A/N: Thanks for all the encouraging comments. I also have to correct myself; the episode is 4.12 for "A Family Matter," not 4.21 (Thank you Michaela Martin!)

Oh, and uh. Sorry for all the paragraphs. I feel I have a strange connection to Jess so I tend to get a little … verbose when describing his emotions.

Two

Jess feels like an idiot, and a prick, and a jerk as he sits in the bookstore, slightly shell-shocked at what has just taken place. Rory has left him, instead of the other way around. It makes him angry and it serves him right, too, because he knows he deserves it. Rory hasn't seen him since his bus ride to California, and hasn't heard from him since the many times he called and hung up before she got a chance to say anything.

She deserved better than that. She deserved better than him. He just wishes she'd give him a chance to explain why he did what he did, or how much he truly loves her and how many times he curses himself at night for leaving her, or how all the girls in California and New York combined couldn't hold a candle to her, and how he's sure that will always be the case.

At the same time, he knows she doesn't have to listen to him. Hell, if he were Rory, he wouldn't listen either. His track record isn't exactly spotless. There's absolutely no reason for her to bother believing anything he says.

And yet there's a glimmer of hope, a small spark in his heart that stays lit. Maybe she could listen to what he has to say. Maybe she could love him again. Maybe she never stopped to begin with. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

He wishes he never came to Stars Hollow in the first place. Damn Liz, always screwing things up. She should have expected this would happen. If she hadn't tried to be his best friend and act like she could help him out and talk to him and have sleepovers and act like she wasn't a horrible mother he wouldn't be here in Stars Hollow, again, and he wouldn't have to see Rory, again. Seeing Rory is torture, especially because he knows he can't be with her and that she probably goes home to throw darts at his picture.

Even though he only has seen her for five seconds, he still feels the same Rory Gilmore hangover: shaking hands, shallow breath, and racing pulses. Just a look into her eyes and he's gone, back to feeling like a seventeen year-old with a head over heels, mind-blowing crush on the girl next door who seems to hold all the secrets of the world in the palm of her hand and could make your dreams come true with a snap of her fingers.

He was no stranger to girls: when he was fourteen he'd had his first 'girlfriend,' some random chick whose name he can't place now. He wasn't in love with her; in fact, he hadn't even known what 'love' really was. All he knew was that she was sexy, and curvaceous, and a hell of a kisser. And until he came to Stars Hollow, all he knew was that: sexy girls who knew what to do with their tongues. He didn't care about deep conversations or, hell, even dates. He had flings and he was fine with that.

It wasn't until Rory Gilmore that he knew what beauty and intelligence and class was, and how a cute blush on a girl who you've just told a naughty joke to is even more endearing and 'sexy' than a girl who can say a dirty joke back. Until he came to Stars Hollow, he didn't even know he was capable to love anyone as strongly as he loved Rory.

And he did love Rory, more than anything in the world. He never said it, mainly because it was impossible for the boy who never heard it to say it and sound like he meant it. He said he loved you through his kisses and his stares and his soft embraces and his lightest of touches, and Rory knew exactly what he meant. They had a shared language of silence together.

But Jess, as always, screwed up. Screwing up is in his genetic make-up. His mom was a screw-up, his father was a screw-up, and their parents were screw-ups. No matter what Jess has ever done, he's managed to mess it up somehow and usually to the point of no repair. And like his oh-so-lovely and caring father, he has a tendency to run. Something bad will happen and instead of fixing it or saying he's sorry, or admitting his mistakes, he leaves it for other people to tend to. Because that's just what Jess does.

He'd hate himself if he was Rory. Hell, he hates himself already.

Suddenly he hears a voice from the front of the once-quiet bookstore.

"Um, my daughter was in here a little while ago… Do you happen to have this book?"

