A.N. So, uh... hi! *waves sheepishly* Long time, no update, right? All I can say is that the pandemic has been really bad for my mental and emotional health, and I haven't had the capacity for creative work in a very long time. I'm so very sorry you all had to wait so long for this, and I hope it's not a disappointment after all this time! To everyone who's read or reviewed in the meantime, thank you SO MUCH. You have no idea how much your support has meant to me when I've been feeling discouraged.

Disclaimer: I have never been to Buenos Aires or Argentina, and all of Jess's experiences have been based on what I've read about other people's experiences, and how I imagined Jess as a person would react to them. I have tried to be as accurate as possible, but also wanted to accurately represent the struggles of a person (and specifically a person with Jess's personality) adapting to a new place, so this should be taken as Jess's personal feelings and not necessarily my own, haha!

September

She didn't hear from him very often. And that was fine. To be expected, really. The entire point of this trip was to immerse himself in a different place and in his writing, so it's not like he could text her at random all day, right? She couldn't text him either. During his preparations for the trip, Jess had announced that he would no longer be reachable by text, as the roaming fees were astronomical. He was buying a cheap burner phone for local contacts while he was in Argentina, but he refused to sign up for WhatsApp because they were owned by Facebook, and apparently didn't care to look into other options, so international texting was off the table. He requested that all correspondence be conducted by email, to the annoyance of friends, family, and colleagues alike- but if Sticking it to the Man was always convenient, wouldn't more people do it? Rory teased him about having ambitions to be like Thoreau on Walden Pond, having a servant bring him his meals while he pretended to be Solitary and Self-sufficient, which in turn annoyed him, but it did nothing to shake his stubborn resolve.

With Jess out of the country, Rory was determined to focus on her book. The link Jess had sent her to Bob Dylan's Nobel Prize lecture had led her down YouTube rabbit trails to other related videos, including an interview with Patti Smith about her performance at the ceremony. It was Patti Smith, so of course Rory had to watch that one, and she had talked about the way motherhood had been good for her writing and the schedule she kept. Rory was inspired. Richie was starting to settle into a more regular routine, so Rory set aside at least an hour every morning to write. She adjusted her hours at the Gazette accordingly, deciding that she could do a fair amount of work remotely.

Rory had never counted on her story getting so complicated, but she kept finding unexpected depths and quagmires in her past that were only visible to her now that she was examining them in hindsight. Everything kept shifting under her feet and she no longer felt so sure of what sort of story she was writing.

There was Jess, of course, who'd had to be rewritten. As much as she missed his insight and attention, she was almost glad he was now too busy with his own writing to look at hers. She had hoped that doing him better justice on the page would help heal some of the hurt she had inflicted on him, but now she worried that the way her own feelings had changed was too transparent. He always had a terrible knack for seeing her more clearly than she wanted to be seen. He would read the aching tenderness that surrounded him in her prose now, and he would know. He would see all the what ifs and almosts and might-have-beens, and he would read her longing for him there in black and white. She couldn't bear the thought of him seeing her so exposed, not now. After she'd thrown his feelings back in his face over and over again, and after he'd finally told her he'd moved on… now she decided she wanted to have him? She knew what it looked like, and she hated herself for it. He hadn't seen any of her revisions. She had to find a new editor. She had to find someone who could tell her whether she was showing her hand, and it couldn't be Jess.

Then there was her mother. What was supposed to be a straightforward story of beautiful closeness was now proving to be something far less simple and far more bittersweet. Talking things through in therapy had irrevocably changed the way she saw certain aspects of their relationship, and though she felt she owed it to herself and any potential readers to portray it honestly, the idea of hurting her mother with it left a cold lump of dread in her stomach. If her mother was so concerned about the world knowing she'd left Rory in a bucket as a baby, how would she feel about reading that their very closeness had sometimes been damaging? Or maybe part of her already knew it… Was that why she had originally reacted to the idea with such virulence? Was she already aware of the cracks in their facade before Rory herself was aware of them? She wished she could talk to Jess about it. He always understood her, and he knew her mother too… but it was out of the question. She was realizing she'd come to rely on him far too much, for everything, and the thought terrified her. She had to find a new editor.

