This chapter gave me so much trouble. It wasn't in the original plan at all... but then I had the sudden inspiration of a conversation, and then knew I had to come up with some way for this conversation to take place. Figuring out the logistics was making me pull my hair out for a while, but here it is, finally. I still feel a little unsure about it, but my betas assure me that it's ready to release into the wild, so... I hope you enjoy it! God knows we could all use a little enjoyment right now, haha!

Rory hadn't been able to abandon the Stars Hollow Gazette entirely, but she'd managed to wrangle some kind of maternity leave out of Taylor on the condition that she would find an interim editor to keep the thing going during her absence. The good news was that she'd found a volunteer. The bad news was that it was Kirk.

Every weekend would find Rory muttering to herself over each new edition (she had to keep an eye on things, after all) in dismay and helpless amusement over Kirk's decisions to use the paper to showcase his own attempts at poetry ("Oh, you're no Robert Frost, Kirk. I don't even think you're Ogden Nash!") and run "stories" on the most mundane of town affairs, packaged with needlessly ominous overtones ("Yeesh, it's "Babette ate oatmeal" all over again…"). Rory had even confronted Kirk about this last development, and his response was to tell her that "Fear is the new currency in journalism, Rory. I'm surprised that, with all your supposed 'experience,' you weren't aware of that. People don't buy papes unless there's a sense of urgency, and in this world of dying print media, we can't afford to lose readers to BuzzFeed."

And that was the other thing: Kirk had apparently decided to "prepare" for his editorship by watching "Newsies," and thereafter insisted on using the word "pape" instead of "paper" and making far too many references to "carrying the Banner." Rory supposed she ought to feel grateful he hadn't started speaking with an over-exaggerated Brooklyn accent as well.

Last week's edition had contained, next to the traditional poem, an original haiku by Kirk, entitled "My Petal":

Rest, little oinker.

Tender, glistening pink skin

Fondled by the sun

"Oh, my G-d!" Lorelai choked out through her laughter, when Rory showed it to her, nearly spitting out her coffee.

"I know. I feel like I'm reading one of James Joyce's letters to Nora instead of an innocent ode to someone's pet," Rory mused, her face caught somewhere between hilarity and nausea.

Lorelai turned to look at her, eyebrow raised. "Dirty?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

But now, Rory was taking it back. Sooner or later, she would need to get back out there and find a real job in addition to The Book, and she wanted to get her foot in the door. She was determined that her first "postpartum" edition of the Stars Hollow Gazette would be its best yet. She was hyper aware of all the prejudices of her male-dominated field and the stereotypes that having children makes women distracted and unable to maintain the same level of performance, and Rory intended to prove them all wrong. She would need to send out resumes before too long, and when she did, she wanted any prospective employers to see that motherhood had not caused the quality of her work to suffer.

Her first week back had started out fine. She had brought Richie to the office with her, and despite Esther's disapproving glares from over by the filing cabinets, she was getting quite adept at working while her baby slept, or even at typing one-handed when he wasn't.

Then came the ear infection. Richie was constantly crying and miserable and he couldn't sleep, which meant that neither could Rory. She was exhausted and overwhelmed, and even though Lorelai had volunteered to babysit until she had made it past this week's printing deadline, Rory was finding it difficult to focus. There are times in everyone's life when disasters seem to pile on top of each other in a perfect storm of crap, leaving you reeling. And this was one of those times. Suddenly, what was supposed to be Rory's triumphal return to the workforce was now looking more like her personal Waterloo (the battle, not the ABBA song) as the Gazette's ancient computer crashed the day before print deadline. Nearly everything she had written, all her layouts, an entire week's worth of work and more, were completely lost. Ordinarily, Rory would have had back ups of everything on her MacBook or in the cloud, but she had been so exhausted and so anxious to get home to her sick child that she had forgotten. Rory felt close to tears. She spent the morning frantically doing damage control and trying desperately to recover the files, but they were gone.

"This is why we have paper files," Esther offered unhelpfully. "You should have given copies to me and I would have filed them, but you've never appreciated the importance of filing, have you?"

Her phone rang, and she answered it without looking. "Hello?"

"Whoa. You sound stressed. Everything ok?"

