A week passed, and Rory couldn't bring herself to reply to Jess. She knew she needed to. She couldn't leave it like that. She wanted to have that clean slate. She wanted that even playing field. She thought maybe they finally had the potential for that. Or had it already, maybe, considering she had told him she loved him, and he'd said nothing, just like years before in her freshman year at Yale – that Firelight Festival and Jess' desperate, sorry expression was cauterised into her memory. She closed her eyes and pushed the pain back – something she seemed to be doing often.
She tried to think of something happy – eating pizza and watching movies, agonizing over what Tolstoy meant by that one paragraph, whether Coldplay was an alternative band or not, how amazing Brody Dalle was, the fact that there was only 22.8 miles between Yale and Stars Hollow … Rory allowed herself to smile, laying back on her bed in her childhood bedroom, looking up at the ceiling that her Mom had affixed those greenish glow-in-the-dark stars to many years previous. She felt better, being in this place. With her Mom, and Luke, and Lane … but she knew she didn't belong here anymore. Not permanently.
Her pro/con lists lay across the room on her desk, and they told a story. She was going back to New York. She was quitting her job. She knew what she was going to do. She finally had a tangible plan, and, with the help of her Mom, she knew all of her decisions would be what was best for her. She had faith in that. Finally.
Pulling herself up into a sitting position, she glanced over at her bag that she'd packed already, and then to her Yale wall, and to her empty bookshelves. Some things were in the past. Other things were in the future, and for the first time in months, Rory was excited about the future.
-break-
Lia was glaring at Jess over the book he read, but he was ignoring her. She'd been trying to get his attention since she and Matt had arrived in New York over a week ago, and he'd decided to himself that he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that he was irritated by her. Her whole being was just a little too close to the bone – how he'd been, when he was sixteen, seventeen, twenty … Her belligerence, her smirking, ugh. Being around her was shaming.
"Mariano," she eventually said flatly, stopping in front of him, making first contact. He smirked in triumph as he lowered his book. She glowered at him. "I need your help with something." Jess quirked his eyebrow at her, silently asking her what in the world she needed his help with. She sighed, shaking her newly dyed bright red hair out of her face, flustered.
"What?" he asked impatiently after she was silent for a beat too long.
She sighed, leaning on the counter next to him, looking away from his face. "I think I like Matt."
Jess fought not to laugh at her as her face began to match her hair. He nodded seriously for a moment, expertly hiding his amusement, and said, "And you chose me to talk to about your feelings."
Lia groaned, hitting her head off the counter. "Now you see how desperate I am!"
"Just ask him out. He plainly likes you."
"I have. He keeps thinking I'm taking the piss," she told him, glaring at him for his obvious suggestion.
Jess frowned, shaking his head in dismissal. "Maybe ask him out seriously – like, don't mock him while you're doing it. Is it so painful to be vulnerable?"
"Are you seriously asking that question?" she asked in dead-pan, staring at him as if her answer was obvious – yes. Yes it was painful to be vulnerable. Jess could hear that – he'd felt that.
"I don't know what to tell you, Lia. You'll just have to suck it up – we all have to be vulnerable at some point."
Her eyes lingered on his as if she were coming to some sort of decision, and she sighed. "You're right. Thank you."
Jess' eyebrows raised in surprise at her words. "No problem."
She bit her lip, dropping her eyes from his, and said, "You had a shitty childhood, too, huh?" she asked. Jess watched her as she shifted uncomfortably. "It's hard to let someone make you happy when your first instinct is to self-destruct, isn't it?"
Jess' chest compressed in pain at her words. "Yeah," he managed to choke out.
She smiled and looked up at him, her eyes wet. "Yeah," she echoed.
Jess bit his lip, dragging his hand through his hair nervously, and asked, "Do you write, Lia?"
Lia laughed, closing her eyes and dropping her head back. "Like it's a lifeline."
Jess watched her in thought. "Leave some when you go back to Philly. I'll read it over. I'll publish it if it's good. We seem to align well, don't we?"
She looked at him, grinning, before forcing a hug on him. "Thank you, Jess," she said, as if he'd made her life. He laughed a little as he patted her arm awkwardly. She grinned brightly as she pulled away and ran upstairs, presumably to find Matt. He sighed, unable to stop smiling, knowing that he'd made her a little happier.
The week had been good, Matt and Lia making the load much lighter, and now that Chris was on the mend, they had been planning to go back home the next day. They were going out for goodbye drinks at a local bar, because, as Chris had reminded them, they were still too young to be at home reading or painting or writing on a Saturday night (despite the fact that it's what they'd all prefer). They had all begrudgingly agreed to this plan, and decided to shut up the store early.
"You ready to go?" Chris asked, practically bouncing down the stairs. "I say we get a running start."
Jess looked at him in interest, and Chris shrugged, "Matt and Lia ..."
"Ah," Jess said in realisation, stuffing his book in his back pocket. "They better be using your bed," Jess said, laughing.
Chris smirked. "Sure. Let's say that," he laughed, causing Jess to groan in displeasure.
