thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I just realized we are coming up on a year in August since I started publishing this story. I want to give you all another deeply sincere thank you, because I would not feel as motivated/inspired as I do to keep writing without your support! I remember I was so nervous to attempt a multi-chapter story, because it had been years since I had written anything at length. but it's been such a pleasure thanks to you guys!

hope you enjoy this chapter! xoxo

disclaimer: I own nothing

TW: discussion of miscarriage


He stands there like that for some time, finding the repetitive petting of the cat soothing as he stares at the walls of their apartment in deep thought. Silently racking his brain for what to do next. He was too harsh, he realizes that now. He let his frustration get the best of him; surely there was a better way to handle it. But he still feels hurt, and so finds himself stuck in a weird place without clear answers.

A knock at the door shakes him from his thoughts, and while he hopes it's Rory coming back to talk, he knows she wouldn't knock. Sabrina meows as he carefully places her down on the floor and walks the small hallway towards the sound. At the door he looks through the peephole, and is momentarily stupefied by the person he sees. If it's really him, it is a cruel, horrible coincidence on today of all days. The man lifts his hand to knock again, and the sound mixed with the company jolts Jess into hot anger. He turns the knob and opens the door, he leans against it's frame with his arms crossed and a growing scowl.

"If it isn't the Blonde Dick at Yale," he says, words hard and pointed, "or, I suppose you're the Blonde Dick of London now. Quite an upgrade for you, isn't it?"

Logan meets his look with an ingratiating fake smile.

"Great American Novelist, good to see you too."

"There's nothing good about seeing you outside our apartment. Or anywhere else for that matter. But especially not outside mine and Rory's home. What the hell do you want?"

Jess's scowl is in full form now, and his voice icy cold. Logan's smile twists into an angry frown.

"Where's Rory?"

"What the hell do you want?" Jess repeats himself. He hears a hissing sound near his feet and looks down at Sabrina with a satisfied smile, "Good girl. Stay close I might need to unleash you on him."

Logan bristles at his question being ignored.

"My father mentioned he saw Rory at the New York Press awards, and that she won one."

"Yep, I had the absolute pleasure of meeting your humble creator. Since, you know, I was there with her."

"Funny, he didn't mention you."

"I'm sure he often has a hard time remembering people that don't kiss the ground he walks on. Or that his colossal ego hasn't yet crushed. And that's the nicest way I could have possibly put that, by the way, so you're welcome for my tact. You should take notes, seems like a quality you need to work on."

Logan grunts, "I just wanted to give my congratulations to Rory. That's why I'm here."

Jess skewers him with the sharp look he gives him, "No. You wanted to see her. That's why you came in person. Instead of emailing her, calling her, or even sending her a gift basket like a normal person that doesn't have some sort of unreciprocated obsession with her."

"You don't know the relationship Rory and I have, or have had," Logan argues with a warped smile on his face, "we're friends, and we have been for a long time. I can say congratulations to her in person. She will think it's a nice surprise. Trust me, that's all I'm here for."

This puts Jess over the edge, and he quickly urges Sabrina back into the apartment and closes the door behind him, stepping closer to Logan with fuming fury on his face.

"No one with two brain cells would trust you. And actually, I know every fucking thing I need to know about your socalled 'relationship'. Because, unfortunately, me and her are still working to undue the devastating damage leftover from what you did to her," he seethes in Logan's face, forcing him to step back until he's almost pressed against the wall across from their apartment door. Logan's face drops for just a moment before he scoffs.

"It's not like I forced myself on her or something! What the hell did she tell you?"

"Shut up and listen to me," Jess shouts, inching even closer to him so now Logan is completely pressed against the wall, "I was in the car with her that day when you admitted to not wearing protection and not thinking a damn thing of it. I heard everything. What you did was sexual assault. I know that no one else will tell you that directly, but I will. Because you probably pay the company you keep. Am I right?"

He doesn't give him a chance to respond, and he does something he hasn't done to another person in a long time. He grabs Logan by the shirt and pushes him harder against the wall, face now only inches from his.

"Lying to someone about using protection is assault, Logan. Do you hear me? I know that word sounds big and scary and that's because it fucking is! It was big and scary for her, and it still affects her. But you didn't see it that way, and I'm sure you still don't, because you are a spoiled, pathetic excuse of a person that has had all of his worst behaviors brushed off or wiped clean through money and willful ignorance. It's not fair. You deserve to live with the knowledge that you assaulted a woman you claimed to love and care about. You also deserve to be fucking properly charged for it, but that of course would be more of a headache for Rory than you. Do you see everything you have put on her and put her through? And you just want to show up on a fucking whim at her home? You are more of a moron than I even realized. You've given no thought to how this might make her feel. God, you have never cared about Rory as a person. You have only ever cared about who she could be to you."

As Jess finishes his scathing proclamation, Logan visibly flinches hard. Jess's eyes drill into him, daring him to contest anything he just said.

He parts his lips and weakly states, "I didn't lie to her. I never said I was using protection -"

Jess shoves him against the wall again.

"No, but you never plainly said that you weren't. And that's way more fucking important. Even you can understand the difference, right?"

He gapes, grasping for another argument, "you're making me sound like some sort of monster! It wasn't planned or anything, it was an in the heat of the moment choice and I'm not saying it was right, but it's not assault."

"Do you hear yourself, jackass? You sound like the fucking poster boy of privilege right now. It was an 'in the moment choice' that you only consulted yourself on! Just think about how that would sound in court. Or think about what sort of response you would get if you said that to fucking Lorelai, huh? Or how about Luke? You think they would see things your way? God, even Christopher wouldn't take your side on this and he's about as virtuous as you are."

Jess shoots daggers at him, waiting for Logan to say one more stupid thing that would be cause enough to punch him in the face.

Instead, Logan swallows and asks guiltily, "How is she?"

