From the Beginning

As the bus slowed to take a wide turn, its brakes squealed in protest. Jess shifted in his seat and folded his book so that he could hold it in one hand, using the other to check, for the thousandth time, that his cigarettes and lighter were still in the right-side pocket of his jacket. The smooth feel of the carton and its plastic companion, usually so comforting, had done nothing to soothe the anxiety that had settled into his gut as he'd watched New York disappear around him from the grimy bus window. He took a deep breath that didn't reach where it needed to and searched the page for the last sentence that he remembered reading. Before he could fully focus on the words in front of him, his thoughts ran away with him again.

I could have gotten off anywhere between New York and…wherever the hell I am now. Why? Why didn't I get off the bus?

He briefly pictured himself sleeping outside, and the knots in his stomach twisted tighter.

Right. Nowhere else to go. But…Stars Hollow?

Even hearing it in his own head made him roll his eyes. He was fully expecting to be dropped into the middle of a Norman Rockwell painting. One of the kitschy ones. He tried to turn his attention back to the book in his hand, but it was no use. He clenched his jaw and shoved On the Road back in his bag. He hadn't really read the last few pages anyway, and the bus driver had just announced they were arriving. A passing glance out of the window confirmed his suspicions about the town: quaint…manicured…tiny. He grabbed his things and made his way off the bus. Stepping onto the sidewalk, he came to a stop in front of someone he assumed was his uncle.

The Brawny man. Great.

"Jess."

"Luke."

…Your turn. You gonna say something or…?

"Okay, so, uh…"

Well, he's obviously thrilled I'm here. Yeah, well, join the club.

He glanced around as he followed Mr. Backwards-Baseball-Cap and noticed the sinking feeling in his gut getting stronger.

A minute later, they were stepping into a tiny restaurant.

"Well, this is my diner," said his uncle.

Yep. Saw the sign.

"Huh."

"Belonged to your grandpa."

"...Huh."

"Yep."

I could leave. I could figure it out. I could just turn around and walk out…

Reminding himself that running away with nowhere to go was going to be a last resort, he followed Luke behind the counter and up the stairs.

I'll figure it out later.

"Well, here we are. It's pretty simple. This is the room," said Luke, beginning to point around the small apartment. "That's my bed. That's your, uh, bed, for now, but the sheets are new. There's the bathroom, there's the closet, there's the dresser, the phone, and over there's the kitchen."

When Jess didn't respond, Luke added, "I've got Frosted Flakes."

What am I, ten?

"Wow, that's grrrreat," said Jess sarcastically.

Luke took this in stride and moved on.

"So, is that all your stuff?", he asked.

Do you see any other stuff? I see your stuff. L.L. Bean's made a pretty penny off you.

"Yup."

"Yeah, well, not much there," Luke observed, concerned.

"Well, Lizzie's sending the rest later."

"So, you need some help?"

"Nope," Jess said, turning his duffel bag upside down and emptying its contents on the inflatable mattress.

I need…, he thought, digging through his things until he found the book he'd been reading. …To get the hell out of here.

"Okay, uh…I have to get back to the diner. I'm gonna close up at 10:00, so I thought–"

"See ya at ten," said Jess as we walked towards the door.

"But, wait, you need keys."

"No, I don't."

He shut the door of Luke's apartment and walked back downstairs. Stepping outside the diner, he felt briefly relieved to be away from his uncle and what was beginning to look like a game of twenty questions. But as he looked around, relief turned quickly into something closer to dread. These shiny, happy people, this shiny, happy town…he missed the Village already. The sounds of New York had been a soothing, dependable white noise, and the masses of people had meant he could be invisible, disappear. Here, suddenly, he stood out. An old Elvis Costello tune started to play in the back of his mind. He had to walk. Away. Far away. There had to be somewhere, even in a place like this, to be alone and tune it all out.

He walked the entire place twice in half an hour. After spotting a store called Le Chat Club, he came close to deciding he'd rather risk hopping a train, or laying down in front of one, than stay in Stars Hollow. He made his way to the very edge of town and actually stuck his thumb out, more out of curiosity than anything else. However, based on the looks he got from the passing motorists, he scratched hitchhiking off his mental list of possible escape routes, so he turned back, having given up on finding a way out, let alone a place to read.

