Jess sighed, turning the page of yet another crappy attempt at the crime genre, his mind spacing terribly. Basically one more novel for the bin, in Jess' opinion. The janitor did it. Of course he did. After all, that's what Scooby Doo taught us. He dumped the manuscript onto the coffee table in front of him, staring at it for a moment.

His patience was quickly deserting him. He really couldn't call this author with feedback tonight, as he'd assured them. He's been told on many occasions that his brutal, blunt honesty was sometimes a little to callous and harsh. Unwelcome. Unfortunately, brutal, blunt honesty was how he led his life.

That said … Jess laughed once, sarcastically at his own thoughts. Honesty? Who was he kidding?

Rory had left with a warm smile, and a forehead kiss, and a quiet 'bye, Dodger'. She had asked, after the digital recorder was safely back in her bag, and her notes were closed, whether he had received a similar phone call from Luke as she had from her mother.

"Uh … me and Luke don't really ..." he struggled, pressing his fingertips into his coffee cup. "We don't talk about stuff," he eventually shrugged. Liar. Liar. Liar. Rory watched him in his awkward effort, eyes impassive and expression difficult to read. Jess was immediately uncomfortable. He prided himself in being able to read Rory like the books they both loved. She was an enigma, but an enigma he had studied and known for many years. Her ability to hide her thoughts was a new talent. Perhaps the blonde dick had taught her something – after all, his cheating ass must've been able to lie pretty effectively. Maybe it had transferred. Or maybe he had lost his touch.

He hated to think either. Part of the reason he had fallen in love with Rory was her delicate, naive innocence (unlike his callous brusqueness) and her idealism and honesty (very like his own, the former however well hidden. Why else would he write the novels he did? To fix the things he could fit in real life, the idealistic solution). And not knowing her well was just painful. He never wanted to not know her – even at his very lowest, he still needed to have Rory somewhere in his life.

Of course, eventually, Rory picked up on his change of mood, and she sighed. "Yeah, you do."

Jess broke their eye contact, slumping slightly in his armchair, where Rory inversely mirrored, sitting up straighter and leaning towards him, trying to catch his eye. He looked up at her eventually, but only for a swift second, exhaling heavily. "It's not like I pour my heart out to him."

"Or anyone," Rory unhelpfully supplied. Her tone was impatient.

Jess sighed again. "Ror' ..."

"My Mom lectured me for about an hour." He looked up at her, seeing her growing more embarrassed and awkward, sliding down her own chair and avoiding his eye. "I felt like I was seventeen again."

Jess didn't really know what to say to this, so he stayed quiet, hoping she would divulge just a little more. He knew, above all else, that Rory's principled way of living was almost entirely of her mother's design. If her Mom truly thought that she should stay away from him, she would.

She took a few more moments looking extremely uncomfortable, then tutted to herself, turning to him, looking determined. "Look, Jess, I don't know whether you want to talk about any of this."

"Any of what?" he asked, watching her carefully, his eyes a little darker than normal. He felt his heart quicken a little, too. He could feel his pulse in his fingers. Her eyes, upon his words, started tearing up a little. "Rory, I'm not … I can't …" he struggled horrendously, searching her eyes desperately.

"Mom thinks that we, um … that we have unresolved … stuff." She said it as if she agreed, and Jess' nervous heart sped up a little more. His eyes, intense, were fixed on her averted. "And that it's a bad idea to not talk about it. Because it's taken us a long time to get back to the stage where … um." She cut herself, looking awkward. "I'm really bad at this."

"You're better than me," Jess told her honestly. Talking about his feelings out loud was probably one of the worst experiences he had ever had. Writing them, however – somehow it was easier for Jess to rationalise his own thoughts when they were in front of him in black and white. He suspected that Rory was similar. "Would it be easier if we just … didn't?"

Rory frowned, before sighing in defeat. "Yes. It would. Is that pathetic?"

