Eight and a Half

By Imagine Backstory

Chapter Twenty-Five - Nine Weeks & Virginia Woolf

Rory

"It's nine weeks!"

"What?"

"Nine weeks! Nine weeks!"

"What's nine weeks? Rory, slow down!"

"Mom, I've been pregnant for nine whole weeks."

"And you just started feeling sick now? You lucky duck. Mine came nice and early with you. And with Emerson, actually."

"Mom!" I thought I might wear a hole in the floor of my apartment with the amount I was pacing. I had my cell pressed to my ear with one hand and my other hand pressed helplessly to my forehead. "You're missing the point, here."

"I am?"

"Do the math, Mom. Nine weeks. That's over two months."

"...Yeah... So?"

"So, where was I two months ago? Who was I with two months ago?"

Lorelai sighed on the other end of the line. There was a slight pause before she spoke. "I know, honey."

"You know? What do you mean, you know?"

"You and Jess have only been together for a month," Lorelai said gently. "Generally that's not enough time to start feeling symptoms."

"And you didn't think to mention that to me while I was panicking in your bathroom?!" I cried, slapping my arms down by my sides. I was completely beside myself, unable to reign in my crazy emotions. "The test was just sitting there, all positive, and I didn't even think that it could be James'-why didn't I think that it could be James'? I mean it is a complete possibility, and like you said, Jess and I haven't been going out that long, but Mom, it was right there, and I was panicking, and you said nothing?!"

"Rory, you were panicking at the thought of having a baby at all, let alone one that's not Jess'. I wasn't exactly about to point it out then and freak you out further. Plus, I thought it would be better coming from a doctor so you could ask questions and get your facts straight."

I went to pour myself a glass of water, slamming cupboards as I went. "Mom, that is not the kind of information you hold back, regardless of what state I'm in."

"Actually, I thought you would figure it out on your own. Thought you'd pick up a bunch of books and do a ton of research." She sighed again. "Rory, I know this isn't an ideal situation-"

"Ideal?" I bellowed. "It's a disaster. This is going to ruin everything. Jess and I finally got to this really amazing place. There's no way he's going to stick around, especially now that I know it's not his."

"You don't know that," Lorelai urged. "You have no idea how he's going to react. He's not a kid anymore, it's not exactly like he can just up and leave town like before."

"He's going to run," I wailed, sitting at the breakfast counter and putting my chin down on my arms. "He always runs."

"You've gotta give him a chance, babe," said Lorelai in my ear. "If you want this to work, you have to tell him. And you have to be honest with him."

"He's going to freak out."

"Probably," Lorelai laughed. "Of course he will. But that doesn't mean he'll leave. He might if you don't tell him at all, or if you tell him but don't tell him it's not his so that when it comes out with blond hair and blue eyes and an Irish accent he'll be even more freaked out, then leave."

"The stupid baby won't be born with an Irish accent," I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I have to tell him."

"Yeah. You do."

"I'm scared."

"I know, babe." Lorelai paused for a moment. "You know who else you need to tell, right?"

"Well..." I ran my fingers along my water glass, letting the beads of condensation roll over my skin. "Technically..."

"You have to tell James, Rory."

"Why? What could he do about it? I'm pretty sure he's gone back to Ireland, judging by his Facebook page."

"He's the father, Rory, he deserves to know. It wouldn't be fair to keep this from him."

"He's just going to want to get involved, and he's gonna hate that Jess is around, and he's gonna try and get dual custody, and it's just going to be a big dramatic mess. That's not the kind of environment I want for poor Jess, or for the kid for that matter."

"Rory." Lorelai's voice had taken on the authoritative, motherly tone she'd developed since Emerson had been born. "Listen to me. You have to tell him. Think about Luke. Remember what happened when he found out about April, after twelve years of not knowing she existed? Big friggin' mess! You don't want that to happen to James, do you? You're not that vindictive, kid."

I sighed in defeat. "Fine. But I'm telling Jess first." I paused, thinking. "Or maybe I'll tell James first. Ugh, I don't knowwww..."

"I'd tell Jess first, kiddo. You'll likely want his support for when you tell James."

"Yeah, but if Jess bolts, then I won't have that support anyway. Plus, if I tell James first and James is a dick, then Jess will have that to be mad about, which will distract him from being mad about the, you know, baby situation."

"He's not going to bolt," Lorelai told me confidently. "I just have a feeling. And, hey, why would Jess be mad about this? It happened before you got together."

"Because it means James is going to be around for much longer than we thought," I muttered.

"That's just the way it's going to be, sweets. Jess will have to accept that."

"I know."

"Don't you love it when I'm right?"

"You love it when you're right."

"That, too. Anyway, I gotta go. I can hear Emerson upstairs, which means it's going to be a looooong night." I could indeed hear my half-brother's wails in the background.

I sighed. "Okay. Bye, Mom."

"Keep your chin up, kid. It's going to be alright. And hey...with Emerson around, at least your kid will have an uncle who's only two years older than him! Her? It?"

"Bye, Mom."

"Love ya." Click.

