"When do we ever do what we should? All signs point at one thing, and still, we as humans find some way to convince ourselves that all signs point in the other direction. To run, run, run, never say goodbye, never say anything, run, run, avoid, choke, run.
It's sickness; it's hopeless. We deal with things in a way that if we were reading a book and a character was doing the same things, we would want to scream at him, tell him he's wrong, throw the book in the fire, in the Lake and never return to it. It's a shame we can't do that with our own lives.
Can we?
Run, run, run, choke."
Jess stopped typing abruptly, re-reading what he'd written, and sighed. Too dark. Too, too dark. This was how he got when he was depressed – he wasn't sure that was the right word, but there was no right word for what he was feeling right now. He felt like something – and he didn't know what – was sitting on his chest and crushing the life from his lungs, the feeling in his heart. He felt …
Weeks had passed. Still, he hadn't heeded Lorelai's advice. If he were being honest, he didn't know how. He felt seventeen again, having no idea how to deal with the bombardment of self-abuse and insecurity her words had stirred. He shut himself off.
He couldn't bring himself to think that Rory Gilmore still loved him.
He should have spoken – really spoken – to Lorelai. Made her understand his motives from years past. Made her understand him – let her know that he truly, truly loved her daughter. He had never loved anything as much. That he hadn't known how much he could love any one thing. That he had hurt her and the expense of hurting himself just as much. That he had loved her so profusely that he was willing to tear his own heart out and leave her just so he didn't have to watch as she dragged herself down with him. Because she would have – if he knew anything about Rory, it would be that. She would have crushed her own dream to cultivate his. The thought made him comminute his palms to his eyes in pain.
It was terrifying to him.
So he wrote. Instead of just a random short story, or Word document, Jess titled this one, 'Dear Lorelai Gilmore'.
-break-
Another week passed, and Jess was beginning to feel normal again. The crushing force had lessened, and he was able to talk with his friends again, instead of being shut up inside himself. They had been exceptionally understanding, really. They hadn't called him out on his isolation.
The business had been going particularly well, all thanks to the combined and elevated effort from Matt and Chris. They had paid off their debts, and had turned a huge profit, the business expanding and gaining popularity. The publishing side, which Jess was mostly responsible for, was snowballing as a result, and with more and more work, came the need for expansion.
They had been discussing it for about a year, where they'd like another office. Boston had been discussed, and Washington DC, but really, there was only one city it could be.
"So … it all comes down to who wants to leave Philly, I guess?" Chris told them, having found the perfect place in New York. "We've got some options."
"Which are?" Matt pressed, scribbling something down furiously on the notepad he'd been using, probably trying to crunch numbers of some kind.
"Well, we could all go."
"And close this place?" Jess asked, wincing.
Chris shook his head. "Nah. We could train people up in the time we have left. Have a store manager and staff."
"Which would come out of profit," Matt added.
"We're going to have to employ anyway, to keep up with everything. We can't run two stores and a Publishing House, just the three of us."
"What about the Publishing side? Are we moving that entirely?" Jess asked, rubbing the back of his neck. If he were being honest, he wasn't sure he wanted to move back to New York, especially since … well, he wasn't going to think about the reason.
"That sort of depends on you, man. I figure it moves wherever you want to go." Chris watched Jess carefully. "And I think you probably need another editor, too. Possibly two, if you're writing again." Jess sighed, running a hand through his hand through his hair. "We need someone to take over the e-'zine. I figure we'll come across more decent journalists in New York." Jess flinched, and Chris noticed. Matt didn't.
"I think it makes more sense that one of us stays here – at least for a while, to oversee – and two go to New York. The Publishing will be easier in NYC. So ..."
"I think Jess has to decide for himself, Matt, rather than you corralling him into a decision." Chris watched Jess for a moment, before continuing, "It would be easier, Jess. But you get to decide."
Jess nodded bluntly, avoiding eye contact with both Chris and Matt. He shook his head, saying, "That decision is made. I agree." He paused, before speaking again. "I miss New York, anyway. What's our time scale?"
