A month later, Jess was just about getting used to being in New York again, when life threw him another curveball. The store had been closed maybe an hour, and Jess had been attempting to finish editing one of their client's manuscripts.

An unknown number was calling his cell. It had called three times in ten minutes, but Jess ignored it, wanting to finish so that he could spend some time writing before having to go to sleep. But the phone was persistent and wouldn't quit. Snapping, Jess huffed, before touching the answer slide button and practically growling an answer.

"Have I called past-Jess by accident?" the caller snapped back. It was Lorelai.

Jess didn't relax. Lorelai had never called him. Sure, she had turned up that one time, but they weren't exactly bosom-buddies. "What's going on?" Jess asked immediately. He heard Lorelai hesitate on the other end of the line. "Lorelai?" he asked again, anxiety creeping in. Thoughts immediately went to Luke. To Liz. To Doula.

"She … she hasn't answered me in over a week. I'd've usually got at least a text saying she was busy, but … stereo silence. I called her office, and they said she'd been MIA for days. I wouldn't ask, but … you live in New York now."

Rory. Of course it was about Rory. Jess bit his lip. He hadn't heard from her, either. Not that that was all that unusual. He had thought that they had left on good terms the last time they spoke at her apartment, but …

"You want me to go check on her." Jess had mixed feelings about that task.

"We have a wedding at the Inn at the weekend, and I have so much to do, I can't even begin to tell you, or else you know I'd be there as fast as I could, and of course if she's not okay, I'll drop everything, but I need to know so that I can make that call, you know? And I can't ask one of her colleagues because what if she's just playing hookie? Not that it's at all like Rory to do anything like that – but, well, you remember the Logan era more vividly than most, and we both know that she's capable of blowing off her responsibilities and not speak to me at all. Plus, I don't think any of her colleagues know where she lives, and they don't know me, so they'd be taking instructions from a stranger to go to some young girl's apartment. That would be super weird. You live there, and you're my step-nephew, and Luke's worried too. I would send him, but I don't know the situation ..."

Jess had one hand over his eyes, listening to her rant on. He'd forgotten how fast she could talk. He cut across her. "I'll call you when I find her."

"You're a good man, Jess." She hung up before he could reply.

-break-

He hesitated outside Rory's door. It felt invasive to be here. He wasn't sure of the grounds of that feeling yet, but he sure felt it.

He had a horrible thought that maybe she was in there with a guy. His insides cringed almost painfully. He dragged a hand roughly through his hair, his shoulders setting awkwardly. His discomfort didn't matter. If that was what it was, he had no right to be angry. He hadn't told her how he felt about her since her freshman year at Yale. It was ludicrous, actually, that he still felt the same about her as he had when he was seventeen. But he really believed in the idea that if you truly, absolutely loved someone as he had Rory at seventeen, you never stop loving them. And he had never, not for a second, stopped loving Rory Gilmore.

His fist made contact with the wood of her door. She didn't answer. He called her on her cell. No answer. He knocked again, more urgently. "Rory?" he called through the wood. No answer. His chest tightened. She could be hurt. She could be sick. Anything could have happened to her.

Jess bit his lip, trying to listen at her door, pressing himself up to it. Dragging a hand through his hair again, tugging at his scalp, he knew he'd have to use his long-unused New York street skills and pick the lock to find out whether she was in there. He pulled out his wallet and took out a credit card, sliding it along the crack in the door, hoping he'd be able to manipulate the lock. It clicked after only a few attempts. Vowing to buy her a new, secure lock, he opened the door to her apartment. There was mail behind the door. "Rory?" he called out again. "Rory, I'm inside. Are you in here?" he told her, stepping quietly into her hallway. "You're starting to scare me, Ror'," he said, more to himself than anyone.

Taking a few more steps into her apartment, he peeked around the living room door. She wasn't there, but there was paper all over the hardwood. Bending down to retrieve a leaf, he found that it was Rory's submissions for the Times. He spotted one with the cover of his first novel splashed across the front. Frowning, Jess dropped the article and made his way through to her tiny kitchenette. The coffee maker looked untouched. Actually, everything did.

