Archive of Our Own ^beta

Circles

"Yes, I want to ruin you."

"Good," I said, "That's what I want, too."

Liz is eighteen, broke, and on the run when she finds herself pregnant. Mariano is long gone, a high-school boyfriend she'd left in the dust as soon as she found the next best thing (an array of pills that were easy to get her hands on, a needle in the arm, a trusty old joint).

Her brother tells her there are options in a hushed tone, a packed diner, and a small town that feels suffocating. Liz has always spent her life searching for something bigger, ever since mom—

"I can do this, Luke." She promises, "I can get clean. I can raise this baby."

Luke is a fool for believing her.

Jimmy comes back into her life in the ninth month of pregnancy, his eyes wide when he spots her on the street, wider when he takes in the belly and she tells him it's his. But it doesn't take long for him to accept, moving into the small apartment she has rented in New York, the one she affords through inheritance and odd jobs. For a while, it's nice; Jimmy's nice, he's comfortable, and they're having a baby - it's not until the week before the baby's due that everything sets in for Liz: she's about to be a mom.

He's born healthy, the doctors tell her on a Friday morning. They weigh him and measure him and push him into her arms. Liz looks down at him and thinks miracle because she's been smoking and consuming her fair share of alcohol and she knows the types of affects that can have on a baby — but he's born now, and he's healthy, and she's craving a good hour spent shooting up.

It's just how it is.

Jimmy walks out, Liz gets high and Jess learns to raise himself.

Luke begs to take him when he's seven, watching as Liz's boyfriend tears her apartment in two, the little boy cowered in a corner. But Liz is bouncy, erratic, kooky Liz and she tells Luke that this is her son and her mess and they're going to be okay. And Luke has always seen the best in her, even when she doesn't deserve it, even when he knows deep in his gut that he should intervene, but there's not much he can do - he sure as hell doesn't know the first thing about raising a kid.

He hovers in the doorway as Liz and the latest boyfriend fight in the other room, wincing as the voices reach a frequency pitch he can't even comprehend. Jess stands in the corner, eyeing him like a stranger. He's seen the kid a handful of times since he was born, he looks more Mariano than Danes, but he's got the same mouth as Luke's dad. The same tilt.

"Hey," Luke nods, trying to find what could be a good conversation starter for a seven year old. All he knows about the kid is his mom's a mess, his dad ran out, and he likes to read - evident by the books that line his bookshelf. "Read anything good, lately?" Luke doesn't know the first thing about books, but —

"Fuck off." Jess says, sour and surly, arms crossed over his chest. He kicks a chair his Uncle Luke's way and storms off into the direction of his room, slamming his door shut behind him. Loudly.

And that's just at seven.

Her hands shake as she picks up the pregnancy test kit. Outside she can hear her parents arguing about where to vacation. Lorelai rolls her eyes as she hears the Paris VS Dubai debate get louder. There's already one positive test lined on the counter-top. Her vacation will be far, far away from Hartford - long away from the shame she's about to bring the Gilmore family.

Her doctor confirms it a week later.

"Here," The technician points to a blob on a screen, "That's your baby."

Lorelai is only fifteen, technically nearing sixteen - two months to go, yay! - she can celebrate her sweet sixteenth with a slightly swollen belly and morning sickness. But the moment she sees that blob floating across the screen, she knows it doesn't matter, knows that even though this was a mistake - a bad, bad, bad mistake - it's gonna be a good thing. Her baby is never going to know the type of loneliness Lorelai's grown up with, the deafening silence of disapproval.

Telling her parents is difficult, telling Christopher is difficult, but leaving - that comes easily.

Rory is hers, from the eyelashes to the curve of her mouth to the name. And Lorelai can't raise her in the stiff Gilmore household, her parent's slight manipulation plays and Christopher's wide-eyed doe daze - the rejected proposal hangs over everyone's heads, the no that shocked a community, the hushed whispers about the unplanned teenage pregnancy and then the unplanned teenage pregnancy out of wedlock.

Her friends call her a whore, high and mighty girls who act like they're better than her because they've never been sloppy like this before. It was an accident, a mistake, and it could have happened to anyone of them. But Lorelai is still the one branded whore, banished from the school she's always hated, ostracised by a community she's never liked in the first place.

Maybe, if she hadn't had the realisation that the world was bigger than Hartford (bigger in the sense that she could escape it) she would be hurt. Maybe if she didn't have a child depending on her, with bright blue eyes and a fingers that curl around her own, she would be hurt.

But she's not — she's just determined.

Rory has a half put-on-hold career - the journalism industry is dying, her motivation died with it, too - and a complicated, messy personal life she's not proud of. It takes two weeks to notice that her periods late, to count back the days since Logan, for the first round of morning sickness to hit - it takes twenty minutes to purchase a pregnancy test in Hartford, before taking the short ride back to Stars Hollow. It takes ten minutes to work up the courage to use it, but it only takes two minutes to deliver the result: positive.

Positive as bun-in-the-oven.

Positive as in pregnant.

But for all concerns and purposes it's a negative.

Rory is left reeling, hand flying to her mouth as she retches into the toilet - it's not morning sickness, it's just sickness - and she takes another test, and another, and another, and another, and another —

Until she has eight lined up against the sink, all displaying a result that she doesn't want to see, doesn't want to believe: positive.

Thirty-two is an appropriate age to have children, Rory ponders, half slumped against the floor. In her youth, she had thought if she was ever to have children it would be at this sort of age - early to mid thirties - but then, Rory's never wanted children. In fact, the idea has always made her feel nauseous. Her mom was wonder woman and Rory's never wanted to be wonder woman - she's wanted to be Christiane Amanpour.

And even if this is a suitable age to have children in theory - Rory swallows the lump in her throat as she mentally prepares her pro/con list - this is not a suitable time for her.

Her career has been put on hold, stale, left to the dust.

Her personal life is a carnage wreck she has to clean up.

And this baby - and she can't even say the word baby, it's a fetus, a growing combination of cells that's not yet anything - is the offspring to an engaged man she had foolishly and selfishly gotten involved with. Because it was easy, and it was comfortable, and it was safe while her world was anything but (a dead grandfather, a dead career, a dead feeling inside of her she couldn't shake).

"Oh, god." Rory groans as the news starts to set in.

She's pregnant.

Pregnant.

Her mind goes into over-drive - first things first, she needs to call the doctors. False alarms happen all the time. Fake positives. Even if she had taken eight tests and they all come back telling her the same news.

Logan probably needs to know. Maybe. But he's a good guy and he'll do the right thing - he'll break off the engagement to Odette, and he'll propose to her, and she'll say no again and the Huntzberger's will blacklist her name from the journalism world andandand- Rory thinks she'll put off telling Logan for a while, not forever, but just until she has her head wrapped around it; maybe once the baby has been born, but Rory can't even envision herself with a baby. Not a baby of her own. Rory makes a good aunt, dotes on the children of her friend's that don't bare a single resemblance to her or rely on her for more than just an afternoon of fun.

