Disclaimer: Nope, nothing's mine… not the characters, not the poem… 'cept the story.

A/N, part 1: A bit more of an experimental fic that I did awhile ago… Definitely a departure from my regular style. I know parts of it are incredibly laborious to get through, and parts of it are ridiculously strained and out of character and awfully awkward, but some parts I wrote I quite liked, and really wanted to know what you all out there thought of it. So please do just read it, and (hopefully) enjoy, and do review, 'kay? :0) All comments greatly appreciated, as they would all go towards (hopefully) improving my writing. Thanks for even clicking on the story! :0)

A/N, part 2: Written before the 3rd season opener, but set just after Rory's return. She's finally made a decision, but a misunderstanding has its repercussions… Literati, slight JavaJunkie, but explores the Luke-Jess relationship.

Fathers' Day

Jess walked with a sprightly-- Never thought that was ever possible.-- spring in his step as he headed through the neighbourhood for the Gilmore house. His heart was light, a joy soaring through him, a feeling he hated yet could not help loving. The last thing he wanted was to be reduced to one of those English saps in Austen's novels, but... Well, might as well call me Colin Firth already, he thought to himself, the dripping sarcasm present even in his inner voice.

Rory had returned from Washington almost a week ago-- a "time away from everything Stars Hollow", as she'd said-- and they had only had their first real conversation since that day yesterday.

* * *

"... I needed to get away, to clear my thoughts! I was so confused, I didn't know what was going on, and-- Look, I'm really sorry if you thought it meant nothing to me, the way I left--"

"So did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Clear your thoughts."

"Well, yeah. And that's why I wanted to talk to you. I know things have been strange between us, but I've made up my mind, and..."

Oh God, just look at her. She's going to pick him.

"... I still want more conversations, Jess. I want to be able to talk to you about Ayn Rand, about Hemingway, Steinbeck, Austen, Kerouac... I don't want to lose that."

So that's it then. All that, and she still wants to be just--

"...something more. Dean and I are through, Jess."

* * *

Jess continued bouncing his way to the Gilmore house, almost letting himself skip for a few steps. Oh good Lord, what is going on with me??!! A smile started to form on his lips, the corners curling up imperceptibly at first, then growing exponentially as the house came into view. It's all coming together now... I can't believe the perfect life I gave up on in the city... It's all coming together in this freakish little town.

If the cynic in him was getting frustrated, it need not have waited long for the natural order to be restored. All it took was for Jess to turn the corner, for his old self to return.

Rory stood wrapped in Dean's arms, enjoying yet another vertical "From here to eternity" moment.

* * *

The father sat in the cramped apartment, eyes glued to the television screen and the game that was being played out on it. It was late, and he was just beginning to worry when the door flew open and the son returned. He barely got a glimpse of him before the child stormed into his room, slamming the door shut, as the loud rock music began filtering through the door. He blinked for a second, rubbing his eyes. His eyes weren't actually... red. Were they?

* * *

An unusually dark cloud seemed to follow over Jess in the subsequent days, and Luke was mildly puzzled by the exceedingly sullen behaviour. He was even more monosyllabic than normal, if that was possible, and they barely exchanged two words on a daily basis. Still, he was helping out in the diner when he could, and actually attending summer school. More than once, Luke had returned to the apartment to actually find him studying. The hermit lifestyle was certainly not an unpleasant change, but there still was that nagging feeling that something was amiss. The Gilmores certainly had something to do with it, for Jess always disappeared up the stairs whenever they appeared. Still, he let this pass, glad at least that this was helping Jess sort out his school issues.

The consequences came, however, out of the blue, a week and a half after that. Jess came bursting into the diner, blood flowing from a cut on his brow, his lower lip cut and swollen. Yet his attitude was nonchalant as he slid behind the counter, as though merely reporting for his shift. The whole diner's eyes were on him, Caesar still holding a plate over a customer's table, Luke letting the burgers sizzle on the grill, spatula in hand and mouth agape. Before his mind could even construct the words to say, the door slammed open again, and Rory stalked in.

"Jess, what the hell was that?!" she shouted, attracting the attention of the diner's customers, who now all promptly forgot about their food and turned their focus to the drama unfolding before them. A similar crowd had stopped outside the diner, joining from outside Doose's.

Jess snorted in anger as he shot back, "You even have to ask, Rory Gilmore?"

"Well, how else would I know? You've ignored all my calls, you've avoided me like the plague, and for all I know, you've even been spitting in my food just because you're mad at me!" A collective 'clink' sounded as many a fork and knife were put down. "You have to talk to me, Jess! Why did you start the fight?"

A look of disbelief came over him. "Is that what Dean told you? I started it?" He shook his head, then turned away, busying himself with the stacks of dirty plates waiting to be cleared. "And of course you believed him," he muttered under his breath, slapping plates together, his back to Rory.