Jess stares back at him in disbelief. And he realizes, he's not going to get anything out of this conversation that will make him feel any ounce of good. Because he knows this guy will never take responsibility for anything he doesn't want to, and he will always get away with it too. There's no point in expending any more energy on this. He completely understands more than ever Rory's frustration in her futile attempts to close the door on that part of her life. Because every time she thinks she's done it, he seems to find his way back. Whether it's shoving the door down by painting the town for one last night with her, or evading that door completely by showing up through a different one at their home; a place where she should be able to feel secure, comfortable and at ease. Not on alert for an unwelcome visitor.

He rolls his eyes and releases his hold on Logan, stepping a good foot away from him now.

"That's privileged information and for once in your life, it's a privilege you can't have. Leave her alone. Let her have her peace."

"I have, for four years now. I haven't seen or spoken to her. But this…is a special occasion."

Jess scowls at him, and then as realization hits, he scoffs in disbelief, "you're just like your father. You think you deserve some sort of credit for her getting that award, don't you? You think you're totally in the right showing up here to surprise her after four years, because you expect her to be thanking you for something. Not only is that fucking incorrect, it's manipulative."

Logan's face hardens for a moment, but realizing he is now out of Jess's grip, he suddenly gains back some of his smugness.

"What if she wants to see me?"

"If she wants to see you, we will reach out to you to set something up," Jess responds fast and deadly, being sure to stress their shared life, "You will not show up whenever you damn well please and rattle her day."

Logan's mouth raises in an annoying smirk, "You afraid she'll want to come back to me?"

"Are you out of your mind? Did you not hear any of the shit I just said to you?" Jess shouts, "You have just proven to me further how much you need to get the fuck out of here. What kind of married man with a child even jokes about something like that? Speaking of, where is your family? Where do they think you are?" Jess asks with a raised brow, arms crossed and scrutinizing him harshly. Logan's smirk diminishes and he looks away. He clears his throat before answering.

"I'm in the city on business. Visiting an old friend. It's no big deal."

"Right. And how did you get this address?" Jess asks, suddenly realizing how much stranger the situation actually is, "Let me guess, you abused the power of the Huntzberger name and pulled some strings with New York Times HR."

He doesn't answer at first, but after a beat, his mouth lifts up in a self-satisfied manner.

"Emily gave it to me."

Jess's heart drops for a split second, but then he laughs which wipes the smile right off Logan's face.

"No, she didn't. I guess your Rory P.I. forgot to tell you that Emily invested in my company, and she's partial owner of my business here in New York. We're pretty close. It's cute that you thought you had one over on me though," he steps closer to him again, "by the way, she knows what you did too. I would watch your back if you're ever on holiday in Nantucket."

He gulps, and Jess asks again,

"So, how did you get this address? If you tell me, I'll consider not calling the police on you for stalking and trespassing."

Logan's eyes widen and he stumbles over his words before sighing.

"Fine. I had meetings at the Times this past week and…asked about her. Someone told me she was out of the country and flying home today, but wouldn't be back in the office until next week. So I…did my own digging around and found the address."

Jess watches him give his explanation, with only the tiniest sliver of shame in his tone. He shakes his head and releases a rough, humorless laugh. He backs up towards the apartment door.

"I don't know what your true intentions were coming here, because nothing is as it seems when you're involved. But this is not okay to do, and it never will be."

"I just wanted to see her," he confesses in a sad whisper, "she seems like she's doing well. Just wanted to see that."

Jess rolls his eyes.

"Let her go. You need to. She's not interested in anything with you. Not friends or anything. I know because I have been with her for years. We live together, we've talked about having a family and marrying each other. We collaborate on work together sometimes. I hold her every night that's she home, I kiss her at least ten times a day. When she's sad, she has me and when she's happy she has me and when she's angry she still has me. There is nothing here for you. Okay? Nothing at all."

Logan listens to his words but doesn't respond. His face is a scrunched up combination of sad and annoyed.

"I'm not going to tell her you came by. And I don't think you should either. If you want to congratulate her on her award as you claimed is your reason for coming, email her or something fucking normal."

With a petulant sigh, he gives in, "Fine. I'm out of here."

"Great. Hey, you know what, in a way I'm glad you came. I've been wanting to give you a piece of my mind for years."

Logan ignores him and turns towards the stairwell. Jess opens the apartment door, but has a sudden thought.

"Wait! I have something for you," Jess shouts. Logan stops in his tracks and turns around, but doesn't walk back.

"I'm really not stupid enough to get any closer. I'm sure it will end with me having a black eye or busted lip."

Jess rolls his eyes, "Wait there."

He runs into the apartment and to a book shelf. He grabs a copy of his short stories and walks back out to the hallway. He looks at the distance between him and Logan; deciding he's feeling too petty to bridge the gap, he drops the book on the floor and kicks it down to him. Logan looks down at the item with bewilderment.

"My gift to you on behalf of humanity. Read 'Mom To Be' and gain some fucking much needed perspective."

And with that, Jess steps back into the apartment and slams the door shut. Locking it roughly and pounding an exasperated fist on the wall next to it.

"Fuck. It's not me," he groans in realization at what Rory was trying to tell him, "It's him, and everything else."

He runs his hands through his hair and walks down the apartment hallway towards the kitchen with the intention of grabbing a much needed drink. But along the way, he gets a glimpse of their shared office. His eyes lock on his computer and the desk with handwritten notes scattered all over it. He thinks of that day that he locked himself in there for hours after his birthday, and found Rory waiting patiently for him outside when he was done. He slowly walks towards it, the beginnings of an idea sprouting in his mind. Then he sits down at his computer, and goes to work.


Jess brings a hand to his chin as he reads through pages he just completed. He's startled to be met with the roughness of a beard against his fingers. Having shaved that morning, he was expecting just a small stubble on his face. His strained eyes look at the clock on the bottom corner of his laptop. It shows that it's after midnight, which he expected by the darkness of the room. But he audibly gasps when he reads the date, which tells him it's been three days, going on four now, since the day he picked Rory up from the airport. He looks down at himself and all around the room. Panic builds as he thinks about what this means. Rory hasn't been home, he hasn't been paying attention, and then the cat - that makes him jump out of his chair. He rushes to their bedroom, but upon swinging the door open, is met with an empty bed. The bathroom door is open and he can see there is no one, or no cat, in there either.