Ugh. I hadn't even thought about that. Weird.

When Jess got home from work that night, late, I was just finishing up my blog post for the Times website, my laptop propped open in my lap. I did a double take when he came in as he removed his coat and bag. "You're wearing glasses."

"Oh, yeah," he said sheepishly, removing them and shoving them in his pocket. "Forgot to take em off."

"I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Only for distance." He strolled over to the couch and flopped down next to me, letting his head fall onto my shoulder. "I'm exhausted."

I lazily scratched at his temple with the tips of my fingers, using my free hand to click Post on the blog. Job done, I closed my laptop and placed it on the floor, then reclined to let Jess lie flush against my torso. I kissed the top of his head gently. "Rough day?"

"No, just busy. We really could have used your help tonight."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I should be fine by tomorrow, promise."

"I hope so," he replied, craning his neck to look up at me. "I've had people ask where the hot bartender went."

"People have not asked that."

"How would you know, you weren't there."

I kissed him to shut him up. I wondered if he could feel the butterflies in my stomach radiating through my shirt into his back.

"I had a few beers with Matt and Dimitri after we closed, so I'm the slightest bit tipsy," Jess said with a lazy grin.

"Oh?"

"Don't try and take advantage of me."

"I wouldn't dream of it." We fell silent for a few moments. He shut his eyes as I continued my ministrations on his scalp with my fingertips. I took a deep breath. Now or never. "Jess?"

"Hmm?" came his slow response.

"I have to tell you something."

"Alright."

"But you have to promise you won't freak out."

It must have been the tone of my voice, because Jess sat up and faced me, his brow furrowed with concern. "What is it?"

"Promise you won't freak out?"

"I don't know, Rory, you're already kinda freaking me out. What's wrong?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. However, tears seemed to have no trouble leaking from my eyes. I felt my face scrunch up as I tried to hold them in, but I failed miserably. As the first lousy sob escaped my lips, Jess took me into his arms, pulling me gently into his chest and rocking with me. "Hey, hey... Shhh..." His voice was whisper-soft in my ear.

Frustrated and hating myself and my stupid out-of-control emotions, I sat back up, pushing off his chest, and wiped my nose on my sleeve. Jess reached towards the coffee table and brought a box of Kleenex to me, which I accepted gratefully. Jess was patient as I wiped my eyes and nose and tried to compose myself. I took a deep, shaky breath in and let it out slowly. The entire time, Jess' dark honey eyes were trained firmly on me, observing my every move with his familiar, uninhibited intensity. He waited.

"So I have something to tell you," I finally managed to squeak out.

He half grinned. "So I hear."

"It's hard."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," I said. "So you don't mind if we just sit here for a minute while I try and force myself to tell you what I need to tell you?"

"Got all night." He reclined into the couch, stretching his arms over the back. It looked like he was about to say something else, but at that moment his phone rang. He looked at me apologetically. "Since you need a minute...?"

"Go ahead," I said, waving weakly in the direction of his cell phone, which was buzzing obnoxiously on the coffee table.

Jess snatched it up and stood, wandering into the kitchen to answer. "Hello?"

I crossed my legs under me and reached for my blanket, drawing it over myself and trying to maintain the composure I'd finally found.

"...Yeah, speaking... What? Well, is she okay?" I glanced up. Jess had stopped pacing and was standing stock-still in the kitchen, his back to me, one arm stretched up to grip the back of his head. "Yeah, uhh, I'll be right there." He hung up his phone and pivoted back to face me. "Rory, I love you."

"What?" I asked, completely stumped. "Who was that?"

Jess strode across the room and took my face between his hands, kissing me deeply on the mouth before standing up again. "I'm so sorry, I have to go."

"Go where?" I asked, standing as he headed for the door, frantically reaching for his coat, his keys, his shoes. "Jess, hang on a second. What's going on?"

He stood, facing me, and gestured helplessly with his hands. "It's Nora," he said, quite apologetically. "Something happened, something bad. I don't know the details but she's in the hospital and I'm apparently still her emergency contact." He ran a hand through his hair. "She doesn't have anyone else, Rory, I have to go. She's all alone there."

I went to him. This time it was my turn to take his face in my hands and kiss him, but gently. I could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and seeing him so distressed made my heart ache and all my other worries disappear. "Go. You need to go."

"Thanks, Rory." He grabbed his things and disappear out the door.

As I wandered back to the couch, I let my hand absently wander to my abdomen, where a new life was impatiently stirring.

Jess

I fucking hated hospitals. I'd been in and out of them way too many times in my life, both as a patient and as a visitor. The worst time was when I was fifteen, I'd slipped and fallen while cliff diving with some friends up in Rhode Island. I'd hit my head pretty hard and had to be airlifted to the hospital. Several doses and morphine and eight stitches later, I'd woken in a shared hospital room wearing the crumby nightgown and with no recollection of what had happened. The staff had contacted Liz and even my dad, but no one had shown up for me. I'd had to remain in that stupid bed alone for days before they'd let me sign myself out. When I returned home, it was as though Liz hadn't even noticed I'd been gone, let alone that I'd been in the hospital. I hadn't even bothered telling her, and I'd worn a baseball cap for a month to hide the stitches and subsequent scar on the back of my head. She didn't notice that, either, despite the fact that that was the first and last time I'd ever worn a baseball cap.

