Because I'm still in love with you,

On this Harvest Moon.

-Neil Young, Harvest Moon

When she first wakes up the rain has stopped. The birds chirp outside, but it's still dark. She finds Jess awake though. His arms folded under his head, he looks at the ceiling.

"What are we doing?" He says.

She vaguely registers it and what it might be in reference to, but is still sleeping, so she rolls over and slings her arm and leg over his body and shushes him. Falls back asleep.

The second time she wakes, it's light out and Jess is up, she hears him outside. She looks out the kitchen window and sees him painting the last wall. He's focused and she lies watching him for a while before getting up. She mixes the last of the condensed milk with the instant coffee and finds she actually likes it. She chuckles to herself. She finds a lonely piece of toast, and eats it.

After a while he comes inside, shirt stained with the dark paint.

"Good morning," she says.

He smiles at her.

"More like noon."

"You let me sleep 'til noon?"

"Seemed like you needed it." His eyes gleam. "What? Did you have something you had to do?"

"I can think of one thing." She retorts boldly and he smiles. He opens his mouth as if to continue their interaction, but closes it again and looks at her for a moment, eyes searching. Then he breaks the contact and turns to the sink to wash his hands.

"I finished painting. Figured I'd break for lunch, how do feel about beans for breakfast?"

"Nope." She says. "But I don't think we have much to choose from."

"I just bought supplies for a week, and there's been two of us, three if we count you as two."

"Hey!" She says.

"My point is we're almost out, so we might discuss immediate plans." He turns with a small, guarded smile. "How long were you planning on staying for?"

She's acutely aware of time and space. Realizes she hasn't checked her phone in days. Hasn't needed to, didn't want to. Realizes that today is the day she'd planned on leaving, the day she told her mom she'd be back. She suddenly has trouble sensing the floor under her feet. Caught off guard, she diverts his question.

"What about you? How long are you staying?"

There's a short pause before he responds.

"I hadn't decided completely, but I'm done with the things I'd planned to do, so. I guess I should leave today."

"Considering the supplies?"

"Yeah. Makes sense."

She nods absent-mindedly.

"I could stay," he starts "if you-"

"No." She says. "I told my mom I'd be back today."

"Oh. So, I guess we're going home."

"Yeah," she says, tries to smile.

"Better eat first," he says, and picks out the last can from the cupboard.

She walks out to the porch and stands for a while. Walks around the cabin, stops at the path to the lake. Feels desolate, unreasonably so, in her own opinion. She makes an attempt to repeat her hopeless inventory from her first morning here, how did that go again? Horrible coffee, ancient biscuits, cold shed, no hot showers, no running water, tics, man-eating crayfish, probably. So why does she feel like she's imploding at the thought of leaving? She tries to list her progress since she's gotten here to explain the experience to herself. But there's been none, at least not on the surface. The only thing she finds is that soft emotion. She interrupts herself when Jess lets her know the food's done, and walks inside.

After eating he goes off somewhere presumably to put away the tools, and she makes a half-hearted attempt at packing, which just ends with her sitting on the porch with her book reading the same sentence repeatedly; "Nobody actually looks like what they really are on the inside." This goes on for a while. Then Jess comes from behind the corner, startling her, the beard is gone. Her shin drops.

"Wha-" she starts but falters.

He stands in front of her, scratching his head, smiling self-consciously.

"If I show up in Stars Hollow with that thing on my face Luke'll never let me live it down."

"Stars Hollow? I thought you were going home."

"Can't drive all the way tonight."

Her chest is inexplicably tight. Feels overwhelmed by what she guesses she should refer to as reality. They're leaving this place. Can't stay here forever. His face looks so naked and the thought of going to her hometown in her state, with him, makes her uncomfortable. Nobody misses a thing there.

"So, how should we do this?" She starts without really thinking. "You wanna drive there at different times, or-?"

He frowns.

"I mean, so we don't arrive at the same time."

He regards her in silence, gaze serious. Just when she gets really nervous, and scrambles for something to follow up her previous statement with, he speaks.

"Yeah. Sure."

He turns, and walks into the cabin. She remains sitting, staring into space, her head slowly catching up with her mouth. She twists in her seat and can't stay there for long. She gets up and goes in after him.

He's stuffing his few belongings into his duffle bag with somewhat jagged gestures. When he hears her, he stops, turns. He looks at her and away, is about to talk but doesn't. Shifts where he stands.

"Look," she starts, but finds he's already started speaking. Words roll off him, lingering, while he stares at the floor.

"I have an apartment. It's filled with books. I left there and now-" he pauses, eyes distant, dark. "Now I have to go back. Nothing has changed there, see?"

She thinks of her closet of an apartment, bought mainly as an excuse, no bigger than what she could justify getting considering how much she's on the road. Shakes her head at the thought.

"Me too. Feels like forever since I've been there."

He shoves his hands in his pockets, remains silent.

"And still I wouldn't have guessed this a week ago." She looks at him and smiles. "Who knew?"

He's still staring at the floor.

"Yeah, me being here, you staying." He mumbles. "Total coincidence."

"I just think, it's funny that we should have met like this after all this time."

"Funny." He looks up, takes a visible breath. "Fun."