Mom. She has to tell her mom.

Her mom did this at sixteen. She did it without a support system. Or a paycheck or a plan or anything. Lorelai Gilmore had done it scared and alone and young, and Rory thinks she turned out all right. This past year cut out of the picture of 'all right'.

Rory can do this, she can do this.

But the difference is - she doesn't want to do this.

Being a mother has never been in the cards for her. It was a maybe - if the time was right and she was content with her career and she had a partner - and even then it was still a maybe. It was never a definite. It was never a plan. It was never a future goal she saw for herself. Growing up she never dreamed about being a mother or marriage or...any of that. And when Lane got pregnant, her first thought had selfishly been I'm glad that's not me. Some girls aren't built for this line of work. Some girls are built for war-zones and writing. Some girls don't get their way.

Her phone buzzes on the hard, cold floor, and she stretches her legs to get up. Rory picks up the device, smiling slightly when she sees her mom's name flashing across the screen and puts the device to her ear.

"Honey!" Her mom shrieks, "It's a wedding emergency! We need to find you a bridesmaid dress."

Rory laughs, "We'll find something." Rory assures her mother, silently collecting the many pregnancy tests and depositing them in the trashcan. Disposing of the evidence. The boxes fall in next.

"No, not something." Lorelai argues, "It has to be the best, most amazing, breath-taking, beautiful bridesmaid dress of all time."

Rory picks up the plastic bag in the bin, tying a knot and chuckles, "We will." She assures her mother. We will.

"Mom."

"Yeah?"

"I'm pregnant."

The words rush out, before Rory can stop them; the plan was to wait until Lorelai was back from her honeymoon, for Rory to have a plan of what to do, how she's going to get her life in order. But, she just really needs her best friend right now, a shoulder to lean on.

Lorelai is silent for a long time. Too long.

"Okay." She says at last.

"Okay?" Rory echoes.

"I'm happy for you, if you're happy, kid."

Rory doesn't know how to say she's the furthest emotion from happy.

Lorelai grins - wide and big and happy - and Rory thinks this is it; finally; after all this time when Luke says 'I do' and her mom makes a witty comment and the whole of Stars Hollow erupts into a round of applause, hoots and claps and whistles. This is the town that took the two of them in when they had nowhere to go, two young girls alone in the world with no-one but each other. This is the town that has loved and cared for them, supported them all their life. All of Rory's life. And this is the moment everyone has been waiting years for: Lorelai and Luke bound by law at last, a public celebration of their love, and Rory wants to cry.

They had the intimate ceremony, the impromptu elopement. But this is everyone - this is the the support system they've had for years - celebrating, too.

"You may now kiss the bride."

And Lorelai laughs, lunging for Luke, slinging her arms around him and pressing her lips firmly against his. Everyone cheers and then groans in disgust and then averts their eyes. Luke is blushing by the time Lorelai pulls away, and Rory's own cheeks are flamed red, hand covering her mouth as she laughs, catching Jess's eye and his smirk before Lorelai and Luke descend the town gazebo steps to a round of applause.

Jess steps forward, offering her his arm. She takes it and they follow suit.

"It was a good wedding." Jess says.

Rory nods in agreement, "Yeah," She says dreamily, watching Luke and her Mom walk off down the make-shift aisle, hands clasped together. Last night had been magical in a different sense, but this was the grand finish. "It really was."

"Not gonna berate me for just saying it was good?" Jess prods, elbowing her in jest.

Rory rolls her eyes, "Good is high praise from you, Mariano."

"Hey, I've changed." Jess defends himself, "Sometimes I even say great and mean it." He smirks.

"Wow," Rory's eyes widen comically, continuing with the joke. "And they say character development is dead in this day and age."

"I'm a regular do-gooder these days."

"Well, howdy to you too, Ned Flanders." Rory jokes, her smile brightening as Jess chuckles at her joke.

Rory is reluctant to say she's missed Jess over the years, because they'd never really managed to patch their friendship into a close friendship - a big regret on her part because he's funny and kind these days and she's missed heated talks about literature and film and music with someone who's opinions differ from her own. But he's gone in and out of her life through the years, holidays and quips and quiet lingering looks and advice that seems to resonate deeply with her. He's always been burning at the back of her mind, a quiet kind of simmering that she doesn't notice until he's popped back into her life. His smile and his sarcasm and his understanding a warm comfort, like falling into an old favourite sweater that you had forgot you had.

He lets go of her arm when they reach the sidewalk, lets go off slowly, his hand lingering on her skin for a beat too long. But it's always been like that with them. Quiet little pushes of boundaries they both ignore. They'd let go of any romantic feelings long ago, talking and drinking it out in a bar, only to find themselves mid-way through making out on Jess' couch upstairs despite a long night of saying there was nothing but forgiveness on both their parts for the way their romantic relationship had turned out. Rory had been tempted to let it go further that night, easily able to blame it on the consumption of alcohol and not the lingering attraction. But Jess had pulled away, softly saying this went against everything they'd talked about, and they'd laughed about it in the morning over pancakes and coffee.

It had been a night they hadn't mentioned again. One and a half years after the Truncheon incident Rory had been deeply embarrassed about. Another night they don't talk about. These days, their conversations are limited to Rory's failures and Jess' guidance. And before that it had been holiday greetings and brief catch-ups of each others life - work, mostly, a casual mention of personal life. Books if the time allowed, but it usually never did. Rory was jetting off to one corner of the world, and Jess the other.

He'd had a steady, serious girlfriend for a while. Rory had had a string of failed dates she never managed to bring home in time for Christmas.

"How long are you staying for?" Rory asked, watching as the town dispersed from their seats to join the reception that had been set up in the town square.

Jess shrugged, non-committal with his answer, vague as always. "Not sure. A few weeks, maybe."

Rory hums in acknowledgement, "Luke mentioned you'd be helping out at the diner while he was away."

"Yeah," Jess answers. "Maybe. What about you? How long are you planning to stay this time?"

It's both a dig at her missing home for the past few years and genuine curiosity. Reading between the lines she hears how's the career going but that might just be her paranoia. The truth is, Rory doesn't know how long she's planning on staying here for. It wasn't supposed to be forever. But she's working for free at the Gazette and apparently she's about to be a mother and everything in her life seems to be on hold...

Rory shrugs, "A few weeks, maybe." She echoes, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

They fall into step with each other as they make the quick, brisk walk towards the reception. Both of them trying to seek out the newly-weds. Luke is standing awkwardly talking to Emily and Lorelai is nodding along to something Paris is saying.