"Jess. Hi. No, everything is NOT ok! It's a disaster! My first week back at the Gazette, and I was bringing my A-game, because I have to, because I'm a woman in a male-dominated industry and not only that, but I'm a mother, and I have to be able to prove that I've still got it and that letting something grow in my uterus and having a child hasn't made me soft or affected my ability to be committed to a job well done, and… Oh G-d, I sound like Paris. But my performance at this moment may well have an impact on how all future prospective employers will view my work from this point forward, and I've been working really hard. But Richie has an ear infection and I haven't slept in days, and then the computer crashed this morning and I've lost everything! Everything! And if I don't get it all back together and sent to the printer by 8am tomorrow, we'll lose our spot and the papers won't be delivered in time, and this is just a disaster! I'm so tired!" She was half sobbing by the time she finished.

"Whoa! Ok, Rory, take a deep breath, ok? Deep breaths."

She tried to get a grip on herself, breathing deeply and pressing the heel of her hand to her eyes to staunch the flow of tears. "I'm sorry," she muttered weakly. "I don't even know why you're calling and I just dumped all that on you."

"It's ok," he said gently, sounding concerned. "I wasn't calling about anything important. I was just on my lunch break and I thought I'd say hi."

"It's lunchtime already? Oh my G-d, it is! I've wasted the entire morning already!"

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Eaten? No, there isn't time to eat anything! I have an entire week's worth of work to do in less than twenty hours!"

"Rory, you gotta eat. Take lunch at your desk if you have to. This is an endurance race, not a sprint. You won't make it if you don't keep your energy up."

"That's true. You're right. And I need to pump, too, or else my boobs will explode… There's a reason why cows'll kick the farmer if he's late for the milking, you know."

"Uhhh…" Jess stammered, laughing nervously and then clearing his throat. "Ok… I, uh, don't even know what to say to that."

"Oh G-d. Did I say that out loud?! I did! Oh my G-d, what's wrong with me?! I'm losing my damned mind! I am so sorry, Jess, I'm so sorry. Um… bye." She ended the call abruptly and hid her flaming face in her hands, screaming.

At some point during the afternoon, the thought, "Why am I doing this?" occurred to Rory. Is this really how she wanted to spend her time and energy? Time and energy were limited resources, especially now, and she had found that she didn't have enough of either one to spare for her book this week. Despite all her stress and exhaustion, being away from her writing had filled her with both anxiety and a frustrated longing. And this was what she was devoting her time to instead? The pay she had managed to wrangle out of Taylor was a pittance.

She wondered why she couldn't seem to bear the thought of letting the Gazette go. She didn't enjoy it. She hadn't really enjoyed journalism in years, if she were really honest with herself, but she'd been afraid to admit it. She'd been afraid to admit to falling out of love with journalism in the same way she'd been afraid to admit to falling out of love with Dean: half-heartedly going through the motions and subconsciously sabotaging herself, because, in the end, she didn't really want it. But for some reason, she still equated change with failure, and the idea of failure was crushing. This is what she had worked for, what her mother had worked hard to help her attain, what her grandparents had so generously provided the means to, and after all that, to decide she wanted to do something else instead? It felt like a betrayal. She was supposed to be the Great White Hope of the Gilmore family, her mother's vindication and the Lorelai her grandparents had always wanted to have. Well, that was all shot to hell now, anyway, so why was she clinging to this so desperately?

The subject had been brought up in her therapy sessions too. Why should her identity and self-worth be so defined by her career? Did "Rory Gilmore," the person, exist outside of "Rory Gilmore, the Journalist?" Intellectually, she could concede that she must, but she somehow still felt as if, by giving that part of herself up, she would disappear.

She remembered her grandfather as he was when she was a girl of sixteen: killing himself holding onto a job that was draining all the life and joy out of him because he felt he was nothing without it. She was a lot like her grandfather, really. Was she doing the same thing? Making herself and everyone around her miserable in her futility and despair? She then remembered how liberated and happy he felt when he left it all behind, letting himself find joy in other things. She missed him desperately.

Rory sent Esther and Charlie home at five o'clock and took a break to see Richie before she had to return to the office for a long night.

"Thank you so much for doing this," Rory gushed tearfully to Lorelai, taking her screaming son back into her arms and holding him close. "Shhhhh! I know! I know. Mama's here! This'll all get better soon, I promise. It has to."

Lorelai glanced worriedly at her while she heated up a plate of leftover Chinese food. "Babe... do you think, maybe, you rushed back into this? You didn't give yourself very much time."