As we walked past the high school, though, he noticed a shaded path he hadn't seen before. It seemed deserted, so he turned towards it and soon found himself on a bridge over a small lake. He ignored the picturesque quality of it; he wanted to be away from people and all their open staring and suspicion. He wanted to be alone and quiet, and for now, it served his purpose.

As he sat down and hung his feet over the water, his mind wandered briefly to his mother, her mercurial chaos, and their latest bitter argument that had landed him in a different state in a strange town with strange people. He took a deep breath and for a few moments, he was glad to be gone, even if he was…here. He pulled his worn copy of On the Road out of his pocket and began to read.

Sometime later, he felt his stomach growl. He didn't know how long he'd been reading but he was suddenly acutely aware that he hadn't eaten since he got on the bus that morning. Still, he ignored it for as long as he could. He did not want to talk or hear anyone else talk, and in a town the size of this one, he imagined the diner was a popular place to do exactly that.

Eventually, though, even the Frosted Flakes started to sound good, so he got up and headed back. As he approached the door, he caught a glimpse of Luke talking to a brunette woman across the counter. He stepped in and walked quickly towards the stairs with his head down, trying to make it obvious he did not want to join the conversation.

"Jess, hey, good, I'd like you to meet someone."

Take a hint, man, I just want to go upstairs. I have no interest in meeting your girlfriend.

Still, Jess stopped and turned to face them both, his face stony.

"Hi. I'm Lorelai," the woman began, beaming at him. "I just wanted to meet you before Luke had the chance to fill your head with all kinds of little lies about me."

So much unnecessary noise. The first three words were enough.

"Hi."

See? Simple, succinct, straightforward.

"You know, you should meet my daughter. She's about your age. She can show you where all the good wilding goes on."

So you're forty-something going on eighteen. Got it. Also, wilding, in this town? You've got to be kidding.

He raised his eyebrows and didn't say a word. His silence was a challenge.

"Okay, uh…well, it's nice to meet you. I hope you like it here."

Yeah, right.

"...So…class dismissed," she said finally, and Jess turned to leave.

"Uh, are you hungry? 'Cause I can–" started Luke, but Jess was already up the stairs and out of sight.

Jess breathed a sigh of relief as the apartment door shut behind him. His stomach growled again, and he crossed the room to the refrigerator. Luke was clearly a health-nut; everything in his fridge had to be cooked, and Jess was too tired and hungry for that. He searched the cabinets until he found the bowls and silverware, poured himself some cereal and ate quickly. Soon after, as he rinsed the dishes he'd used, his exhaustion began to overwhelm him. He placed the dishes in the drying rack and went to lay down on the inflatable mattress. He fell asleep immediately.

Later that evening, Jess woke, confused. The windows were in the wrong place, the sounds outside were wrong, and the air was different. He closed his eyes again and felt the memories fall back into place. He was not in New York, but at his uncle Luke's in Connecticut. He sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Fumbling around for his jacket, he pulled out his cigarettes and grabbed his pack of playing cards from the small pile of his belongings. A few minutes later, he heard his uncle come in.

"So, you got unpacked?" Luke asked by way of greeting.

Another great question, Uncle Luke.

"Yup."

"Got enough space in the closet?"

You barely have enough space in these closets, but yeah, sure.

"Plenty."

"You hungry?"

Geez, Uncle Luke.

"Eighteen."

"What?"

"Just counting how many questions 'til we hit twenty," Jess explained.

Luke took a breath and muttered, "Okay, nevermind."

Jess noticed that so far, Luke seemed fairly unflappable, but doubted that would last very long. He was related to Liz, after all.

The phone began to ring, and Luke picked it up.

"Yeah? … Yeah, Liz, he-he got here fine."

"Got here at ten this morning."

Why'd ya call, Lizzie? You wanna let me know my shit's gonna be out of your way soon? Wanna tell me one more time how I ruined your life?

"Okay, hang on a sec. Jess?"

"Pass."

"Jess, come on."

"Nope."

"What am I supposed to do here?"

"Tell her I gotta take another crack at that closet, y'know, I think I hung my Tool t-shirt next to my Metallica t-shirt, and they don't get along."

Luke looked at his nephew skeptically.

"You really want me to tell her that?"

