Disclaimer: I do not own the Gilmore Girls. As if.
A/N: Thanks to all who offered opinions about whether or not I should continue this story. I'm agreeing with the majority and calling this fic finished. I feel I hit my stride on Chapter 3 and don't want to push my luck! I may try my hand at an entirely new fic (not using an episode as a launching point) sometime soon. In the meantime, this epilogue will tie up various loose ends. To quote Angel Monroe, this epilogue is full of "fluffer nutter peanut butter". Seriously, if it were food, you'd all get cavities. You've been warned.
To everyone who reviewed my story - you honor and humble me by taking the time to share your thoughts. It both helps me improve my creative writing skills and motivates me. I cannot thank you enough. Special duper shout outs to:
Airforcebrat529 - gosh, thanks!!
Someone - I was howling at your feedback!! Girlfriend, if you write up Dean's alien abduction, I swear I'll print it and frame it. Sadly, I am NOT kidding! (Looks like Faith5321 is the 3rd charter member of the 'Dean Should Die' club!)
Jamie - For making me strive to have my head/heart dialog stay out of the realm of cliché. . . . and for suggesting this epilogue.
Rory
Stealing a quiet moment of serenity, she has come to the bridge. She needs to gather her thoughts, breath deeply, be peaceful. She sits in her familiar spot and watches the water. She has always been able to feel close to him here. Over the years, that in itself has been a blessing. 'We started right here,' she thinks stroking the wooden planks and remembering an evening long ago when she listened to her heart and chose her own path. A tumultuous night. 'A good night,' she corrects smiling. It was the night she left the safety of Dean for the promise of Jess, left the tyranny of perfection for the haven of real. She has never looked back.
She has followed where her heart has led. The journey has not been easy, but it has been her own. She walked her path and saw wonders, miracles, tragedies. Through it all, she has loved - first a boy, then a man named Jess.
She loved Jess when Dean (who was later abducted by aliens A/N: kidding!) foolishly tried to reconcile with her, when Shane refused to go away quietly, when her mother disapproved, when her friends didn't understand. She loved him across the miles when he moved to California with his father. She loved him as the years passed with only too short moments spent together. She remembers her visits to UCLA, his visits to Yale, tearful goodbyes at airports where she cursed her heart for making her care so much about another human being. She remembers lonely nights, fights, fears, doubts. She thinks of how his touch makes her tremble, makes her burn. She remembers late night talks, holding hands, leaves changing, beaches, mountains, a disastrous camping trip, a Paris café, book stores, a motorcycle, rainy Sundays with the newspaper, rivers of coffee, making love in the ruins of a Scottish castle, tears, laughter. It's a life that she remembers, their life together. Through it all, over distance and time, she has loved him. Her heart told her it was real and she believed.
'He has come,' her heart tells her.
'I knew he would!' her head gloats.
'He always does,' Rory thinks smiling, delighted that her head and heart have made peace at last. She feels happy, light, blessed. One more time, she waits for him.
Jess
Something has called him to the bridge. Seeing the familiar figure sitting on the wooden planks, he realizes it is she. 'And they say true north has a magnetic pull,' he thinks marveling at how he is constantly, unconsciously drawn to wherever she is.
She is more than he ever expected to find, more than he knows he deserves. He smiles and shakes his head, 'Rory Gilmore loves me,' he thinks incredulously. It feels like a miracle. His mind wanders back to his first night in Stars Hollow, walking into her mother's house. He was drawn to the fireplace, to her framed photo on the mantle. He picked it up. Even then she called to him. 'She thinks we started on this bridge,' he muses. He knows his love for her started much earlier.
His mind travels forward in time, to the days when he earned the admiration and trust of her family, her friends. He remembers finding the courage to tell her he loved her and how she wept at his words. He thinks of how his love for her has grown, become liquid, a vast thing. Because of her, he is different. He is better. He thinks of the first time they made love after high school graduation. In spite of his sexual experience, he had been unprepared for the pleasure he would find in her body, her touch. She made him feel complete, clean, forgiven.