He had a bad feeling in his gut about her bedroom door, but as he stepped up to it, he heard her. "Jess?" it was barely a whisper, but he heard her. He pushed open the door.

There she was. Bundled in blankets, red eyed, gaunt. She looked sick, but not from illness. Jess' whole body tensed at the sight of her, and he turned on the spot, heading back to the kitchen. She probably hadn't drank anything or eaten in days. He focussed on the water, finding a glass and filling it.

If Jess was being honest, the sight of her looking so grey was scaring him more than not knowing where she was. His hands were shaking when he returned to her bedroom. She hadn't moved, and she wasn't making eye contact with him.

Who was this person, tiny, on the bed? He didn't know this woman.

He placed the glass down on her bedside table, suddenly not knowing how to work his hands. He couldn't speak, either, his words sticking painfully in his throat, so they both stayed silent, Jess allowing the situation to wash over him like acid.

Feeling raw, he finally rasped, "Rory."

Slowly, Rory looked at him, looking so much worse than when he saw her in Baltimore. So much more lost. So much more terrified. She painfully sat up. "I'm … uh." She didn't finish her thought. All Jess wanted to do was pick her up and hold her together. He just had no idea how.

"You could have called me," he said, gently.

"I didn't know what to say. I can't explain what's … I've never ..." She was weak, barely able to keep her eyes open.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked.

"Few days? Don't remember," she answered.

He bit his lip painfully, his stomach clenching and his whole body aching for half a second while his heart forgot to beat.

Jess stepped towards the bed, placing a hand on her forehead, stroking her hair. He studied her attenuated features for a moment, before sitting on the edge of her bed. He pulled her gently into a half-sitting position against him and reached for the glass. "Here," he said, placing the glass to her lips. She drank a little at a time, but she drank, and Jess' chest released a little with every sip. "Why aren't you looking after yourself, Ror'?" he asked without looking for an answer. She shrugged weakly against him, not giving him an answer anyway.

When she finished the glass, he placed it back on the table and pulled her close to him, her back against his chest, his nose in the crook of her shoulder. Her hair wasn't clean, but he didn't care.

"Did Mom call you?" she asked finally, her voice sounding better.

He nodded, closing his eyes. "I need to call her and tell her you're okay." He didn't move to do so, though. He wanted to hold her together. He splayed his fingers across her t-shirt-clad stomach, feeling the soft skin beneath it. He loved her. "Ror', what happened?"

She didn't speak immediately. She exhaled slowly, placing her hands over his. "Nothing specific. It's not something I can explain. I just … felt lost. Like … I don't know. Do you ever feel like you've made every possible wrong choice available to you? Like you're wasting every second of the short time you have on earth by doing something completely worthless and that you could be doing something amazing, but you're just ... not?"

Jess frowned, ducking his head to try and make out her expression, but she had half turned away from him.

"I just don't know how I got here, Jess. And it's terrifying me that I've lost control yet again. I need you to yell at me. To get me back on track. Because everybody thought I was going to be this amazing journalist, and instead I write about rubbish soft-porn novels that call themselves romance just because they're on the best-sellers list, and have to praise them, even though I hate them. I'm just another corporate whore."

Jess was taken-aback, first by her language, then by her words. "You write for the New York Times," Jess reminded her, confused.

"I write book reviews, Jess. I don't write about what matters."

"Books matter," he told her, saddened by her outlook. It had always been a common ground for them, literature. Maybe she had outgrown her love of it.

She choked on a humourless laugh. "They don't care about the books that matter," she said, her voice breaking, and she pushed him away weakly. He let her go, her push having done nothing, and she moved to the other side of the bed, trying to stop herself from crying. Jess' heart breathed a sigh of relief when she said that, knowing her love of literature was alive, but the constriction in his chest at seeing her so tortured did not lessen.