-break-
If I never see you again
I will always carry you
inside
outside
on my fingertips
and at brain edges
and in the centres
centres
of what I am of
what remains
He recited the poetry in his head, Bukowski speaking more sense than his own thoughts. His thoughts were drunk. Of course, most of the time, so was Bukowski, but that mattered little to Jess as he sunk another beer.
They were laughing, making fun of Matt as they always did, and Jess' heart felt light, his friends surrounding him. If seventeen year old Jess had been watching, his lip would curl. Then reality hit, and the room shifted before he realised anything had changed and Rory entered the bar. "Shit," he choked across another of Chris' anecdotes. Three sets of eyes turned on him, and he sat paralysed.
"What is it, bro?" Chris asked, looking at Jess, then to where Jess was looking, and he swore too.
"What do you want to do?" Matt asked him, leaning closer to Jess in the booth.
"What's going on?" Lia asked curiously. She followed the three men's line of sight. "Is she an ex or something?"
Jess almost laughed the simplicity of her phrasing. She wasn't wrong. Rory was 'an ex or something'. But the pain Jess felt at the unexpected sighting of her, and the knowledge that she was back in New York and she hadn't come to see him, never called him … it spoke more words than were needed between them (the irony of the feeling wasn't lost on him, either).
Chris just nodded at Lia, and Matt muttered, "I'll tell you about it later."
Jess shrugged, reaching for another drink from his glass, and shook his head as he swallowed. "I don't want to do anything. Except drink. Who's round is it?" he asked, before draining his almost-full glass.
Chris stood and waved over the wait-staff. "Two pitchers of beer and a round of shots. Thanks."
Jess' heart rate was returning to normal, and he could no longer hear thundering in his ears, but his wrists and chest still ached in pain. He thanked his lucky stars that she had chosen to sit at the other side of the bar with her group – he guessed her workmates. He could only see the back of her head. Matt and Chris kept shooting him concerned looks, and he attempted a smile. "I'm fine." The shots and beer arrived, and they all took the glasses and clinked them lightly together, some running down their hands as they placed the glasses to their lips. He reminded himself of her remorse for being in love with him as he poured alcohol on that newly reopened wound and hissed, slamming down the glass on the wooden table and wished his heart was made of the same stuff.
-break-
When the pitchers were drained, they left, Jess feeling sick and drunk and sick. When the night air hit him, he suddenly felt sober and raw, and he had to lean against the wall of the bar for a moment, both hands stretched above his bowed head on the cold stone. "Jess," Chris said, "It's almost closing time," he reminded him, silently reminding him that Rory would be on the street in mere minutes. "Fuck," he said, seconds later. "Jess."
"Are you okay?" Rory asked, concern in her voice. Jess turned his head away from her, wishing her away for a second, immaturely.
Jess pushed himself away from the wall eventually, turning to look at Rory Gilmore, her skin opalescent in the moonlight. He didn't smile in greeting – he couldn't. He nodded silently. "You're back," he managed.
Rory bit her lip, before looking awkwardly to their audience. "Have you guys had a good night?" smiling round at them.
Matt and Chris didn't answer, but Lia, surprisingly, took to Jess' rescue. "Jess has been very entertaining, getting very drunk for us all to laugh at. He's .. um, we should probably get him home, really. He's not in the best way. I think he drank for all of us, tonight."
Rory frowned a little, looking to Jess for the punchline, because Jess was not a drink-until-inebriated sort of person, and Rory knew it. She didn't know the reason why, but she knew the fact. When she received no correction from him, she looked down. "Okay, well …"
"I'm Lia, by the way. I help out at the Philly store – we've not met. You are?" Lia said, reaching out to shake Rory's hand.
"Rory. Gilmore," Rory replied in automatic politeness.
"Is Rory short for something?"
"Lorelai," she told her. "Lia must be, too?" she asked, distracted by the woman Jess had only just befriended that afternoon. He took the distraction in his advantage and took a few slow breaths.
"Cecilia," Lia groaned. "Perfectly horrific, don't you think? You can't blame me for shortening it."
Rory laughed politely, before turning towards the two men to her left. "It's nice to see you again, Chris … Matthew."
"Sure," Chris answered. Matt nodded stonily.
Rory shifted awkwardly under four gazes. "Jess, can I talk to you?"
They all waited for Jess' answer, and he took his time, weighing his options. He eventually nodded, looking towards Matt, "I'll meet you guys at home – I'll take the couch," he offered, and Matt nodded, pulling along Chris who clearly disagreed with Jess' decision. Once they were gone, Jess returned is gaze to the Gilmore girl. "Hi," he said.
"Hi," she replied, smiling. "How are you?"
"Drunk," he answered, not asking her the same question. "How are you getting home?"
"I was going to take a cab," she answered, frowning at him.
"What is it from here? Four blocks? I'll walk you," he told her unsmilingly, and silently asked her to lead the way. She did, but she was apprehensive. After three and a half blocks of walking, she broke the dead silence as though she couldn't stand it any longer.