"Shit!" he exclaims, and starts searching the rest of the apartment. He softly calls Sabrina's name throughout the living room, the guest bathroom and even the kitchen. He feels heavy dread in his gut, at the thought of the cat escaping or Rory leaving or….

But then, while tearing apart the kitchen to see if the cat is stuck in a cabinet somewhere, he sees a handwritten note clipped to the fridge. The panicked feeling in his body dulls slightly as he steps closer to it and recognizes Rory's handwriting. He pulls it off and holds it close to his face, his eyes still feeling exhausted from the apparent days he spent looking at his computer screen.

"Jess,

I'm going to Stars Hollow for a few days. I'm taking Sabrina so you can keep writing undisturbed. We will be at mom's.

Love always,

Rory

PS - don't worry about work. I called Brooke and she will cover you through the weekend."

His eyes prickle with hot tears of gratitude. Even when he screws up, or even when they're in the midst of something weird, she supports him beyond expectation. The urge to see her takes over completely; he needs to get to Stars Hollow as soon as possible. But looking at the clock again, he knows there is no way he will find public transportation to Connecticut at this hour. He curses to himself, mind racing with other ways to get there. She obviously took the car, and their old beater that they liked to drive to remote places and have sex in finally gave up one day trying to go up a hill in Hudson Valley.

As soon as he thinks of the person that could help him, he finds his phone to call her. Though he figures the chances are slim, he will put himself out there in any way to get to Rory sooner.

"This better be an emergency," her always agitated voice answers the phone.

"Paris. Can I borrow your car? I need to get to Stars Hollow."

She scoffs, "In what world would I let you borrow my Macan, Mariano?"

"This one, I'm hoping. You know I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

"I was around when you crashed Rory's car, you know. I know you totalled it."

He huffs and exclaims, "I was a teenager. And there was an animal in the road!"

"What kind of animal?"

"I don't know, Paris," he groans, "something small and furry."

"I don't want someone driving my car that brakes for small animals. The Porsche can sustain any raccoon or rabbit."

"Jeez, vicious much?"

"The insurance on that car is insane as is! I don't need your gentle heart making it worse."

"Paris, please. I'm an idiot and completely lost track of time, a lot of time, writing something. I haven't talked to Rory in days. I just came to and saw a note from her that she went to Stars Hollow. I don't even know what day she left. I need to get there as soon as possible."

"Yes I've heard all about your lover's spat. And you are an idiot."

"Thanks."

"But…she isn't completely right either. And she knows that."

Jess's eyebrow raises, "She told you that?"

"After a few dirty martinis, she told me a lot. I know every filthy detail about your night after the award ceremony. I'm shocked she's not pregnant with the way you were giving it to her."

"Jesus Christ, do you talk to your clients that way?" he groans in exasperation, "Paris, will you help me or not? I'll get a damn Uber if I have to but I'd rather not waste the time. It's tough to get a ride for that far of a trip, especially this time of night."

"You're lucky I happen to be in a romantic mood. I just finished watching Gilda."

"Gilda? I guess I shouldn't be surprised a scheming woman would make you feel romantic."

"Hey, it has a happy ending. Her brilliant plan worked."

"Right, with just a little bit of death on the side. You're going to help me?"

"Yes, but I'm not loaning you my car. I'll drive you to Stars Hollow. I'll pick you up in thirty. Does that give you enough time to not look like a beatnik on a bender?"

He looks down at himself and takes in his old, creased clothes.

"I'll make it work. Thanks Paris."

….

"Her period started, by the way. I gave her something to induce it when I saw her the other night. Just for her peace of mind."

Jess looks over at Paris from the passenger seat of her car as she speaks. His right arm rests against the door, his left hand runs through his hair.

"But in my professional opinion, her pills got screwed up when she got sick, and so her hormones got screwed up, and that's what delayed her period. Not an unaccounted for pregnancy."

He watches her, unsure of how to respond to what she's saying. Her eyes dart briefly over to him and she sighs.

"I'm just letting you know. Because I know it's a delicate subject and that tests can be wrong. And I know that you feel left out of something."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I feel confident in saying she wasn't pregnant at any point over the last month. Okay? This wasn't a miscarriage or anything like that. Just a late period."

Jess sits with those words for a moment. Then, explains softly, "It wasn't the pregnant part that concerned me, Paris. It was her choice to get answers alone, and her choice to not be honest with me about the way she was feeling."

Her mouth sets in a condescending frown, "In my experience, most women do it that way. Even though it's not a possibility without your oh-so-important sperm, most women would take pregnancy tests on their own and tell their partner the result. Or sometimes…not. Depending on what they want to do about it. Your expectation is a little unfair, Jess."

He opens his mouth to defend himself, but she stops him with a hand.

"But…the circumstances do make it a little odd that she would do that. Given that she did call you to tell you about it, and not to mention all that you've been through with her. I think she just panicked."

"I understand panicking. What I don't understand is not sharing that with me."

Paris turns to him briefly with a thoughtful look.

"Because you want to be there for her?"

"Yes."

"And is that for your sake or hers?" Paris asks, but not in her usual intensely inquisitive manner. It takes Jess by surprise and he just sits looking at the side of her face in response.

"It seems like you're trying to overcompensate for something that's not lacking. Not from you anyway," she continues, "Rory mentioned your argument about being responsible for the scare and wanting to take responsibility."

Jess nods slowly, "yes, because I am."

"Uh huh," Paris takes a breath and then explains, "You're not Logan, Jess. You're not him or her father. Or you're father, for that matter. Rory mentioned a little about him."

His eyes scrutinize her, searching for the meaning of her words.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't put unfair pressure on Rory because you feel the need to prove something to yourself."

Her tone is soft, yet each word stabs at him like a knife. He brings a hand to his face, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

Paris continues, "she doesn't doubt you. And there's no expectation to make up for others' mistakes."

