Chapter Text
The bus slowly pulled to a stop in front of the hotel and Rory looked out the window into the dreary mid-October sky. Sighing at the prospect of a real bed, instead of the bunk she'd been sleeping in for the last three days, she grabbed her suitcase and quickly made her way into the hotel lobby.
After checking in and finding her room, she plugged in her laptop, grabbed her phone, and called the number that would connect her to the one string she felt she still had holding her together.
"Hello." said the voice on the other end.
"Hi Mom." Rory replied, trying to sound cheerful.
"You okay, kiddo? You sound beat."
"I'm okay, glad to be off the bus."
"I bet. Can't imagine that thing smells even a little bit good after a year and a half on the road."
"It gets cleaned whenever we're in a city for long enough, but it's definitely no bed of roses."
"Well, roses are overrated."
"Has it really been a year and a half?"
"Do I need to buy you another calendar?"
"No garden gnomes this time, please."
"That was Babette, but I make no promises."
"Fair enough."
"You sure you're okay, sweetie?"
Rory paused, unsure how to put her feelings into words. "… I don't know, Mom. There's less than a month left until the election and it's freaking me out a little, I guess."
"You do realize that you are not the one running for president?"
"It's not that, it's just that… I'm not sure what comes next."
"What do you mean? Don't you just keep doing what you're doing, but in one place instead of on a bus? Do you not think Obama's going to win?"
"No, I'm pretty sure he's going to win." Rory sighed, "I'm just not sure I want to write about politics anymore, or at least not exclusively about politics. If I don't see or hear the word 'caucus' for the next ten years it will be too soon."
"Heh. Caucus. Dirty."
"Mom! I'm trying to have an existential crisis here!"
"Sorry, continue."
"I just don't want to be pigeon-holed as a political reporter for the rest of my career. And I'm sick of traveling. Why didn't you tell me about how much this sucks when I was going on and on about being a foreign correspondent?"
"You're just saying that because you've been essentially homeless for the past year and a half. I give it six months after this ends before you're begging for another chance to travel. And would it have made any difference if I had told you about the sucky-ness?"
"No, you're probably right. Gah! I need coffee."
"That's my girl. Should I let you go find some?"
"No, I can just make some here in the room."
"Hotel room coffee? Really? I raised you better than that."
"Good point." Rory said with a laugh, "I could use a walk out in the fresh air anyway. Thanks for listening to my existential ramblings."
"That's what I'm here for, kid."
"I'll call you tomorrow when I know more about my schedule."
"Sounds good. Love you, hon."
"Love you too, Mom."
Hanging up the phone, Rory laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room for a minute before getting up and grabbing her jacket. Making sure she had her key, she made her way out of the hotel and began walking down the busy city street in search of a source of the elixir that kept her sane and functional. The air was crisp and cold, the scent of Fall strong under the odors of the city.
Still thinking about her conversation with her mother, she absent-mindedly wandered into a small café a few blocks from the hotel. After placing her order and receiving her coffee, she found a table near the window and sat down. She gazed out at the mid-afternoon foot traffic on the sidewalk and sipped the surprisingly decent beverage.
Halfway through the cup she started feeling more alert and looked around to try to make a note of the name of the establishment, which had failed to register on her way in. Just as she was straining her neck to try to read the sign on the door through the window, a man walked up and pulled the door open, showing the sign more clearly.
Rory looked up from the name Gypsy Beans to the man who had apparently stopped in the doorway. Through the window and the glass of the door she saw a pair of dark brown eyes looking back at her, framed by the always messy dark hair and expressive brow she used to know so well. Said brow was currently expressing confusion and shock, along with a certain excitement that she was surprised to see.
Rory broke their gaze first, jumping up from her seat and jostling the table in the process. Her half-full cup of coffee tumbled down from the table and onto the floor, spilling its entire contents in the process. Gasping, Rory looked around desperately for something to mop it up with. She discovered a napkin dispenser on the table behind her and grabbed as many as she could, immediately turning around and dropping to the floor to start cleaning her mess. As she did, a pair of strong hands holding more napkins joined her efforts. Looking up the leather-jacket-clad arms to the hands' owner she found herself yet again gazing into those familiar brown eyes.
"Jess…" Rory said, not knowing what else to add.
"Isn't it against the Gilmore Girl code to waste perfectly good coffee?" He said, flashing her the quirked eyebrow and smirk that always made her stomach do somersaults when they were in high school, and if she were being completely honest with herself, still made her equilibrium do strange things.
"Yes. Terrible of me. My mother will be disowning me tomorrow." She replied with a small smile, still nervously trying to mop up the remnants of her drink.
"I'll be surprised if it takes her that long." he said, now gathering the soiled napkins and standing up.
Rory stood as well, holding out the now empty cup, "Here, I'll take those." Jess placed the soaked napkins in the cup, which Rory set on the table. "Thank you."
"No problem."
Now lacking any pressing activity to share, the two simply stood awkwardly for a minute before Jess broke the silence.
"Hi."
"Hi." replied Rory.
"… Hi."
"Hi."
“I feel like we’ve been here before.” Jess said with another small smirk.
"I recognize that tree.” Rory replied.
"Shall we maybe sit?" Jess suggested, gesturing to the table Rory had been occupying.
"Sure." said Rory, and they both sat.
Almost immediately, Rory stood up again. "I need more coffee."
Jess also stood. "Me too. I'll get you some."
"Okay. Thanks. I'll just finish cleaning up the table.”
Jess stepped away and toward the counter and Rory grabbed one more napkin to wipe the table down before taking the cup and soiled napkins to the trash can near the door. Sitting back at the table, she took a deep breath to try to calm her rapidly thumping heart.
Jess. Jess was here. Jess was getting her a cup of coffee. Jess, who she hadn't seen or spoken with since the disaster of an open house three years ago. Jess, who was the man who always popped into her head when people spoke of "the one who got away." Not Logan, who she would expect to be the quintessential away-getter, but Jess, who always came into her life like a storm and left destruction in his wake. Jess, who she had loved, and who had loved her, but never at the same time in the same place.
Jess, who was sitting down across from her at the table, placing a new cup of coffee in front of her and setting down one of his own.
"So," he said, "What brings you to Philadelphia?"