A/N: I'm so glad people are enjoying this story. I'm definitely having fun writing it. This is a little more setup, a little more back story. Don't worry, we're getting close to some genuine interaction for our anticipated couple. But being pen pals is some of the best foreplay around.
DrewSaywer: Thanks especially to you for your kind reviews. They are food for the writer's soul!
Chapter 3 – The big White House elephant in the room
"What do you have in these boxes? Bricks? Bags of cement? The bodies of your rivals?"
Rory rolled her eyes and took the box from her mother.
"You've helped me move several times. Surely you recognize a box of books when you lift it?"
"Are you sure? You really went through a Dexter phase for a while there. It could be decapitated heads or something."
"No, I moved those boxes yesterday in my own car. You can't be too careful with murder trophies these days." Rory laughed and stacked the carton on top of the others in the corner of the living room.
At the sound of grumbling and a door banging against the wall, they both turned. Luke was struggling to move a dresser across the floor in her bedroom.
"Hey Diner Man! I said I'd be there in a minute to help you." Lorelai jogged down the short hallway and took the other side of the long chest of drawers. "I know you think you're Superman, but you're no good to me injured, you know. I'd have to call someone off the bench for tonight, and they'd need considerable warm-up time."
"Dirty!" Rory called from the other room.
Luke set the dresser down suddenly, narrowly missing his toes.
"Aw geez you guys!" Even though he'd been an official part of the family for more than seven years, and unofficially for another decade or two before that, the two of them could still make him blush like a school boy.
"I jest, of course," Lorelai added, patting her husband on the cheek and brushing a kiss across his lips. "Considering the cost of your contract, I can't afford some rookie to relieve you."
He just muttered under his breath and moved into the bathroom to fix the towel bar, taking his toolbox with him.
"Oh Bert, how I've missed you!" Rory joined her mother in the bedroom, and they both flopped backwards onto the king-size bed.
"No, didn't you see? Bert has been replaced!"
Rory's eyes popped open, but she didn't have the strength to lift her head. "Seriously?"
Lorelai nodded next to her on the other pillow.
"Yes, sadly Bert suffered an irreparable handle failure, and so we had to put him down."
"Oh no! How sad."
"There was a small ceremony. Babette hosted the wake, and Miss Patty sang, of course."
"Of course."
"And even though our hearts were aching, insensitive Lukey insisted we go out and find a replacement immediately."
Rory gasped. "So soon?"
"Yes. My husband has no feelings whatsoever. I suggested we adopt. You know, to make sure an unloved tool box found its forever home. Kirk even offered to help us find a match."
"Kirk?"
Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Yes, that's his newest business venture. Personalized adoption services, for people, pets AND tool boxes."
Rory visibly shuddered at the thought.
"Exactly. But the adoption idea was a good one! Luke didn't think so, however, because he just went ahead and purchased one."
"That's awful!" Rory blew a raspberry at Luke, or at least the doorway they could hear Luke muttering through.
"It's not Fido, for pete's sake! I needed a new toolbox, so I bought one. End of story."
Both mother and daughter giggled. Rory knew they were really getting to him when he started defending himself against their ridiculous accusations. It had been too long since they'd all been together like this.
Lorelai's voice grew louder in mock indignation. "And not only did he replace Bert without a second thought, his new toolbox looks EXACTLY THE SAME!"
"NO!" Rory couldn't help adding to the fire.
"Yes. That's the way men deal with loss, apparently. They just get an identical replacement, so they don't really miss the old one."
"Shocking! To think that he could just replace someone as handy as Bert!"
Luke came back into the room, brushing off his hands. "The old one worked and fit all my tools, it was just broken. Why try to find a different one when the old one was perfectly fine?"
Lorelai sat up swiftly and fixed him with a deadly stare.
"Are you saying if I died tomorrow, you'd replace me with my doppelganger?"
"Your what?!" Luke asked with a snort.
