Author's note: Thanks for the responses, guys, so I have decided to continue as long as inspiration stays fresh. This is sort of a filler chapter about the beginning of the aftermath so I hope you enjoy

Disclaimer: still own nothing...

Warning: Language gets a little stronger in this chapter, but nothing else.

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Rory closed the door behind her, but her hand continued to clutch the knob. The whirlwind had led her to her house, and plopped her on her doorstep, leaving her to sort everything out in solitude. Everything seemed different, out of place in the house. She had never looked at the cramped living room through the arches this way before. It was a new angle, a new perspective she had never seen. Her feet ached inside her shoes and she desperately wanted to throw everything down and go jumping into her bed with some book she had read a million times. An old friend she could just toss the world out her window with. But no, she couldn't. It would remind her of him. The new, perplexing him that tore her in half with one side screaming for her to back away, the other hopeful that he had come back just for her.

Throwing her gloves on the small table near the front door, Rory stumbled through the kitchen to her room. She felt drunk, tipsy, air headed, floating above the tile floor. This new layout confused her and she felt as if she was stumbling through a maze. Rory had seen her room in the dark before, but this time, it was generically amorphous. It could be anyone's room at 11 p.m. God, it was only 11. Everything had happened so fast, a slurred memory of intense emotions; she would have to deal with it in the morning and figure out what to do, even though she knew that she would never let him in again. Like she had almost tonight; but he was stuck in town a couple of more days, because of that goddamn tire. Why couldn't he have just left like he was supposed to? Rory slipped into her room and slowly positioned herself on the bed, grabbing a pillow and staring at the dusty glass of her window. Sleep came quickly and her mind swelled with possibilities of what tomorrow might hold.

Jess had had it planned, the whole thing and he had waited two whole years to get the courage to say it to her in person. Sure, it seemed like the perfect moment; he would tell her and leave, but of course, the stupid car he came back to get turned out to be his downfall. Now, he was stuck in this goddamn town, the place he had tried so far to get away from, cold and wet in what felt like below zero weather. The car was dead and he doubted that it could have survived a crash like that. Jess sat by the bus stop, a place that probably had the only stability he had ever seen in his life.

The next bus wouldn't be here until six a.m.; and despite freezing his butt off, he would rather venture that then opposed to facing Luke again in another pointless argument. The bench did nothing to console his thoughts and although sleep waned in the back of his mind, Jess sat there, with a scowl on his face, determined not to fall asleep. The flower cart had been taken down already and the strung lines of streamers danced silently in the wind. The whine from the nearby streetlight began to take its toll on his already nervous mind and he wished to god that he had a book, but he had left all his others at Tom's place in New York. All there was left to do was just to sit here and wait until morning.

"Jess! Jess, wake up and come inside," Luke stood over his nephew, his face impassive. Sure, the kid was a jerk, an asshole that Luke just wanted to shake the living crap out of sometimes, but he was family. And what a great, goddamn family the Danes' were.

"Wha-" Jess stiffened, rubbed his eyes' in annoyance and glared up at the person who had just awakened him. "What do you want?" He scowled at his uncle, who glared back at him and sighed.

"Look, you can stay here and freeze your ass off for all I care like you attempted to the first night you came here or you can repeat yourself and come inside," Luke faced down Jess' stare and returned it tenfold.

"I'm sorry, but did Dr. Frankenstein come here to get another body to fix up?"

"Okay, that's it! I tried, hell I even gave you some money, but you know what, you can just throw it all back in my face, because you are so –" Luke was practically yelling now, his voice echoing down the empty street.

"So what? Not that all-around nice nephew you remember from two years ago…" Jess shot back.

"No, so goddamn stubborn that you can't accept help from anybody and you have to go and try to fix everything! Wow… wait in your own words, you're practically a clone of me! Well, isn't that just swell. I guess I did my job after all!" And with that Luke stomped off down half a block to the diner and slammed the door shut with a clang. Great job, just piss him off even more. Jess rolled his eyes and stood up, cracking his neck and attempting to wake up.

He didn't even remember dozing off; he checked his watch. It was now four o'clock. Two more hours and he would be out of here, but his numb hands weren't comforted by this fact at all. The town square was still a mess of confetti, streamers and trash; Taylor's gonna get his panties in a bunch over this. He stumbled over something in the dark street. Sighing and reaching down, Jess discovered the foreign object to be a bag, no actually it was a purse. His heart skipped a beat; oh please god, do not let it be...It was. He checked the wallet inside. Rory Gilmore. He was standing in the middle of a deserted street, holding his ex-girlfriend purse complete with credit cards, driver's license, and…a book. Jess examined it, The Portrait of Dorian Grey. Ah, so she was going through her Wilde phase again. He glanced around, Isn't this just the least suspicious thing to be doing, and headed off in the direction of the Gilmore house, leaving his duffel bag on the bench.

After a couple of minutes, Jess was standing awkwardly in front of the worn house, debating what exactly to do. God, the place brought back memories of them together, but he shrugged them off. She might be inside anyways if she hadn't already gone back to Yale or Harvard. He was never actually sure of which one she had chosen. Jess stuffed the purse into the mailbox and closed it. Turning away, he paused and reached in, taking the book with him back to the bus stop.

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Hope I stayed in character.