He swallows and turns his attention to the windshield, watching the shadows of the trees pass by in the road.

"Can I tell you something that I don't want you to tell Rory?"

She gives him an annoyed look, "you think I would lie to my best friend? Just because I'm giving you a ride to save your relationship in the middle of the night doesn't mean you and I are any closer."

"Our relationship doesn't need to be saved, jeez," he rolls his eyes, "Logan showed up at our door the other day. Claiming he wanted to congratulate Rory in person for her New York Press Award."

"Oh, sure, because sending an email or gift basket wouldn't have been invasive enough for that feral swine," she exclaims, making Jess smirk, "god, he's worse than herpes. Just keeps coming back all cocksure and irritating the spaces he inhabits."

"My thoughts exactly."

"You're right. I don't need to tell her that," Paris asserts, then softens, "especially right now. She really was scared, you know. And a lot of that has to due with what she went through because of him."

"I know," Jess confirms quietly.

"She mentioned how she couldn't stop thinking about the day she went to the hospital. I should have flown to Connecticut to be there with her. I wish I had."

He thinks back to conversations he's had with Rory about that, and looks quizzically at Paris.

"She hasn't told me much about that day. Just that she had cramps and went to the hospital because you told her to."

Paris shrugs, "I mean, that is the long and short of it. But, it's really painful. And she didn't want to be put on painkillers because she wanted to be able to drive herself home, that's what the nurses told me anyway. So she was, excruciatingly I'm sure, aware and feeling everything."

His heart falls to his stomach, because that's a detail that he's never had. He sucks in a breath and turns in his seat to the road again. He brings a hand to his head and rubs his temples, his other hand starts tapping anxiously on the car door. Paris turns briefly to look him over.

"Jess," she says in an unexpectedly kind tone that makes him pause and turn to her, "ask her about it. She'll talk to you."

They spend the remainder of the car ride mostly in silence. Paris put on an audiobook at some point, but it was all medical jargon so Jess easily ignored it and got lost in his thoughts. As they enter the familiar streets of the small town, Jess points to the diner coming up.

"Can you drop me off here?"

Paris pulls over but shoots him a dirty look.

"I didn't drive you all this way just for you to chicken out at the last second. I know she's staying at her mother's."

Jess sighs and opens the door to get out of the car.

"I'm not chickening out. I have a plan and it starts here," he assures her, and he grabs the backpack he packed from the backseat. Paris rolls her eyes and waits for him to get out of the car. Before closing the door he leans in,

"Do you need a place to sleep? You can stay up here, I don't need to use the apartment," Jess asks, hiking his thumb towards the building behind him. Her mouth lifts in disgust.

"No offense, but I've spent enough of my life sleeping in questionable places."

"Luke did mention a scary apartment in New Haven…this isn't that bad, promise."

"I'm good, Bukowski. I called the Dragonfly before I picked you up and they're holding a room for me."

He nods, "Alright. Thanks Paris. I owe you."

"I won't let you forget that. Good luck."

"And…" he adds quietly, "I heard what you said. About needing to prove something to myself. I'll work on that."

Her lips tick slightly but she doesn't quite form a smile, "Good."

He nods, then closes the door and turns to the diner. He steps up to the entrance and feels around the top of the door. He sighs in relief when he finds a key there still. Then, he lets himself inside and starts on his plan.

…..

Rory half wakes from a dream to a sensation of pressure on her body. She doesn't open her eyes because she knows it's probably Sabrina changing positions, as she likes to do many times throughout the night. She has gotten used to it for the most part, but occasionally the feeling of her paws pushing into her flesh rouses her awake. But as she moves her hand, looking for the comforting feeling of the cat's soft fur, she doesn't find it. She reaches out on all sides of her to see if the cat is on the bed, and meets something that feels soft but stiff like leather. Her eyes flip open at the same time Jess says, "Rory. It's me."

She still yelps in surprise as she looks up at him, because he's in motorcycle gear from head to hips, at least. He reaches up and takes his helmet off.

"Sorry. I should have done that before sneaking in here."

Feeling dazed and confused, she just looks up at him from her reclined position on the bed.

"Where's Sabrina?" she asks, in a small sleepy voice that makes Jess smile.

"She's here, watching me from under the bed. Tried to attack me when I came into the room. You've got your very own guard cat, Gilmore."

"I told you she's a girl's girl," Rory's lips turn up slightly and through a yawn she asks, "what's going on? It feels late. Or maybe early."

He takes a seat in a small open space next to Rory on the mattress. He takes off one of his gloves and brings his hand to her face. He breathes deeply at the sensation of touching her skin for the first time in days.

"It's five in the morning. I want to take you somewhere. I have gear for you."

She looks up at him, her face a mix of confusion and intrigue. He adds on,

"I also have a thermos of coffee and breakfast for you."

She blinks up at him and then smiles.

"You should have opened with that."

Now she is fully awake, the wind blowing the ends of her hair roughly as Jess rides them down the highway somewhere. She holds on tight to him around his waist, her helmeted head turned to the side and resting on his back. It's not the first ride she has taken like this with him, but it feels extra magical. The time of day, with the sky a brilliant hue of peach and that mystical early morning purple. Being close to him again after an argument and time apart. The tenderness passing between the two of them because they both recognize they've left wounds open in each other. And the mutual understanding that they are ready to start closing those wounds now. She doesn't enjoy when they fight, but there is something that feels special and rewarding about the ways they make up. She closes her eyes for just a moment, pretending she's in a dream and going down a different path with Jess where she left with him years ago. Perhaps after he showed up at Yale, and she did end up getting far away from her little world with him. But then she opens her eyes and smiles, because even given the recent circumstances, their reality is better than any other story she can create in her head. Because this is real, and the burn of the cold wind on the bit of exposed skin on her wrist between her jacket and glove is a sublime reminder of that.