"I don't know!" Rory said desperately, her voice cracking. "I don't know, maybe, but I can't exactly take it back now!"

"We'll talk about it some other time," Lorelai backtracked gently, sensing that now was not the time.

Rory nodded and took Richie into their bedroom to try to feed him. The ear infection made nursing a frustrating and miserable experience for both of them, and Rory was soon crying along with her baby. This was going to be the first night she'd spent apart from him, and her guilt was eating her alive. She tried to reason that these were unusual circumstances, but she felt like an awful mother for leaving him. In the end, he would hardly eat anything and Rory had to resort to filling more bottles instead. Her own dinner was hasty and inadequate before she had to rush back to work. Maybe she could order something later.

Rory walked back to the Gazette with dragging feet, but she stopped suddenly in her tracks when she caught sight of a familiar figure lounging against a familiar black sedan with Pennsylvania plates, parked right outside her office.

"Jess?" she called out incredulously, quickly approaching him. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled, shoving his phone back in his pocket. "Yeah, I know... we don't see each other for four years and now you can't get rid of me, huh?"

"No, I mean, it's always good to see you, but…" she trailed off.

He shrugged. "I heard you got a paper to get out. If anyone has experience pulling all-nighters to meet publication deadlines, it's me…" he grinned crookedly.

Being Rory Gilmore, she immediately felt guilty, her blue eyes wide in distress. "Jess, you didn't have to do this! I was just venting… I didn't intend for you to drive four hours here in the middle of the week!"

He shrugged again, not meeting her gaze as he bent to grab a messenger bag resting at his feet and slung it over his shoulder. "I know you didn't. I did that myself. But I'm here now, so you might as well use me. Where do you want me?" The sparkle of mischief in his eyes as he folded his arms and leaned back against the car again told her that his innuendo had been completely intentional.

On the desk, was the first response that sprang to mind, before she dismissed the thought hurriedly, feeling flustered. She rolled her eyes.

"Need a copy editor?" he suggested innocently.

Rory sighed in defeat, shaking her head. "You're insane," she said affectionately. "But fine. Come on." She gestured for him to follow her as she unlocked the door. "I was just about to order a pizza, actually. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

"Great. My treat. If you're going to be my unpaid intern for the night, the least I can do is make sure you're well-fed."

Jess gave a short bark of a laugh. "Ahh, interns. You know Truncheon has interns now? They make me feel so old… Like, since when is 'dank' a compliment?"

"Dank?"

"Yeah! What the f*** is that?! 'Cause last I knew, it meant damp and dark and nasty, like a cellar or some sh**! And now these kids are using dank as some other unnecessary synonym for 'cool'?"

"And stay off my lawn!" Rory mocked him, affecting a grumpy old man voice.

"Yeah, yeah," Jess grumbled, smiling sheepishly.

"You still like pepperoni?" she asked, putting her phone to her ear. He nodded. "Yeah, hi. I'd like a large pepperoni pizza, please…"

They spent the time waiting for the pizza to arrive, figuring out a game plan for the night and setting Jess up at Esther's desk. Within half an hour, they were sprawled out on the floor in the middle of the room, the box of pizza between them, and as deep in conversation as they were in the meal.

"Do you remember the movie, "the Last Station?" Rory was saying, reaching for her third slice.

"Umm… Oh, about Tolstoy's last days, right?"'

"Right! Well I read a newspaper review of it when it first came out, and the guy writing it was just ripping it apart for playing so fast and loose with history, and making up this bogus story when Tolstoy's actual last days were spent in Mexico hanging out with Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo."

Jess's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah, it confused me too! But then I thought about it, and..."

Jess suddenly lowered his slice of pizza, a horrified light of understanding dawning in his eyes. "No," he groaned. "Oh my G-d, he didn't."

"Yes. He mixed up Leo Tolstoy with Leon Trotsky, and then published it in a nationally syndicated news article."

"Oh man."

"And he was acting soooo superior, but really he was just making an ass of himself. So I always make it a point to check and double-check everything before it goes to print, because can you imagine?"

"Wow. I mean, I've been an insufferable know-it-all for a really long time, so there've been a few incidents over the years that still keep me awake at night, but I never published any of them, thank God. What a nightmare."

"I know, right?"