Rory grimaces when she spots her friend, her face stern and her movements animated. It looks more like an interrogation - on both Emily and Paris' parts - than a warm congratulations. Jess laughs next to her, shaking his head as they approach them.

"Mrs Gilmore, Paris." Jess greets, friendly and polite.

Emily hums as she sizes him up and down, "It's nice that you didn't bring a black eye this time."

Jess shrugs, "Couldn't find one that matched the suit."

"We told him he wasn't invited unless he coordinated." Lorelai quips, jumping in.

Rory and Luke catch each others eyes, both stifling their laughs as Emily rolls her eyes.

"Rory," Paris speaks up, "Please tell your mother that this is the perfect time to have a child, now that they're finally married, they'd already been inquiring about it—"

Emily gawks in surprise, "Oh, please." She interrupts, "At their age? It would be an..." Emily paused, searching for the right word, and feeling frustrated finally gave into, "an abomination!"

Lorelai rolled her eyes, "I never have had children at an age that pleased you," A sly wink to Rory, her arm slipping into Luke's, "But Paris, thank you but no thank you."

Emily harrumphed, seemingly not over this latest topic. "If anyone should be having children around now, it should be Rory!" Emily burst out, "If she just managed to find a husband, of course." She muttered, shaking her head.

Emily may have found a softer version of herself, a happier more content Emily Gilmore than the one that had been forced into saying a goodbye to her husband a year ago, but she was still herself at her heart.

Rory smiled tightly, her stomach feeling queasy as this particular topic returned. Over the years she had heard many versions of it. When are you going to settle down, Rory. But for the most part her grandfather had steered the conversation back into a career related field, saying how refreshing it was to see a young woman, such as yourself, focused on her career. But the topic stung now with the new knowledge she'd gathered - the unplanned, unwanted pregnancy she now had.

Lorelai rolled her eyes, moving from Luke to Rory, "I think it's time we visit the glorious cakes Sookie made." She whispers into Rory's ear, knocking their hips together, before they both said their quick goodbyes and headed away in search for the cakes.

"So," Lorelai prompted.

Rory hummed in a question.

"How are you feeling?" Lorelai paused, "About everything?"

Rory knew what she was referring to - the bundle of cells growing inside of her - but she didn't want to talk about that, not now, not today of all days; she'd already made the foolish, selfish mistake of bringing it up this morning. Her insides burning to tell someone, to most important to tell her best friend, her most trusted confidant.

"I'm happy for you, Mom." Rory breathed, "That's all."

Lorelai was silent in that I-want-to-say-something-and-I-have-something-to-say-but-I-don't-think-I-should-say-it way of hers and breathed out a sigh of relief, a bright grin. "Yeah, I'm happy for me, too, kid."

"It took the two of you long enough." Rory joked.

"Tell me about it, kid."

It's three in the morning and Luke - fully sober, his light buzz from earlier in the night long since faded - and Lorelai - stumbling drunk and delirious and happy - fall into a car, ready to take the two of them to the airport.

Rory had been the one to push them into going straight away. Lorelai lingering behind, "Are you sure?" She had asked, "With everything going on, we can postpone-" But Rory had had none of it, telling them to go-go-go because Fiji waited for nobody.

Half of Stars Hollow have found their way back into bed, resorting back into sleepy town mode, and the other half are still left partying it up in the square - namely Kirk and Petal but hey.

Lane and Paris had both departed sometime around midnight. Emily heading back home around one, promising Rory lunch one of the days this week. By the time three o'clock had come around, Jess was the only lingering party Rory wanted to speak to.

He asks, "Hungry?" And despite the huge consumption of food during the night, Rory nods because she's a Gilmore and the answer is never a no.

Jess unlocks the diner for the two of them, holding the door open for her as she slips inside. It's a comfortable silence between the two of them as he goes behind the counter and Rory finds her way onto a stool, drumming her fingers against the counter top as he puts on the coffee machine and pours her a cup. Rory thinks she remembers reading pregnant women are only supposed to have decaf, but her mom drank plenty of coffee - the regular kind - when she was pregnant with her and she turned out moderately okay, all things considered.

"Burger?" He asks. Rory nods.

He turns his back towards her as he prepares to make it and not for the first time tonight she quietly notes how attractive he's become. He's always been attractive. But there's something even more attractive in the way he's aged. Rory feels drunk, maybe off of the high of the night or maybe pregnancy does this (she doesn't know; she's not an expert; for all her reading she's never ventured into this topic), but she knows she definitely isn't. But she feels bold and confident and happy and strangely sad all at once.

"Are you happy?" Rory asks, surprising herself with her own question.

Jess doesn't ask why or that's a strange question, Gilmore. He replies with a curt, "Yep." and goes back to the task at hand.

It's not until they finish eating that either one of them speaks up again. No surprise that it's Rory with another odd question.

"Do you ever think about having kids?"

Jess is silent for a long time, too long, and Rory starts to backtrack, stumbles over excuses about her grandmother today and she's just curious before Jess finally meets her eyes and starts to talk.

"Natalie got pregnant a few years ago," Jess starts, he avoids her gaze as he talks, and her heart skips a beat - unknown reasons - "We weren't really ready for a kid, the relationship was kind of rocky at that point. It just seemed...cruel to bring a kid into that mess." He shakes his head, a hollow laugh, and she feels like she's looking at him at seventeen again - the same broken kid that had arrived in Stars Hollow - "I didn't want to be Liz, or Jimmy. And Natalie's parents were okay but she'd had her own parental baggage, too. We decided that the time just wasn't right for us," He shrugs, "I think about it sometimes but I don't know if it's in the cards for me."

"She got an abortion?" Rory questions.

He nods in confirmation.

"Was it...difficult?" Rory questions, there's a strange sense of excitement as she asks him and she thinks that that's wrong and it's cruel and it's...all the other words she can't find. Rory shouldn't be excited at the prospect of an abortion. It's not a topic people get excited about. But she hasn't even thought about it since the stick turned positive and her world turned upside down. Her mother would be horrified if she had, she had gone ahead and had a kid at sixteen, and had never thought twice about it and if she had thought about it and then decided on it Rory wouldn't be here - her thoughts trailed off and she tried to push them down, tried to bury the guilt nipping at her.

Jess eyes her like he knows why she's asking, is quiet, and then answers. "No." He collects their plates. "It wasn't."

"I think that's the most open I've ever heard you be," Rory says quietly. Jess doesn't talk personal or feelings. He flits around the truth, around how he feels about a subject connected to him emotionally, covers it up with quips and sarcasm and moves the conversation along. If he does open up, it's loud and angry and screams of teenage angst and that had only been when he was seventeen, eighteen, nineteen - and then he was gone, all mature and grown up, with a book and a life and Truncheon and an apartment in Philadelphia.