As she feels Jess slow the bike down she turns her head to see they've taken an exit off the highway. The landscape and trees, while bare and pale, look curiously familiar. They pull up to a red light, and Jess moves a hand from a handlebar to rest on top of hers. She wants to ask him why they're near her alma mater, but appreciates that it will be futile to try having a conversation over the sound of the motorcycle and through their thick helmets. Instead, she relaxes against him more, turning her head once again to rest on his back. Trusting in this early morning journey, and every other journey she will take with him. The bike revs beneath her as he speeds the rest of the way to their destination.

She looks up once it comes to a complete stop and she no longer feels her body vibrating from the engine. Before she can really take in her surroundings, Jess blocks her view by standing up and taking off his gear. Then he delicately places his hands beneath her helmet, unhooking and lifting it from her head with soft, studious concentration. She doesn't look away from him, and their eyes meet as his fingers comb through and untangle her hair for her. Her stomach bubbles with demand, and as his hand travels to hers to take off her gloves, she splutters out an,

"I'm sorry."

His eyes, dark as black coffee today, snap to hers. The sorrow she sees there leaves her feeling stark and void of speaking any additional regrets. He shakes his head slowly and mutters, in a pleading tone,

"Not yet."

She only swallows and nods in response. His attention goes back to her gloves, then to taking off the backpack from her back, which holds the coffee and food that he made at the diner for them. Rory looks around now, and realizes they are at a small park. There are a few benches nearby and a paved walkway through a block of greenery. It's quite nice and intimate for a park in the middle of a city. She looks back at Jess as he stands in front of her again, and without asking he gently places his arms around her middle and lifts her off the bike and safely to the ground. The feeling of being securely in his hold again makes her heart melt with a fiery heat. She takes a breath through her nose as he pulls his body away from her, his hands simply skimming her hips now. He looks at her with one of those faces of his that overwhelm her with silent messages. Then, the side of his mouth ticks ever so slightly upward and he nods his head behind him, towards the benches. She follows him wordlessly, taking a seat on the green bench he stops at. While he opens up the backpack, she takes another look around and she notices a street sign that indicates Yale New Haven Hospital is .3 miles up the road. She frowns and suddenly her insides feel stricken with anxiety. She looks back at Jess who is pouring coffee into a Luke's travel cup. He puts a lid on it and turns to hand it to her, but as he sees her face, his drops as well.

"I got my period," she says quickly and urgently before he can talk. He blinks and tilts his head.

"Paris mentioned that. Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

She is so laser focused on what's running through her head she ignores his comment, "Why did you bring me to the hospital?"

His brows furrow in confusion, "what? I didn't bring you to a hospital…this is a park."

"But it's down the street from Yale New Haven Hospital. That wasn't on purpose?" she asks, swallowing down some of her panic. He shakes his head slowly.

"No. Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. Because you wanted a second opinion on if I'm pregnant or not? Which is totally fine if you do, I get that and would be okay if that's something you wanted, but not here, Jess. Not at this hospital."

He tries to respond, but finds himself unable to form any coherence from this conversation. But then a light bulb goes off. He closes his eyes with a deep sigh, then opens them and looks over her softly.

"I didn't know, Rory. I'm sorry. I assumed you went to Hartford."

She bites her lip as her shoulders slacken. Her head moves back and forth.

"No, actually, I have a problem with that hospital too," she mumbles her answer. His eyes search her further and he asks in a whisper,

"Richard?"

She meets his eyes and nods. Her demeanor is less affronted now, though she continues to chew at her lip. He steadily steps closer to her. He leans forward from his standing position and places his hands on each side of her head, then brings his lips tenderly to her forehead. He runs his thumbs lovingly along her jaw before he steps away, and he's pleased at the now relaxed look of her. He puts his hand in the backpack and pulls out a container.

"Waffle with blueberries and syrup?"

Her mouth twitches.

"Whipped cream too?"

"Of course."

She grins and takes the box from him with gusto. After sipping her coffee she digs in. Jess smiles to himself and pulls out another takeout box. He sits down on the bench next to her, his leg just barely touching hers, and starts to eat his own waffle. He grins as he feels her press her body closer to his on the bench. They eat silently for a few minutes, before Rory's voice asks in a confused tone,

"Paris? When did you talk to Paris?"

He turns to look at her, but before he can respond she asks more questions,

"And why are we here, at a park near Yale? I don't think I ever even noticed this park in the four years I lived around here. And how did you make us breakfast? Have you been up all night? Wait, how did you get to Stars Hollow?"

His mouth twists, trying to control the amused smile growing on his face at her onslaught of questions. He places a hand on her leg, "Please don't choke on your breakfast."

She swallows her bite of food, "it's delicious."

"Good. There's more if you're still hungry," he lifts another container out of the bag and hands it to her, "Paris gave me a ride to Stars Hollow. I'm sorry I completely lost track of time, and the world. I saw your note in the middle of the night and called her. I had her drop me off at Luke's, I did some cleaning and maintenance on the bike, and then I made us all this and picked you up."

She looks at him, "so you have been up all night."

"I don't even know how long I've been up, to be honest. Could be days. Unless I passed out at my desk and don't remember."

"What were you writing?"

"I'll show you when it's ready. Promise."

"Okay. Why are we here?"

He pauses, taking a moment to gather his courage and intentions. He closes his takeout box and puts it to the side. Then he turns to face Rory, resting an arm across the back of the bench. He looks into her eyes before he speaks, but averts his gaze just as he starts to explain.

"We're here because…I want to open up to you more about painful times in my life. And…I'm hoping it will make you feel comfortable enough to do the same."

She slowly finishes chewing the bite of waffle in her mouth, and puts the box on the ground, giving him her full attention.

"I don't know if there's anything I haven't told you," she replies honestly in a soft tone, "but I'm listening."

He meets her eyes again briefly before looking off onto the trees in the park.

"I came here that day I showed up at Yale. The day that I…barged in on your life and insisted you leave town with me."

He pauses and she asks, "here? How did you end up here?"

"After I successfully scared you, and was rightfully rejected by you, I was just…overwhelmed. With thoughts, mostly self-loathing and regretful. I was scared too, and I did that to myself."