October

Rory was true to her promise to Jess to look out for Doula while he was away. In fifth grade now, Doula continued to stop by the Crap Shack three days a week after school, lugging her heavy backpack into the kitchen while Rory was working from home.

"How was school?" Rory asked, sipping her coffee while Doula collapsed into the kitchen chair across from her. It was a bright afternoon in mid October, the air beginning to turn as crisp as the leaves.

Doula shrugged. "It was school," was all she'd say, and Rory's mouth twitched thinking of someone else.

"Well, what have you got for homework today?"

"Ugh, long division," Doula groaned, burying her head in her arms. "And I have a book report due on Friday."

"Do you have your rough draft finished yet?"

"Um, I… started it?" Doula grimaced sheepishly.

Rory smiled. "Tell you what: finish your rough draft here, and I'll proofread it for you, ok?"

Doula brightened. "Thanks!" The girl started unloading textbooks and brightly-colored folders onto the table (Oh, how Rory had adored brightly-colored folders!) and got out a pencil, chewing on the eraser thoughtfully.

Richie was napping in the bedroom, so the room was quiet at the moment, the silence broken only by the tapping of Rory's fingers on her laptop keys, and the scratching sound of Doula's pencil on yellow ruled paper. Doula squirmed restlessly a few times, and then sighed, staring out the window.

"I got a letter from Jess yesterday!" she announced excitedly.

Rory's heart skipped a beat. "You did?" she asked. "A real letter?"

"A real letter!" she confirmed. "It came in the mail and everything! And it had blue and red stripes all around the edges of the envelope and all these cool stamps… Did you get a letter from him?"

"No," Rory said dismissively, but her insides burned with an indignation that she recognized. She was jealous. Wow, that was a new low. She was jealous of an 11-year-old. "No, I haven't gotten a letter from Jess. Some emails, though."

"Oh," said Doula. "Well, maybe you'll get one next!"

"Yeah, maybe," Rory laughed weakly. "Now back to work, missy!"

"Fine," Doula huffed as she attempted to focus on her book report again, but Rory's focus was now shattered.

Jess was writing whole letters to his little sister? Well, that was fine. It was sweet, really. But there was that feeling of bitter envy again. She'd traded a few emails with Jess earlier in his trip. He'd sent her a picture he'd taken from one of the "box seats" at El Ateneo, a huge bookstore in a gorgeous old converted theater (though, of course, he favored the little, out-of-the-way shops himself) and told her he'd been to Walrus Books, one of the city's English language bookstores, and left a few copies of some of Truncheon's publications there. He told her about the neighborhood he was staying in and his little apartment, and how he was sorry he'd missed the annual international book fair. But the frequency of his correspondence had trailed off the longer he stayed, and Rory was bothered by it, though she tried not to be. He was busy, that was the whole point, right? She reminded herself that Jess had always had a habit of getting caught up in some obsession or other and disappearing, only to turn up later acting as if no time had passed. She had hated that when they were together, had felt neglected and forgotten, and she'd been feeling twinges of that resentment creep back in lately. But she wasn't his girlfriend now, she'd reminded herself, and he couldn't be spending all his time thinking about her. He had no obligation to. She had consoled herself with the thought that he was probably just as bad at keeping in touch with everyone else, and it didn't mean he had lost interest in her personally… But it turned out that he was taking the time to write entire letters to his little sister! So where did that leave her? He'd sent nothing to her in weeks. Had he forgotten all about her? Did he think about her at all? Maybe he'd even met someone…

"Hey, Rory?" came Doula's voice, snapping Rory out of her haze. "Could I have something to drink?"

"Oh, yeah, of course!" Rory said, standing up and busying herself. "Is water ok? And, um, snacks! D'you want one? Do you like poptarts?"

"Oh, uh, sure. Thanks!"

"Of course," Rory said graciously. She shoved Jess to the back of her mind, where he belonged.

The next day, Rory received her own letter in an envelope with striped edges.