"You think a different band combo would sell it more?" Jess asked, an edge in his voice.

Luke turned his attention back to the phone.

"Yeah, Liz, Jess is gonna have to call you back. Yeah, he's helping me out with a shelf thing, and his hands are full. Yeah, I'll tell him. Okay. Bye."

He put the receiver back down and turned to Jess.

"… She said to tell you your stuff will be here on Friday," Luke said uncomfortably.

Yep, sounds about right.

"Great. We'll have a party."

Luke considered his nephew for a moment. Under this aggressive apathy and sarcasm was still a seventeen-year-old kid. He hesitated before deciding to try to convince Jess of something that even he himself didn't believe was true.

"You know, your mom thinks this is…you know, for the best, for your own good, and…anyhow, I guess you'll just call her when you feel like it."

Jess tried to scoff but felt his stomach churn.

"Want to play some poker? Five bucks a hand?" he asked, trying to turn the subject away from his mother.

"No," said Luke.

"Ten?"

"No."

"I can't go any higher than ten."

"Jess…"

"Okay, fifteen," yielded Jess.

"Yeah, I don't wanna play poker," said Luke finally.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okey dokey."

"So, listen, Lorelai–you met her today, remember?"

The chatty one who thinks the sun shines out of her own ass? How could I forget?

"Anyhow, um, she invited us to her house tomorrow night for dinner."

Ah, jeez.

"Her daughter, Rory, who you didn't meet, but you'll like 'cause she's a lot like Lorelai, but, y'know, she's got a slightly tighter grasp on reality, anyhow sh-she'll be there, and…you know…it'd be, I don't know, it'd be a chance for you to meet more people, and so I said…I said yes."

Jess found himself up and out the door again before he'd completely registered how angry he was. Why, suddenly, did everyone feel compelled to drag him places he didn't want to go without bothering to ask him first?

He stayed out until he felt sure Luke had gone to sleep. When he finally made his way back up to the apartment, he found Luke asleep on the inflatable mattress and the actual bed free for the taking. He stood still for a moment, considering the full scope of his situation.

Everything his uncle had done so far told Jess that he was not as much like Liz as he'd been anticipating. It was true that Luke hadn't asked Jess about the move or about going to dinner with a bunch of people he didn't know, but considering the strained way Luke had tried to broach the topic of Liz earlier and the stilted way he told Jess they were going to dinner at Lorelai's, Jess figured talking was not only something Luke didn't enjoy but also something he wasn't great or practiced at. Something they had in common.

Jess took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out slowly. He grabbed his sweats and a T-shirt and walked quietly around Luke to the bathroom. He went in, locked the door, and reached past the shower curtain to turn on the water. Glancing at the sink, he frowned; a clean towel, washcloth and an unopened bar of soap were sitting out for him. He undressed and tossed his clothes on the floor.

As he stepped into the shower, he inhaled sharply. The contrast of hot water and cool air had sent goosebumps racing over his arms and legs. Instead of lowering the temperature, he turned his back to the stream of water and forced himself to adjust to the burn, letting his thoughts race. He wondered, bitterly, what Liz would be doing with the apartment all to herself. He clenched his teeth together and thought back to the number of nights he'd tried to find any excuse to stay out, to stay gone like she asked. The morning they'd fought, though, he'd been bleary-eyed with sleep, having woken up on the couch that served as his bed to find her staring at him from the kitchen.

He squeezed his eyes shut and thought, desperately, about anything else.

Eventually, he reached for the shampoo. His hair, having absorbed the smell of the apartment in New York despite his best efforts, still smelled like stale smoke and cheap incense, and he could smell it in the steam rising around him. He tilted his head back under the water until it was soaked through and then scrubbed shampoo through it mercilessly. Once he felt sure that he had scoured every inch, he turned his attention to his skin where he could still feel the grime of the city and the bus. He left the shampoo in his hair and attacked his body with the bar of soap. He repeated this process until his scalp and skin began to sting. As he watched the water and soap disappear down the drain, he felt a familiar surge of furious melancholy catch in his throat. He shut the water off roughly and pressed his palms into his eyes.