"Her double. Her twin sister from another mother. C'mon Luke! We all have a twin walking the earth somewhere, leading a totally different life," Rory patiently explained. She hadn't had this much fun in ages. Luke was verging on flabbergasted, which was immensely entertaining.
Her mother's eyebrows raised. "Now THERE's a thought. I don't need a rookie after all. I just need to find the other Luke that's wandering around, lost and confused without me. Then I'd have back up for whenever my Luke needs a day off. Do you suppose he's a prince, or a sultan or something?"
Luke's head was ready to explode. "Hey! Wait just a minute…"
Rory sat up too, not wanting to miss where this argument was going. "No, not a prince. I think our doppelganger looks just like us, but is opposite to us in every other way. So what would that make alternate-reality Luke?"
"A fashion designer?" Lorelai giggled loudly, risking a glance at her husband's reddening face.
Rory's excitement finally burst through her exhaustion, and she rose up to her knees on the bed.
"NO! He'd be someone who likes chatting with people, and who values appearance and public perception above all else!"
Lorelai's head whipped around to her daughter, her eyes twinkling and waiting for the punch line.
"He'd be a politician!"
"YES!" Lorelai squealed.
Luke's head fell forward in defeat. "Oh my god."
Rory continued as if she hadn't heard him. "He might be right here in DC! Maybe I'll meet him!"
"Tell him about my plan to swap out my Luke with doppelganger Luke! See if he's on board. It's a good deal for him, really. Everyone loves the relief pitcher."
"Seriously Mom, more baseball allusions? Do we need to have the talk again?"
Lorelai's laughter faded away as she scrambled off the bed and chased after Luke's retreating back.
Rory lay back down and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar pattern of voices. She was so happy to be living closer to home again. CNN had been a great opportunity, but Atlanta was just too far away from her family. She needed regular doses of Stars Hollow crazy to stay sane - how nuts was that?
Chuckling to herself, she got up in search of her purse and more importantly, her phone. She had to check her saved messages for the instructions on where to park for her first day. Or maybe she'd just take the bus in the morning. People did that in DC, didn't they? She would even consider walking if the weather wasn't so horrible.
Rory stopped short when she caught a glimpse of her mom and Luke with their arms around each other in her tiny kitchen.
"You know I could never replace you Lorelai, even if the person looked exactly like you." Luke's voice was rough with emotion, and Rory secretly smiled.
Her mother sighed and wound her arms around Luke's neck.
"I know sweetie. And I could never replace you either. You're my one and only. My designated hitter, if you will."
Luke groaned before she leaned forward to kiss him.
Moving quietly backwards into her bedroom, Rory gave them some privacy. They were still like newlyweds, even after all these years, and it warmed her heart.
If she was brutally honest, spending time with the couple made her feel a little empty, too. She was getting to that age where she wouldn't mind having someone to share her life with. She loved the career she'd chosen, but it didn't leave much time for dating. This position at the White House would be the first stationary post she'd had in nearly a decade.
Travelling was a part of journalism, she knew, but it was hard on relationships. No one had lasted more than a few months in the face of long-distance, Face Time calls and last-minute trips. And she couldn't really blame them. She had trouble missing someone she had barely gotten to know before flying off for weeks at a time. After the last disaster, she had given up altogether. It was just too hard.
"Rory? Luke's going down to make sure we didn't forget anything in the truck." Her mom's voice cut across the apartment.
"Can he maybe pick up some…"
"Coffee? Already requested."
Rory grinned. "Thanks Luke!" she yelled back.
After a minute, Lorelai appeared at the bedroom door again.
"Nice place they found you, hmm?"
Rory looked up from the box she was fiddling with.
"Yeah. The agent said the landlord only rents to White House staffers. I guess we're a good credit risk."
"Nice that it came fully furnished, too." Lorelai launched herself at the bed again, landing in a puff of goose down bedding.
Rory laughed without much humour. "Yes, handy considering I don't own any furniture. I actually had to buy sheets for that bed, because I've never had a king before."
"Wow. Yeah, I guess I never really considered that you've been a nomad forever. Doesn't lend itself to collecting dressers and chairs and things, does it?"