Chris and Matt watched him closely for a moment, before Matt referred back to his notebook. "Maybe eight months, if everything goes to plan."
"So, it's just you and I that needs to make a decision," Chris told Matt, and Matt nodded.
-break-
Jess hadn't really expected a reply to his letter. He figured Lorelai would read it and stick it in a drawer somewhere and forget all about it. After all, he knew quite well that he was low on her priority list for correspondence. She had made that quite clear in the years they had known each other. But there a reply came, on Dragonfly Inn stationary, between a credit card bill and another manuscript.
He didn't have time to read it right away, being the only one in the store. But it played heavily on his mind the whole day. It was distracting, but for all he knew, it would cause another meltdown, and he really didn't need that for the moment. He had to be a responsible adult, rather than be so affected by the emotions of his past.
Finally, the store was closed, and Jess' fingers played with the edges of the ivory envelope. He was half-tempted to throw it out. What did it really matter what she responded with? Everything was too fucked.
He sighed and ripped it open, silently judging himself for caring about what Lorelai thought about him.
'Dear Jess,
I don't really know how to respond to your letter. I've read it about ten times, and all I can think of to say is, no wonder your books sell well. That was almost complimentary, wasn't it? Sorry. Won't happen again.
It's difficult for me to admit that I understand your reasoning, and that hurting Rory was what was best for her at the time. It's not impossible, but difficult. She hurt for so long after you left, Jess. Before then, I had never seen Rory so affected by a boy. You were more than a boyfriend, like Dean was. It was probably why I hated you. I was territorial. I could see from experience (after all, I got pregnant at 16) that you were trouble, and that you had a true potential to mark by baby forever. Pregnancy, possibly, but I thought probably more likely (as Rory is much more sensible than I) that you could be the boy who hurt her more than anybody could. I was so right about that. But it was the time for it, and it has made her who she is. You helped her discover her true potential – to just be who she is, and not shy away from her passions even if other people around her disapproved. There was a use for your surly chipped shoulder, and it was to give her strength.
I'm sure it's no secret that Logan cheated on Rory with an entire bridal party. She was hurt after that, sure, but she didn't abstain from any intimate relationship for over a year. She did after you. When she broke up with Dean for the last time, it took her very little time to find Logan. After Logan proposed marriage, and then left for California, telling Rory that it was 'all or nothing', Rory dated around about two months later.
Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you? I'm not as eloquent on the page as you are – generally all my words want to come out all at once, and it's beginning to read like a jumble. It boils down to this – no one has ever affected her like you have, Jess. You got her back to Yale. (She picked Yale because it was close to Stars Hollow, you know. Close to me. Close to you). You always wanted more for her. You always told her you believed in her. You never dragged her down.
From your letter, from Rory, from your book, I will say that I now truly understand how much you love her.
I promise that the letter won't be found in my daughter's hands, as you stipulated – but, Jess, I have a condition, too. Rory has a right to know. She may not know it, but she's lost direction. She has thought for so long that all you need in life is your career, that nothing else matters so long as you've got your vocation. She has her vocation. She has the Times. But she goes home to an empty apartment every day. It took me years to realise who I needed back at home to make my vocation worth it, to realise that I even needed a person. I finally have that person in Luke. I want my baby to have that, too.
Lorelai.'
Jess' hands were shaking a little when he put the letter down. He would later deny that they were.
-break-
Jess bit his lip hard, and called her the next day, steeling himself. He had to get over it. It was affecting his writing – in that he couldn't. No matter how fucked everything seemed to be, he could always write before. Lorelai's meddling had tipped him over the edge. The edge of what, he didn't really know.
"Hello?" her voice answered, and Jess was transported to the sticky heat of California, leaning against a hot telephone booth. The words stuck in his throat. "Jess?"
Fuck caller I.D. "Hi." He rolled his eyes at himself. What age was he? And he still was as awkward as he was at fourteen.
"You okay?" she asked after a pause. Her voice was apprehensive and cautious.
