She groped for her phone blindly in the pitch-black hotel room, fumbling to answer the call, then promptly dropped the stupid thing.

"Rory?"

Cursing under her breath she finally found the offending object, picking it up with a mix of grumbled expletives and a "Yes, hello."

"It- it's Jess. Are you okay?"

Settling back into the pillows she laughed silently. He was the one calling her at two in the morning, and he was asking her if she was okay?

"I'm fine, Jess. What's going on?"

"Did I wake you up?"

Avoiding questions. But again, he had called her, so she knew it must be something serious. Turning on the bedside lamp and forcing herself to wake up, she replied, "It's okay. You wouldn't have known; I'm in London, on assignment."

"God, I'm sorry. Listen, forget I called. Go back to sleep."

"Jess. It's okay, really. I'm up." She wanted to ask him what was going on again, but sensed his unease and knew she needed to skirt around it if she was going to be any help. "You're in New York?"

"Yeah. It's not even ten o'clock here."

"Pesky thing, those times zones. How've you been?"

It was small talk, and it was stamped with inanity; he knew that, and knew he was wasting her time but couldn't seem to come out and just say what was upsetting him. Just like always; the verbal thing still coming and going. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Wasn't he better than that by now?

"Been okay."

"Yeah, me too." She was searching for more to say, but coming up blank. Silly sleep-deprived brain. Oh well, when all else fails… "Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?"

He was silent for a moment, then finally got around to it. "He called."

Rory waited, giving him space.

"It's been six, seven years since we last saw each other or spoke, and that was because I followed him out to California, and out of nowhere, he calls."

"Jimmy," she said softly. Not a question. She knew this story, had seen how it had undone him in the past.

"It's stupid. I don't need him in my life. I don't need him checking up on me or his questions about my mom- he didn't even know she died, did you know that? His feigned interested in his forgotten son, a fucking five minute conversation, if that, before he gets around to it and asks me for money."

"Oh Jess."

"I shouldn't need anything from him. I shouldn't need his approval or his pride or his validation. I've been living for myself for a long time now, but I just couldn't help thinking… Liz is gone. This man is all I have left. My fucked up life and my fucked up father. This is all I have left."

He paused, then let out a short, painful laugh. "I'm rambling. He just gets under my skin, that's all. It's stupid."

"It's not stupid. It gets to you. It gets to me, too, and Christopher's not half bad, as far as father figures go. But he triggers me the exact same way, making me question my self-worth, making me hate him. Making me hate myself. But it's not real, Jess. It's a not a true reflection of me, and this isn't a true reflection of you."

"Yeah. Maybe." He stopped, taking a second to collect himself. "So why do I let him do this to me?"

"I don't know, Jess. Maybe it's inevitable. Part of being human; part of some inescapable vulnerability. But there's a third choice, you know."

"A third choice?"

"It's not just, he's all you have left or you're all you have left. You have me. You have Luke. We're not going anywhere."

He was left feeling raw and painfully exposed, but calmer, too. No longer in a tailspin, just- sad. Weighed down but not lost. That was something.

"I should let you go," he breathed.

"Okay. You're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Okay." Her heart was still aching for him, and she didn't feel right letting him go just yet.

"Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm here. Just, don't forget that, okay? I'm here."

It was a few months later when he saw her name flash on the caller ID again. It was late but not that late, maybe 11, but his heart still started and he felt that familiar surge of panic, that uncontrollable twist in his gut, as he worried about the worst.

"Rory?"

"Hey, Jess. Sorry to be calling, I know it's kind of late."

His heart slowed down a little bit, just knowing that she sounded all right. "Is everything okay?"

"Um, yeah. I think so. Probably. I guess? I'm actually not sure, and Daniel's traveling for work again-"

Ah, Daniel. The ever-absent boyfriend.

"-and I didn't know what to do, so…"

So she called him. He was strangely pleased by that, and maybe also a little irritated that he was pleased. Mostly just still worried.

She'd gotten off work late, and taken her usual train home. As soon as she stepped on, she was aware of the man on the other end- that feeling of unease, of needing to be careful and cautious of whatever might happen next. Her level of alarm had risen when he'd gotten off at the same stop as she did; even more so when he followed her in the same direction down the street. She usually loved living in her quiet residential neighborhood, but tonight it just felt isolated, not peaceful. She'd managed to find the pepper spray in her bag without looking and without slowing down, and as she approached her building, she'd turned around and looked the man in the face, pulling the small aerosol spray out and telling him to get away from her, now. She'd read somewhere that looking a potential assailant in the face and speaking loudly and firmly was the smartest way to handle the situation; that they were usually looking for easy targets and you just had to show them you weren't worth the hassle. That sudden knowledge had come flooding back to her as her adrenaline kicked into overdrive.

It seemed to work. The man measured the situation for a split second, then turned and ran, and Rory took the opportunity to get into her building, using her key fob to get quickly past the security door. She had her phone out, ready to call 911, as she waited for the elevator for what seemed like forever. She was watching through the glass, and there was no sign of the man, but her heart was still racing and her breath was still rapid. She jumped as the elevator dinged, and got up to her unit as quickly as possible.

"I mean, I'm inside now with the deadbolt locked, and I know there's no reason he would know my apartment number, even if he did decide to come back and then managed to get in the building, but," she stopped, sounding understandably shaken, "I'm still scared."

"Did you call the police?"

"No. I mean, he was gone by the time I got inside and got my phone out. I don't know what they would do anyway; it was dark, I barely got a good look at him… I'm sorry, I just- I needed to talk to someone, to not feel like I was alone for a few minutes. I think I'm okay now. I just need to calm down."

He wasn't sure what the protocol was; if that was the kind of thing that should be reported or not. He didn't know if he should push her to call the police or if it was okay to leave it. He did know he wouldn't be able to sleep thinking about even the possibility of her not being safe, even if the risk was low. He was already grabbing his keys and jacket as he said, "Stay on the phone. I'm coming over."

"Jess, I swear, that's not why I called; I'm okay, really."

"Look, I'm already out the door. I'll be there in 15."

She really hadn't intended to make him come over, but she still felt relieved that he was anyway. "Okay. Thanks, Jess. I… I hate feeling this powerless; this helpless," she admitted; "I feel like I should be able to take care of myself."

"No one's powerful all the time, Rory. No one's immune to that. That's why you have people in your corner, people looking out for you." He hesitated for a second, then continued, "That's why you have me."