"Figured it wouldn't hurt to talk about," He shrugs.

Rory ponders telling him, and then much like she had that morning (or technically yesterday morning) the words spill out of her. "I'm pregnant."

Jess doesn't miss a beat. "I figured."

Rory's eyebrows furrow in confusion as she tries to figure out how he could have guessed.

"Jeez, you're like an open book, Rory." He says as he spots her furrowed eyebrows.

"O-okay," Rory drawls out, begging for more of an answer.

"You didn't touch alcohol at all tonight, you basically ran off when your Grandmother started talking babies, you start asking me about kids, and not to mention you were throwing up the other morning."

Rory grimaces, "You heard that?"

Jess nods, "Yeah."

Rory sighs, burying her head in her hands. "I don't know what to do!" She bursts out, "Everything in my life is a mess. I'm not, I'm not ready for a baby. I can barely take care of myself. And I've never seen myself with children. And," The sobs start to fall out of her before she can stop it and she feels gross and disgusting and a mess. And Jess is the one listening, he's always the ones listening and she feels guilty and sad and just - overwhelmed.

"I'm so overwhelmed!" She cries out, wiping furiously underneath her eyes. Jess doesn't move a muscle and for that she's thankful. Anyone else would rush to her aid right now, and what she really needs is just the comfort of someone there, quiet and observant but there.

"Sorry," Rory says once she has her breathing under control.

"Don't be." Jess waves it off, leaning against the counter.

"You always see me at my worst." Rory points out.

"You knew me at seventeen." Jess retorts.

Rory laughs, wiping underneath her eyes, "You weren't that bad."

"I stole garden gnomes."

Rory's eyes light up, "So it was you."

He ignores her. "I didn't need garden gnomes but I took them anyway."

She giggles quietly, despite the previous situation at hand.

Silence settles over them again, like a warm blanket.

"It's always an option, Rory. If you're not ready, if you're not one-hundred percent, then don't bring a kid into your mess." He's quiet, but firm in his words and she thinks of Liz and Jimmy and the nightmare childhood he had to endure because neither of them hadn't been one hundred percent.

It takes a few minutes for Rory to find the courage in her words but she's more confident than she has been all year when she says them, "I think. I think I want an abortion. But I feel selfish if I do it because Mom was sixteen and she- she decided to raise me."

Jess stares at her for what feels an eternity. "You're not Lorelai, Rory."

It's all she needs to know for sure what she's going to do.

Jess offers to go with her to the doctors. Rory hesitates in saying yes because it feels like something she should do by herself, or with her mom. But Lorelai's on her honeymoon and the truth is — she could use the support.

It doesn't take long. It's surprisingly simple. And after the doctors Rory and Jess go grab a coffee and talk about Beat poets for the better half of two hours.

It doesn't feel scary. It just feels right.

He doesn't stay the full three weeks of the Honeymoon to take care of the diner. Caesar tells him he can handle it as a one-man-job two weeks into it. Jess stops by the Gilmore house on his way back to Philadelphia, a bag slung over one shoulder and a copy of A Farewell to Arms in one hand.

Rory opens the door, on the phone to Lane, mid-laugh and mumbles a quick, "I'll call you back." to her as she greets Jess.

"Hey," She says, leaning against the door. "Leaving?"

Jess nods, "Yeah. I've got a deadline for the third book to meet and business to take care back home."

Rory feels kind of awkward in saying goodbye. It's not really something the two of them do. But it feels nice that he's saying goodbye, it only took him fourteen years-or-so to learn how. She laughs when she spots the book in his hands, a sly grin on his face as he pushes it into her hands.

"Give it a try." He tells her, almost begs of her. Not that he'd admit to begging her to read it.

Rory shakes her head, "No!"

"Yes." He urges, "It's his best novel." He promises.

Rory rolls her eyes, "Yeah, yeah. I bet you say that about all his books."

He shrugs, "Can't help that the guy's a genius."

Rory wrinkles her nose in distaste but accepts the book. "I guess I can check it out when I'm not writing my own book."

Jess smiles, "Still going strong with that idea?"

Rory nods eagerly, excited about the prospect of a new project. "Yeah, when I have the time. I'm still going to do the journalist thing — I'm still submitting portfolios and taking calls and waiting for interviews, you know. But I'm gonna write in between it."

"That's good."

"Yeah, it is."

It's silent for another minute and Rory thinks about all the silent spaces that have been filled up between them over the years. Over the past few weeks.

"I better get going," Jess says, his thumb pointing towards the car in the driveway. Rory nods in understanding, she's got a billion things to do herself. "But don't be a stranger anymore, call me when you finish the book."

Rory laughs, "I'm still going to hate it."

"Then I can't wait to tell you all the reasons why you shouldn't hate it."

It feels like a conversation from a lifetime ago and Rory appreciates the similarity of it despite the massive gap of years and baggage between the two of them; they were kids back then, flirtatious and innocent and excited. It's a different scene now but the hearts still the same, the friendship is still the same, no matter the loss of contact or the hurt that's been shared among them. For that, Rory is grateful; grateful for all the times Jess has appeared out of the blue with advice and a steady shoulder to lean on and a familiarity that's not suffocating but rather comforting.

He never asked her any questions about the pregnancy, just guided her along to the decision she knew was in her heart all along and lent a helping hand. For that, she's grateful. Because she knows she's gonna have to explain herself to her Mom, and maybe Logan if she ever decides to tell him, but she doesn't think she will; doesn't think she needs to reopen an old wound she's said goodbye to.

"Goodbye, Jess." Rory says, softly.

"Goodbye, Rory."

It feels like a conversation from a lifetime ago.

Jess spends Christmas in Philadelphia and Rory spends it in Nantucket. A year passes.

The Times call her in for an interview in October.

Her book is half-completed and she has a new apartment in Queens. There's an apology written out and put in an envelope addressed to Odette that she'll never send, but one that she wrote out and sent to Paul; which was followed by coffee in the city, a formal apology in person, and a quick hug between the two of them before they parted ways.

Everything that goes down must come back up again.

In the third week of October they call to tell her she got the job — writing a column once a week on authors. It's not an overseas correspondent but it's something that she loves with a passion.

Paris tells her, "I told you everyone goes through a rough patch."

And Lane screams into the phone for a good full five minutes.

Luke starts crying when she tells him, then has to quickly excuse himself.

And Lorelai tells her, "Super proud!" Followed by a laugh, and "I'm really proud of you, kid. Everything works out for a reason."

Rory tells Jess over Christmas, the two of them in the kitchen sharing a bottle of whiskey, and he smiles at her and says, "We can drink to that!"