Shit, shit, shit. Lorelai Gilmore is not the person he wants to see right now. He's had enough run-ins with her when he was on Rory's good side to know that Lorelai hated him from the beginning and would hate him until she died (or he did. And even then, she'd probably curse his soul to eternal damnation, or get Mrs. Kim to do it at least.) He quickly tries to think of a plan – hide? Run away? Oh, yeah, that's perfect. Do exactly what got you into the mess in the first place.

"Oh, yeah, Lorelai, it's the third shelf to the left. The hardcover with a red spine… If you need any help, just shout, okay?"

"Okay, thanks!"

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shitShe's coming towards his hiding spot. Maybe if he hides a book in front of his face… He reaches over to the first book he touches and pulls it open, making it look like he's reading.

Confused and unable to find the book, she turns around, glancing past Jess and looking through the bookcase next to him. Suddenly she sees the book Jess is holding, and grins.

"Excuse me… My daughter's been looking for that book. Where did you find it?"

Don't say anything, don't say anything, pretend you're a mute, just don't fucking say anything.

"…Um. Excuse me, Helen Keller? I'm talking to you here. Are you going to talk back, or…?"

Danger, Will Robinson, danger!

"TakethebookI'mleaving," he says in one breath, shoving the book in her face and running out the door.

Because Jess is so good at that whole running thing.

It takes Lorelai a few minutes to realize that she's just had a book thrown at her. She's still recovering from this when she finally notices – oh, no way – Jess was the one who shoved it in the first place. I am going to kill that little punk! She thinks hotly, throwing the book at the cashier and saying "Hold this for me, Joe."

She runs out of the store, looking around for a minute before finally spotting Jess' familiar James-Dean-wannabe stride. She quickens her pace and catches up to him, tapping him on the shoulder roughly.

He spins around, ready to curse out the person who's interrupted his getaway, until he realizes Lorelai has followed him. "Oh. Hello there," he says in what he hopes is a very unafraid tone. Because he's very, very afraid.

"Don't 'oh hello there' me you little… little messy-haired miscreant!" she yells, stuttering slightly as she attempts to come up with a good insult.

"Messy-haired miscreant?"

She ignores this comment. "Who the hell do you think you are, sauntering back into town like you own the place? You're not wanted here, Jess. Go back to where you came from!"

He attempts to keep his breathing even. "I'm just here to take what's mine," he says. He briefly wonders whether he means the car or Rory.

"She doesn't love you anymore, Jess. She doesn't even think about you. She has moved so far on."

Jess decides to play dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She crosses her arms. "Oh, don't act like she's not the reason you came here!"

"I came here for my car."

"That's bull. Your car was a piece of crap, and I find it hard to believe you'd come all the way here just to take it back."

Jess laughs dryly. "I could care less what you find difficult to believe."

"Stay away from my daughter," she says warningly, walking back to the store.

He watches her leave and wishes things were different.

Rory has reorganized her room four times, made six to-do lists planning out her entire senior year of college, come up with thirty-seven books she hasn't read but really wants to, downloaded six songs that Lane mentioned a while ago, and has thought about Jess while doing all of it. She finds it annoying that he can pop up out of the blue and occupy her thoughts. She feels silly and stupid and wishes he'd just go and stay gone.

And at the same time she wants to rush to him and demand an explanation.

It's not like she hasn't thought about what he might say before, anyway. After he left, back when she was still hurt by it and attempting to move on and lick her wounds, she'd daydream about him returning with beautiful things to say.

'I left because I was stupid and irresponsible and I didn't want to disappoint you.'

'I wasn't ready for you then, but I am now.'

'I thought about you constantly.'

'I love you.'

She laughs bitterly at that last one. Realistically, expecting him to say 'I love you' after such a long time would be like waiting for rain in a drought. He didn't say he loved her when they were together, or when they'd kiss, or even when they'd hang up the phone after a long conversation. It was always her "I love you, Jess," and his "Bye" or "Yeah" or "Me too." All cop-outs that disappointed her constantly.

She wants to hate him for everything. She almost does. And yet there's a part of her that can't.