Jess shook his head before polishing off his last piece of pizza, wiping his hands with a paper napkin and then throwing the crumpled up ball at Rory. She feebly protested with a giggled, "Hey!" before throwing it back.

"Well, I gotta say," he mumbled around a mouthful of crust, "this is a lot more filling than the last meal I had here."

"The last meal...?" Rory laughed quizzically.

"Our liquid lunch, remember? Man, that was just over a year ago now."

"Oh, wow, you're right! My G-d, what a year it's been…"

"I know."

"I can't believe how much my life has changed. I hardly recognize myself."

"You seemed to be in a pretty bad place a year ago. Are you… happier with where you are now? I know that's probably a complicated question…"

Rory chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then swallowed. "You know, it's funny. If you had asked me last year how I would feel about getting pregnant, having a baby… I would probably have said it was about the worst thing I could imagine. Like if my dumpster fire of a life could possibly get any worse, that would be the ultimate thing, the ultimate failure. But, looking back… I don't know, I kinda feel like Richie is the best thing that could have happened to me. I was feeling hopeless about my career when you came, and in that respect, I feel like you saved me, Jess, with your amazing idea for my book, but… there was more going on there than you knew- than even I knew… I had spent so many years just drifting, untethered and alone. I only had to think about myself, and I liked it that way. At least, I thought I did… but I think I had fooled myself into thinking that my life didn't really affect anyone else's life. That if I didn't have any relationships to maintain, my actions didn't really… matter. But it was all one big lie I was telling myself, and I was so stuck in my self-destructive habits that I think I needed to hit absolute rock bottom before I could stop and really look at myself. The thing is, though, I think… I thought I already had hit rock bottom when you came last summer. I thought things could only get better. And I had already broken up with Logan before I got pregnant. I knew it was wrong and I wanted to change, but… I think I thought, one more goodbye can't hurt anyone, right? It's goodbye. But apologies and good intentions don't always erase what you've done. I think I needed to learn that sometimes there are real, permanent consequences to our actions. I didn't really want to believe that, and honestly, I don't know if I'd have been able to make the change… stick without it. But there are no illusions about it now, there can't be, ever, because I have Richie and he's beautiful and wonderful but he's also this… living, breathing reminder that the things I do matter. Not that they didn't before, but it's impossible to forget now."

Jess nodded slowly and then shook his head with an incredulous laugh. "I always knew we were more alike than everyone thought. A lot of what you just said actually reminds me of me at nineteen."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think I also had the idea that if I isolated myself, nobody could hurt me and I couldn't really hurt them either. Which is complete bullsh**, as you know. And I thought I had already hit rock bottom, too. I was sharing one roach-infested room with four other guys, sleeping on a dirty mattress on the floor, and I knew it was my own fault. I had ruined my own life, ruined my relationship with Luke, ruined my relationship with you…"

"Jess…"

"And then Luke dragged me back to Stars Hollow for my mom's wedding, and… you're going to laugh… but Luke gave me all these self-help books and tapes about relationships- and I'm totally throwing him under the bus and telling you that he'd gotten them for himself first- and there was nothing on TV except baseball, and you know I'll read anything that's in front of me…"

She smiled at his defensiveness. "So you read them?"

"Yeah. And I gotta admit, they actually did change my perspective on a couple things. A lot of things. I told you, I had absolutely no clue what the hell I was doing. And not just in our relationship, but in any, all relationships. I didn't know how to interact with people in any way other than defensively, and I didn't understand how my own actions affected other people. But this stuff made me rethink a lot of things, and my pride was completely shot at that point anyway, so I was actually in a place where I wanted to fix things... So, I started with Luke and, God bless that man, he took my feeble and awkward apology and met me more than halfway. So I thought, you know, I'd bottomed out, I'd finally seen the light, things were on the up-and-up now. I was a new man, ready to start over and fix everything I'd broken, and it went well with Luke, so… What the hell, now I'll go make things right with Rory."

"Oh no. Oh, Jess…"

"Yeah. You know what comes next, don't you?"

"Oh, Jess, I'm so sorry."