Over the past year she's kept up with him a little — phone calls here and there, the odd Stars Hollow encounter — but it's mostly the same to the years previous, friendly but not friends.

It seems like they're destined to forever be running in and out of each others lives, chasing circles.

He tells her about his new book and they dissect Hemmingway in more depth before moving onto the Russian greats and then falling into the topic of 90s teen movies. It's silly and fun and cosy and everything Rory has missed about Jess, this time there's no personal messes to fix on either end — it's just two old friends catching up.

"So," Rory drawls out, her third glass behind her. Her hand pats his knee excitedly, "You need to tell me more about this book of yours!"

He's given her a premise: troubled teen runaway based on "true events".

"Not much to tell," He says, knocking back another glass.

Rory rolls her eyes, "Release date?"

"30th of January,"

Her eyes nearly fall out of her head, letting out a sharp squeal that Jess grimaces and lets out a "Jeez, calm down" at. "Jess!" Rory says excitedly, "That's so soon!"

"Yeah, yeah. So everyone tells me," But there's a tilt to his lips and she knows he's proud of this one.

He hates The Subsect, has even less to say about book number two, but she can tell in the way he talks about this one that he's poured his heart and soul into it.

"It's about me," He shrugs it off. "I guess they're all based on personal experiences, but this one more-so."

"It's inspiring story," Rory proudly boasts, "I'm proud of you, Jess. Really proud, always have been."

"As am I to you, Gilmore." They clink their glasses together again.

It turns into talk about Truncheon and expansion - they're thinking New York, California or Boston - and talk about the New York Times and the office space Rory moved into a month ago.

"I vote New York," Rory says proudly, "As a true-breed New Yorker now."

Jess chuckles, "I voted New York, too. We'll see." He says.

Rory thinks that would be nice, we'd see more of each other but doesn't voice it.

"I don't call it the Big Apple anymore."

"Ride the subway?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Rory winces, "I take a cab."

Jess tsks, shaking his head. "Not a real New Yorker then."

Rory shrugs, filling her glass up with a refill, "What can you do?"

"How's the book going?" He asks.

"It's chugging along." Rory replies, fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "It's half-way down. I'm thinking I'll end it once I hit my teens, maybe."

Jess nearly chokes on his drink from laughing, "Half-way done but you're thinking you'll end it at your teens? How many pages you got, Gilmore? How many childhood stories to fill the pages I haven't heard about?"

"Have you met Lorelai?" Rory asks, quirking her eyebrow.

He nods his head in understanding. "I still haven't heard the stories."

"Even better, you can read about them." Rory tells him.

"I do like reading." He nods.

"Better than you like talking."

"I like talking to you." He tells her earnestly, it's a sobering sort of moment, where their gaze lingers on each other for a beat longer than considered appropriate but the moment passes and he launches into how he's doing another wedding come April.

"I'm telling you, Rory. I'm not a wedding guy, but all of a sudden I'm getting these invitations to be a groomsmen."

"Aw," Rory giggles, "Always the groomsmen and never the groom."

He looks at her blankly, not getting the reference.

"It's a joke, y'know. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride."

"I got it."

"It was funny."

He refills his glass. "It wasn't."

"Don't wanna be a groom?" Rory asks.

He scoffs.

"So, Chris is getting married and he's got this inane idea about getting a camel for the wedding." Jess continues.

"You're kidding." Rory deadpans.

"I sometimes wonder if he isn't a Stars Hollow child misplaced in Philly."

Rory laughs, "Your friends sound great."

"Eh, they're okay. Stuck by me long enough."

Sometimes, Rory notices just how much has changed. This is one of those moments.

They've been grown-ups for years now, and he matured a long time ago, but she still can't help but think of the two of them as kids. Two reckless teenagers who fell in the deep end without knowing what they were getting themselves into. She doesn't think about their relationship much but it's hard to forget when he's sitting across from her, maybe because he's always going to be the Jess she loved at eighteen, maybe because it's when she knew him best, maybe it's because he's there and she remembers. Rory isn't sure. Because she doesn't linger on the thoughts when she's not with him, because he's hardly a thought at all when she doesn't see him — he's a friend, a step-cousin — and she's got work to think about most of the time, she hasn't spent the last few years pining. But still. The thoughts come and go. It's not like that with any of the other exes - Logan, aside, who was always there because she went back; even if it was more physical comfort than an emotional bond (hard to have anything emotional with that man after a rejected proposal, when it was nothing but an illicit affair, a lost girl clinging to the comfort of the past). But, Jess has always been in her life, and always will be in her life, and sometimes she thinks about it -

"Do you ever think about us?" Rory asks quietly, without meaning to.

It's the whiskey.

Jess doesn't answer the question verbally but she sees the yes in his eyes. He moves the conversation forward.

Rory picks up The Hollow on January 30th and devours it within a night.

It's four-thirty in the morning when she picks up her phone, bursting with energy as she finds Jess' number and presses call without thinking. He might be asleep. It's four-thirty in the morning for gods sake's Rory-

But he picks up on the second ring.

His voice is gruff, like he's been asleep, all rough and hot and - Rory blushes at the thought. What is with her lately?

"Jess!" Rory squeals.

He pauses for a second and she can see him checking the time, "It's four thirty, Rory."

Rory ignores the time. "I finished your book." He breathes on the other end of the line and she continues, "It's amazing, Jess. Truly amazing. Your writing is...it's so you! I could read it for hours and hours on end. It's breathtaking, the scenery, the characters. It breathes you." Rory gushes, "I know you said it was based on your life, but there's such a great distinction between the reality of your life and the fiction of the character's life. It's...Jess, this is your best work yet." Rory rambles on, exhilarated by the rush of reading.

Jess smiles on the other end of the phone. "It's four thirty, Rory." He reminds her.

Rory smiles sheepishly, "Sorry." She apologises, but her hearts not in it; it's amazing and she had to tell him it was amazing-

"Thank you." He says honestly, "Glad to know I have at least one fan." He jokes.

Rory rolls her eyes. "You know this is gonna be a bestseller, just like Jaded was."

"Tell me, Rory. Am I the next American great?" He teases, and silently, she thinks you just might be.

Rory is ready to say I'll let you go when Jess says: "I read The Fountainhead last week."

Her face splits into a grin, disbelief spreading through her voice when she says, "Really?"

They don't get off the phone until seven thirty.

The calls are frequent after that.

So are the Stars Hollow run-ins.

On a Thursday her boss calls her into her office.

She greets her with coffee and praise and a new assignment: all in one breath.

Rory is buzzing with excitement as she walks back to her desk, slipping into her chair and picking up her phone. To her surprise, Jess rings her just as she's about to call him.

"Hey!" Rory brightly answers.

"We're moving Truncheon to New York." Jess opens with.

Rory's mouth falls open slightly, "No way!" Rory laughs, "That's so exciting, Jess."

