her and raised his eyebrows. "Three times?"

She nodded again. "And I made notes," she said, flipping through the pages and showing Jess her neatly scribbled notes in the margins. She leaned back on her heels and looked at Jess seriously. "It was about us, wasn't it." She stated, rather than asked, but she waited for an answer, so Jess nodded. She imitated his nod, and then said, "I didn't get it the first time I read it. The first time I was just caught up in the story. But the second time I was looking through for anything I might have missed, and it seemed like maybe it was about us. And then I read it again, and I knew."

He looked at her seriously for a minute, and then turned back to the TV. "You need clothes. So I was thinking we could stop at your apartment and you could pick up some stuff."

She ignored his words, keeping her eyes on his, though they were turned from her. "Jess?" she asked softly after another minute.

"Drop it, Rory," he said so softly she almost thought she imagined it. There was a touch of weariness in his voice too, making her think that they'd already been over this topic numerous times, before she forgot him.

She dropped it, choosing instead to mimic his position on the bed, her eyes turned toward the TV. "Okay," she said, watching Soledad O'Brien (could that woman still be on the air?). "We'll stop by my apartment."

He said nothing, only moved his hand so that it covered hers lightly. She didn't acknowledge the touch out loud, only grinned at the feel of his hand on hers.

--

He would be missing work to walk her around her own apartment, and she wouldn't allow that. Instead, she made him take her there on the subway, so she would know exactly which trains to take. At 19, she'd been to New York two or three times, and had only been on the subway once. She made him walk her to her apartment, and once she got there, she handed him a pen and paper from her monstrously pink purse and made him write down the return instructions. As he did so, she tried the eight different keys on her key ring to find one that fit into her apartment door. She found the correct key on the seventh try, which was good because she was about to get desperate and use the key she knew was for her mother's house.

"I'm in," she said triumphantly. Jess didn't look up from his writing against the wall, only nodded slightly. Rory left him there, entering the apartment.

Nothing looked familiar. She was almost disappointed. She'd wondered if her memory would flood back all at once, or a little at a time. Now she wondered if it'd flood back at all.

She wandered through the large living room, taking in the pictures on the wall, the sleeper sofa, the medium sized TV and large bookshelves.

She stopped in front of a wall in the hallway, covered with snapshots. She tried to find familiar faces mixed in with the unfamiliar, wondering who she kept up with. She found a picture of her and Paris, the other girl looking uncharacteristically giddy. Rory took in the rest of the picture and realized Paris was in a long white gown, while Rory was in a sedate looking bridesmaid's dress. The idea of Paris married and happy was a little strange to process, but it reminded Rory of the small diamond on her finger, the one she'd looked at last night. She wondered if it was from Richie Rich, though it was so small she didn't think so.

She found a picture of Lane and the band, dressed up but as goofy as usual. They all had a slight sheen of sweat, meaning they'd just performed, and Lane was holding a Grammy so tightly her fingers were white. Gil had his arm around what Rory could only assume was his wife, Zach had his arm around two girls, Brian had his arm around what looked like his mother, and--Rory gasped and smiled--Dave had his arm around Lane. A happy ending. She'd always known that Dave would come back for Lane.

There was a picture of high school graduation, Paris and Rory looking happy standing next to each other, no diplomas yet, no cliché arms slung around each other either. There was another picture of what looked like Yale graduation, this time with diplomas, arms slung around each other, and boyfriends standing in the back. Rory took in the shorter black-haired boy and the taller blonde boy, but couldn't make out who belonged to whom.

There was a Christmas card picture of Luke and Lorelai, smiling at the camera, touching each other in small ways--his hand at the small of her back, her hand resting lightly on his stomach. They had two small boys in front of them, both brunettes, both blue-eyed, with large mischievous grins and a look of untidiness even in their suits. Rory took these to be her half-brothers.

Not too far from them was a small picture of her father in a very stiff looking portrait with what must be Georgia--she had a very Sherry look about her--and an unknown woman, some blonde with a large smile, crinkly eyes, and overpowering teeth. Rory idly wondered what had happened to Sherry, but she didn't particularly care.

"Hey," Jess said from behind, startling her. She spun around to face him, and smiled.

"Hey. You leaving?" she asked, taking in his pose. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, and his arms straight. He looked as if he were in the middle of a shrug, and she could almost hear him say, "Well. What is much?" in that deep, quiet voice of his.