She couldn't answer her mother, because the truth was just too sad to contemplate. Here she was, on the wrong side of 30, and she didn't even own her own bed. She had an impressive resume, and contacts around the world, but little else.
"Well, this is the beginning of great things for you Rory, I can tell."
"I thought this job was the great thing."
Lorelai shook her head and pulled her daughter down onto the bed with her.
"Your career is amazing, but I get the feeling it's time for you to put down roots somewhere, and really build a life for yourself."
Her mother's words brought a smile to her face. She always knew just the right thing to say when Rory was in one of her moods.
"And this apartment just feels like it's yours, you know? I mean, did you see those bookshelves? Huh?"
She had to admit, the built-ins in the living room were impressive. Her collection might just fit, if she stopped buying new titles, and got rid of her second copies of everything.
"You ok honey?" Lorelai brushed the hair off Rory's forehead, like she had when Rory was a child.
"Yeah, just tired and overwhelmed. I still have to find my clothes for tomorrow morning, and get my alarm clock out."
Her mother eyed her like she had a charming brain injury. "If I know you, your first day outfit is at the top of your suitcase, with tissue in between the layers to keep it from wrinkling. And your phone can be an alarm clock too, you know."
Rory sighed. Leave it to Lorelai to see right through her.
"I'm nervous, Mom. I mean, beyond first-day jitters."
"Oh honey, that's normal."
"It's the White House. The White House. It's more than a big deal. It's the biggest deal." She stopped to take a deep breath. "I just don't want to screw it up."
A pair of surprisingly strong arms came around her before she could blink.
"You're going to be great, kiddo. Just do your best and don't worry about everyone else." Lorelai kissed her head and leaned back. "And don't trust anyone. If I've learned nothing else from Olivia Pope, it's that everyone in Washington is a snake. And that everyone in Washington dresses like they're in the front row at New York Fashion Week. Yeah, on second thought, you should probably start looking for your clothes now."
Rory groaned and dropped her face into her hands as her mother bounced off the bed.
"Inspirational as always, Mom."
"Yes, I could have been the Tony Robbins of our time. Sadly, now all of my talent is wasted on Michel, who is genetically immune to motivation."
"That makes so much sense."
Her mother nodded wisely, then cocked her head in the direction of the front door.
"Hark! The coffee man cometh!"
Rory followed Lorelai into the small kitchen, where Luke was shaking the rain off his shoulders and unloading a carrier tray of drinks.
The women snatched their cups up quickly, both sighing as they tasted the hot coffee.
"So, clearly I've failed with you two," Luke deadpanned. "I'll have to concentrate my efforts on Will. Hopefully it's not too late to rip him from the clutches of caffeine addiction."
Rory's head came up quickly. "Oh! How is my baby brother? I'm sad you couldn't bring him this weekend."
"Well, he's sad too. Sad he has to go to school tomorrow and therefore doesn't get to stay up late." Luke's voice softened as he spoke of their son. He'd been a surprise to everyone, arriving as he had after Lorelai's 42nd birthday, but he was now a town fixture. It was even looking like he could surpass Rory as Stars Hollow's reigning royalty.
"I'm sure he's having fun with Aunt Sookie and the kids."
Lorelai rolled her eyes. "I'm sure Sookie is packing him full of cookie 'samples' as we speak."
"She's already testing recipes for Christmas? That's over two months away!" Rory was incredulous, although it certainly seemed like Sookie to start extra early.
"Well, this year she's determined to get her recipe in New England Living Magazine. You know how they do a profile of the best inns in the Northeast every Christmas?"
Rory choked on her coffee. "Sookie knows that magazines put together their holiday issues in July, right?"
"Apparently it's slipped her mind again," Lorelai giggled wickedly. "And you know what her forgetfulness usually means."
Rory chuckled too, but more at Luke's puzzled expression than the thought of Sookie's cookies. "Here's hoping she's not pregnant!"