"Yeah," She can hear the buzz of excitement in his voice, and she wonders if he'll move here, if he'll run it -

Then she remembers why she was going to call.

"The New York Times wants me to do an interview with you about your book." Rory informs him.

In Philadelphia, he grins. "No way," He echoes her earlier sentiment.

"Great, huh?"

Lane visits her for a Girls Weekend in New York. The moment she arrives, she falls onto Rory's bed and lets out something between a sob and a laugh.

"A whole weekend away from the kids." Lane says. "I love them but I need a weekend for Rock'N'Roll."

Rory grins, putting on a Ramone's CD.

"Rory, I love you!" Lane squeals, getting up to squish her friends face in her hands.

It's a night full of movies - The Princess Bride and The Bride of Chucky, clearly classics - and of junk food and experimental makeup and crimped hair looks. It feels like they're fifteen again, dancing to disco like idiots in their pajamas and feather boa's.

It's around one in the morning when the wine really hits them, the two of them lying on the floor, their heads bent together.

"I've really missed you, Rory."

"I've really missed you, too, Lane."

It's the gooey emotional talk that takes place next - the heartfelt 'I love you's' and 'I don't know what I would do without you's' and the reminiscence of their younger years.

When we were Steve and Kwan's age...

It's once that dies down that Rory tells Lane.

"I had an abortion." Rory says, quietly, so quiet it's almost drowned out by Sonic Youth.

For a minute Rory thinks it was drowned out by Sonic Youth, because Lane doesn't respond, doesn't make a sound.

"I wanted one at first." Lane says quietly, "I love Steve and Kwan but sometimes..." Lane trails off, "I feel awful just thinking it, but I had to put a lot of my dreams on hold. We still have the band together but it's never going to be what we envisioned, maybe when the kids are older. But," Lane pauses, all the words left unspoken that Rory understands. "In the end, I couldn't do it. And I love my boys, I do. I don't regret having them for a second, but what I'm trying to say is," Lane reaches for Rory's hand, "I love you and I understand it and I'm proud of you."

Rory doesn't stop crying for half an hour, her head resting on Lane's shoulder, the two of them clutching each other tightly.

Lorelai had been surprised when Rory had told her, understanding and comforting and supportive, "It was the right choice for you, Ror." She had said, and that was that.

"How did Lorelai take it?" Lane asks.

"I thought she would be mad." Rory admits, "I thought she would think I was selfish or a monster. But she just said it was the right choice for me."

Lane nods thoughtfully, "It was, for you. You're not your mom."

"That's what Jess said."

Lane raises an eyebrow, "Jess knew? He knew before me? Since when were the two of you so buddy-buddy?"

Rory shushes her fears about Jess knowing before her with a kiss on the hand, "Lane, you're my best friend, which is why I waited to tell you...it's hard to talk about. I don't regret it in the slightest but I don't want you to judge me for it, either."

"I wouldn't ever judge you," Lane points out. "You've done some fucked up shit and I have never judged you."

Rory howls at Lane's choice of words, "I know."

Lane pushes on her shoulder, "Jess?" She prompts.

"After Mom and Luke's wedding. He just, he guessed, and he helped me work out what I wanted to do. He went with me." She says quietly.

"Wow." Lane says.

"Yeah, wow."

"Do you ever think about him?" Lane asks.

Rory's eyebrows furrow, "Yeah. We're friends now."

Lane smacks her shoulder, "Rory. He's hot. Really, really hot. In case you've suddenly turned blind and haven't noticed." Rory smiles, twisting her head into Lane's shoulder as a blush creeps up her neck. "Do you ever think about that?"

"We were really young when we dated. It was a long time ago. It's not like that anymore." Rory explains.

Lane waits.

"Yes." Rory eventually admits. "I'm not blind. I've thought about it."

Lane lets out a squeal.

It feels like nothing's changed at all.

Jess meets Rory at a coffee shop in Brooklyn for the interview. He was in the city looking for a space for Truncheon, anyway, so he said "I thought I'd save you the trip."

"I was kind of excited to see it again." Rory says, as they sit down with their coffees.

Jess looks at her blankly. "Nothing's really changed. It'll still be standing next month if you wanna swing by and say hello."

Rory waves her hand, "Yeah, yeah. Okay, first the interview and then the idle chit-chat."

Jess smiles wryly, "Go ahead."

Rory presses the voice recorder on her phone, shuffling her pieces of paper around on the table. They're the standard questions for an interview, she thinks she knows Jess well enough to be able to write it without asking him, but she needs actual words from him. This is formal, professional, the Times don't know that she knows him.

"So, Jess, who would you say were your biggest inspirations?"

Jess frowns at the question, reclining backwards in his chair as he thinks carefully about his answer. "No-one. Maybe Kerouac. But I didn't draw inspiration from other authors. I just...wrote."

"What first inspired you to write?"

Jess rolled his eyes at the question, fidgeting in his seat. Rory knew that interviews were daunting for him, he was a private person, only able to reveal himself to strangers through his prose. He had told her he was only doing this interview for her. Rory had retorted back with It's the Times Jess, you'd do it even if it wasn't me.

"I liked to read. I was in an in-between stage of my life. California got boring for me, so I picked up a pen and paper and wrote my first serious book. I had been writing on and off since fourteen, but nothing like I did when I first seriously considered writing. So," He shrugged his shoulders.

Rory frowned slightly, before moving onto the next question.

"If you could have one author read your work who would it be?"

Without a beat, he answered, "Hemmingway."

Rory pursed her lips, raised an eyebrow, and he retracted the statement with, "Faulkner, I think. I just said Hemmingway to annoy you. Or Kerouac."

"One author, Jess." Rory reminded him with a laugh.

"Kerouac." He shrugged, "You can match it up with the inspiration and all."

Rory nodded, moving along to the next question.

It's five by the time they leave the cafe, the interview long since finished.

He catches the same cab as her, quickly leaving to walk her up to her apartment. "You should see it," Rory tells him, urging him to come up.

"I have a meeting with a real estate agent," He tells her, "But another time. You owe me a drink."

"I did you a favour. It's an interview with the New York Times!"

Jess has a pained expression flit across his face. "I hate interviews."

Rory hums.

He stuffs one hand in his pocket awkwardly, flicking an eye over to the cab that's waiting for him. "Hey, look. It was great to see you, Rory." His free hand comes out to cup her elbow for a brief second before floating back to his side. "If you're free next month, you should come to Chris' wedding with me. If you want. It would be great to hang out, you could meet the guys. Or not, you don't have to. I just don't know when we can next see each other-"

It sounds like a date.

He doesn't say it's a date.

But it sounds like a date.

"Sure." Rory says, "I'd love that."