His mind recalls how he felt lost without her in the strange newness of California. Days of doubts, jealousies, insecurities unfold in his memory. It wasn't easy for him but he learned to trust in her, believe in her love. He remembers how beautiful she looked at her college graduation, how alive he felt when he moved back to New York, how grateful he was when she moved there too. He remembers the day they moved in together, how she had stood on a sidewalk grate and turned to say something as the rush of wind captured her hair and lifted it until it flowed all around her, a cloud of honey brown. She had looked like a mermaid.
When her job with the New York Times took her all over the world, he supported her, traveled with her when he could. When his mother died, she had held him in her arms like a baby. She was his safe place, his lucky charm, his best friend. When his first novel was rejected by 35 publishers, she told him 36 was his lucky number. She had been right. His eyes mist when he remembers the look on her face when she read the novel's dedication - to her. Her excitement surpassed even his own when his second novel was published, its' dedication also to her. Always her. He knows she is a gift, a precious thing. She taught him how to love, to trust, to forgive, and be forgiven. In the eight years since they graduated from high school, since he left Stars Hollow, he has tried to be worthy of her. He hopes he has succeeded.
Rory and Jess
He walks onto the bridge and sits behind her. His legs straddling either side of her body, he pulls her to him. She leans against his chest, closes her eyes and feels him.
"This is bad luck, you know," Rory says, sighing.
"I like to live on the edge," Jess replies, moving her silky hair to her opposite shoulder so his lips can access her neck. Kissing her, he breathes her in. She smells like summer, like water.
At the touch of his lips, chills run up her spine. His hand moves under her shirt and he feels the creamy skin of her stomach, her breasts. A small whimper escapes from her. He marvels at how, after all this time, she can still arouse such basic desire in him. His hand travels lower, moving down her body.
"Jess. . ." she whispers, her need for him threatening to overpower her.
He longs to satisfy her right then but knows he cannot. He pulls his hand away and wraps his arms tightly around her.
Moving his lips to her ear he whispers, "What are you doing later?"
"I'm busy," she replies, her head falling back giving in to the sensations sweeping through her.
"Doing what?" he presses, moving his lips to the other side of her neck, the cascade of her hair envelops him.
"Actually, I'm getting married," she answers smiling, running her hands along his thighs.
"What a coincidence," he says, his breath quickening at her touch, "me too."
She turns towards him. This time, it is her turn to push him down on the bridge and climb on top. Feeling his erection through her sweat pants, she grins and begins kissing his neck. Slowly her lips travel to his ear, her tongue leaving a wet trail along his neck and jaw. He groans impatiently.
"No kidding?" she responds, enjoying his reaction to her. "Where are you getting married?"
"At the Independence Inn," he informs her as he moves underneath her to recapture her neck with his mouth.
"Me too!" she answers laughing. She moves away from his lips and he lowers his head back to the bridge, gazing at her with hungry eyes. In a fluid movement, she slides down his body, her legs straddling him. He feels so strong, so solid. His hands move to her hips. As she leans down to kiss him, she begins to grind her hips rhythmically against his. "Maybe I'll see you there."
Caught off-guard by her movement, he moans, as his hip move involuntarily in tandem with hers. It is more than he can handle. He grabs her and flips her underneath him, positioning himself lower down her torso, his head even with her breasts. From this position, she has lost access to his most sensitive body part. Breathing heavily, trying to gain control, he smiles triumphantly when her eyes meet his.
"No fair!" she protests.
"Vixen," he laughs. "Keep it up and we'll both miss our weddings."
She laughs, her eyes sparkling.
"I hope your husband-to-be knows he's a very lucky man," he tells her, grinning broadly.
She lifts herself up on her elbows and places a long lingering kiss on his mouth. He returns her kiss tenderly, savoring her taste, the feel of her. "Well, I remind him everyday," she says in mock sincerity.
Jess bursts out laughing. Reveling in the sound of his laugh, the laugh she adores, she grows suddenly serious. She wriggles out from under him and sits in front of him, cross-legged Indian style. Jess watches warily to see what she will do. He is still as her hands capture either side of his face. She leans in closer, making burning eye contact and whispers, "I'm the lucky one."