When he stepped out of the shower, he reached for the towel, and was surprised at how soft it was. His hand curled into a fist, taking the towel with it, and suddenly, the whole day, the last week, everything that had happened crept up on him. He felt a sharp prick behind his eyes and was horrified to realize his eyes had begun to well up. He shook his head quickly and roughly scrubbed himself dry until he could pull on his sweats and t-shirt. When he opened the bathroom door, he hoped the cloud of steam wouldn't wake Luke.

He walked quietly towards the bed and laid down, glad for the exhaustion that silenced his thoughts. Heavy sleep took him quickly, without dreams.

Luke's alarm went off at a quarter to five the next morning, but Jess slept soundly until the smell of the food being served downstairs woke him up. He stumbled to the bathroom, then scrounged his breakfast out of Luke's kitchen. As he looked for his clothes, he noticed that the air mattress didn't seem to have any more air in it. He pulled the sheets back and found a hole in the plastic where it had apparently popped the night before. He hung his head for a moment, imagining his uncle sleeping on the floor.

As he came downstairs and into the diner, he noticed Luke talking to a balding, disagreeable man. Jess stopped behind the counter to swipe a doughnut, and as he ate it, he watched the conversation between the two men devolve quickly into a disagreement. Jess watched, somewhere between annoyance and amusement, as Luke's face went from steely to outright red and angry. From what he could surmise, this was an argument they'd had several times before and seemed to have something to do with the exterior appearance of the diner. After a moment, the man caught sight of Jess and turned his attention to him immediately.

"Ah, Luke, is this…"

It was clear by the way his eyes started to bulge that he had caught sight of Jess's T-shirt. Sex Pistols. Jess raised his eyebrows expectantly, enjoying the indignation on the man's face.

"…your nephew?"

"Taylor, Jess, Jess, Taylor," said Luke impatiently.

"Well…uh…Jess, is it? If I were you, I would reconsider—"

Jess looked past Taylor at Luke and told him he was going out.

Luke started to remind him about dinner at Lorelai's, but the door swung shut before he could finish his sentence.

Jess walked around for a while, wondering what in the hell he was going to do in Stars Hollow all day every day until Luke inevitably threw in the towel. He had seen the entire town the day before and was not impressed. There was only one bookstore, and even then, he could not spend all of his time with his nose in a book.

His mind flitted back to the fussy looking man in the diner. Taylor had annoyed him. Taylor had annoyed Luke. Taylor probably annoyed a lot of people. It would be fun to annoy him back. The possibilities amused him in between the reading and the walking he did until dinner.

Jess made sure to get back just late enough to push Luke's buttons. After a brief stand-off, they had changed and begun to walk silently to Lorelai's house. Jess took advantage of the quiet to choose which of the several annoy-Taylor plans he had come up with to employ first. He'd need chalk. He'd need money for chalk. On the other hand…he'd come to learn that the "Doose's" in Doose's Market referred to Taylor's last name, and the whole thing would be funnier if he could slip some of Taylor's chalk into his pocket and get out without paying.

This line of thought was interrupted as they got closer to the blue house at the end of the lane. He took a deep breath, knowing he wasn't likely to enjoy much more silence that evening. Luke knocked. Jess shoved his hands in his pockets and steeled himself for the barrage of words that were inevitably going to come spewing out of Lorelai's mouth.

"Perfect timing," said Lorelai as she opened the door. "Sookie's about to break her own record for most food served outside of the Roman empire."

"Sounds great."

"Sure does," Jess said flatly.

Jess slipped quickly past Luke and Lorelai into the empty living room. He could hear them mumbling about him and knew that this whole evening was going to put him under a magnifying glass. So, despite the fact that the food actually did smell good, he started looking for a way out. Until he found one, though, he looked for anything to keep his eyes and mind occupied. There was admittedly a lot of that just in the living room. He looked around, noticing the volume of framed photographs on the mantle. He picked one up. A young girl in a purple sweater posed awkwardly at a desk. His throat tightened, remembering never having seen a picture of himself anywhere in Liz's apartment.

"Hey Jess, you wanna come on in the kitchen?" Lorelai asked.

He nodded, feigning a small smile, and walked with her and Luke into the kitchen.

"Sookie, Jackson, I'd like you to meet Luke's nephew. This is Jess."

The perky little hen of a woman he assumed was Sookie asked quickly, "Do you eat cheese?"

The question caught him so off-guard that he responded.

"...What?"