I knew what it was like to be alone in a hospital, and it was pretty much the worst feeling ever. So I felt it in my gut as I rushed along the hallway at Bellevue, feeling like no matter what had happened between me and Nora, she did not deserve to be alone in this godforsaken place. The place smelled like sterilizer and death, and the fluorescent lights only made the scent visible.

Once I'd finally checked in and been shown to Nora's bed, I slowed down and edged into the room, bracing myself for what was within. There were two beds, both completely obscured by curtains. The nurse at the reception desk had told me she was on the left, so that's where I headed.

I peeled the curtain back and breathed a sigh of relief. She was asleep, and she was fine. At least, she looked fine. She wasn't beat up or covered in blood or anything. She just looked pale and, well, asleep. She was hooked up to an IV and had an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth, her black hair fanning out behind her on the pillow. I didn't miss that she had chopped most of it off; it now just barely brushed her shoulders. I sat down in the chair next to her bed, unsure what to do. I hadn't been prepared for the possibility that she'd be asleep. Who knew how long she'd be out for? I was already starting to fade; now that I was here my heart rate had slowed down and my long day was once again catching up to me.

A portly ebony-skinned nurse appeared from behind the curtain; she seemed surprised to see me sitting there. "You must be her contact."

"Uh. Yeah."

"We went through a whole lot of trouble to track you down. We had to phone her previous landlord."

I frowned. "I see."

"What's your name, sugar?"

"It's Jess."

"Are you her boyfriend, Jess?"

I grimaced. I also knew that most hospital policies prevented friends from being told anything of importance regarding a patient. I shrugged. "Brother."

The nurse grabbed a clipboard from the end of Nora's bed and seemingly began to read off it. "We had to pump her stomach as she was suffering alcohol poisoning. We're still running tests but traces of cocaine have also been found in her nasal cavity." The nurse put the clipboard back and clocked my paling face. "You should know, Jess, that the police are investigating this incident."

"Why?" I asked, drawing in a sharp breath.

"There's an officer in the hallway, if you'd like to speak to her."

The officer in question was probably younger than me. Blond, petite, seemingly too pretty to be a police officer. I approached her wearily as the nurse headed off down the hallway. "Jess Mariano?" the cop asked. I nodded. "I know that's not your sister in there." I shook my head. "Well, whatever your relation, you were the only contact we could find. I'm Officer Calhan, by the way. Now, as for what happened to Miss Rose... Do you want to sit?"

I blinked. "No."

"Right. Well. Miss Rose was found in the alley outside a bar in Harlem. She was alone, and she was fully clothed. While there were no immediate signs of foul play, we are investigating the bar and the employees as State law holds them responsible for any harm coming to paying customers caused by over-serving."

"Why did you say that?" I asked quietly.

"Say what?"

"Why did you specify that she was fully clothed?"

Officer Calhan paused, studying me silently. Seeming to deem me trustworthy, she spoke. "Unfortunately, Mr Mariano, that is a very important detail when it comes to finding a lone woman unconscious in an alleyway." Her tone wasn't stern or condescending. It was almost defeated, apologetic. I had a feeling she was saying things she shouldn't say. "We're going to find out what happened, Jess."

Before I could say anything more, the nurse reappeared at my elbow. "She's awake, honey."

I returned to Nora's bedside. As the nurse helped remove Nora's oxygen mask, I watched the familiar signs of someone figuring out where the hell they were and why they were there and wondering why they hurt all over. She blinked several times, clearing the fog from her vision, and finally her eyes found mine. When she spoke her voice was breathy and gravelly all at once. "Hey."

"Hey," I said, taking a seat once again and leaning on her bed. The nurse left us alone, shutting the curtains behind her for privacy.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. She looked incredibly young and small on that bed, nestled among crisp white sheets. Nora was such a wild, carefree person. It seemed wrong that she was confined to a generic, twin-sized medical bed.

I shrugged. "Apparently I'm your emergency contact."

I made a face, shifting slightly on the bed. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Then, because I had been in the hospital and I knew it good it felt, I took her hand in both of mine. "This scared the shit out of me."

She avoided my gaze, looking away guiltily. "I'm sorry," she said again. This time her voice broke with threatening tears.

"Look at me," I urged, quiet but firm. She did so, her green eyes swimming with liquid which proceeded to boil over and spill down her pale cheeks. "You are getting help. Once you're out of here, you're going to-I don't know, a counselor, rehab, something. I don't want to ever get a fucking call like that again. You understand me?"

Lip trembling, she nodded.

Satisfied, I sat back, releasing her hand, and reached for the book I'd stuffed into my back pocket. "So," I said, sitting back in the chair and kicking my feet up onto the bed. "You read any Virginia Woolf lately?"

A/N: For those of you who expressed concern, don't worry. The Literati isn't going anywhere. :) Review, pretty please!