Dear Rory,

What is this? An actual, physical letter? Cue Doc Brown saying, "What year is it?!" But I don't know, I've always been kind of an "analog" kind of guy, and I like the reality, the tangibility, the physical process of writing this way… Knowing that I pressed my pen into this piece of paper in this place, folded it with my own hands, and sent it to you, where your fingers will touch the paper I touched when you unfold it, like a bridge between us, between continents. I don't know if that's weird, but I like the idea. I get the same feeling from second-hand books that other people have written in. Anyway, I'm sending one to my sister as well. I thought she'd enjoy the "exotic" experience of getting mail from another country, and I hope you will too.

Speaking of Doula, she mentioned in her last email that you've been helping her with her homework, so thanks for that. I don't know if you've picked up on this, but she thinks you're pretty much the coolest person ever. I really appreciate you taking the time to hang out with her, it really means a lot.

Overall, I feel like I'm settling in pretty well here. The language barrier is probably the most challenging thing, in that just living and navigating the city takes a lot more mental effort than it would otherwise. It slows me down. But the longer I stay, the easier that gets. There are some English speakers here, especially at the writing workshops I have to participate in, so it feels like a relief whenever I don't have to work so hard to communicate, but with most interactions, I try. The last thing I want is to be one of those Americans, you know? And on that note, people from the U.S. aren't called "Americans" here, but "estadounidenses," which is like "United States-ers." It makes a lot of sense when you think about it, because Argentinians are "Americans" too, right? This is South America, so… it's still "America." What, do we think nobody else on these two continents matters? I'm sure we both know people who act that way, whether they've examined that assumption or not. I don't want to be one of those people.

I did meet another U.S. expat here who seems like a cool guy. He spent the last year living in Santiago de Chile, but now he's moved on to Buenos Aires for a while. We have similar taste in Latin American literature, only he's fluent enough that he read them in the original Spanish and it's been kind of fascinating to talk about the differences in nuance between the English translations and the language in the books as written. It's also been interesting to hear about his experiences as a U.S. American living down here. The guy was mugged three separate times while he was living in Santiago. Like, had his phone stolen at knife-point. He's pretty much completely fluent in Spanish and knows the culture really well, but he'll never not stick out like a sore thumb because he's got flaming red hair, so he immediately gets clocked as a Gringo from a mile away. I've got the opposite problem in that it's easy for me to blend in looks-wise (you actually would not believe the number of Italian immigrants who settled here), but as soon as I open my mouth, the game is up. I think my Spanish is getting better, but I'm pretty halting and my accent's not great. Especially with that, I'm probably lucky to look the way I do. Buenos Aires is a more culturally diverse city than Santiago, though, so maybe it actually wouldn't make much difference. It probably does help that I'm used to navigating rougher neighborhoods too, because you do have to watch yourself, but it's not much worse than New York or Philly as far as I can tell. I do have to tip my hat to the skill level of the pickpockets here. From one Artful Dodger to another, I can't help but feel some level of begrudging admiration, though I've been lucky myself so far. I know good sleight-of-hand when I see it (or, you know… don't see it, in this case…).

Ask Lane if she's heard of a band called Los Jaivas. They're this Chilean progressive rock band that my friend introduced me to. He loaned me an album of theirs that's all Pablo Neruda poems set to music (not those Neruda poems, Gilmore, jeez. One track mind much? The ones he wrote about Macchu Picchu.) and it's pretty cool. I mean, it's weird, because it's prog rock, and half the songs are like ten minutes long, but it's cool. A lot of not only Latin but also indigenous musical influences, which is a pretty unique sound. Even if you don't like it, it's worth checking out just for the experience, in my opinion. I'm not even sure if I like it, but it's interesting all the same. The band had to live in exile in Paris for a few years when Pinochet was in power, so them coming back was apparently a pretty big deal. The album's called Alturas de Macchu Picchu, if you're interested. Now, what's the exact opposite of a ten-minute prog rock song? Ah yes, the Ramones. The Ramones are really beloved here in Argentina for some reason, which I find hilarious and also great… It makes me feel right at home.