"Oh my god, could you imagine? Jackson would have a fit!" Lorelai had to put down her cup, she was laughing so hard.
"Never mind a fit, Jackson would be dead with a meat cleaver in his back," Luke muttered from behind his herbal tea.
They all sighed, hoping it wasn't true, but knowing it was a distinct possibility.
"Well, thanks again for all your help this weekend."
Lorelai put her arm around Rory's shoulders, pulling her in tight.
"Anything for my favourite daughter."
"You know, I could have moved your stuff with my truck." Luke's grumble felt like home to Rory, even as she stood in an unfamiliar apartment.
"I know Luke, but the movers were paid for. And this was a little different than moving me around Connecticut when I was at Yale."
"Atlanta is a little further than New Haven, honey. But Rory is finally within driving distance!"
"More or less," Luke muttered, no doubt thinking of the six hour trip.
Rory smiled back at him. "I'm sure I'll have things that need fixing every now and then."
"Don't you have a landlord for that?"
She knew he wasn't complaining about the time it would take to get there, or the hassle of fixing odd things around her apartment. On the contrary, he was hoping that she'd call him regardless.
Her gaze was misty as she looked up at him. "But my landlord won't bring me coffee and pie."
Luke stepped forward and put his arms around both women, pulling them into a group hug.
"That's true. I'll send you care package in a couple of days, to make sure you haven't died from a lack of decent pie."
"Thanks Luke." Her words were muffled by flannel, but he didn't need to hear them to know she meant them.
They all had to wipe their eyes when they pulled back, and Lorelai was holding her husband's fingers a little tighter than normal.
"There's leftover pizza in the fridge if you get hungry later. And we're not leaving until late tomorrow morning, so if you think of anything you need, just call."
"Thanks Mom, but I'm an adult. I can shop for toilet paper and pop-tarts by myself." Rory shook her head at her mother. No matter how old she got, she would always be a kid in Lorelai's eyes.
"Ok, ok. Just offering!"
Luke started to edge towards the door, and Rory suspected he was anxious to get his wife back to their hotel room. They'd had a long two days, and there was an even longer drive to look forward to in the morning.
"Call me when you get home tomorrow and tell me all about your first day. I want to know it all! Who's feuding, who's sleeping together, who has the best shoes!"
"Ok Mom."
"I'm serious! We'll be home by then. I'll be waiting by the phone."
Luke cleared his throat. "We might be a little late."
His wife looked momentarily surprised. "We will? Oh! Right, we might be a little late getting home."
There was something going on, and Rory's eyes darted back and forth between the two. Even though it was usually Luke that couldn't stand her withering stare, Lorelai caved-in first.
"We might stop in Philadelphia to see Jess. You know, if he's not busy."
"Oh." Her mind raced, thinking of his letter. "Well, tell him I said hi."
The couple shared a surprised look, speaking wordlessly as only couples did.
"Ok. We will."
"Good."
"Ok then."
"Good."
After another awkward beat of silence, Lorelai leaned in for another hug.
"Be great tomorrow, honey. Everything is going to work out. I smelled snow this morning, and you know good things always happen with the first snow."
"Mom, it's supposed to get up to 60 degrees this week."
"Hush. Don't argue with your mother."
Luke chuckled and held Lorelai's coat out for her.
After another round of hugs, and promises of more frequent visits and phone calls, Rory suddenly found herself alone.
She wandered from room to room for a while, which wasn't too exciting in a one bedroom apartment. Finally, she let herself drop down into the overstuffed couch facing the bay window. The lights of Georgetown twinkled in the darkness, and if she looked hard enough, she could see the lights at the top of the Washington Monument in the distance. Her breath left her in a loud woosh, and her stomach started churning again, as it had been doing for days.
She was really here. She was really doing it. Tomorrow, she would walk into the White House and sit at her desk in the corner office, and then she would be the voice of the President and his administration. It wasn't as simple as that, of course, but it felt no less ominous for its complexity.