Jess smirked. "Absolutely. But easier for both of us, so I figure it's the right way to go, pathetic or not."

Rory nodded thoughtfully, before smiling. "I forgot how alike we were, Jess."

He smiled softly at her nostalgic grin. "Alike and completely different. It's what always made it interesting."

"Like your monosyllabic crap, and my verbal diarrhoea," Rory smirked. Jess laughed, scrunching up his face in mild disgust at her vivid phrasing. "And us both loving alone time."

"Your dreaming about the future, and my lack of acknowledgement of the future," Jess returned, watching as Rory's eyes sparkled at the to-and-fro. In her eyes he could see that she had missed this too. This verbal sparring. They both thrived on it. "And our love of pop culture and literature."

"My structure, and your spontaneity."

Jess' eyebrow quirked. "You came to visit me in New York out of the blue. That was pretty spontaneous. And you kissed me at Sookie's wedding. And you came to the Open House. You stole a frigging boat, Rory."

"My pathetic self-analysis of character …" she joked. Jess laughed with her.

From then on, they drank coffee and talked about the past, and books, and movies they hated. It felt as if it were almost normal that the woman he had loved for years was sitting in his Philadelphia book store that he'd helped build up to a success, not only through running the store, but editing and writing for the adjoined publishing company, many years after he had brutally left her in a little Connecticut town, breaking both of their hearts in the process.

If there was anything that Jess was sure of, it was that woman, sitting, watching him with impossibly blue eyes, her lips turned up at the edges, telling him anecdotes from that crazy little town. Luke was right. It was that simple. He'd leave Philadelphia and move back to Stars Hollow in a nanosecond if it meant he could kiss her again. Even once. He'd give up everything. He loved her so much, it scared him. Truly scared him.

His eyes gave him away, and she reached out to touch his arm.

"Jess?" her voice was apprehensive. He jumped, retracting his arm a little out of her reach, and met her hurt eyes with his.

"Pizza?" he distracted, throwing her a lopsided smile. "You must be hungry. I haven't fed you all day. I'd forgotten for a second what I'm obligated to do when spending time with a Gilmore Girl. That's like, rule number one."

"Coffee is rule number one," Rory laughed, relaxing.

"At least I remembered that one."

"I wouldn't let you forget," she told him, softer than the statement warranted.

The day drew on, and Rory eventually left, kissing his forehead, smiling, and quietly whispering, "Bye, Dodger."

Jess had been reliving it since she'd left, trying to remember every detail. The freckles across the bridge of her nose. The way she bit down on her lip self-consciously. The way she held her pen. The way she smirked over her notes at him. The way she revelled in every sip of her heart attack-strength coffee.

The way her eyes seemed as though they had captured an aurora of blues. Kaleidoscopic. Prismatic. Fucking beautiful. Just … fucking beautiful.

Jess had spent too many days; hours; weeks; years of his life trying to describe her eyes.

His whole chest ached with the abuse it had gone through. Maybe the guys had been right. Damn, did he need a drink.

-break-

Jess woke the next morning on his beat-up couch with no recollection of the evening previous, smelling of whiskey and vodka and cheap perfume. The room spun sickly around his head, as he tried to remember what had happened.

Thankfully, despite his efforts, all he could remember was sinking drink after drink after drink. Jess very rarely drank, despite what people probably thought of him. That was probably due to seeing his mother in such a state because of it so many times. So usually he got drunk on about five or six beers. He had lost count of straight-up spirits after the ninth.

His head pounded as he stood up, cursing himself vigorously. Checking the apartment for the owner of the cheap perfume clinging to his clothes, he was relieved to find no one. He would have hated himself if he had taken her home. He already hated himself enough.

He showered for an hour, throwing the disgusting-smelling clothes he had been wearing in the hamper, and brushed his teeth for twenty minutes. He spat blood.