She presses herself closer to him and rests a kind hand on his leg. He looks down at it with a small smile.

"When I left your dorm, I knew I was in no condition to drive. I was all mixed up and shaking with frustration - at myself, not you. I wandered around, away from campus because I didn't want to risk running into you and freaking you out again. Eventually I ended up here," he looks at the bench where his arm rests and rubs it, "I sat here in this spot. I pulled my hair, I talked to myself - people probably thought I was on drugs or something, I paced around, I kicked stuff. But then I just…sat down and cried."

Her gentle touch changes to a loving squeeze on his leg.

"I was convinced I fucked it all up forever. I cried a lot. And I felt so empty. There was just this horrible, chaotic storm of shame, and grief - so much grief. For you and me, and also for myself. Because Rory, I truly believed at that time that I had changed enough to be the person you would want to be with. I thought I was so mature, and reliable and ready. It was so fucking devastating to see that I was wrong. It was like…I had done all this work. Got myself a job, a place to live. Got my life together enough, worked on my relationship with Luke and with my mother. I was golden. I was the man you needed, and the man I wanted to be. But I couldn't see then that by assuming that the work was already done, it caused me to step outside of it and I found myself back where I started. In other words, I was arrogant. And got a hefty humbling from the universe for that."

He pauses again, getting caught up in the reliving of the feelings he's sharing with her. Her hand moves from his leg and up to his face, and he turns to look at her. Her face is thoughtful, her eyes loving. He looks down at her lips as her mouth starts to move.

"The work is never done, and it's when we stop that we won't recognize who we become."

His skin prickles and he puts a hand on top of hers on his face. He leans in to its warm touch.

"Exactly," he whispers, "that's exactly what I felt."

"Did you write parts of The Subsect here then?"

He nods, and turns to kiss her palm. Her hand moves back to his leg and his moves with it like its shadow.

"A few small pieces of it, yes. I was deep in my grief here, I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I just took my beat up notebook out of my bag and started jotting shit down. Honestly, a lot of it was smudgy and weird from, you know, the crying. There were a few piercing thoughts that made it from here into the book. However, the whole experience greatly influenced the conception of The Subsect."

Her eyes squint, mimicking the feeling of her words, "It sounds like you were in pain."

"I was. Not because of you. I understood why you turned me down and how much I freaked you out. It was all..self-inflicted," he looks at her thoughtfully, "but sometimes…I wonder how much longer it would have taken me to do what I was always meant to do, and really, professionally write. Because after that day, I felt like I had nothing left to lose. Nothing else intimidated me more than the demise of any reconciliation with you at that point of my life."

She looks at their hands and says so softly he barely hears her, "Like a rebirth."

He nods slowly in confirmation.

"There's more."

She looks up at him, nervous but expectant.

"I came back here a few times. When I was living in Stars Hollow."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"I know that I haven't opened up the way that you'd like about the time I spent dealing with Liz and taking care of Doula. Even after four years it's a little uncomfortable. Having a therapist is great, and helpful, but I think sometimes it keeps me from sharing more with you. You know what I mean? Sometimes I want to leave everything there, in my sessions, where I don't have to look at it again until my therapist asks me about it."

Rory's face expresses understanding, and she nods for him to continue.

"So, um, let me try to tell you some things. I'll start with how I ended up at this park again the first time. I was helping out at the diner one day and Taylor came in and complained to me that Liz's yard was not up to 'Stars Hollow standards'. After eviscerating him for not having anything better to do than measure grass, I decided to take care of it myself. I figured it would be a nice little workout, the weather was sunny that day, and I knew no one was at the house so it was no big deal. An easy problem to fix. While mowing the lawn, I accidentally hit one of Liz's ugly garden decorations and knocked it over. It made no sense, it was like an elephant with fairy lights coming out of its nose. Why would an elephant be in a garden? It would just crush everything."

The small exhale of laughter that escapes Rory has him feeling more relaxed.

"Anyway, I finished mowing the lawn and went back to fix it. But as I went to flip it back over, I felt something stuck to the bottom of it. I looked and found a fucking…baggie of nondescript white pills. I immediately found and confronted Liz and she claimed they were Xanax so of course she acted like it was no big deal. But if it was no big deal, why were they hidden in the garden? Out in the fucking world where Doula could have found them and taken them, or fuck what if someone's pet got loose and ate them? She just could not, or would not, recognize the danger of it and would not admit to getting them illegally. I needed to get out of there, to breathe and not be around reminders that my mother is such a disaster. New York was too far, I didn't want to be away from Doula if she needed me, but everything else felt too fucking close. I just drove down the highway, saw the exit for New Haven and remembered this place. I didn't know exactly where it was. I actually parked at Yale and wandered around until I found it, kind of like the first time. And then I sat here and I cried again. That was one of the most brutal days of everything involving Liz. Because it made me realize that she could have a thousand other secrets that I don't know, or that will take me a long time to uncover. It scared me."

"I'm so sorry," her affected whisper has his eyes turning towards her. He smiles sadly and rubs his thumb on her hand.

"It was hard. And it does still scare me to think that there's always a chance she's hiding something as deadly as that."

"What happened to the pills?"

"I turned over her whole garden and all over the house making sure there weren't more. The only other thing I found were painkillers in TJ's name, I'm sure from some ridiculous injury he got. But they were expired so I took them anyway. Found a drug box and dropped them off."

"Did Luke know?"

"I told him. Just added another thing to the list for us to keep our eyes open for."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything."

"I know, but I'm sorry you had to deal with it and I'm sorry that apparently I'm keeping something so important from you that you are forcing yourself to share this."

He catches her eyes and then looks away.