"Cool, see you then." He says, before he disappears down the steps and back into the cab.

Rory fumbles for her keys for a second, before racing upstairs and extracting her phone from her bag and dialing Lane.

"He asked me to a wedding," Rory rushes out.

Lane frowns, "Who?"

"Jess!"

"He asked you on a date?" Lane asks, a hint of glee in her voice.

"I don't know. I think so." Rory rambles, "He's a groomsmen. I don't know. What I would do? I don't know why he'd ask me. It's obviously an important wedding and we're friends, we have the occasional phone call. Okay, the frequent phone call. Most days. But we don't see each other on a regular basis. But he might be moving to New York, so who knows!"

"Okay," Lane laughs, "Calm down, Rory. He asked you to a wedding."

"He asked me to a wedding." Rory repeats.

"Do you like him?" Lane asks, making herself more comfortable on her couch. This is the type of conversation that requires the wine she doesn't have.

"Lane," Rory sighs, flopping down onto her own glass, dreaming about her own glass of wine. "I don't want to go back to an ex-boyfriend again." Rory says seriously. "I don't want to ruin the friendship I have with Jess, I like it."

Lane is quiet, thoughtful before she answers: "Then it's not a date, Rory. He just wants a friend there with him."

Rory groans, "It's a date, isn't it?"

"It's Jess, he's social inept. Maybe he doesn't know it's a date."

"He's not that socially inept." Rory defends.

"I'm on your side!" Lane protests.

"Maybe I should just ask him, clarify things, but then what if it makes it weird?"

"Well, did it sound like he was asking you on a date?" Lane questions.

"No. Yes." Rory sighs. "I don't know." She replies, frustrated, and infuriated. "He said it would be great to hang out, for me to meet the guys. He said he wasn't sure when we would next see each other, so."

"Oh." Lane responds.

"Oh?" Rory questions, eyebrow arched.

"It's not a date. He just wants to hang. He's just being weird because he's Jess."

"You're right." Rory agrees.

Lorelai is amused when Rory mentions Jess invited her to his friends wedding.

"He did?" She asks.

"He did." Rory confirms.

"Have fun on your date!" Lorelai teases and hangs up before Rory gets a chance to protest.

Chris does not have a camel at his wedding.

But surprisingly, he does have a Paris Geller.

"Oh, hi, Rory." Paris says, running into Rory at the reception.

Rory's eyes are wide and huge and comical, she throws her arms around Paris and squeezes her tightly, "Paris! What are you doing here?"

"Erin's sister is the bride." Paris explains.

"Erin?" Rory questions, thinking maybe she's a poor surrogate that Paris has decided to befriend and use this wedding as an opportunity to scope out more surrogates.

"My girlfriend." Paris explains.

Rory thinks that's new and then thinks not really.

"What are you doing here?" Paris asks.

"Jess invited me." Rory explains, twisting the end of her hair ever so slightly. Her eyes roaming the reception for him.

You see, she hasn't exactly since Jess since arriving in Philadelphia. Originally, she was supposed to come a few days before hand to hang out and chill, to tour Truncheon and meet everyone but she got held up at work and her plans were delayed, so she got in late last night and ended up booking a hotel room rather than crash at Jess and Matt's apartment. She'd met Matt briefly this morning, and then spent a good half an hour chatting to him at the bar, just then, but no sign of Jess yet; she'd decided to skip the actual ceremony, feeling like she'd be intruding on a private moment - if she had gotten here the original time, she wouldn't have felt that way, but that was just how the dice had landed.

"Jess Mariano." Paris hummed his name. "I approve."

"It's not like that." Rory quickly defends. It's not like that.

"Uh-huh." Paris notes, her face lighting up when a brunette walks towards them. "Rory, this is Erin. Erin, this is Rory, my best friend."

Erin is beautiful—tall, dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes, wicked red cat-eye glasses—and smart, Paris informs Rory, "Erin went to Harvard. We originally met when I was in med school there, but we lost touch over the years—"

"Until we ran into each other, by pure coincidence!, at the park—"

"I had the children there and Erin has a daughter the same age—"

"We just immediately clicked!"

The two of them laugh and Rory feels warm inside, happy for Paris. Paris looks happier than she's ever seen her in her life, glowing from inside out, completely and utterly in love. Paris had always acted slightly afraid of love before, unsure if it was right, but this - it looked right.

"Oh, Jess is over there, Rory." Paris informs her.

"You're here with Jess?" Erin asks.

"Yeah," Rory says and then quickly backtracks, "No! I'm here with Jess but I'm not here with Jess."

Paris and Erin look at her for a second before Paris turns to explain the situation to Erin, "Rory and Jess dated in high school. His uncle married her mom. This is most likely a date."

"Paris," Rory snapped, irritated, "We're friends."

"Who are friends?" Rory hears Jess ask, his arm slinging around her shoulders in a greeting.

"We're friends." Rory explains.

"I know we're friends." Jess agrees.

"Yes, but they don't know we're friends." Rory explains, gesturing to Paris and Erin.

"Hey, Erin." Jess greets, "Paris."

"Jess," Paris and Erin say in unison.

Creepy, Rory thinks, the whole saying things in unison, but creepy in a perfect-for-Paris sort of way.

"I was just saying how this was a date for the two of you," Paris explains.

Rory wants to die. Right now. On the spot. Of sheer and complete utter embarrassment.

It wasn't this embarrassing when her life was falling apart and she was sharing the woes of having no underwear or squeezing Jess' hand so tight it could have shattered on the car ride to the doctors.

"It's not a date." Jess defends, first to Paris and Erin, and then turns around to Rory. "This is not a date."

"I know it's not a date." Rory says, "They think it's a date."

Jess looks panicked for a second. "It's not a date." He repeats.

"Lane and mom think it's a date, also." Rory adds in, just to see him look that extra bit panicked.

It's almost a relief to her to know this isn't a date, but there's also a slight part of her that's disappointed, too.

"It's not a date." He repeats, once more, for good measure.

For a not-date it ends up feeling a lot like a date.

Jess introduces her to his friends and they discuss Italian poetry before drunkenly dancing together, he twirls her around and she stumbles slightly and they step on each others toes. Her arms hang loosely around his neck, her body pressed too tight to be considered friendly against his, the two of them swaying in time to the music. His fingers trace patterns on her waist.

He's been touching her all night. His hand on her shoulder, on her knee, on her waist as they walk.

Rory steps on his foot.

"It's a good thing we didn't go to Prom," Jess laughs, stepping back from her slightly.

Rory winces at the memory, a sore spot for her even after all these years. Prom had been a highly anticipated event and then it wasn't. He notices the slight flash of hurt that crosses her face, immediately regretting what was supposed to be a lighthearted joke—that's the problem with their history, it's not lighthearted.