Chris found him sitting on the tiny kitchen floor sipping from a pint glass of water. He stared up at his friend, trying to figure out if he knew anything without actually asking, trying to save himself the embarrassment.

Chris folded his arms across his chest, his expression grim, leaning on the door jamb.

"Well, you look like shit."

Jess glared up at him half-heartedly. "Way to kick me when I'm down."

"I think you did that to yourself, man." Chris sighed, looking at Jess with a look that clearly said 'I told you so'. Jess didn't have it in him to protest the silent judgement. He just looked up at Chris with empty eyes. Chris sighed, scrunching his hair awkwardly with his hand, before taking a step into the kitchen to lean against the counter next to him. "You downed about twenty drinks, Krist said. He called us when some sleazy girl wouldn't leave you alone despite you telling her where to go. You didn't do anything." Jess' chest released a little, exhaling heavily in a gust. "We got you home, and after you passed out, we confiscated your phone – you didn't call her, thankfully." Chris handed him his phone, and Jess took it gratefully. "You're an idiot." Jess nodded, drawing his knees up to his chest. They were silent for a long moment, before Chris shifted again, awkward. "If you don't figure this out with this girl, she's going to kill you. You know that, right?"

Jess nodded again, croaking out, "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

"Matt and I don't want to see you like you were when we met you in that café in New York, without a pick on you and a storm cloud above you, sleeping on a fucking mattress on the floor. You need to figure this out, Jess."

"I'm sorry for being a jackass," Jess told him.

Chris snorted a little, and Jess smirked. "Fortunately, even with all your bullshit, you're still an alright guy. And an amazing writer. So the rough with the smooth," Chris smirked. "I'm sorry for being such a dick about your girl."

"Rory," he told him.

"Rory," Chris confirmed. "To be fair, you only mentioned her name when she wrote your book review. It's always been 'that girl from Connecticut' to us."

Jess nodded, thoughtfully. He paused, before saying quietly, "She's worth the pain, you know?"

Chris sighed. "Yeah. I know, man."

There was a creak on the stairs, and then footsteps across the apartment. Matt stuck his head around the door, rolling his eyes as he saw both of them. "Look who's still alive." Matt looked up at Chris. "Your order's arrived, by the way."

Chris nodded, before rushing off downstairs.

"So, did she screw you over again?"

Jess watched as Matt raised his eyebrows judgementally, and sighed. "No."

"Well, at least that's something," Matt dead-panned. "There's some woman here to see you."

Jess frowned, having no idea who it could be. He definitely had no author meetings scheduled today. Standing up and clutching his head as it pounded rather painfully at the motion, he placed the now-empty glass on the counter and followed Matt downstairs. When there, Matt pointed to a dark haired woman standing by some of the bookshelves. She turned as he reached the last few steps, and he almost fell down them.

Lorelai Gilmore in all her glory stood there in his Philadelphia bookstore, grim expression on her face, and her arms crossed over her chest defensively. Jess tentatively walked over to her. "Sorry for dropping in on you like this. But I figured you might not talk to me on the phone." Jess awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, distinctly feeling seventeen again. Lorelai always played the most convincing unimpressed mother. Suddenly, his hangover hit twice as hard and he squinted a little. "Can we go somewhere?"

Jess nodded awkwardly, avoiding her gaze, his head instinctively ducking. "Coffee?"

Lorelai nodded, and Jess went to the register to lift a few bills, and walked over, gesturing to the door. There was a coffee shop just a few doors down from the store. Lorelai followed silently.

They sat in a booth facing each other, the coffees that Jess had paid for sitting in front of them, neither saying a word to the other.

It was weird. Jess felt odd, like she was going to tell him something awful. He could feel it in the air between them. Why the hell had she driven almost four hours to come and see him. It couldn't be good, Jess was sure.

Lorelai sighed, making Jess look up at her with unguarded eyes. "I don't like what I'm going to say to you."

Jess stayed quiet, watching her shift nervously in her seat, her lips down turned at their edges.