A lump forms in his throat at her passion and sincerity. "I love you, Rory Gilmore," he says feeling lucky, feeling safe.
"I love you too, Jess Mariano," she answers.
He kisses her as though she is something fragile, breakable like one of her mother's porcelain unicorns. He stands, offering her his hand. She takes it. He lifts her up and captures her lips again. Bringing his hands to the sides of her chin, he moves his lips to her jaw. His lips brush the side of her face, gently, barely touching as he moves them from her jaw to her forehead. Dizzy, she closes her eyes. Kissing his way across her forehead, his lips move like a whisper down the other side of her face. Stepping back from her, his fingers glide from her chin down her neck barely touching her skin. She shivers. His eyes drink in her face, memorizing every detail of how she looks at this moment. "God, you're beautiful," he whispers stepping further away.
She opens her eyes. He is backing away from her. She smiles. She feels like crying, like flying. 'The next time I see him, he'll be in a tux,' she thinks.
'She'll be in white,' he imagines, slowly backing further away from her. 'On her father's arm.'
'Luke will be next to him,' she muses, trying to picture her stepfather without his omnipresent baseball cap. She too begins to back away off the bridge, her eyes remaining glued to his.
'Her mother will be next to her.'
'He'll be so handsome.'
'She'll share my last name,' he marvels.
'The next time I kiss him, it will be as his wife,'' she thinks.
Standing now on opposite side of the bank, the bridge between them, they stop. Smiling broadly, she blows him a kiss. Flashing a white-toothed grin, he turns and sprints away. She turns and suppresses the urge to skip back to her house where her mother and Lane are waiting to help her get ready. Impulsively, she spreads her arms out and twirls on the grass. Her heart is open, expansive, singing.
Hugging herself, she says, 'Thank you,' to her heart.
'Anytime,' her heart answers.
A/N: THE END (for real this time!) I hope you liked it - I'd love to hear what you think in a review. I'll be waiting for the inspiration fairy to hit me over the head so I can start my next GG fic. Later!
A/N: Thanks to all who offered opinions about whether or not I should continue this story. I'm agreeing with the majority and calling this fic finished. I feel I hit my stride on Chapter 3 and don't want to push my luck! I may try my hand at an entirely new fic (not using an episode as a launching point) sometime soon. In the meantime, this epilogue will tie up various loose ends. To quote Angel Monroe, this epilogue is full of "fluffer nutter peanut butter". Seriously, if it were food, you'd all get cavities. You've been warned.
To everyone who reviewed my story - you honor and humble me by taking the time to share your thoughts. It both helps me improve my creative writing skills and motivates me. I cannot thank you enough. Special duper shout outs to:
Airforcebrat529 - gosh, thanks!!
Someone - I was howling at your feedback!! Girlfriend, if you write up Dean's alien abduction, I swear I'll print it and frame it. Sadly, I am NOT kidding! (Looks like Faith5321 is the 3rd charter member of the 'Dean Should Die' club!)
Jamie - For making me strive to have my head/heart dialog stay out of the realm of cliché. . . . and for suggesting this epilogue.
Rory
Stealing a quiet moment of serenity, she has come to the bridge. She needs to gather her thoughts, breath deeply, be peaceful. She sits in her familiar spot and watches the water. She has always been able to feel close to him here. Over the years, that in itself has been a blessing. 'We started right here,' she thinks stroking the wooden planks and remembering an evening long ago when she listened to her heart and chose her own path. A tumultuous night. 'A good night,' she corrects smiling. It was the night she left the safety of Dean for the promise of Jess, left the tyranny of perfection for the haven of real. She has never looked back.
She has followed where her heart has led. The journey has not been easy, but it has been her own. She walked her path and saw wonders, miracles, tragedies. Through it all, she has loved - first a boy, then a man named Jess.