Before she could say anything, the man next to her took a slice of lemon out of his mouth and exclaimed, "Oh my god, this is the greatest lemon I have ever grown! I mean, this is a great lemon. Sookie, you gotta try this lemon. Isn't it a great lemon?"

Sookie took the lemon slice he had proffered and tasted it.

"That is a great lemon!", she agreed excitedly.

Jackson shoved another slice in Jess's direction. "Try it! It's a Meyer!"

Who are these people?

Lorelai had noticed the look on his face.

"Jackson grows fruit and then scares people with it," she said, somewhat pained, and then, looking past him, added, "Rory, they're here."

Jess turned around. Everything he'd experienced in Lorelai's house so far had him bracing for more noise. But it was quiet.

"Hey," she said, turning around to see him outside her bedroom door.

Simple, succinct, straightforward...

"Hey," he said, walking into her room.

"I'm Rory."

"Yeah, I figured."

"Nice to meet you."

He wasn't sure whether or not to agree with that yet, so he wandered over to her bookshelf and experienced a glimmer of something that might have been anticipation or possibly apprehension.

"Wow. Aren't we hooked-on-phonics."

"Oh, I read a lot. Do you read?"

"Not much," he said, pulling the most immediately familiar book from her shelf.

"I could loan you that if you want. It's great," she said.

Yeah, it is.

"No, thanks," said Jess, putting the book down and turning around.

"Well, if you change your mind…," she offered mildly.

Windows. Exit. I wonder if…

"Okay, we really need to get Jackson away from the lemons now, so we're moving the feast into the living room," Lorelai interrupted.

"Be right there." said Rory.

"Do these open?" Jess asked, having moved to the windows.

"Oh yeah, you just have to unlatch them and then push."

"Great. Shall we?"

"Shall we what?"

"Bail."

"...No?" she said, confused.

"Why?"

"Because it's Tuesday night in Stars Hollow. There's nowhere to bail to. The 24-hour mini-mart just closed twenty minutes ago."

"So, we'll walk around or sit on a bench and stare at our shoes."

"Look, Sookie just made a ton of really great food, and I'm starving, and though it may not seem like it right at this moment, it's gonna be fun. Trust me," she said.

"I don't even know you," said Jess.

"Well, don't I look trustworthy?"

Like the first person I don't want to immediately run away from, anyway.

"Maybe," he said reticently.

"Okay, good. Let's eat," she said as she turned to leave. Her smile was almost enough to tempt him, but the noise was growing louder from the other room.

Jess stepped away from the windows and slipped Rory's copy of Howl into his pocket. He imagined briefly what the rest of the dinner would be like with the insane foodies and Lorelai peppering him with questions and decided he couldn't handle it. He'd step out the back, head for the bridge and leave a couple of notes in the margins for her to read later. He heard Rory ask if he wanted a soda.

"Oh, I'll get it."

"Okay."

He glanced in the fridge and raised his eyebrows. A quiet evening with a borrowed book, a stolen beer and a plan to surprise what seemed to be one of the only other sane people in Stars Hollow was much preferable to the cheery, bubbly, noisy mess of the dinner table in the other room. He grabbed a beer and stepped outside the back door.

He had just popped the cap off the beer when he heard the door and hoped it wasn't–

"Ooh, for me? Hey, thanks," said Lorelai as she took the beer out of his hand.

Damn.

She took a sip of the beer.

"Refreshing."

Here it comes.

"So, what? You're not hungry?" she asked.

"Not really."

I guess it's too much to ask that you just leave it alone, right?

"Sookie made you some grilled cheese if you don't like pot roast."

"Oh, well, if I had known that…"

I just said I'm not hungry. What do you want from me?

"Let me guess. You don't want to be here."

"Doesn't matter," Jess mumbled, hoping she would stop pressing.

"I mean here, in Stars Hollow."

"Jeez, Miss Gilmore, why would anyone not wanna be here in Stars Hollow? That just sounds plum crazy."

"Oh, Jess, let me give you a little advice. The whole 'my parents don't get me' thing, ugh, I've been there."

"Ya have, huh?"

"Yes, I have. I've also done the 'chip on my shoulder' bit, oh, and the surly, sarcastic 'the world can bite my ass' bit, and let me tell you, I mastered them all, in heels, yet. Everything you're feeling might be totally justified, maybe you aregetting screwed. But Luke is a great guy."

