A/N: Sorry for the time. Wow. I haven't written fanfiction for so long. I'm not really sure if I have what it takes anymore. You read and decide.

3. God Put a Smile Upon Your Face

She closed her eyes. She could still smell him, his husky voice whispering in her ear. Rory reached up and rubbed her eyes, then let her linger on a scar next to her temple. This had been when he back-hand slapped her.

She took a deep breath. She didn't want to listen to his message. She couldn't hear his voice. She couldn't think of him.

She let a tear escape her eyes. How could he have known where they were? They weren't in the phonebook, and she warned Rhett to never use his real name on the internet. After all these years, and he still tormented her.

"Rory?" she heard Jess call, and the door close.

"In here!" she replied. She didn't even bother making herself look presentable. She saw him stand in her doorway. "What's up?" he asked wearingly.

She fake-smiled at him. "I'm fine."

"I know you better than that." He took stride to her bed. "What'd he do this time?"

"He called me." Her eyes fluttered open and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't cover the sadness reflected in them.

"You need to stop doing this, Ror. If you don't want to be affected, don't hide out. He's Rhett's father. You couldn't have possibly expected him to not pop back into your life. Even I expected it."

"He can't just do that."

She looked into his knowing eyes. "Everything will be alright."

LATER – RORY'S CLASSROOM

She had been teaching all day and that had left her legs aching, her head throbbing, and her mind sleepless. She couldn't help thinking about him. He was like that drug that you can't get out of your bloodstream.

She told herself time and time again that he didn't deserve her. Didn't deserve her thinking about him. Much less crying over him.

She let her mind wander as she sat on her comfortable chair in her empty classroom. Rhett had tutorial, so she had at least an hour and a half to herself.

"Knock knock," Jess announced as he entered. Alone no more.

"Thank God."

"What?"

"Unoccupied minds tend to wander."

"You want to talk about it?"

"I...," she sighed.

He waited for her to make her move.

"The last time I saw him…" she choked on her words.

He patiently awaited the end of her sentence. She started a new one instead.

"When we started… I thought I could have married him."

"I know."

"And then he…"

"I know."

"And he expects me to just accept his presence again. Like he did nothing wrong. All those years… of making me feel unworthy. Especially after… God. Why does this have to be so hard?"

"It's life. I say face it. And then tell me all the juicy details and I'll make you into a book. Beginning to the end. And who knows? There could a nice rekindling…?"

"Don't you even start. Saying his name puts a sour taste in my mouth."

"Well, you haven't mentioned his actual name for… what, ten years?"

"With good reason!" She yelled, and then calmed down. "You don't even know how much he hurt me, Jess. I just…"

"I do know because I had to pick up the pieces. Don't you remember that night?"

She had. It was right after everything, the end (or so she thought) of him, and she asked, more like begged for him to spend the night with her. He hadn't wanted to – he knew she was depressed – but didn't want to say no, because she was depressed. They never kissed during. He did it to help her. To make her feel like she did have something, someone. And it did help her.

"You know I'm sorry about that, Jess."

"Don't be sorry. You got better. You got on your feet again. And you will after this. You just need to let him in again. I'm not saying to give him another chance. Just… I don't know. Maybe he's different."

"Maybe he's the same."

"He has a right to see his son."

She looked down and knew he was right. "I don't have his phone number."

"Yes you do. Resources, Gilmore."

"What in the hell am I supposed to say?

THE NEXT SATURDAY

She looked around the almost empty diner. He chose the place and time. She hung up the phone with almost nothing but an approval. Rhett didn't know where she was going; he was snowboarding for the weekend upstate.

She dressed up in what were her most flattering jeans and a fitted top, high neckline. She was happy that she went on a cleansing diet two months prior. She looked good. Great. She wanted to make him feel horrible. She wanted him to look bad. She wanted him to hurt.

She sat in an empty booth, facing the window.

And then she saw him. The tears flooded her eyes almost instantly. Her heart burst. He looked phenomenal, extraordinary, just like before.

She saw him look around and then finally meet her eyes. She tore her eyes to the window. How was she going to get through this without a breakdown?

It seemed like it took forever for him to walk to her booth, and he didn't sit down. "I prefer the bar." And those were his first words to her.

She picked up her stuff silently and followed him to the stools. "Hello Tristan."

A/N: Do I still have it? Review.