She gave her head a shake and tried to put things into perspective. It wasn't like she'd never been to the White House before. She had worked there almost daily for four years as a member of the Press Corps, for various publications. But then she'd always been on the far side of the podium, asking the tough questions but never having to answer any of them.
Now, she wouldn't be able to hide behind a recorder or a microphone. Her only pieces of armour starting tomorrow were her intelligence, and the ubiquitous 'No comment', which she had grown to loathe in her years as a journalist.
It was a strange thing to try to adjust to, the 180 degree turn in perspective. Rather than just reporting on the news, she would now be making the news, or at least giving an official opinion. So much to learn, so much to try to take in before she said something stupid or out of turn.
Rory noticed her hands had gotten clammy, and decided to get busy to try to quiet her thoughts. There was an old portable stereo sitting on the window seat, presumably left over from the previous tenant, and she flipped it on.
Whoever lived here last had clearly liked adult contemporary and soft rock. The five preset stations yielded nothing but Rod Stewart, Barry Manilow and various other permutations of elevator music. It took several minutes, but she finally found a college station that didn't threaten to put her to sleep.
With the oppressive silence of the empty apartment now banished, Rory dug into her first box of books. She worked methodically, pulling the volumes out and checking their titles and authors before placing them in the bookcases that lined one whole wall of the living room. Other residents had likely filled the shelves with pictures and knickknacks, but she would have no problem stuffing them full of her favourite stories.
She paused briefly to get a slice of pizza and a soda from the fridge. It was so strange, living in a furnished apartment – she'd never really gotten used to it. She never had to unpack the kitchen in any of the cities she lived in; the plates and glasses and forks were just there. Not that it mattered, really. Until now, she had lived more in hotels and airports than she ever had in the places she'd called 'home'.
Partway through the second box, her fingers brushed a cover she would know with her eyes closed. The Subsect. And beneath it, all of his other books, along with the volumes of hers that he'd written in over the years.
Her mouth curled up in a wistful smile. Vandalism! She remembered how outraged she had been when he returned her copy of Howl, filled with his notes and thoughts in the margins. It was something a lot of writers and intellectuals did, she knew. She had just never been able to deface one of her books that way. But Jess had never been afraid to do whatever he wanted, living life by his own slightly skewed moral compass.
His books deserved their own shelf, she decided, placing them right in the middle at eye level, next to the fireplace mantel. She still couldn't believe he'd written five books, with another trilogy apparently on the way. His writer's voice was still clear and distinct, which was a rarity. Too many authors, after a little success, tended to write for their audience rather than themselves. But Jess didn't care if anyone read his books. They were just stories that he had to get out of his head the only way he knew how. And now he was helping other writers perfect their voices too, passing on his knowledge and passion for the craft.
When the second box was empty, she ran out of steam and took a step back. Her motley collection of books, well read, well worn and well loved, looked distinctly out of place in the lovely apartment. It was the kind of place most people dreamt about: a converted townhouse from 1870-something with twelve foot ceilings, original hardwood floors and chunky mouldings everywhere. It was on one of the best streets, in one of the most sought after historical neighbourhoods.
And she felt like an imposter to even be unpacking her meagre belongings onto those shelves.
This kind of apartment should be the home of a confident, senior staffer, not a newbie like herself. She was much more suited to her Yale dorm room, or her childhood room in Stars Hollow, come to think of it. She hadn't really felt at home since leaving college, and still considered herself a twenty-two year old graduate on the inside.
Rory shook her head, amazed at her own lack of confidence. Was she really feeling inadequate about living in a nice apartment? How was she going to command any type of authority at the White House tomorrow if she couldn't even muster the courage to unpack her books?
She slouched down into the couch cushions once more, lifting her purse onto her lap. Her phone was somewhere at the bottom, she was sure. As she rifled through the contents, she pulled out the random things she had shoved in the previous morning before leaving her Atlanta apartment for the last time; toothbrush, unopened mail, press badge, travel mug. She clearly needed a better organization system, or a smaller purse. Neither seemed likely, considering her lifestyle.