"Jess, tell me what's wrong? Please?"
"Nothing is wrong," he told her, avoiding her eyes.
"Jess."
"Are you staying in New York, then?"
"Uh … yeah, I'm staying in New York still."
"You didn't call me when you got back." Rory begrudgingly shook her head, looking remorseful.
"I think that says everything, doesn't it? Are you cold? Here," he said, taking his leather jacket off and handing her it. She stared at it in her hands for a moment, before wrapping it around herself, and shaking her head.
"Just tell me if you're angry with me."
"Why would I be angry at you?" he asked evenly, not giving her a second glance.
"Jess," she said in reprimand, and he almost snapped at her authoritative tone, but he kept his cool. She stopped outside her building and sat on the stoop. Jess stood leaning on the stone banister.
"Your job? You staying with the Book Review?"
She shook her head. "Um, no … I thought I might apply for CNN … NBC, maybe."
"Good." He bobbed his head twice, the stared off to the other side of the street, where a homeless man was trying to grab hold of some sort of cardboard in a dumpster – probably to sleep on. He bit his lip, pitying him. He forgot about pitying himself.
"Is that all you have to say?" she asked hotly. He tore his eyes off the elderly gentleman and half-glanced down at her.
"I just don't think there is much else to say, Rory. Maybe we'll see each other at Christmas? I don't know what you want from me." He said all of this calmly, and he hated himself for it, knowing that his words could hurt her. Then he reminded himself of her apology after telling him she loved him, and he steeled himself again.
"Is that what you want?" Rory asked, hurt written all over her face, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
Jess laughed once at her question. He had a lot of answers for that one, but after silent deliberation, his stony mask slipped, and he told her, "You should have called." She didn't reply, but two fat tears spilled from her eyes, and, closing them in embarrassment, she squeezed out more. "I wasn't asking for the world, Ror'. Just a phone call. I know it's ironic that I'm upset about it, considering our history, but I never thought you – you of all people would try to force-feed me my own medicine."
Rory was quiet, but eventually said, evenly, "Jess, I wasn't." She wiped at her wet cheeks, trying to steel herself. "I wasn't," she said, more definitely. "I just feel like I've done you enough damage over the years, and that you've done enough damage to me, too."
Jess rubbed his face roughly with his hand. "I sounds like the pro/con lists were conclusive," he said mockingly, feeling as though she'd struck him in the chest.
There was malice in her voice when she said, "Actually, your pro/con list very much was."
"Good. Well, have a nice life, I guess," Jess said sarcastically, still not looking at her sitting on the stone steps of her apartment.
She stood after he spoke, though, and firmly turned his head to her when he still didn't make eye contact, her hand on his cheek, being inordinately close. "Jess ..." she lost her train of thought when he made eye contact, the pain clear in his eyes – he knew, because he could see it reflected back in hers. She frowned.
"What?" he asked, breathless, unsure of what to do.
Rory watched him intensely and impossibly close for a moment longer, before her eyes flickered down to his lips, and she took another step towards him. "Jess ..." she breathed against his mouth, before she placed her mouth on his, stepping further into him, pressing him against the stone banister, making it impossible for Jess to do anything but pull her closer, place a hand on the back of her head, cradling her and caressing her hair, inhale her, love her … Impossible. His whole body ached in a new, more agonising way, making him shudder.
She broke the kiss, looking down to their chests, pressed together. "Sorry," she told him.
"Are you?" he croaked, emotion seeping into his throat, strangulating his vocal cords.
She smiled in a bitter way, before shaking her head. She pushed herself out of his arms a little, letting Jess' arms fall limply down by his sides. "No," she answered. "Not ever. That – it's always like the first time, isn't it?"
He didn't answer her. She knew the answer. She watched him as his eyes answered her instead. She smiled sadly. Jess kissed her forehead. "It's almost 4 A.M," he said, seeing that his watch read 03:47 A.M. "You should go inside."
Rory bit her lip, glancing up to her door, before turning back to Jess. "When will we understand each other, Jess?" she asked, vaguely. Jess frowned, unsure of her meaning, before shrugging.
"I guess when we both say what we mean."
She nodded thoughtfully, seemingly agreeing with his answer. She took of his jacket and handed him it. "I promise to call you tomorrow, Jess. I think … sobriety on both of our parts is … preferable. Okay?"
Jess bit his lip, his eyes wide, nodding. "Tomorrow," he agreed.
"Okay," she repeated, before touching her lips to his cheek and disappearing inside her apartment. Before she clicked the lock shut, she turned back to him with her sad smile and Jess looked up at her in wonder – how she could be so beautiful?
-break-
A/N: Hello again. Both of them are out of character and I'm sorry. I've agonised over this. But I figure that Rory was pretty dramatically changed over the last few series, and that all that I've written for her would have changed her further. As for Jess, well, same goes for him, I guess, maybe to a lesser extent. Nevertheless, here it is. They are close, now. Finally.
I'm so glad that some people enjoy this story. You guys are the best.