He gripped the railing of the porch tightly as she talked. He had been prepared to tune her out, but after she had used 'parents' in the plural and brushed off his life as a "bit", it became clear she had no idea what she was talking about, and the anger he was constantly barely keeping a lid on had bubbled back up to the surface.

Parents? I don't know who my dad is, and my mother– ...How dare you talk to me like you know me. God, how are you still talking?

"He's very special, and he really wants to take care of you and make things right for you. You're incredibly lucky to have him. If you give this situation half a chance, you might be surprised at how good it can be…how much you like living here, and how comfortable it feels to have someone like Luke you can really depend on."

She had clearly been dying to give him this speech. He had bitten his tongue through most of it, but the saccharine tone her voice took on as she talked about Luke, and the way she had told him he was "incredibly lucky" pushed Jess over the edge.

"What, are you sleeping with him or something?" he asked bluntly when she finished.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know. The whole starry-eyed "you're so much better off, just give it a chance" speech. You're either really naive…or you're getting some."

"...Ugh, there have been very few moments in my life where I have actually wished I had one of those enormous cream pies you can just smash in someone's face, but this is definitely one of them."

"Well, now, that's not very neighborly," said Jess derisively.

"Hey, you know what? This is my house, and I choose how I get talked to in it, ha ha."

"You know, you don't know anything about me or my life or my mom or Luke, so why don't you 'Dr. Lor' someone else?" Jess was close to shouting.

"I'm going inside. Stay out of my fridge," Lorelai snapped.

He clenched his teeth together tightly. Less than five minutes with Lorelai, unfazed by her attempt at charm, and he'd burned the bridge all the way to the ground. Did she really think that she could turn everything around for him with one conversation and a smile? He thought he'd made it fairly obvious that he wanted to be left alone. He hadn't run screaming back to New York, had he? Wasn't that enough of a sign that he was giving this a chance? He'd been here almost two days, and no one had bothered to find out anything about him. Luke had even tried to defend Liz the previous day. To Luke's credit, it was half-hearted, and he clearly hadn't been able to convince himself of what he was saying. Still, there had been no effort by anyone to put themselves in Jess's shoes.

He had just started to step off the porch stairs when he heard Luke and Lorelai arguing. He stepped back towards the door. Was Luke defending him? Jess hadn't exactly given him a reason to, so far. He took a deep breath and turned again to leave.

Luke caught up to him as he was walking down the driveway, grimacing at the gnomes he'd just spotted in the Gilmores' neighbor's garden.

There were several minutes of silence, uncle and nephew alike deep in thought. Jess started to wonder if they'd get all the way back without talking.

"Y'know, Lorelai…she thinks she knows everything, and she has to let everyone know it, but…" Luke began.

Defending Liz, defending Lorelai. Should've known.

"Can we not?"

"Jess, listen, just–hey, where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"But it's late. Jess!"

But Jess had already turned, walking away from the center of town. He walked around for a bit until he found a streetlamp he could sit under and read. He knew so many parts of the poem by heart, though, that he started to wish he was the kind of person who carried a pen around. Unable to put notes in the margins for now, he thought back to the other books he'd seen on her shelf and found himself regretting having snapped at her mother the way he had.

When he was sure that Luke was back at the apartment and probably asleep, he doubled back to the lane that lead to the Gilmore house to knick the gnome he'd seen. He wasn't sure why the idea had occurred to him and didn't waste any time trying to analyze it. He walked back to the diner with the gnome, relieved that this town seemed to have no nightlife to speak of and therefore no one to see him awkwardly carry the thing inside.

He walked slowly upstairs and into the apartment. Everything was quiet, so he crept over to the closet across from the door and stashed the gnome in his duffle bag in the coat closet. As he shut the closet door, he heard the squeak of thick plastic behind him and froze in place, afraid Luke had caught him. However, silence settled back over the apartment, so he turned around slowly, and, to his surprise, he saw that Luke had not only patched the inflatable mattress that had popped the night before and reinflated it, but had also decided to sleep on it, leaving the actual bed for Jess again.

Jess glanced back at the closet and let out the breath he'd been holding. He bowed his head and wondered, again, how long it would be before Luke gave up.