Another thing that makes me feel at home here is the fact that it's pretty much a country of night owls who have no sense of time. You know I've always struggled with keeping schedules, but that doesn't seem to matter so much here. I tried hard to be on time for the first seminar I went to, and… nobody was there. Haha! Not even the instructor was there! People started drifting in about 10-15 minutes after the thing was "supposed" to start, and that's apparently the norm here. The fantastic part of this is that I tend to operate that way naturally anyway, so that's been… really nice. The downside, though, is that I know it's going to make coming home harder, haha. I will have gotten lazy and there'll be years of coping strategies I'll have to relearn. It's going to suck.

The food in this part of South America is absolutely nothing like the food in Central America. For one thing, it is not spicy at all. And when I say that, I mean that these people can't even tolerate a bit of black pepper on anything. My friend says it's the same in Chile as well. The family he lived with there once told him to "be careful" putting cumin on something. Cumin, Rory! That's not even, like, a "spicy" spice! God forbid we put too much flavor in the food… It's still enjoyable in a different way, though. Luke would have a conniption about the food here, haha. Nobody eats vegetables, really. You and your mom would probably like it, though… As far as I can tell, the Argentinian diet mostly consists of red meat, cheese, pastries, and dulce de leche. The four food groups, right? Red wine and yerba mate is probably the only reason everybody here isn't dying of scurvy… Though, with all the Italian immigrants I mentioned, there's actually a lot of pasta eaten in Buenos Aires. Pizza, too, although I'm not sure how Italian it is at this point, because never in my life before have I seen pizza this absolutely drowning in cheese. You're going to sense a running theme here, with all the cheese. I imagine it would be really difficult to be either lactose intolerant or a vegetarian in this city, but luckily for me, I am neither of those. I think my favorite thing would be the empanadas. Oh man. I could eat way too many of those. These little hand pies with different savory fillings… There's cheese, of course. Some kind of white cheese; I'm not sure what it is, but it's good. There's ones with a seasoned meat mixture in them too, but I have to be careful about those because sometimes they might have raisins in them. You know how I feel about that. There's just some places raisins don't belong, and this is one of them.

I have a confession to make now, and you cannot tell anyone this, ever, ok? Do you promise? Ok. I have developed an addiction, and it's the most cliche thing ever. I swore this wasn't going to happen to me, but it did. Because my roommate Chris told me I was going to come back from Argentina as a "mate-swilling hipster" and I cannot prove him right. I tried. But it's just that it's inescapable, you know? It's like this whole social ritual here (along with the cheek kissing… and oh man, did that take some getting used to), and I really try to avoid being intentionally offensive these days, so I had to drink it. And it's disgusting, but… unfortunately it's just the sort of disgusting I find appealing, apparently. I once heard someone describe the taste as "like drinking a cigarette," and they are not wrong, but you also know how I am with cigarettes, so… Here I am, another hopeless addict again. I really like it, though. It's energizing like caffeine, but without being jittery. I'm getting the hang of making it myself, but it's a bit of an art form, so there's been some trial and error.

It's interesting, being here has surprised me by highlighting the social aspects of myself. I usually crave solitude so much, I've been surprised by how lonely I feel here. It's been good for my writing, and it's been exciting to explore new places, but at the same time, I haven't been this isolated since the year before I moved to Philly, and I'm coming to realize that I want this to be temporary. As much of a reclusive bastard as I can be, apparently I actually do rely on the relationships around me more than I thought I did. That's probably healthy, whatever. Haha! Anyway, this has been an incredibly rambly letter about everything and nothing, but I want you to know that you are one of the people I feel the absence of. You've made yourself indispensable to me. It's not that I'm saying that I can't live without you, because I can- I have for a long time- it's more that I just… don't want to. Anyway, I hope that's not weird; don't make a big deal out of it, Gilmore. I hope you're well and full of words, and I hope your boy's doing well too, growing strong.

-Jess

November

Rory pressed the backspace key emphatically in frustration as she deleted another worthless sentence. She was distracted. Jess had told her he'd call this afternoon, and she was waiting. His coworkers had apparently gotten fed up with him and bullied him into coming up with some kind of plan, and he was using it to call her. Well, them too, presumably, but also her. She hoped he wouldn't wait too long… she'd just gotten Richie down for a nap, and time was of the essence.