"Let me tell you about the third time I came to this park. This time I was at the house to help Doula with homework. I noticed the mailbox was stuffed full like it hadn't been checked in weeks so I grabbed all the mail and brought it inside. I was sorting through it to throw out the junk mail for them and that's how I found out that they were three months behind on mortgage payments. The letter that I found also said that after four missed payments, they will start the foreclosure process and the fourth month was quickly approaching. I knew they either didn't have the money, or had it and spent it on something else. But to not mention to your family that you're on the brink of losing your home? What the fuck. That's where Doula lives, that's where she's comfortable and happy and has all of her childhood memories. How could Liz and TJ let it get that bad without asking for help? I wanted to take care of it myself, but four months of mortgage payments with penalties was over eight thousand dollars…it would have been irresponsible to put myself in that position so I told Luke. He wanted to cover it all but I talked him into splitting it."

"Jesus four thousand dollars, Jess? That's still a lot of money," Rory asks in disbelief. He shrugs.

"It was worth it, to know that Doula wasn't at risk of being ripped from her home. What led me back to this park though, is that when we told Liz we took care of it her only response was 'please don't tell TJ. He thinks I've been paying it'. No 'thank you', no reasonable explanation for fucking it up. It's like…we were inconveniencing her by helping her. And it just brought me back to a horrible state of mind, of being a young child and feeling like that - an inconvenience."

"That's terrible."

He looks at her and softly shares, "It brought back a specific memory actually…I put a variation of it in the book. I was about ten years old and so hungry and we didn't have any food in the house. Liz was passed out on the couch but there was a twenty dollar bill on the table. I took it and went to the corner store, got us bread and eggs, some milk and cereal. I figured she was just too tired to get groceries herself. But when she woke up later and found me eating a bowl of cereal, and she asked where it came from and I told her, she lost her mind on me for spending her money that way. I felt like such a screw up, like I had ruined some much more important plan she had for that money. I realize now as an adult that it's probably because she wanted to buy booze, but at the time…anyway, that day, with the mortgage crap, was the third time I came back to this park and cried."

Rory's eyes are misty, and she leans over to hold him tightly in her arms. He gladly accepts her love, and wraps his around her.

"No wonder it's hard for you to be around her sometimes still," she remarks quietly near his ear. He holds her tighter.

"It's the weight of all of it. Sometimes I feel it more than others. Sometimes I can be nice and pretend like nothing bad ever happened. Other times snapping at her or ignoring her is actually the nicest thing I can manage."

"I can see that."

They stay tangled together a little longer; but the sun is rising behind Jess and it starts to bother her eyes. She pulls back so he's blocking it again.

"But I don't see what you're wanting to know from me. I feel like I've been very open with you about the hard things I've been through."

Jess replies softly, "yes, you have been open with me about your…emotional hardships. And I am grateful for that. But it's the physical pains you've endured that I don't think you've been honest about. I know from experience that the physical affects the emotional, and so I feel like I'm missing an important piece of the puzzle. Specifically about what we dealt with this week."

She looks down at her lap, and his eyes sweep over her.

"You have a tendency to downplay or hold back when you're in pain or discomfort, I've noticed. Like when you came home with a sprained ankle from Croatia three years ago and were jumping and running around the apartment like it didn't hurt you. Like when you were sick after Peru and insisted you could still work despite not being able to go two hours without throwing up. Or when you accidentally jammed your finger closing the trunk of your car last Summer. You barely mumbled a curse word."

She listens but doesn't look up. In her silence he adds quietly, "You don't have to be so strong, Rory."

She looks at him with slight distress on her face, and then looks away.

"It's weird that you brought me here not knowing that was the hospital I had the miscarriage at," her eyes shift slowly back up to him, and he can see they are already watery, "because I assume that's the pain you're talking about, right? That you want to know more about? I guess Paris said something to you."

His face shows guilt, "She shouldn't have had to. I should have figured that out myself. But…as much as I knew about them from Matt, he never detailed what his wife physically went through. I'm sure out of respect for her or maybe because it was too painful to share. It's a component I didn't really consider in all of this."

Rory takes a deep breath and looks down at her lap again. His hand that rests behind her on the bench finds her neck and caresses it lovingly.

"Please tell me, if you can. Every excruciating detail you're comfortable with sharing. I want to…be able to feel it like I was there with you. And hopefully then you won't feel so alone in your pain."

She looks up at him again, eyes cloudy and mouth in a grimace.

"It hurt so bad, Jess."

He falters for a moment, at the blunt pain evident in her words. But this is what he wanted to hear, so he steels himself and offers her the only thing he really can; his support, through touch and attention.

"Tell me. Let me help you bear it in some way."

A tear escapes her eye and she nods.

"The cramps that I felt when I called Paris that morning were bad enough. It was surges of pain oscillating between annoying and debilitating. I didn't know a lot about pregnancy yet, I just kind of thought that's what it felt like sometimes. But it gradually got worse, and that's when I called her and she advised me to get to a hospital. I drove myself here, to Yale New Haven. The whole drive I was holding my stomach. As I was parking the car, I felt a horrible stab. I was wearing black sweatpants so I couldn't see it yet, but I just knew that I had started bleeding. That walk from the parking garage into the hospital Jess…I spent most of it bent over in pain. It hit me so hard. I'm sure that Paris called ahead for me, because as soon as I gave them my name, they wheelchaired me to a room. A nurse helped me change into a hospital gown, and that's finally when I saw the proof of what I suspected. There was so much blood already between my legs, and then the nurse told me that it would still take hours to expel it completely. That's when I started to feel numb, emotionally I mean. Like I just could not cry, I wouldn't let myself cry or get upset or acknowledge the pain. But God, it was so freaking painful, Jess. It was like every period cramp I've ever had at once, over and over again for hours. I don't even know how to explain it to you in a way that you would understand, because obviously you've never experienced that…but have you ever been violently ill? Like throwing up over and over again for an extended period of time? That feeling in your stomach, when your body is trying so hard to push something out that's not there. That horrible contracting and cramping, that piercing feeling in your gut, it was like that times twenty and lasted so much longer than I expected. I was only two months pregnant, I thought the whole thing would be easy and painless. But no…it's like this really twisted joke that you basically have to go through pains like you're giving birth when you're actually experiencing a sort of death. It was just…agonizing."

She is choking out her words now, tears streaming down her face. He envelopes her in his arms, trying to offer her strength and comfort despite him also feeling wrecked.