"Nah, don't be. I shouldn't have asked the way I did. I just panicked. You were absolutely in the right to turn me down. I didn't really get it yet, you know? How much I'd hurt you. Like you said, I had to learn that sometimes there are permanent consequences to our actions. That sometimes an apology and good intentions won't erase what you did. You taught me that, Rory. And I'd like to think I've become a better man for it; I've certainly tried… I had to prove that what I'd offered you wasn't just an empty promise. I wanted to prove it to myself, even if I couldn't prove it to you…"

Rory thought of his appearance at her grandparents' house with his book a year and a half later, and her heart ached. Their damned timing. "You did, though," she murmured. "You proved it to me, too. It was just…"

What? Too late? The wrong moment? The right moment to save her, but too late to save them? The ache had spread throughout her chest now, as if there was now only emptiness where her heart and lungs used to be. It would explain why she was finding it so hard to breathe. "Sometimes I wish…"

"No," Jess interrupted. "Don't do that. It won't help anything."

"I guess not," she whispered. "It is what it is, right?" She smiled weakly.

"Yeah. But that's kinda the point of what we were talking about, right? Getting the chance to make something good and unexpected out of our sh***y circumstances?"

"Yeah. Yes, exactly. The life I have now… this was never the future I would have chosen for myself, but somehow… somehow I think it was exactly what I needed. You know?"

"Hmm." Jess nodded. "So Mick Jagger was right, then."

Rory smiled at him, tilting her head questioningly.

"You can't always get what you want," he quoted, grinning crookedly. "But if you try sometimes... you just might find…"

"You get what you need," Rory finished softly. They looked at each other, smiling, and Rory's heart swelled to fill the aching void that had been there only moments before. Maybe friendship could be enough. Whatever this was, it was beautiful and precious and rare, and she wanted to hold onto it no matter what. "Let's never go four years without seeing each other again, Jess," she wished fervently. "My life is so much better with you in it."

He stared back at her intensely. "Ditto," he replied solemnly, and then looked down at the empty pizza box between them. He heaved a sigh, brushing his hands off. "So. We have a paper to put out, don't we?"

"Right! Back to work!" Rory got to her feet. With both heart and belly full, she felt more energized than she had in days.

"Any musical requests?"

"Hmmm. Oh! Jimi Hendrix!"

Jess nodded. "Driving rhythm, almost unintelligible lyrics when there are lyrics at all… Excellent choice."

They worked well together and soon found a good rhythm: Rory writing the stories, reconstructed from her notes, while Jess edited. Jess kept the coffee coming and made her take snack breaks, and by 1:30 in the morning, Rory was finishing her last article.

"Jess," she said.

He merely grunted in response, his eyes fixed on his laptop screen, totally engrossed in his work.

"Je-ess," she repeated in a sing-song voice, swiveling her chair from side to side.

"Just a minute," he mumbled absently, making one more correction.

"Hey, Jess!" she laughed.

"Hm?" he answered, his head finally snapping up to look at her. He blinked at her in surprise, a pencil shoved behind one ear and his hair on end. Rory smiled fondly.

"I just finished writing the last article."

"You did?"

"I did! So, while you proof it, I'll get started on the layout, ok? We're on the home stretch, Jess!" she said, making an unintentional pun out of her statement by stretching out her stiff limbs with a groan.

At exactly 3:14 am, Rory sent this week's edition of the Stars Hollow Gazette off to the printer and collapsed back into her chair with relief and exhaustion. "We did it," she whispered.

"With nearly five hours to spare," Jess rasped, stifling a yawn.

"Thank you so much."

"No problem. Hey, let's get outta here, huh?"

"Right," Rory sighed, staggering to her feet and packing up.

Jess insisted on driving her home, and now as his car idled in her driveway, she stared across at him, struggling to find the words to say before she got out.

"Jess," she murmured, "I really can't thank you enough."

"Well, next time I've been procrastinating putting the zine together, I'll call you, alright?"

"You'd better!" she grinned. "Are you sure you don't wanna crash here on the couch?"

"And give Luke a heart attack when he comes downstairs in the morning? I'll just crash at the diner apartment. Thanks, though."

"And give Luke a heart attack there?"

"Exactly. He won't wake the baby that way, at least…"

She giggled sleepily. "Goodnight, Jess."

"'Night, Rory. Or morning, I should say."

She reached across to hug him over the center console, and then gave him one last smile before opening her door and stumbling to the house and her bed and her son.

Luke liked the process of opening the diner first thing in the morning. It was quiet, peaceful, the calm before the storm. He methodically pulled the chairs down from the tables and measured coffee grounds into the machines. He went back into the kitchen to fill up the reservoirs with water, and when he returned, Jess was sitting at the counter.