She stopped short, hesitant, and quietly asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on!!" Jess shouted as he dropped the plates and spun to face her. "You know exactly what I mean! Y'know what, you've had your fun, you've played your game, so why don't you just go back to your boyfriend, and stop wasting my time."

Luke looked on in silence, but when he saw the look on Rory's face, he knew he had to intervene. "All right, that's it! Jess, you're not working here looking like that," he addressed his nephew, who had returned his attention to the plates. He pulled the boy away, and pushed him in the direction of the staircase in the back. "Get upstairs first." Once he had trudged his way up the stairs with a last glare in Rory's direction, Luke turned to the girl. "Rory--" But before he could even get another word out, she turned and ran, leaving the watching townsfolk torn between which part of the drama to follow.

Luke heaved a sigh, but it contained anything but relief. He turned to Caesar, who still stood over the customer's table, plate in hand, and barked, "Caesar, take over!" Tossing the spatula down and pulling the apron over his head, he trodded up the stairs, shouting down to the watching customers, "Show's over, people!"

When he entered the apartment, the door to Jess's room was ajar, and the floor was reverberating. He stalked to the room and pushed the door open to find Jess sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of his bed. When Luke entered, he quickly jumped up, drawing the heel of his palm against his face, turning away from his uncle. Luke sighed again, then asked, "Okay, Jess, what the hell is going on? Rory just ran out of the diner crying, and Lorelai's probably gonna come running over here mad as hell soon, and I might as well know what the story is at least so I can try and stop her from killing you." His tone was gruff, yet concerned, but Jess still did not react.

Luke walked over to the stereo set and shut the noise off, before turning to his nephew again, and saying, in a softer tone now, "Get yourself cleaned up, and when you're done, I'll help you clean up your wounds." He turned and left, leaving his nephew looking at him.

Luke got the first aid kit out and set it down on the kitchen counter, before getting a basin and a clean towel, and filling it with warm water. He was just soaking the towel when Jess reemerged. He had changed out of the blood-stained shirt, but his face was still bloodied and bruised, as were his knuckles. Luke sat him down on the couch, before gently tending to the cuts with the wet towel.

"So what was all that about?" he asked, hoping that for once, his nephew would open up to him. Silence greeted him, and he sighed again. "Look, Jess, you came back on the condition that things would change. And they've been going fine, until now. With this thing, the town's probably going to want blood again. But I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on." He stopped, and looked at the boy, whose eyes were averted from his. "Jess."

He looked at his uncle, then quickly looked away. "It was... nothing. That stupid asshole just went psycho and punched me in the face, so I decked him."

A look of disbelief came upon Luke's face. "Dean. You decked Dean." Jess shrugged and semi-nodded. "Just like that. He went psycho, and you decked him." Jess shrugged and semi-nodded again. "Okay, see, that's not helping me very much here."

"Well, what else can I say?! He punched me, I fought back! What else was I supposed to do, let him continue shouting that crap and beating me up?" He snorted in derision, slouching down in the couch and looking away.

"Wait, he was shouting?" Luke questioned. "What'd he say?"

Jess rubbed his eyes with his hands, replying, "Some crap about me stealing Rory... Absolute bull."

"What do you mean?"

Jess was silent, his head bowed down, his hand still shielding his eyes. "She lied. They all lie."

Jess's eyes came up again to meet Luke's, and the look in the boy's eyes haunted him. He was suddenly reminded of a childhood incident when he'd run and tripped over a crate in the hardware store. His mother was nowhere around, and he realised the panicked, bewildered look on his father's face to be the one that Jess must have been looking at now.

* * *

The father took the son into his arms, knowing how much the boy must have been hurting. Yet this was a wound he didn't know how to deal with. He'd never had to deal with any wounds before. It scared him now, holding his little boy and feeling the wetness of his shirt. He took at look at the scrape, then looked into his son's eyes, and saw the helplessness, the silent plea for a happy diagnosis. He smiled warmly, trying to mask his discomfort. "Hey, listen to me, lil guy. It's just a tiny lil scrape, that's all."

"You'll be fine, I promise. I'm here for you. I'll protect you."

* * *

"LUKE!!!"

The customers in the diner all startled, looking up, and suddenly glad that they had stuck around. The drama was continuing.

"LUUUKE!!!!" Lorelai shouted again, this time shouting into the kitchen. She was striding with an unrivalled speed, threatening to bowl over Caesar and almost pushing down Kirk as she continued with her mission.

Her unfortunate target reappeared from upstairs, reacting to the near-hysterical screams.

"Dammit, Luke, what the hell did Jess do to Rory?!"