He nodded, looking worried about leaving her. "I left the instructions on the end table next to the door. If you get lost, I wrote my address down there, so you can always just take a taxi."

She nodded. "Right. Taxi. Got it."

He continued without acknowledging she'd spoken. "But, I get that you might not want to take one, given your last experience..." He trailed off and sighed. "Look, I'll just give you Ben's--Dr. Sugarman's--number. He'll pick you up, and he'll even use the Porsche. Forget about the subway, or a taxi."

She didn't say anything, just waited for the inevitable.

He groaned. "Oh. Forget it. You can come to work with me and sit in the lounge. Or I can just call in sick today. You're my cousin, you had a head injury. They'll be fine with that, I'm sure they will. Yeah. Yeah, that's fine."

He smiled, and she grinned. "You're rambling."

He frowned and shook his head. "No, I'm not. I don't ramble. You ramble. Your mother rambles. I don't ramble."

She smiled. "I think it's cute." She started leading him to the door. "Don't worry about a thing. Go to work, fix people up, make people feel better. Just don't find another step-cousin; I don't think I could take it." She opened the door and he stepped through with only a gentle push, and then turned to look at her.

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you. I'll see you later."

He nodded dumbly, and then walked off. He returned a few seconds later, walking in the other direction. He pointed, and she smiled, watching until he got in the elevator. Then she promptly walked into her apartment and searched for a phone. She eventually found the base tucked into a corner of the kitchen counter. Amazingly, it held the receiver.

She wasn't sure what she was doing; as a matter of fact, she had no clue. But she picked up the cordless phone, pressed redial, and held it to her ear. It rang, and then a man's voice came over the line.

"Hey, babe." Success!

"Logan?" she asked timidly, though she was almost entirely sure this was not him.

He sighed. "No, baby, it's Paul. Paul Keith, your fiancé. Are you drunk again? It seems really early. It's not even ten here yet."

She checked the clock; almost eleven. So he was in the Central Time Zone, huh? She wondered where.

"No, I'm not drunk," she said in response to his question. "I just had a head injury yesterday, and I can't remember much. Where are you, anyway?"

"My house in Evanston. Baby, what are you talking about? You got a head injury yesterday? How?"

"Oh, um, I think I was in a car crash. A cab. From Brooklyn to somewhere in Midtown."

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. Right after I got in the cab to the airport? Weren't you supposed to stop by Denise's office or something?"

She sighed. Did he not understand amnesia? "I don't know, Paul. I don't remember anything. I've got retrograde amnesia or something; I mean, I remember everything that happened after the crash, and I remember my mother and Jess and part of my first year of college, but everything else is a blur."

"Well, baby, are you still coming to join me out here tonight?"

"Why do you keep calling me baby? Are you incapable of using my name? And, no, I'm not coming to join you out there tonight. I hardly know where I am right now. I'm not going to go traipse around O'Hare airport and Chicago to try to find someplace and some person I don't know."

He sighed. "Okay, let me get this straight: You're staying in New York because you have selective amnesia? What?"

"Yes! Finally, we have understanding!" She raised her hands in what she would have considered the touchdown position if she followed sports, but since she didn't she considered it the success symbol.

"Alright, fine, babe, whatever. But the engagement party's in two weeks, and if you don't want my mother to plan the whole thing, you better get out here."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Rory was bored with the conversation. This was the guy she was supposedly marrying, but his constant 'baby's grated on her nerves, he seemed way too dumb for her, and on top of all that, his voice could rival Ben Stein's for monotonous quality.

"Okay. Love ya, babe."

"Yeah, bye." Rory quickly pressed the end button and replaced the receiver on the base. She thought about the conversation and shivered. Had she changed so much in twelve years? Her fiancé said, "Love ya, babe." Who said that? Quickly, she re-entered the living room and approached the stereo she'd seen earlier. She prayed she still had impeccable taste in music and pressed play.

"I was chillin' in the shine of my light night dial

Doin' everything that my radio advised...

...They're sayin' things that I can hardly believe

They really think we're gettin' out of control."

Ah, Elvis. And the right Elvis, the geeky one with glasses from the 80s.

She moved to the bookshelf and pulled out a photo album, and then sat on the couch and started to flip through it.

--

"Wait, let me get this straight," Ben said, laughing. He was heading home from his shift and had met Jess at the door, and asked how his night had been. "Okay, so, after I left, you yelled at and then made out with an amnesiac patient? Who's also your cousin?"