He watched her, sitting awkwardly on the side of the bed, tears rolling down her face unhindered.

"You know," she said thickly, "It's bad enough that I screwed up my first job out of college, but to make a mistake on my second, and with a paper I love, too … I'm screwing up my future, Jess. Every decision I make, I make it worse. It's … I hate it." She turned her eyes on him desperately.

"You didn't screw up your Obama campaign job," Jess told her firmly. "Someone else did that for you. Don't blame yourself for that. Seriously. I won't have it." More tears fell down her face at his words. "I don't know what's been happening with the Times, but every review I've read has been honest and extremely well written."

She half-laughed derisively through her tears. "Haven't you noticed something missing?" Jess frowned, confused. "They won't let me publish your article."

Jess frowned harder, screwing up his face, before saying, "Hang on, is that why you're upset?"

"Jess, I worked so hard on that article for you. I just can't make it happen. My stupid sense of honesty fucked it up for you. I'm so sorry."

Jess almost laughed at her, but her heartbroken face stopped him from expressing any mirth or relief. "Rory, it doesn't matter."

"Yes it does! I promised you I would publish that article. To get you the recognition you deserve! And instead? I stupidly declare the nature of our relationship, and my editor throws it out." Tears roll faster down her face.

He decided almost instantly that dwelling on her interpretation of 'the nature of their relationship' would be fruitless. Instead, Jess reached out to her, but she ignored his hand until he said, "Hey. Rory. Come here." Not making eye contact, Rory allowed Jess to pull her into his body again, her back nestled comfortably against his chest.

"It's not just that," she told him. "I just feel lost. Nothing makes sense, and I don't trust my own judgement. I don't feel like I'm making a difference."

He had to let out a chuckle at that. "Rory, by being you, you make a difference. You are an incredible, talented, selfless and beautiful person. You're amazing."

She fell quiet for a moment, and Jess kissed her shoulder, having nothing to add to that.

"Do you remember that night that I was helping you study?" Jess smiled in recognition, having thought about that night in her car that Dean had built, recently, himself. "I told you that I wanted to be the next Christiane Amanpour? Where did that girl go, Jess? I wanted so much from life – but look at me."

Jess shook his head, bemused by her outlook. "You of all people should know that I don't say anything without wholeheartedly meaning it," he said softly. "Do you really think I'm lying about you being incredible?" Rory was still crying, and with Jess' words, she started sobbing. "Ror'," he bemoaned, pained by her upset.

She curled forward, out of his arms, her head in her own. She sat for a moment, hugging her head to her chest, then she turned to look at him with a miserable smile. "How did you get in here?" she asked with amusement that didn't meet her eyes. Her face was blotchy and pink, but grey also, her eyes red and watery. Jess just wanted to hold her together.

Jess knew that she wanted to stop talking about her internal turmoil, but he hesitated in taking her avenue in breezing past it, wanting more than anything than to find out what was really going on with her. But he wouldn't push her – it just wasn't Jess. She knew this, he knew, and so he sighed. "I used a credit card. I'm buying you a new lock, because I barely had to try. You realise you live in New York city, and not crazy-town anymore? You need to be safe, and actually have a lock that isn't so easily broken into. Deadbolts. That's what I'm getting you."

She nodded, actually amused by his words, pursing her lips. "You realise how like Luke you sounded just then, right?"

"Yeah, well, he's been right about a few things in his time, including that."

She smiled, wiping away some of her tears, then laughing. "You're awful high on that horse considering it was you who just broke into my apartment, and not some … marauder."

"Marauder?" Jess asked in humour. He shook his head at her, before watching her as she awkwardly tried to tidy herself a little. She was self-conscious. Jess bit his lip, dragging a hand through his hair, awkward because she was awkward. "Listen, I'm going to have to call your Mom. Um … unless you …?" Rory shook her head to his silent question. "Okay. I'll phone her while you shower, then I'll make you something to eat from the probable nothing in your kitchen. Sound good?" Rory was avoiding his eye, and she was biting the inside of her cheek. She was loathed to accept help – she had always been like that. Jess almost smiled at the nostalgia. To keep from doing so, he bit his lip a little more, before standing up.