Hell hath no fury like a woman whose only daughter just came crying to her, but Luke himself could have taken on both Lucifer and Lorelai right now, and won with ease. He grabbed Lorelai by the wrist and pulled her into the storage room, shouting back to the diner, "Get eating, people!"

Once the door was shut for some semblance of privacy, Lorelai continued. "What the hell did that piece of scum do to my kid, Luke? She came crying over to the Inn, and--"

"Goddammit, my kid's crying too, okay!" Lorelai was stunned speechless by both the ferocity in Luke's voice, and the words he had just said. "Jess is upstairs now, crying, and goddammit, I've never seen him cry! I didn't even know he COULD!! Now I need to know exactly what's going on with him, with Rory, and with Dean!"

"Rory broke up with Dean," Lorelai stated. "Why's he even in the picture?"

"Because that stupid ass punched my kid!" he shouted in reply. Then he stopped short. "Wait, Rory broke up with Dean?" Lorelai nodded. "They're no more? History? Kaput?" A nod, then another, then another. "You might even say that... Jess stole Rory from Dean?" A shrug, then a nod again. It all started to click together even as he sat down on a shelf, yet many pieces still had nowhere to go.

"Why do you ask?" Lorelai questioned. "If Rory tells me they've broken up, they've broken up. Even if he did give her a tough time."

"What do you mean by that?"

Lorelai sighed, then sat down across from Luke. "Rory told me Dean was really mad about breaking up. Insane mad. He was all over her even after she told him it was over. It was tough." She sighed again. "But poor kid. He's just so madly in love with her."

"Wait, Jess told me Rory lied to him," Luke said, his mind still struggling to figure it all out. "So how does all that fit in?"

Lorelai furrowed her brow as she got wondering about it too. "She was waiting for someone after Dean finally left..."

"When was this?"

"About a week and a half ago."

"... Which was precisely when Jess's mood changed..."

"... And when Rory started to get a little depressed."

Luke stood up, beginning to see it now. "So say Rory told Jess that she was breaking up with Dean, and he went over to meet her, and instead saw the two of them kissing--"

"--then Jess would have thought that Rory lied to him, which is when he started ignoring her and hence she got so depressed!" Lorelai saw it now too, as she rose from her perch. "Oh, that stupid little idiot... When I get my hands on him--"

"Hey!" Luke snapped, grabbing Lorelai by the arm. "Don't call him stupid!" He paused for a moment, then, "Although he was an idiot for not even facing Rory."

The door suddenly swung open, and Jess came in, grabbing a jar of pickles off the shelf. The two looked at him guiltily, the look in their eyes wondering if he'd heard it all, and half hoping he had, so they wouldn't have to directly intervene.

Jess was merely nonchalant yet again, and his eyes did not even show a hint of redness. He looked at the two, then indicated the jar of pickles. "Caesar's out of them," he stated, before backing out of the storage room and closing the door. "As you were."

Luke and Lorelai shared a look, before realising their mutual proximity. They jumped away from each other, looking about them, anywhere but each other.

* * *

The diner's customers continued watching in fascination as Jess slammed the jar of pickles down next to the half-full one, then strode out of the diner, headed directly for the Inn. A throng of townsfolk followed him across the square, and stopped short when he did. A similar crowd faced them, surrounding Rory, who still had tears flowing down her face. The two could only hold the gaze for a moment, watched by half the town, before Jess choked out two words. "I'm sorry."

The two came together, as the crowd erupted in whoops of joy and surprise. They finally had their happy ending.

Now, if only they could do something about those two in the diner store room...

* * *

It was a few weeks later, when Jess was headed out of the house again, as Luke sat and watched the week's game.

"Going over to Rory's again?"

Jess stopped in his tracks, then shrugged and replied, "Yeah... Lorelai rented movies. Again."

Luke chuckled at that, then returned his attention to the television set. "Try to actually come home this time, okay?"

"Yeah... I'll try."

Luke continued watching, then noted the silence. He turned back, and asked, "Is there something else?"

Jess cleared his throat a little uncomfortably as he removed a white envelope from under his coat. "Yeah. I... got this several weeks ago. I just... wanted to pass it to you now."

He gave the envelope to Luke, who looked at it with more than mild surprise, then back up at Jess. The boy just shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, then said, "I'll see ya later." He turned around and left, leaving Luke sitting on the couch.

He turned back to the game, then gazed down at the plain white envelope he held. He opened it, then removed the card from within, with some measure of astonishment. It was a Fathers' Day card. He pried it open, only to find an inscription in that familiar writing.

Those Winter Sundays, Robert Hayden

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he'd call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house.

Speaking indifferently to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love's austere and lonely offices?

--Thanks.

* * *

A/N: Love it? Hate it? I desperately need your comments, so please R&R!!!