Her phone rang. She snatched it up, heart hammering in her chest.

"Hey!" she answered breathlessly.

"Hi," he returned, the sound of his voice filling her with warmth.

"Wow. I'd almost forgotten what your voice sounded like."

He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, it's been a while, I guess."

"So, how are you? Have you been tangoing the night away?"

"Ha! I'm not much of a dancer. We can't all be Luke 'Twinkle Toes' Danes, you know."

Rory laughed. "Yeah, I'm not very good, either. I actually went to a tango club once, and my partner's toes did not escape unscathed," she rambled cheerfully, before awkwardly remembering who her partner had been.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah... Um, actually, it was Logan… it was the night we… Um, the last night. We went there with some old friends of ours from Yale," she said haltingly. She wasn't sure why she was telling Jess this.

"Huh."

"Yeah. Um… so, I'm not good at it, but it was fun to watch everybody else."

"Yeah, it's cool."

"But then, Colin, one of the guys, got tired of listening to tango music, so he BOUGHT the club, just so he could pick whatever music he wanted! Which was Rosemary Clooney, apparently!" Rory laughed.

"He… what?"

"I know! Crazy, right? But that's Colin for you," she chuckled. There was silence on the other end. "You still there? Jess?"

"Sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my mind around this. So… he went to a tango club, which naturally involves tango music, and then when he didn't like it, instead of just going somewhere else like a normal person, he has the whole place shut down so he can play whatever the hell he wants?"

"I wouldn't say he shut the place down, he just-"

"I'm sorry, what do you think happens when someone buys a club and then immediately turns it into something else?"

"Oh. Well…"

"And this was in New England, right? So it's not like there's a tango club on every corner… So those people had like one place where they could enjoy a niche interest, and then some rich bastard comes in and decides they don't get to have it anymore because he was tired of the music?! Please tell me you get that that's what happened."

"I… I… well, I hope not," Rory stammered uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing. "I doubt Colin even cared enough to make any permanent changes after he wasn't in the building… So I'm sure they could just keep going as before, you know, after that night..." She hoped so. Had they left a trail of careless destruction in their wake that night? More than just for her and Logan personally?

Silence. Rory cringed.

"I gotta go," Jess finally said brusquely.

"What?"

"I'll talk to you later."

"Are you mad at me?"

"At you? Ehhhhh, a little bit, honestly. But mad in general? Oh yeah. So I will talk to you later." He hung up.

Rory stared at her phone in disbelief, overwhelmed by a strange mix of emotions. She felt amused but also angry, and beneath that, embarrassed and confused.

She could hear Jess's voice from over a decade ago- We made fun of guys like this! And they had. All of those spoiled and pompous Chilton boys, who moved through the world as though they owned it… because in some sense, they did. They had sneered at how out-of-touch and entitled they were, at their ludicrous ignorance of "how the other half lives," and how Rory always felt like an alien amongst them. (But even then, that hadn't been quite true, had it? She may have felt isolated socially, but at graduation she had a new car wrapped up with a bow like all the rest of them.) She had felt indignant that having money gave people the idea that they could treat people like objects to be used for their own pleasure or convenience.

What had happened to that girl? At some point in college, she'd just stopped thinking about it, she supposed. And if she did happen to remember, it was easy to dismiss her former opinions as the easy black-and-white judgements of a teenager. She was tired. Young Rory had been constantly anxious to do the right thing, but it was exhausting, and half the time it didn't even matter in the end because she made a colossal mess of things anyway.

After making her big mistake with Dean, she had tried to do right by Lindsay by stepping aside and telling Dean that she couldn't be involved anymore, but then Lindsay found the letter and got hurt anyway. And Dean saw her withdrawal as evidence that she didn't love him enough to stand by him, so what did all her scruples fix in the end? And then to fix that mistake, she'd tried to do right by Dean and stay with him and try to prove she cared, because she couldn't bear the thought that she had ruined his life for nothing, as he said she had. She couldn't let it be all for nothing. But the spectre of Jess still hung over them like a shadow, and no matter what she did, it was never enough to convince Dean that she loved him. She could never live up to his expectations of what a "good girlfriend" should be, and after all her efforts, he left her anyway. So in the midst of all this, when Logan told her to jump, to not think about the consequences, it was a relief. She was tired of killing herself trying to make everyone else happy, and the charmed life of seeking pleasure without regrets that Logan seemed to be leading was enticing.