She looked at him seriously for a moment, before saying, "You didn't have to come, Jess." She said it gently, almost disappointed in him.

He thought about her statement for a moment, in wonder, actually, about how little she knew about how he felt about her. Rory was always an unsuspecting thing – she never realised how very much people cared about her. She always underestimated Jess – but he just couldn't hold it against her, because she truly felt she didn't deserve the commitment.

He didn't answer her exactly. He rounded the bed and helped her gently to her feet, holding her to his side for a second, before releasing her. "Go on," he told her, nudging her towards her en-suite.

Being implicit was Jess' speciality, hating to share his emotions with the outside world – even those closest to him. But perhaps, he thought, Rory may be one thing he may have to be explicit about.

She closed the door with a click, and after a few seconds, Jess could hear the shower running. He smiled, glad he could at least get her out of bed, in which she seemed to have spent at least several days.

He slid his phone out from his pocket, and made his way to the kitchen, scrolling to the top of his recent calls list, and hitting Lorelai's number.

She answered on the second ring. "Jess, have you found her?"

"Hi. Yeah, I've found her. She's … well, she's in her apartment. She's not hurt or anything. Not in the physical sense, anyway."

"Expand a little."

Jess dragged a hand through his hair. "It's hard to explain. It's … she feels lost and … I don't know. I haven't got all that much out of her. But she's okay. She's showering right now."

Lorelai hesitated on the other end of the line, then said, "Did you find her immobile in her bed?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Like mother like daughter, huh? Her depression reaction is just the same. I need to get to New York."

Jess bit his lip, shaking his head. "I'm … I can look after her, Lorelai. I got her out of bed. I got her in the shower. I'll get her to call you when she can. I think she just needs a bit of time to … recuperate."

Lorelai thought about it for a moment. "As soon as possible," she said, eventually. "I hate that I'm so far away from her when she needs me."

"I know the feeling," he said quietly. "I'll take care of her."

"Thank you, Jess. You really are a good man." He laughed, thinking that she was joking. She continued, seriously, "No, I really mean it. You're more like your Uncle than I ever gave you credit for when you were a kid – to run in order to help my daughter whenever she needs you, whatever the circumstance. Did Luke ever tell you about when we broke up the first time?" Jess told her no. "I was having a hard time. I couldn't move from bed. I couldn't do anything. Rory tried to help, but she had to go back to Yale. I called him because I was thinking about the movie, The Way We Were? I got his answering machine, and I asked him to come over, and … well, I realised how crazy it was to be calling him and asking him to come over, because he was mad at me, and I ran over to his apartment to take the tape back. By the time I got home, he'd broken in to check if I was okay. He came, despite everything I'd done to him. And broke in – actually broke in – to see that I was okay." Jess exhaled, reeling from the gratitude in Lorelai's voice. "You, Jess, are a good man."

Jess didn't say anything in response, only "I'll get Rory to call."

"Bye, Jess. And thank you."

"No problem." He clicked the end call button, staring at the blank screen of his phone for a moment, before turning his attention to Rory's refrigerator. It was no surprise to him that it was empty. Thinking for a moment, he knew Rory would be hungry, even if she didn't want to eat. He called for take-out, and ordered pizza. He figured that even if she only ate a slice now, she'd have something in the apartment for later.

By the time Rory re-emerged, Jess had tidied away the articles that she'd left all over the floor in her living room, leaving them neatly in a pile on her coffee table. He had made her coffee, and handed it to her as she made her way to sit down, avoiding his eye. He sat down next to her on the same couch they had fallen asleep on the last time he had seen her.

"Was Mom mad?" she asked, after taking her first sip of coffee, and closing her eyes in visible bliss. Jess had always loved watching her drink coffee – it was as if she had never tasted anything as sweet every time she put a cup of it to her lips.