"Step-cousin," Jess said pointedly. "And my ex-girlfriend, and she remembers everything up to a certain point. It's not like I saw my confused cousin and decided to make out with her."

Ben shook his head, still laughing. "Still, dude. Funny."

Jess scowled and half-shoved the other man. "Go home, Sugarman."

The other man left, but his words stayed with Jess all day. He had yelled at and then made out with Rory last night, and she'd been in a fragile state of mind...not to mention, Jess still had a girlfriend, and he was entirely sure Rory had a fiancé.

Jess spent the day avoiding Camille, who was, for once, trying to track him down. She eventually cornered him in the lounge, but he was able to pull out his cell phone and dial the first number that came to him.

"Hello?"

He really started to panic when he heard his uncle's voice on the other end of the line.

"Uh, hey, Luke," Jess said, his eyes fixed on Camille. The woman raised her eyebrows, but went about getting her coffee and then waved and left.

"Jess? Why are you calling?" Luke asked. "You just called two days ago. Something happen?"

"Uh, no," Jess said, watching Cam's back fade into the crowd of people. "Oh, actually, yes. Guess who showed up here yesterday with a head injury and retrograde amnesia?"

"I don't know, Jess. Who showed up there yesterday with a head injury and retrograde amnesia?" There was a noise in the background, and Luke said, "Wait. Lorelai guessed Nathan Lane. And--what? Lorelai, what are you asking?" Luke spoke directly into the phone, speaking to Lorelai. "No, I don't think so. I don't think that happens with retrograde amnesia. Because I don't! Fine, I'll ask. Is he muttering about how he should be Sarah-Jessica Parker? Jess?"

"Hmm? Oh, you're talking to me now?"

"Yeah. It's Lorelai's question."

"I figured. Um, no. He's not, because he didn't show up here yesterday."

"Oh. Well, who did?"

"Rory."

There was stunned silence on the other end of the line. After a minute Luke said, "Her last address said Brooklyn."

"She still lives in Brooklyn," Jess said, "but she was in a car crash in midtown yesterday morning. She remembers everything up to the Firelight Festival her freshman year of college, and then everything after the crash. Nothing in between."

"Huh," was all his uncle said.

"And she and I talked last night, and this morning, and I think we're on our way to becoming friends again," Jess continued. "She's staying with me because you need to keep an eye on people with head injuries, and no one answered at her apartment. I was a little surprised, actually, because she's wearing a diamond engagement ring, so I figured she might be living with the guy. But, anyway. I think we'll be friends."

"Well...that's great, Jess," Luke said, for lack of anything better. "You were always better friends, anyway." There was another noise in the background, and then Luke started talking to Lorelai again. "No, it wasn't Nathan Lane. Or S-J P, whoever that is. No, I don't really care. It was," Luke sighed. "It was Rory." There was a short silence, and then the phone was snatched from Luke's hands.

"Run!" Lorelai screamed. "Get away from her. Don't let her corrupt you! You're the only good one we've got left, Jess. Don't let her change you. She'll suck you into her world. Her Richie Rich world," she ended, the last few words dripping in disdain. "She's like my mother," Lorelai added after a minute.

"She's really not that bad, Lorelai," Jess said. "She seems to have changed; besides, she doesn't remember anything past the Firelight Festival of her freshman year of college. She thinks she's 19, and you're dating Scooper or somebody. And she didn't know that she slept with Dean, or who Logan is, or anything."

"Once Emily Gilmore, always Emily Gilmore," Lorelai said.

"She thinks the night before last was the night I told her I loved her. Before you and Luke, before her and Logan, before the book, even before my mom and TJ. She thinks she's nineteen, and I ran away less than a year ago."

Lorelai gasped. "It's 13 Going on 30!"

Jess nodded. "She muttered something about that last night. But, no, it's just a case of retrograde amnesia. Granted, it's a little different than other cases, 'cause she can remember up to 19, but basically it's retrograde."

"Huh. So...she's 19?"

"Mentally, yes."

There was silence for a moment, and then Lorelai yelled, "Have her call me!"

"I will, I promise."

"Tonight!"

"Sure, tonight. She didn't call you last night because it was so late."

"Good. Wow. Thanks so much, Jess."

"Anytime, Lorelai."

Both hung up, and Jess sighed, took a moment to collect himself, and then went on with his day.