A large part of her reasons for pursuing journalism in the first place had been her desire to see the world, to explore new places and ideas. But in her grandmother's world, in Logan's world, she was offered the chance to see the world right now, whenever she wanted, without doing any of the work to get herself there. And it felt nice. For the girl who spent the first decade of her life sharing a one-room shed with her mother, who had clawed her way to the top of the academic ladder at Chilton, it was nice to have pretty things and be able to sample the finest cuisine from the furthest reaches of the globe… and all without having to think of the cost. The dressing down Mitchum had given her was a rude awakening, and when she'd tried to respond to it as she knew Logan would have done, she found out the difference between them. Logan might be able to forget the consequences, because they didn't apply to him, but Rory's bill had finally come due: and the cost had been nothing less than her self-respect, her dreams, her self. She'd rallied a few times since then, in part due to Jess's uncanny ability to remind her of who she was and what she wanted, but part of her would always remember what it had been like to have everything she wanted handed to her. At times she'd envy how easy Logan's life was, and when she met him again in Hamburg, weary of the hustle and grieving her grandfather, she'd succumbed to the temptation of the Quick Fix.

But as Jess was reminding her, "life without regrets" was an illusion. It only meant someone else was left holding the bill.

She wished she could find a healthy medium somewhere between caring too much about everything and not caring at all, but she wasn't sure what that was. She resolved to talk it over with her therapist and jotted down a quick note as a reminder: Setting boundaries/still being a decent person?

Rory's phone rang. It was Jess again. She tensed. What more did he have to say to her? She considered not answering at all, but after letting it ring for a few anxious moments, she changed her mind and picked up.

"Hi," she said stiffly.

"Hey," came his soft answer.

She waited for a moment of silence, and then huffed impatiently. "You hung up on me, Jess."

"Yeah, I know. I couldn't… I had to take a walk."

"You had to take a walk?" she repeated incredulously.

"Look, I didn't want to just react, you know? I was mad and I don't even know if I had a right to be, but I was and so I couldn't talk to you like that. I had to walk it off and get my thoughts together."

"Ok. I guess I can understand that. But couldn't you have told me?!"

"I did tell you."

Rory sputtered inarticulately in bewildered frustration. "Uh, no. You-"

"I told you I had to go and I told you I'd talk to you later. I even answered your question when you asked me if I was mad!"

"Oh my G-d, Jess."

"Look, I'm sorry if I came off as rude or whatever, but that's it. That's the best I can do in that state. I wasn't gonna be any more articulate than that until I was able to calm down, so I had to go. I didn't want to yell at you or say something I don't really mean, and I need space and time to process things sometimes. And it's probably going to happen again so maybe you should just... know that."

"Ok. Ok, fine."

"Does that help you at all? Knowing ahead of time?"

"Yeah, I guess. If that's what you need, then… I guess I'll have to deal."

"Huh. Well, anyway, I spent some time thinking it over and I called back to apologize."

"For what?"

"I don't know, for… losing my temper I guess, but mostly for being a judgemental ass."

"Jess," Rory sighed, softening.

"You know I've done my share of stupid stuff and left others to clean up the messes I've made. And that doesn't make it ok; it wasn't ok when I did it either and I still think what your friend did sucked, but I shouldn't have made you feel bad about it. So I'm sorry."

"Thanks. And for the record, you weren't exactly wrong. Colin can be a real jerk sometimes. But…"

"But you've always wanted to believe the best in people," Jess sighed. "I know that. It's one of your best qualities. I mean, I was a jerk too, and you still saw something of value in me… I guess I was surprised you were just… ok with it, though. Even when you liked me, you still read me the riot act every time I was acting like an idiot."