She loved Jess when Dean (who was later abducted by aliens A/N: kidding!) foolishly tried to reconcile with her, when Shane refused to go away quietly, when her mother disapproved, when her friends didn't understand. She loved him across the miles when he moved to California with his father. She loved him as the years passed with only too short moments spent together. She remembers her visits to UCLA, his visits to Yale, tearful goodbyes at airports where she cursed her heart for making her care so much about another human being. She remembers lonely nights, fights, fears, doubts. She thinks of how his touch makes her tremble, makes her burn. She remembers late night talks, holding hands, leaves changing, beaches, mountains, a disastrous camping trip, a Paris café, book stores, a motorcycle, rainy Sundays with the newspaper, rivers of coffee, making love in the ruins of a Scottish castle, tears, laughter. It's a life that she remembers, their life together. Through it all, over distance and time, she has loved him. Her heart told her it was real and she believed.
'He has come,' her heart tells her.
'I knew he would!' her head gloats.
'He always does,' Rory thinks smiling, delighted that her head and heart have made peace at last. She feels happy, light, blessed. One more time, she waits for him.
Jess
Something has called him to the bridge. Seeing the familiar figure sitting on the wooden planks, he realizes it is she. 'And they say true north has a magnetic pull,' he thinks marveling at how he is constantly, unconsciously drawn to wherever she is.
She is more than he ever expected to find, more than he knows he deserves. He smiles and shakes his head, 'Rory Gilmore loves me,' he thinks incredulously. It feels like a miracle. His mind wanders back to his first night in Stars Hollow, walking into her mother's house. He was drawn to the fireplace, to her framed photo on the mantle. He picked it up. Even then she called to him. 'She thinks we started on this bridge,' he muses. He knows his love for her started much earlier.
His mind travels forward in time, to the days when he earned the admiration and trust of her family, her friends. He remembers finding the courage to tell her he loved her and how she wept at his words. He thinks of how his love for her has grown, become liquid, a vast thing. Because of her, he is different. He is better. He thinks of the first time they made love after high school graduation. In spite of his sexual experience, he had been unprepared for the pleasure he would find in her body, her touch. She made him feel complete, clean, forgiven.
His mind recalls how he felt lost without her in the strange newness of California. Days of doubts, jealousies, insecurities unfold in his memory. It wasn't easy for him but he learned to trust in her, believe in her love. He remembers how beautiful she looked at her college graduation, how alive he felt when he moved back to New York, how grateful he was when she moved there too. He remembers the day they moved in together, how she had stood on a sidewalk grate and turned to say something as the rush of wind captured her hair and lifted it until it flowed all around her, a cloud of honey brown. She had looked like a mermaid.
When her job with the New York Times took her all over the world, he supported her, traveled with her when he could. When his mother died, she had held him in her arms like a baby. She was his safe place, his lucky charm, his best friend. When his first novel was rejected by 35 publishers, she told him 36 was his lucky number. She had been right. His eyes mist when he remembers the look on her face when she read the novel's dedication - to her. Her excitement surpassed even his own when his second novel was published, its' dedication also to her. Always her. He knows she is a gift, a precious thing. She taught him how to love, to trust, to forgive, and be forgiven. In the eight years since they graduated from high school, since he left Stars Hollow, he has tried to be worthy of her. He hopes he has succeeded.
Rory and Jess
He walks onto the bridge and sits behind her. His legs straddling either side of her body, he pulls her to him. She leans against his chest, closes her eyes and feels him.
"This is bad luck, you know," Rory says, sighing.
"I like to live on the edge," Jess replies, moving her silky hair to her opposite shoulder so his lips can access her neck. Kissing her, he breathes her in. She smells like summer, like water.
At the touch of his lips, chills run up her spine. His hand moves under her shirt and he feels the creamy skin of her stomach, her breasts. A small whimper escapes from her. He marvels at how, after all this time, she can still arouse such basic desire in him. His hand travels lower, moving down her body.
"Jess. . ." she whispers, her need for him threatening to overpower her.
He longs to satisfy her right then but knows he cannot. He pulls his hand away and wraps his arms tightly around her.
Moving his lips to her ear he whispers, "What are you doing later?"
"I'm busy," she replies, her head falling back giving in to the sensations sweeping through her.