She battled with herself for a moment longer, before saying, "I'm here to ask you to go to her. To stop her from ruining her own happiness with her own damn practicality again."

"What?" Jess couldn't hide his expression of pure surprise from the older Gilmore girl.

"I know you still love her, Jess."

Jess stared at her. His brain wasn't working any more. This couldn't be the same Lorelai Gilmore sitting there. The one who hated him so passionately when he was a kid. It wasn't at all probable.

"She's so unhappy, and I can't stand it," Lorelai said, staring at her coffee. He screwed up his eyes, trying to make sense of all of this. But she just kept talking. "She told me it was you who got her back to Yale – back to me. I never knew that. I never knew you actually … you care about her, Jess. And I let her … Logan let her quit. I told her to give him another chance, and I shouldn't have."

"She would have gone back to Yale herself," Jess told her quietly.

"I don't know that for sure," Lorelai sighed. "I want to believe that, but I think she needed you, then." Jess bit his lip painfully. "I think she's needed you a lot."

Jess shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Lorelai sipped her coffee, avoiding his eye while he did the same. "I don't need to tell you that I don't like what you did to my daughter. I don't like that you ran to California and made her miserable for almost a year. I don't like that you didn't call her when you said you would. But I think, maybe … you're the best person for her."

Jess laughed once, humourlessly. "I'm a screw-up, Lorelai. I'm not the best person for anybody."

Lorelai looked up at him in surprise, her head tilting slightly to the side. "Do you really believe that?"

Jess stared at her, wincing as the blue washed over him.

"I think," she said, "What you have to bear in mind is that Rory doesn't think that. She's always known you were worth more than what you presented at face-value. She's very good at seeing through people's bullshit. I should have trusted her, then. Because, now, I actually think you are very like my husband." Jess looked up at her in panic, unable to speak. "She's a dreamer, my baby. Just like me. She needs someone who can facilitate whatever she's been dreaming about. That's you. That's Luke."

Jess was growing sadder and sadder by the minute, with every one of Lorelai's words. He felt the weight of it on his chest. "I hurt her. She hurts me. I'm not who she needs."

"Jess … can I ask you a question?" Jess watched her, and nodded. "What does my daughter love more than anything in this world?"

He shifted his eyes between hers, before saying, "You."

Lorelai smiled for the first time since she walked into Truncheon. "Besides me."

Jess shrugged, before saying, "Books."

"All the same books you love. The books you write. All the music you both listen to. Those are soul things. That's the core of you, the things you love so deeply, the things that speak to you both so completely. Stories and music. You share a soul, you and Rory. That is so important. So important."

"It wasn't enough last time."

"Don't kid yourself, hon'. It wasn't incompatibility that made you split. You always worked. It scared me, as her Mom, how well you worked together. I felt like I was losing her way too young, you know? But you can't underestimate the power of books and music. You of all people should know that." She smiled again. "And who better for her than an author for a husband?" Jess choked on the sip he'd been taking. "Don't play dumb, Mariano. You're old enough to have considered it by now."

Truth be told, Jess had considered it.

"I have a long drive back," Lorelai then announced. "You can ignore that this happened, if you really want. But I know she still loves you, Jess. You shouldn't ignore that, at the very least." Jess bit his lip, watching her as she stood up. "Thanks for the coffee." And with that, she left.

Jess exhaled a breath he had no idea how long he'd been holding, and lay his forehead down on the table in near-exhaustion.

His heart hurt.

-break-

A/N: Ohhh, man. Was that difficult to write! I hope I wasn't completely out of character for Lorelai. She is really difficult to write.

I feel like she would come around to Jess, though. After reading his book, maybe, and being married to Luke, and knowing Liz. It makes sense to me, anyway. I wanted her to be kind to him for once.

Anyway, hope you liked this. And sorry for the wait. Again. I suck.

Review and tell me what you thought :)

Eutony x