He shook his head at her question. "No, she's not mad." Rory's eyes found his, her eyes made more blue by the reddish whites. "She's just worried about you." Rory looked away, nodding and cradling her mug of coffee. "I told her that she shouldn't drive up here – was I wrong in saying that?" She shook her head, her eyes spaced out, looking across the room at a fixed point dazedly. "I told her I would have you call her when you were ready, too."

Rory nodded. "I will."

"I called for pizza, also. You had nothing. I wasn't exactly surprised at that, of course." She almost cracked a smile. Her hair was wet, and dripping on to her shoulders, but Rory didn't appear to notice. "I'll grab you a towel for your hair," he told her, jumping up and leaving the room before she could respond. When he got to her bathroom, he grabbed a towel from the heated rail, and, feeling that it was dry, made his way back to Rory. He hesitated, before sitting on the couch arm beside her, and moving her hair gently off her shoulders, trying to dry it a little with the towel, before placing the towel around her shoulders. She snapped out of her thoughts as he did this, turning a little to look at him. She smiled softly in thanks, and Jess squeezed her shoulder lightly.

The pizza arrived a little while later. Jess gave her a slice on a plate from the kitchen, and she ate it slowly, much to his relief. Rory not eating was not a well Rory at all.

After she ate two slices, Jess felt his chest release a little. She looked up at him when he smiled, and responded in kind. "I can't believe you drove all the way from Philadelphia to check on me again," she told him. He smiled a little more in response.

"Is the surprise at me driving a distance, or is it at me wanting to check on you?"

"Both," she answered swiftly.

Jess laughed softly. "I live here, now," he informed her, diverting his eyes downward to avoid her eye.

"You moved to New York? When?" she asked, indignant.

"About a month ago."

"Why didn't you tell me you were moving? Did you leave Truncheon? Did you publish enough books to move on?" Her animation increased with every question, and Jess' eyes sparkled as he watched her.

He shrugged in response to her first question. "It wasn't definite until a few months ago. Then we had to train up staff to replace us in Philly. I'm still with Truncheon. Me and Chris opened another branch here. And no, I definitely didn't publish enough books to leave my actual paying job," he laughed along with his last statement.

Rory placed her coffee down on the table in front of them, and threw her arms around him, so suddenly it almost threw him off-balance. "That's incredible! Congratulations, Dodger," she whispered into the hollow of his ear. He shivered, but covered it by laughing.

"Thanks."

She half-pulled away to look at him, her gaze dancing over his features. "I know I have no right to be, but I'm so proud of you, Jess."

Jess frowned in amusement. "No right to be? You're the reason I've done all this – you were the only one who believed I wasn't just a deadbeat punk with an iceberg-sized chip on his shoulder."

She shook her head, smiling, laughter dancing in her eyes. "No, Jess. You did all you've done because you believed in yourself for once."

"Only because you did." It was frank, and Rory hesitated, before hugging him again.

"I'm so proud of you," she reiterated. Jess pressed a kiss on top of her damp hair, smiling. "I can't believe we live in the same place again."

He hummed in affirmation into her hair, closing his eyes, revelling in the feel of her against him. It felt natural – the only thing that had ever immediately felt natural to him. Physical contact with Rory was like breathing – inevitable and easy.

-break-

A/N: Whaaaat? An update within two weeks? What's the world coming to?

Hope you like this. We're nudging closer.

If you haven't noticed, I'm a fan of the slow burn. If you hate that, please don't read this. It will definitely frustrate you, and I don't want to be responsible for that. There's one reviewer in particular who I'm aiming this comment at. Please stop reading this, because you hate it – and that's fine, everyone's entitled to their opinion, however ineloquent. But you need to stop torturing yourself by reading a story which doesn't fit in with your impatient attitude. Thanks for giving it a go … for ten chapters.

To those of you who actually like this, thank you so much for continuing to read and review. If you do like it, please drop me a review. I'd very much appreciate it.

Love you all,

Eutony x