"JEEZ!" Luke gasped, starting violently and sloshing water all over the front of his shirt. Jess laughed, the stupid punk. Luke's face went dark red and he slammed the water containers down onto the counter, grabbing a towel and wiping at his chest ineffectually. "Jess! What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Nice to see you too, Uncle Luke," Jess replied drolly, his eyes lit with amusement. "Are you always this jumpy in the mornings?"

Luke gave his nephew a weary look. "Jess," he repeated, "what are you doing here? How are you even here?! It's six o'clock in the morning!"

"I was just here to help Rory do some damage control at the Gazette after the computer crash. It was a long night, but we made the deadline, got it in around 3:30. I just crashed here for a couple hours. Hope that's ok."

Luke stared at him speechlessly for a moment and then shook his head as if to clear it. "Uh, sure…" he said uncertainly. "That's… fine… So, ah, you just drove in for the night? You're not sticking around?"

Jess shook his head, avoiding his uncle's gaze. "Nah, I gotta get back to Philly as soon as possible. Think I could get some coffee before I go? I only got about two hours of sleep."

"Sure, sure. Let me just… finish filling this up here and I'll get some started for you."

"Appreciate it."

Luke busied himself with the coffeemaker and thought anxiously about how to respond. He took a deep breath and, with his back still turned, said, "So, that was nice of you… driving all the way out here to help Rory out."

"She was pretty upset when I called yesterday," Jess explained. "And you guys are great with Richie, but she was completely on her own there, and… I mean, if there's anyone who knows anything about pulling all-nighters to make a print deadline, it's me, so… I told the guys there was a family emergency and took the rest of the afternoon off."

This answer did nothing to relieve the sense of unease gnawing at Luke's gut, and he turned to frown sternly at his nephew, bracing both hands against the counter while staring him down. "A family emergency? Jess, you can't lie about stuff like that!"

Jess rolled his eyes. "Who says I lied about it? Or did you forget that Rory's technically my cousin now?"

"Oh G-d," Luke said weakly, looking a little sick.

"Yeah. And if that's weird for you, just remember: you were the one that went and made this awkward, so… Thanks, man," Jess said with a sadistic smile, clapping Luke on the shoulder.

Luke glared and shrugged him off. "So… you're just lookin' out for family, huh? That's what you're doing here? For Rory?"

"Say, how's that coffee comin'?" Jess drawled, his jaw tensing with annoyance.

"Jess…"

"Look, would you give it a rest?" Jess snapped. "I'm fine. Everything's fine, Luke. It's been almost fifteen years since I dated her; I'm over it. She's DEFINITELY over it. We're friends, she was in a crisis, I had the means to bail her out, so I did. End of story. Would you rather I just sat back and let her drown?"

"No," Luke sighed. "No, of course not. I just… You're a good man, Jess. A good friend. She's lucky to have you."

Jess smiled stiffly and shrugged, still looking around the diner cagily and drumming his fingers on the countertop. "Luke, I really gotta go. That coffee ready yet?"

"Yeah, sure, just a sec. I assume you want this to go?"

"Yep. Sorry I can't stay longer. I gotta get back to work before I miss too much of the morning, and honestly, I'd rather get outta here before anyone sees me."

"Why's that?" Luke asked warily, filling up a disposable coffee cup and fitting the lid on carefully.

"You think Liz would be happy knowing her only son was in town and didn't come to see her? It's not personal, but you know she'd turn it into something anyway. I'd really like to avoid the extra drama if possible, so could you do me a favor and not tell her I was here?"

Luke nodded. "You got it. I never saw you."

"Thanks. Well, I'd better hit the road. Good seein' you."

"Here, take a doughnut on your way out, since you won't let me make you any real food."

Jess smiled, taking the proffered pastry wrapped in a paper napkin. "It's a regular bed and breakfast. Thanks for letting me crash, Luke."

"No problem. Take care, Jess."

"You too," he nodded back, backing out the door. It swung shut behind him with a jingle.

Luke folded his arms and stared thoughtfully at the place his nephew had been, furrowing his brow in concern. Then he shook his head and sighed, and got back to work.

Thank you for reading and reviewing. I'm anxious to know your thoughts! Stay well (and stay home!)