Rory pursed her lips, thinking it over for a minute. "I don't know, I guess… Colin and the other guys were always more Logan's friends than mine, but we spent a lot of time together back in college and I… I have a lot of fond memories of them. But I also don't always like the person I become when I hang around them too long. I met them at a time in my life when I was really tired of trying to be perfect and feeling like I was always failing, so… I didn't want to think about it and I wanted them to think I was a fun person."

"But you are a fun person," Jess insisted with some confusion.

Rory smiled. "Well, thanks. But, I don't know. Logan was always more extraverted than me and I wanted to fit in. But I also just… I was tired of caring so much about everything and I wanted to know how it felt to be the kind of person who just… didn't care."

"Mmm. Yeah, I can understand that feeling. So, how did it feel? The not caring."

"Hmm. Well… I guess I could describe it kind of like being drunk. Like, in the moment, it was a high. I had fun and I felt… free. Untouchable. But the hangover's a b*tch."

Jess burst out laughing.

Rory grinned at the sound but continued. "In the morning… in the morning you look back on it all and find that you'd done things you wish you hadn't. And you feel sort of… sick. And disgusted by yourself."

There was a sober silence, and then Jess hummed again. "Anyone ever tell you you should be a writer?" he said, making Rory laugh.

"I don't know, the thing is… the thing is… I don't really want to be that person- metaphorically drunk all the time, destructive and numb to it… but… at the same time, I don't think I can go back to feeling like I need to be perfect all the time, either."

"Of course not."

"And I'm not sure I know how to… balance the two properly."

"No, me neither. It's… That's a big question, and I'm still trying to work that one out too."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Have I… have I ever made you feel that way? Like you needed to be perfect?"

Rory thought for a moment. "I don't think so," she decided quietly. "I mean, you've definitely called me out before when I've been out of line, and that never feels good to be on the receiving end of, but I've never felt pressured to perform or anything."

"Good. That's good. 'Cause I don't wanna make you feel that way."

"You don't. Don't worry."

"'Cause you're only human. I mean, I think you're a good person, but you should feel like you can make mistakes and grow…"

"Thanks," she said softly. "Well… I didn't mean for this conversation to be all about me. I wanted to ask about you. Do you have much time left?"

"A little. Sorry I wasted it."

"Forget it. So, what's going on? Have you been making more good progress with your writing?"

"Yeah, it's been going ok. I was sitting in the park the other day…"

"You and your parks."

"Well, what can I say. I'm an outdoorsy guy."

"Hmm. I'm gonna tell Luke you said that."

Jess laughed. "Please don't. He'll try to make me go camping again."

They kept talking until Richie woke up.

…

"Thanks for helping me get this set up, Rory."

"Oh, it's no problem! It'll be good to see him."

Luke peered at her out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah. So, have the two of you been… talking at all? Since he's been out of the country?"

"Um, sometimes," she admitted, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's amazing how much easier it is to keep in touch with people these days, even long-distance. Right?" When they actually bother to make use of the technology, Rory added to herself.

"Yeah. Yep, it's… a lot easier, that's for sure. Don't have to wait weeks for a letter to arrive or pay those exorbitant phone fees… He still helping you with your book?"

"Oh. Um, no. Not right now. He's got enough of his own writing to worry about at the moment. I mean, that's why he's there, right?"

"Right. You know, I think it's good for him to be able to take some time for himself, get away for a while. God knows I never thought Jess would turn out to be that guy who spends a lot of his time looking out for other people, but he does. He's a good kid."

"He is," Rory agreed softly, smiling. "He's... a really special guy. I'm glad to have him in my life."

Luke nodded slowly, still scrutinizing her closely, as if she were a code that needed deciphering.

Rory felt her cheeks heating up. Too obvious? "He takes after his uncle that way," she added with a fond smile in Luke's direction.

"Ah, jeez," he blustered, smiling bashfully. "Well, enough of that. You got that call set up yet?"

"Yeah, hang on. Here we go." And suddenly her heart turned over, because there was Jess on her laptop screen, looking considerably more bearded than she'd ever seen him.

"Whoa! What happened to your face?" Luke jeered.

"... And a happy Thanksgiving to you too, uncle Luke," Jess replied wryly, rolling his eyes.

