I still own nothing...I'll have to work on that.

She was wakened the next morning by the dull yet pounding pain in her head. Her mouth tasted like acid and her skin crawled from the smoke-filled bar of the night before. Her dreams had been a struggle between Jess and Logan. She had dreamt of her bittersweet time with Jess, his love, and her injury to him the night before, in so many ways. His heart and his pride had been tampered with. In spite of their less-than-perfect relationship, he had not deserved the treatment she had wielded.

Her dreams of Logan were riddled with his dishonesty. Wishful thinking seeped through and she dreamt of him as sweet and innocent, pure and genuine. Every time she smiled in her sleep, though, his image quickly altered to embrace his whorish tendencies, his fake smile, and his poor treatment of those he viewed as beneath him.

She lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the blood pounding in her head and the hypnotizing rhythm of her own breathing. The apartment was quiet. She took in her surroundings in Jess's room. It was small and masculine, with books crowded onto pine shelves. A small desk was home to a dusty computer and stacks of notebooks as well as a dictionary, thesaurus and encyclopedia. Her thoughts drifted to Jess and his rescue the night before. When he had bid her good night, she couldn't even look at him. Earlier, when he had gone to make up the bed for her, he had looked at her in a way that she was sure would have killed her if she had been any more ill. His jaw was held tight with disappointment, his eyes were pitiful for her, his fingers cracked their knuckles silently in uncomfortable waves of tension. She briefly considered sneaking out before Jess woke up, just so she wouldn't have to see him look at her like that again. Thinking twice, she realized it would probably be worse to do that to him. No, she had to stay, to suffer the humility. Maybe then he would see that she was not good enough for him.

Jess's eyes blinked open early. The couch was painfully uncomfortable and his back throbbed from the night. He inched his neck to the night and felt the crack run down his spine. His eyes found their way to his bedroom door, closed and cold. He stared at the wood grain pattern, wondering what Rory was dreaming about. He vaguely wished that she had left in the middle of the night, just so he wouldn't have to witness her emotionally emaciated state yet again. He sat up on the couch, rubbing his eye sockets with his thumb and forefinger, and feeling the piercing sting on his eyeballs. He rose and walked toward his room. At the door he paused and listened. Rory's breathing was faint and steady. Jess felt a tug inside his body, and hesitated. He cracked the door open. Rory's back was too him, her body lost under the thin bedspread. In one swift move he grabbed the jeans and t-shirt from the top of the dresser by the door and backed out, forcing himself not to look at her.

In the tiny apartment bathroom, Jess splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth. He changed into the clothes much more slowly than necessary. The apartment was still. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, searching his own face for something. He a bed creak, a hung-over moan, and a soft shuffle. He couldn't find anything on his face. No reason, no emotion. He was blank, an unwritten novel.

Jess came out of the bathroom just in time to see Matthew come stumbling into the living room. He winced when he passed through the patch of sunlight streaming in through the skylight, the rays burning his eyes and skin.

"Ahh, Buon giorno, Principessa!!" Jess said, cracking a rare smile.

"Umph, I hate you," Matthew moaned, collapsing on the couch.

"No worries, sunshine, I'm off to get coffee and bagels."

"And pickles, get pickles," Matthew's voice was barely audible, his face buried in a pillow.

"Why pickles?" Jess asked, pulling on his jacket.

Matthew turned his face toward Jess, "I don't know, just do it man." Jess shook his head at his roommates as Chris joined them in the living room. He sunk into a faded armchair.

"God, I'm tired," Chris sighed. "What happened to you last night?" He asked Jess. "You completely blew us off. Are we over, or what?"

"Ahh, nothing," Jess answered quickly. "I'm going to get food, any requests?"

"Nah, the usual," Chris glanced at Matthew on the couch. Jess carefully made his way over to his room again, where he had left his wallet. Chris stood up to stretch his legs, "You sleep out here last night, Jess?" He asked suddenly. Jess's hand had already turned the doorknob and begun to push the door open.

"Ah, yeah." Jess replied.

"Porque?" Chris inquired, rather intensely.

Jess shrugged, "No reason." He couldn't wait for Chris to turn away so he positioned himself in front of the door so that his friend couldn't see in the room when he opened the door. The maneuver didn't work.

Rory was now turned toward the door, her face peaceful in rest, her messy hair sprawled across the pillow. Chris had taken a step forward and seen her face. Jess retrieved his wallet and stepped out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him. The sight was enough to sober Chris. Jess started for the door.

"I'll be back," he said, jingling the keys in his pocket. "And I won't forget the pickles." He added when Matthew raised his head and squinted.

"There's a pretty girl in your bed, Jess," Chris said quietly, an intrigued smile parting his lips. Matthew looked up, first at Chris, and then to Jess, stalled by the door.

"There's a pretty girl in your bed, and you slept on the couch." Chris took the necessary steps forward to nearly corner Jess. "What's going on?"

Jess jingled the keys in his pocket again, and glanced at the floor before meeting his friend's eyes. "Nothing's going on; she needed a place to sleep. Don't bug her, okay? I'll be back in a few." Jess left the room, hurrying down the stairs to the bookstore.

Back in the apartment, Chris looked at Matthew, who raised his eyebrows, before following Jess down the stairs. He caught up with him just outside the front door.

"Who is she?" Chris asked, nearly knocking Jess over on the street. Jess brushed him off and headed down the sidewalk without answering. Chris followed, "She's the old friend, isn't she." He stated, more than asked, as he recalled the familiarity of her face.

"If you keep following me, looking like you do right now, you just might get arrested, and I won't do a damn thing to stop it," Jess said coolly. Chris grabbed his arm and forced Jess to a halt.

"C'mon, man. What's the story with the girl?" Jess's dark eyes burned as the story of the girl flashed over them.

"No story to tell," he said absentmindedly.

Chris dropped his arm, "I know you better than that man. I saw the way you looked at her last night, and I saw you talking to her at the bar last night, and now she's asleep in your bed, and you look like you've been through hell and back."

"Forget it," Jess said. "Forget it," he repeated, a little more desperately. Chris stared at him for a minute before turning around and heading back to the apartment. Jess watched him go silently; hating the fact that Chris could read him so easily. He continued down the sidewalk to the nearby bakery. Waiting for his order, he couldn't help but wonder how the day would end. Every time he had encountered Rory since his less than fabulous exit from her life he could only hope that she wouldn't scream at him, or slap him, or completely ignore him. This time was different though. She had come to him, though the results were not what he had hoped for. Or maybe this time wasn't so different. Once again, he was holding his breath, waiting for what she would say or not say, do or not do.

Standing in the light of a beautiful day which was streaming in through the window of a candy colored bakery, he wondered if how the day would end, and if today would be the last time he ever saw her.

Not a lot happend in this chapter, I know. I promise the next one will be better...

Reviews are nice and thanks to everyone who already submitted!