Finally, Rory's fingers grasped her phone, and another bunch of scattered papers. When she finally got the mess free of her shoulder strap, she saw that Jess' note was in her hand. She hadn't forgotten about it, of course. It had just been overshadowed by all of the other craziness in her life at the moment.
With a heavy sigh, she settled back with the last of her soda, and pulled his letter out of the envelope. The sight of his handwriting made her stomach flip every time she saw it. Even nine years later, his scrawled notes in her books could do the same thing.
She wondered again why he'd written to her now, of all times. There had been other opportunities, other occasions she'd moved to a newer, better job. After he had visited her at her grandmother's house, and after their ill-fated kiss in Philadelphia, she hadn't congratulated him on any of his books or TV appearances. Maybe she should have, but she hadn't wanted to broach the subject of their delicate truce. Considering their past and the arguments they always seemed to get into, it just seemed easier to leave it alone.
She remembered when he'd said that being an overseas journalist was maybe too rough for her, and how angry she'd been. But there had been a kernel of truth in his words. Though she hadn't actively avoided any foreign assignments, she hadn't sought them out either. Through the years, she found she had a real knack for political reporting, and fell in easily with the government community. Maybe she wasn't standing with a microphone in the middle of a war zone, but what she did really mattered.
Rory rubbed the paper between her fingers. Why now? She supposed the answer was fairly simple, on the surface. He was proud of her. He hadn't specifically used the word, but she could feel it just the same. After all of his amazing accomplishments, his self-made success, Jess was impressed by what she was doing. They really had gone full circle.
She read his words again, tracing her fingers over the lines.
I won't say good luck because you don't need it.
The thought was a nice one, but the butterflies in her stomach would have preferred if he had actually said it anyway. While his opinion wasn't exactly unbiased, it was certainly more accurate than her mother's. What Rory really wanted was someone who would give her the straight truth.
Could she really do this, or was she destined for failure?
Suddenly, there was only one person she needed to talk to. It took a second of scrolling through her phone contacts, but she eventually found the number. She just hoped it was still current.
"Hello?"
"Paris?"
"Gilmore? Well well! Nice to know the Secret Service goons haven't blocked my number yet. How is it, working in the bosom of national democracy?"
"I haven't started yet, actually."
"Oh, then what are you doing calling me? Shouldn't you be digging through Hoover's "Official and Confidential", looking for dirt to leverage Ted Turner for better coverage of Senate Committee hearings?"
Rory groaned, wondering how the people probably monitoring her phone were liking this conversation.
"Paris, just because I work for the Administration doesn't mean I get access to FBI files."
"What? Then why the hell would you want to work there? Washington has become a land of spineless jellyfish, incapable of gathering enough brain cells to have a collective thought."
"I called to ask your opinion, actually."
"Of course you did," Paris stated matter-of-factly.
"Do you think I can do this job?" She held her breath, waiting for the classic Paris Gellar bluntness.
"Yes."
Rory sat in stunned silence for a second.
"You do?"
Paris sighed with impatience. "You're one of the few people I would trust to represent the leader of the free world, yes."
"Really?"
"Grovelling for compliments doesn't become you, Rory."
"Sorry. It's just… How can you be so sure?"
"That sickening, small-town, apple pie upbringing of yours makes you incapable of being morally corrupted. I can't explain it, but I've seen it time and time again. You always do things for the right reasons, which is annoying, but also desperately needed in our nation's capital."
"Wow. Thanks, Paris. I …"
"I fully expect you'll be torn apart like the good guy always is in classic Americana."
She should have known Paris wouldn't just give her approval and leave it at that.
"But it might do you some good to get dirty in the trenches; learn how our country's lawmakers actually operate, making shady, backroom deals while the proletariat shoulders the financial consequences…"
"Thanks Paris."
Her outspoken friend took a sharp breath, not used to being cut off, mid-sentence.
"Anytime, Gilmore."
"I'm afraid to ask, but do you have any advice for my first day?"
"Now that you mention it, I do have some ideas on how you could whip that place into shape…"