"Um, yeah. Why?" He tried nonchalant, but didn't quite get away with it.
"Well, this is the first time you've called me since … geez, a really long time."
"Huh," Jess replied.
"Why'd you call?" Rory was business-like, but her tone was easy anyway.
Jess bit his lip again. He didn't really know how to approach this. "I just wanted to … uh."
"Jess?" Rory prompted again, laughing a little uncomfortably.
"I have writer's block," he told her. There was a pause before she started laughing. "Hey, don't laugh at me. This is serious!" Jess mockingly chastised her, immediately latching on to the distraction.
"I'm sorry," she said, still laughing, obviously not sorry at all.
"I've never had it before," he complained.
"Never? God, you're a freak, Mariano."
He smirked down the phone at her. "Oh, I'm the freak, huh?" he teased.
"Obviously," she teased right back. "What kind of writer has never had writer's block in years and years of writing? You should be studied."
"What can I say? I always had some sort of inspiration."
"Some sort, huh?" she asked drily. Jess almost laughed at her. Like it was any secret that Rory herself was his inspiration for most of his writings. Her, and that crazy little town, and everything that had ever happened since he met her. It was almost a joke to Jess that she thought anyone else could affect him like she had. It just proved that she was so unaware of how much of a beautiful enigma she was.
But of course, he'd never tell her that.
"You said that like you say the word, 'Hemingway'," he observed, grinning through his words.
She laughed a little at his comment, easing up. "I had to read him in Yale."
Jess laughed at her tone. "I bet you loved that," he said sarcastically.
She hummed a little. "It was okay."
Jess almost punched the air in triumph. She liked Hemingway. Finally! "Gilmore, are you seriously telling me that you have finally come round to Ernest?"
She giggled, but tried to suppress it. "Of course not," she mocked.
"Come on, say the words," he pressed.
"Is it that important to you?" she teased. She giggled again. "Okay, okay. I quite like a few of his novels. He's still a misogynist, but there's a lot of that in his time period, so I suppose I can't hold it against him anymore."
He was grinning, his heart feeling light for the first time in a long time.
"Plus," she added, "I felt like ..." she struggled for a moment, pausing and becoming serious. "I dunno. It was nostalgic?"
For him. Nostalgic for him. Guilt settled in his heart, and again it was heavy. He struggled for a moment, trying to find the words to say.
Instead, though, she spoke. "It took a while for him to come around to me, though. I guess I really hurt him when I was a teen," she joked.
"Well, cold rejection would affect anybody," Jess rebuked quickly, glad that she had intuitively known that he didn't know what to say.
Rory paused, her laughter dying, as she said, "Yeah."
Jess sobered at her change in mood, not really understanding it. He couldn't imagine an instance where Rory had ever been rejected … It didn't compute in his brain.
Rory was quiet for a moment, and Jess scrabbled for words to say. His brain spluttered at such a task, and he drew up blank, before sighing. "Rory?"
She was quiet for almost a minute, before she apprehensively answered, "Jess?"
"I can't read you anymore," he admitted. And it was true. He felt as though no time had passed for her in the way that she read him, but that it was as if twenty years stretched between them in his eyes. He realised that he had no idea what was happening half the time in the spaces between her syllables. He used to understand every nuance. He hated that he couldn't anymore. "Tell me … why did you change tone?"
She was quiet for another minute, before laughing humourlessly. "When did you get so direct?" Jess smirked at her evading question. He stayed quiet, knowing she would answer him eventually. "Um … because rejection sucks." He frowned, knowing that this wasn't the full story. Staying silent for long enough again, she continued. "I just … I thought about you leaving Stars Hollow is all."
He bit his lip, hard. "I wasn't … that wasn't rejection."
"No?" she accused sharply.
His heart hurt at the indictment. Then he was talking without weighing his words. "I'm not sure you mean to start the argument about who rejected whom, Gilmore." His words were harsh, and he immediately hated them as they heated the invisible line between them.