"Sorry," He says.

"S'okay." Rory lies, resting her head against her shoulder.

It's not a date.

Matt comes to say goodbye, "I'm gonna crash at Chris'." He says.

Jess nods his head, letting Rory go for a second to say a proper goodbye. Rory gives him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

"He's nice. I like your friends, Jess." She tells him as they walk back to their table.

"Thanks. Yours are..." He trails off.

Rory nods her head in understanding. Paris is full on all the time.

"I like Lane," He offers.

"I like her, too."

Rory lets out a small yawn, trying to stifle it but it's to no avail. Jess laughs, "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah," He presses his hand against her back, the other going to her waist as he leads her out; she feels light from the wine, free and flirty and—

This is not a date.

He gets her her coat for her, helps her slip it on and the drive back to his apartment is silent. Her things are still at her hotel, but she doesn't mention it.

"You can have my room, and I'll crash in Matt's." He explains as he unlocks their apartment, leading her upstairs.

Rory nods.

He twists open the door and the two of them step inside, he switches on the light and she catches him by the lapel of his jacket.

"Jess," Rory murmurs.

"Hm?"

"Jess," Rory tugs on his jacket, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"This wasn't a date?" She asks, there's the slightest tinge of sadness that he can detect. He steps forward.

"It could be a date." He offers.

"I want it to be a date." Rory whispers.

And maybe it's too soon, or maybe it's been a buildup of ten years of fleeting moments, running in and out of each others lives; maybe it's because there chapter was never officially closed, it was left open with a bookmark, a promise of to come back, lingering feelings pushed down as they moved on with their lives. Neither of them were left pining. But...there was something still there.

Rory closes the gap between them, eyes fluttering closed as her mouth finds his.

This part comes naturally to them, their lips moving in sync. Jess slowly pushes Rory back up against the wall, his hands flying to fit against her waist.

Whatever else happens at least we have this.

It had been one sentence Rory had never been able to let go off, the tingling moment of their first kiss, the breathless whisper he'd said in a promise. For years after Rory had held it in memory, always wondering what this would feel like if it was taken to that next level.

It becomes more hurried, more frenzied. He slips her coat off of her shoulders, his fingers searching for her zipper, the two of them laughing as it pinches her skin. His jacket falls to the floor, his shirt following.

"Come on," He says, urgently, in a whisper, staggering backwards as he leads her to his room.

It's different. In a good way. It's a build up of emotion, of what if's and an almost and teenage lust and adult wonder.

Rory digs her nails into his skin, presses her mouth wide-open against the crevice of his neck, and wonders why she ever waited so long; how if he hadn't had left to begin with she would have done this a long time ago, and then thinks I'm glad I waited.

He keeps a steady hand on her hip, leaving a trail of kisses along her neck.

It's different between them now; in a good way.

He wakes first. Hungover and confused. Until he peels open an eye and the night comes rushing back to him. Jess rolls over, flinging an arm over Rory's waist and nuzzles his face into her neck.

"Hi," He says, pressing a kiss to her neck as he feels her stir.

"Hi." Rory says back, having to bite her lip from smiling so wide.

"So, it was a date."

"It was a date." Rory laughs.

He makes her coffee as she critiques his book arrangement.

"You should alphabetise by author, not title." Rory tsks.

She's only wearing his shirt.

They have sex again, more lazy than the night before when it had all been heightened emotions and frenzied feelings.

"I don't want this to be a one-night thing, Jess." Rory tells him, later, the two of them curled up on the couch.

He's got Almost Famous paused; for nostalgia's sake.

"How do you want this to work?" He asks.

Rory sighs, raking her fingers through her hair. "We need to actually take it slowly, we can't jump into it. We were friends, we are friends." Rory corrects, "But we've never talked about what happened between us and for a serious relationship between us to work—we need to talk about it."

He inhales a deep breath, exhales. "What do you need to say?" He asks, because there's something-

"You hurt me, Jess. I know it's not going to be a repeat of history because you're different, the same Jess, but different." She smiles, her eyes slightly watery, but neither of them comment on that. "You left me without saying goodbye, and I was so- I was so angry. We had communication problems, you never talked to me, I felt like it was more about the chase for you than the actual relationship. When you left, it crushed me. I acted like it didn't. Like it didn't affect me, but I was so in love with you and it hurt. It really hurt."

"I'm sorry," He says. "I wish I had said goodbye. Been more mature about it. But I don't regret leaving."

Rory knows that.

"I don't regret you leaving, either."

"But we did have communication problems," His fingers cup her chin, "But even now—we talk better as friends, haven't you noticed?" He asks, a slight smirk.

Rory nods her head, "We talk more now than we ever did back then."

"Yeah." He says softly.

"Yeah." She echoes, closing the distance between them.

He kisses her softly, politely, before pulling away.

"Okay, I think we've talked through our problems." Rory says brightly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Talked enough for now." Jess amends.

"For now." Rory agrees.

"We have a lot of time to go all in-depth, Yale college analysis." Jess teases.

"I'm not Paris." Rory retorts.

"I know that."

It takes another eight months for New York Truncheon to be finished.

Rory makes a schedule for the two of them - one weekend Jess comes to New York, one weekend she goes to Philadelphia and one weekend they go to Stars Hollow. It works. They talk. They go slow. It works.

He moves into an apartment a few blocks away from hers because slow but he ends up spending the majority of his time in her apartment, anyway, and when his sixth month lease is up she decides they've taken enough time being slow and he moves in with her. It's lazy and comfortable and quiet the way she had always imagined, the two of them squished on the couch, cuddled up together as they read.

Writing next to each other. Rory finishes her book, stopping short just before the teenage years, like promised.

A year in and they start to have serious talks about marriage, he traces patterns on the side of her stomach and they say someday and soon and future.

Rory's book gets published and she starts to move up in the Times to more pieces, more front-page by-lines.

Jess brings up children on a Thursday afternoon, Thai takeout open ready on the counter.

"Do you think you'd want children?" He asks.

Rory remembers how she had felt when she first took the pregnancy test, there was something more than just how unplanned it all was. It just wasn't the life she ever saw for herself.

"I don't think so." Rory says, unsure in her words. "Maybe, if you really wanted children, but it's not an end-goal for me."

"Me either." Jess agrees. "If it happens..." He trails off.

Rory shrugs. "If it happens we can decide then if we're ready or not. But," Rory hesitates, "I don't think I can see myself as a mother. I'm happy with where I am now but I still want more from my career and until then-" Rory sighs.

"Until then you don't know." Jess finishes for her, he reaches out, entwining their fingers together.

"I just don't think motherhood's for me." Rory explains.

"I don't think fatherhood's for me." Jess admits.

"So, no children?" Rory asks.

"No children." Jess agrees.