"And you get nothing from it," she continues, voice strained with emotion, "you get less than nothing. At least when you go through labor you usually are rewarded with a bundle of life. With this…it felt like the universe was taking and taking from me. Painfully digging at me until I was aching and empty all over."

Those are the words that make him understand the most, that make him see why she was scared and why she decided to get an answer sooner rather than later regarding her late period. She wanted to prepare, for the physical and other pain, as soon as possible because she's been through a difficult outcome of that sort of situation.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea, Rory. I knew it was tough but I didn't realize the extent. Why didn't you take anything for the pain?"

She shakes her head against his shoulder.

"I needed to get out of there. I didn't want them to give me any reason to stay the night. I just wanted to go home and suffer alone in my bed."

He holds her tighter at that, one hand cradles the back of her head. He gulps down his emotions as he pictures her in that kind of pain, alone and afraid so close to where they're sitting right now.

"I'm sorry for giving you a hard time about the tests," he mumbles regretfully against her hair, "I now realize why you did that and felt that way. I'm a jerk."

"You're not," she argues softly, "you love me and you wanted to be there for me. I know where your heart was at. I was just so deeply scared, Jess. All I could think about was that horrible pain. And then I kept thinking how much more devastating it would be to go through that with you, because we have talked about having a family."

He pulls back and looks in her eyes, "I'm sorry for making all that feel worse. Putting more pressure on you when you were already feeling so much."

One of her shoulders lifts in a half shrug, "I should have called you to at least tell you I didn't want to wait to find out. Or called you with the result when I got it. I'm sorry too."

He gives her a small smile of understanding. He moves the hand from the back of her head and runs his fingers through her hair sweetly.

"While I admire it and understand it, sometimes I'm intimidated by your strength and your independence," he confesses in a fragile tone, "We've established that you don't need me, and there are times when that's all I can see. Because even the things I can offer you, you don't always take. Like my support, my care, my strength, my protection. And it's not fair to expect you to always take them, I know that. But it's blinding at times because I seem to, wrongly, take it personally when you don't."

She leans in and gives him a gentle kiss on the lips.

"I get that. I do feel a little sad when I feel like you're not leaning on me too, when you're going through something hard," her words are kind, and the shameful ache in his chest begins to dissipate.

She continues, "I want to be better at accepting those things. Like you said, we're in a relationship which means our lives are shared. It's not fair for me to make decisions about things that involve both of us."

With his fingers tenderly tangled in her hair, they sit quietly, emotions calmer and tears dry. Allowing peace to settle around them. The sun is out completely now, framing the trees and the buildings around them. Past Jess's face, Rory catches sight of that sign again. She mulls over it for a moment, and then asks,

"Can we walk to the hospital?"

"Are you sure?" he asks, features fixed in concern.

"I'm sure I want to try."

He surveys her for another moment and then stands up, holding his hand out to her. She takes it, and they walk like that out of the park, and in the direction of one of the places she experienced a painful loss. She holds on to his hand tightly, and he relaxes because he can feel her leaning on him for support. Gradually, she moves closer and closer to him the nearer they get, until he finally takes his hand from hers and wraps it around her shoulders so she's flush against his side. Still, her right hand crosses over her body and sits on top of his on her arm. He takes a deep breath for both of them. When they're within a block from it, she stops walking.

"That's close enough."

He nods, and strengthens his grip on her arm. She leans her head against him, partly on his chest and partly on his shoulder. The world is starting to wake up around them, cars buzzing by and people walking their dogs on the sidewalk. But they don't move or feel any passing of time.

"Jess?" Rory's quiet but steady voice cuts through their silence.

"Hm?"

"I'm not ready yet."

"I know baby," he whispers kindly, "it's okay. There's no rush. We have plenty of time to figure out the family thing."

She nods against him, then pulls her head back to look at him. He meets her eyes, and they give her a deep feeling of love and sincerity. She opens her mouth again.

"But I think I am ready to try therapy now. To help me deal with some of these feelings, so that maybe they become less scary. I know you've mentioned it a few times over the years…I didn't think I needed it. But now I realize it might be helpful."

His face softens for her and the vulnerability written all over her face. He leans down to press his lips to her head.

"Okay," he says softly, "do you want me to help you find someone? I can ask mine for recommendations."

Her lips tug into a small smile, "yes. That would be great. Thank you."

He grins, and his heart warms at her acceptance of his help. He kisses her head again.

"Can you do something for me?"

She looks back at him curiously.

"Will you please give me the grand Rory Gilmore tour of Yale since we're nearby?"

Her lips stretch into a truly excited grin.

"Of course! We can walk, let's go," she takes his hand and starts leading him in the direction of campus, "I'll show you where my favorite library is and we can smell the books!"

Jess smiles at her excitement, but says, "I think I'll just be an observer of that act, thank you."

"Okay, fine. I'll also show you my favorite tree, and where I ate breakfast every morning, and the classroom that my Grandfather taught a class, and where me and mom and my grandparents tailgated in style before the Yale/Harvard games, oh! And where I met naked Marty for the first time-"

"Excuse me?"

"And I'll show you where I went to a party dressed as Gogo Yubari."

His eyebrow raises, "Now that I'd like to see. Including the costume."

"It was just my Chilton uniform and a fake meteor hammer."

"Okay, I definitely need to see all of that. In person rather than pictures, preferably."

She gives him a coquettish grin, "and maybe I can even sneak us into the Yale Daily News Office. There usually isn't anyone there this early in the day…"

Both of his eyebrows raise at that, and his smirk widens at the words she's not saying.

He replies earnestly, "And then I can die happy."


AN: do you know how long I have wanted a face off between Jess and Logan? i've been dreaming of it since I started this story. but I wanted it to be the right time, and I think this was it.

also, i have no intention of detailing Rory in therapy. I've read other stories that do that and for me personally, I don't really enjoy it. it is just meant to be a detail that you have in order to understand how she came to her decision in we'll always have paris :)