Rory exhaled in a measured way, and Jess held his breath. Of course he won on the rejection front. Rory couldn't deny that. She had rejected him even before they started dating – when she was still with Dean. She'd rejected him at Yale. And she'd rejected him at Truncheon's Open House. If he had rejected her when he left for California, she'd rejected him dozens of times more than him. But what did it really matter, any more? What use was there dredging up the past yet again? Jess exhaled a 'sorry'.
Rory, replied with a small, "Me too."
Jess thought that maybe, that had been the first time in a very long time that they'd both actually said how they felt. If they ever had. It was pathetic, really. But Jess wasn't a sharer, and Rory was a reciprocator. She didn't share her feelings without being sure that the other person felt the same, and only then would she weigh how she felt. Jess had never offered her the opportunity to weigh, because when he had, once upon a time, told her exactly how he felt – feels – he bolted. Because he feared yet another rejection.
Rory interrupted him from his reverie as she spoke. "Jess, do you sometimes … do you wish things were different?"
Jess dragged a hand through his hair, making it all stand on end. Yes. "What things?" he asked gently.
"I don't know," she laughed a little. "I just feel backed into a corner with some things. Like everything has played out, and there's nowhere to go. I hate that feeling."
"There's always somewhere to go, Ror'."
"Do you wish things with us were different?" she asked thoughtfully.
Jess almost laughed at her. But instead, he shook his head with a smile, "What are you talking about, Gilmore?"
She exhaled through her nose. "Don't you sometimes feel like everything has played out?"
His heart clenched at her words, and the smile dropped from his face. He answered too quickly for his head to catch up. "No." He listened to her silence with nervous energy for a second. Then he rolled his eyes at himself. "There's always somewhere to go," he shrugged, resigning himself to the fact that he'd said what he had, all the connotations she could possibly imagine tagged onto it. As a distraction from her making mental pro/con lists, and dissecting what he'd said, he told her, "Your Mom has been in contact."
"What?" He was glad he could jarr her out of her thoughts like that.
"She's worried about you. About you having those … hemmed in thoughts."
"Oh," she said, and Jess thought she sounded relieved for some reason.
"Hey, Ror'?"
"Hmm?" she asked, thoughtfully.
"There's always somewhere to go. There's always more to do. You, Rory Gilmore … you have the whole world at your feet. You used to know that."
"I guess I forgot," she told him, sadly.
"I guess you did," he replied, softly. "Maybe you needed someone to remind you."
She smiled through her words, "Maybe I did."
There was silence on the line again, but this time, both let it stretch between them. It was comfortable; peaceful to hear her breathing. He figured that she was thinking of the same time as him – when he called her out on dropping out of Yale. He had been her someone to remind her all of the amazing things she could still be. Once upon a time, when they were kids, there was never any doubt in her mind that she was capable of anything she wanted. Jess loved that about her. She was so definite – so steady. It had been something that he had never seen before in a person. She was cautious, but a dreamer. Her dreams were bigger than anything he could fathom for himself. It was infectious, and eventually, Jess was inspired to dream. And actually believe that they were possible.
He wanted to tell her that. He wanted to tell her that she had made him a better person. That she had inspired him to write. That she had made him want to pass his GED. That she had stopped him in his path of self-destruction.
But he held his tongue. Communication wasn't his strong suit, still, and he cringed at the thought of voicing his feelings in such a way.
"We'll speak soon, okay?" Jess told her.
"Okay," she croaked, as though she were crying. He wondered why, but didn't ask. Jess hated when she cried.
"Bye, Ror'."
"Bye, Jess."
-break-
A/N: I'm starting to worry that it's all a bit too heavy and emotional. But I suppose I'm sifting through Jess' emotional baggage as well as alluding to Rory's, and a bit of Lorelai's too… Hmm. Anyway, I'm hoping you're not losing interest, lovely people. We'll get there, all sorted and lovely and non-angst-y. Eventually.
Please review and let me know what you think. I might even put them in the same room again. Wouldn't that be nice and sexual tension-y?
Eutony x