"Doing what?" he presses, moving his lips to the other side of her neck, the cascade of her hair envelops him.
"Actually, I'm getting married," she answers smiling, running her hands along his thighs.
"What a coincidence," he says, his breath quickening at her touch, "me too."
She turns towards him. This time, it is her turn to push him down on the bridge and climb on top. Feeling his erection through her sweat pants, she grins and begins kissing his neck. Slowly her lips travel to his ear, her tongue leaving a wet trail along his neck and jaw. He groans impatiently.
"No kidding?" she responds, enjoying his reaction to her. "Where are you getting married?"
"At the Independence Inn," he informs her as he moves underneath her to recapture her neck with his mouth.
"Me too!" she answers laughing. She moves away from his lips and he lowers his head back to the bridge, gazing at her with hungry eyes. In a fluid movement, she slides down his body, her legs straddling him. He feels so strong, so solid. His hands move to her hips. As she leans down to kiss him, she begins to grind her hips rhythmically against his. "Maybe I'll see you there."
Caught off-guard by her movement, he moans, as his hip move involuntarily in tandem with hers. It is more than he can handle. He grabs her and flips her underneath him, positioning himself lower down her torso, his head even with her breasts. From this position, she has lost access to his most sensitive body part. Breathing heavily, trying to gain control, he smiles triumphantly when her eyes meet his.
"No fair!" she protests.
"Vixen," he laughs. "Keep it up and we'll both miss our weddings."
She laughs, her eyes sparkling.
"I hope your husband-to-be knows he's a very lucky man," he tells her, grinning broadly.
She lifts herself up on her elbows and places a long lingering kiss on his mouth. He returns her kiss tenderly, savoring her taste, the feel of her. "Well, I remind him everyday," she says in mock sincerity.
Jess bursts out laughing. Reveling in the sound of his laugh, the laugh she adores, she grows suddenly serious. She wriggles out from under him and sits in front of him, cross-legged Indian style. Jess watches warily to see what she will do. He is still as her hands capture either side of his face. She leans in closer, making burning eye contact and whispers, "I'm the lucky one."
A lump forms in his throat at her passion and sincerity. "I love you, Rory Gilmore," he says feeling lucky, feeling safe.
"I love you too, Jess Mariano," she answers.
He kisses her as though she is something fragile, breakable like one of her mother's porcelain unicorns. He stands, offering her his hand. She takes it. He lifts her up and captures her lips again. Bringing his hands to the sides of her chin, he moves his lips to her jaw. His lips brush the side of her face, gently, barely touching as he moves them from her jaw to her forehead. Dizzy, she closes her eyes. Kissing his way across her forehead, his lips move like a whisper down the other side of her face. Stepping back from her, his fingers glide from her chin down her neck barely touching her skin. She shivers. His eyes drink in her face, memorizing every detail of how she looks at this moment. "God, you're beautiful," he whispers stepping further away.
She opens her eyes. He is backing away from her. She smiles. She feels like crying, like flying. 'The next time I see him, he'll be in a tux,' she thinks.
'She'll be in white,' he imagines, slowly backing further away from her. 'On her father's arm.'
'Luke will be next to him,' she muses, trying to picture her stepfather without his omnipresent baseball cap. She too begins to back away off the bridge, her eyes remaining glued to his.
'Her mother will be next to her.'
'He'll be so handsome.'
'She'll share my last name,' he marvels.
'The next time I kiss him, it will be as his wife,'' she thinks.
Standing now on opposite side of the bank, the bridge between them, they stop. Smiling broadly, she blows him a kiss. Flashing a white-toothed grin, he turns and sprints away. She turns and suppresses the urge to skip back to her house where her mother and Lane are waiting to help her get ready. Impulsively, she spreads her arms out and twirls on the grass. Her heart is open, expansive, singing.
Hugging herself, she says, 'Thank you,' to her heart.
'Anytime,' her heart answers.
A/N: THE END (for real this time!) I hope you liked it - I'd love to hear what you think in a review. I'll be waiting for the inspiration fairy to hit me over the head so I can start my next GG fic. Later!