"You really decided to take that Reclusive Writer schtick seriously, huh."

"Shut up," Jess laughed. "And yeah. Got better things to do than shave, and nobody knows me here anyway, so…" He shrugged, and then smiled. "Hey, Rory," he added warmly.

"Hey you," she grinned back. "For what it's worth, I think it suits you," she offered, trying to control the flutter in her chest. She'd never been much into facial hair before, but apparently Jess could make anything work. With his strong, classically handsome features and thick mane of wavy hair, there was something almost kingly about his appearance… Oh gosh. I've been watching way too much Game of Thrones lately, she thought to herself in dismay.

Jess, thankfully unaware of her internal struggle, fixed her with an openly interested look and said, "Oh yeah?"

Luke cleared his throat awkwardly. "So," he interjected, "how's the weather down there for you?"

"Pretty warm, actually. It's spring here."

"Ah, that's right. The water go down the drain in the opposite direction too?"

"I don't spend my time in the shower looking at the drain, Luke."

"Ah, no, of course you don't. You've got to focus on conditioning those flowing locks of yours, don't you."

"...And goodbye, been so nice talking with you," Jess drawled, reaching forward as if to end the call.

"No!" Rory cried. "Don't go! Luke will be nice. Won't you?" she said pointedly, glaring sternly at her stepfather.

"Alright," he sighed, smiling at her indulgently.

"Whoa, did one of you make a little spelling error? 'Cause I thought you were going to be talking to Jess, not Jesus…" Lorelai sniggered, appearing behind them with Richie propped on one hip.

Luke collapsed back onto the couch in laughter while Jess smiled tightly and flipped her off.

"Oh!" Lorelai gasped, clutching at her chest in mock surprise. "Well, I was not expecting Jesus to do that!"

"Hey, Lorelai," Jess greeted her wearily. "Can we stop talking about my hair, please?"

"Sure thing, Jesus. Oh, by the way, Luke?" Lorelai poked at her husband, switching tracks at lightning speed. "Your timer thingy in the kitchen went off a couple minutes ago."

Luke launched himself off the couch in dismay. "Jeez, Lorelai! Why didn't you say that sooner?!" He stormed off towards the kitchen, Lorelai scurrying after him.

"I got distracted! It's not every day you see Jesus in your living room…"

Rory and Jess just looked at each other in amusement and exasperation (respectively) as the noise faded down the hallway.

"...And then there were two," Rory mused, and then she sat up straight. "Hi!" she grinned brightly.

"Hi," Jess echoed back, smiling softly, his eyes warm and bright.

"So, have you been doing anything besides writing lately?"

"Oh yeah, so, remember me telling you how everybody's big into the Ramones here?"

"Right! G-d, that place is perfect for you… You're gonna stay there forever, aren't you?" she joked weakly.

Jess sighed, his eyes looking pained and pleading. "Rory…"

"I know," she murmured hurriedly. She knew she was being needy, but she just couldn't help it.

"Rory, I'm flying back in two weeks."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she forced a smile, keeping her tone lighter than she actually felt. "But I interrupted you. You were talking about the Ramones?"

"Right. So, apparently the Ramones are so popular here that there are actually multiple Ramones tribute bands all over Buenos Aires."

"No."

"Oh, yes."

"Oh my G-d. Please tell me you went to a concert. You have to!"

"I couldn't resist."

"Oh my G-d! How was it?!"

"I don't know if you've ever heard the argument that it's not really Punk if they know how to play their instruments?"

"Um, I've been friends with Lane since we were five, and I've known you a pretty long time too. Of course I have!"

"Well, then by that definition, they were Punk as hell."

December

From: jmariano

Date: December 10, 2017

Subject: I'm home

Hey everyone.

This is just to let you all know that I've made it safely back to Philadelphia. Flight was long but uneventful. First impressions of being back in the States is that it's cold as hell and your schedules are insane. But it's good to be back, I guess. My old phone number should be working fine now, if you need to contact me.

See you soon,

Jess

A.N. Thank you so much for reading! I would love to know your thoughts, if you're still following this story!

Next time: The big Gilmore/Danes/Mariano Christmas gathering!