"Are you mad?" The shift in him makes her feel unsteady, and she hugs herself for support. When he speaks again it's with more emphasis, and apparent frustration..

"If you mean like crazy, then yeah." He looks to the ceiling. "This is insane. It's been ten years!" He shakes his head. "Everything else goes away."

The years between them feels solid at that. As well as their tangible absence from each other. The proximity, possibility, the security of them being locked in their separate orbits.

"It is what it is, right?" She tries with a bleak smile.

He laughs. Her eyes flick to his face in surprise at the sound, but his smile is cold. After a beat he keeps talking, bitterly, and like he's the only one listening.

"People underestimate 'fine'. I should have gotten in my car and driven far away the moment you set foot here." He pauses for a second. "I was fine!"

She's having a real problem knowing how to handle their escalating interaction, so she tries to defuse it.

"Look, I know I've been an utter mess this weekend, and I am sorry that you've been on the receiving end of it."

He leans in, and meets her eyes.

"I actually consider it a privilege to be of use to you, just not under any circumstances." He turns around and drags a hand over his shin. "You show up, you start this up-" He turns back to face her. "You ask me to say that I- See, this favor you've been asking me for, it's been really dangerous for me while you're acting like I just lent you a cup of sugar." He stares at her with raised eyebrows. "Plot twist, neighbor; turns out I actually meant what I said." He takes as paced breath, looking suddenly wretched. "And it's clear that it's gonna be like this never happened, so I feel like you might as well have spent the weekend with a bottle of whiskey and a vibrator."

She goes cold and a bit nauseous at the sentiment, the vicious tone.

"Jess-" she starts, too slow.

"For the longest time I didn't think it mattered what I felt, because I didn't matter."

He walks past her and opens the door, but stops and looks back.

"When no one's looking you're with me. Why is that?" He walks out and the door slams behind him.

She stands frozen, sees him walking down the path through the window by the bed. At first she starts to pack, but her head won't allow it, keeps tripping her up. She's angry at his harshness, but ashamed all the same. She knows he has at least one strong point; she's been more than careless. She swallows her harm and goes after him.

The way to the lake is a lot quicker this time, as they tend to be after you've walked them once. The woods are darker though. The sky is covered by clouds heavy with rain. The ground's wet and she almost slips on the same stupid root from yesterday.

He's standing by the water. Hands on his hips, head hanging. He looks lonely. It resonates in her, and then she does it; she tries to make it go away. She walks up and stands next to him, reaches out her hand, and fumbles for his, hooked in the loop of his pants. He closes his eyes and sighs at the touch, then he loosens his hand, and threads their fingers together. She runs her fingertips over his knuckles, and he squeezes her hand in return. She takes a few deep breaths with relief before speaking.

"Maybe I want something that's just, all mine. Something no one can touch."

"Yeah." He breathes, resigned. "I get that."

"The thing is, you've always seen the worst of me. And the trouble with that is..." She pauses, thinks. "That it makes me feel too relaxed, like I don't have to try. And then it makes me wanna run, because, I know that you know what I am."

He shakes his head, clenches his jaws.

"See, this is your main problem; you think you have to be perfect! You don't." He turns to her, still holding her hand. "But here's the thing: Do I like that you're obsessing about that? No. But I accept it. Because it's you." His lips twist to that inverted smile of his that mostly just makes her sad. "Every other guy I've seen you with has wanted you to be someone else. To fit into their worlds. To change. And those are just boyfriends, your grandparents and your mother-"

She rips her hand from his.

"Jess, stop it!"

"They want you to be this shining new hope. And that's okay. I hear it's normal."

She turns and starts walking back into the woods, but he raises his voice and calls after her.

"I'm trying to tell you that you don't have to constantly achieve in order to justify your existence, you never did. But you're still breaking yourself over it."

She stops, turns, tears in her eyes by now, tries to keep it together. He takes a few steps towards her, palms open. Speaking loudly, marking every word.

"Rory, there's nothing wrong with you! You're just a person. And I fucking love you, so I guess I just wish you'd go easy on yourself!" He takes a deep breath, and sighs. "Cut us some slack."

She stares at the ground, whimpering softly. She's out of words, even thoughts hurt. His arms enfold her moments later. Carefully at first, like he's expecting more fight. But there is none. The pressure and warmth escalate her cries, and she involuntarily clutches his shirt at the back, burying her face at his shoulder. He's quiet, rocking her slightly.

After a while she's breathing normally, still in his arms. He breaks the embrace but takes her hand.

"Come on, let's get back."

She's exhausted when they finally get indoors and lies down on her back on the bed. She feels it shift as he follows her example. They're silent. All sounds in the room is their breathing and the forest outside. She twists onto her side and nudges into him until he aligns his body with hers and slings his arm over her. It doesn't take her long to drift off.

She dreams of a dark forest. The girl is gone, there's only her clunky self, chafing against who she wishes she could be, and she's tired, to the brink of her capacity. Trees surround her silently, and she's stumbling down a path. She looks up, but there are no stars, no moon, the sky is a black blanket. She almost falls and is aware that someone is holding her hand. Someone who's walking ahead of her. She can't even see a back, just sense the movement. Then she can breathe. The narrow path becomes soft moss and the air cools from a body of water. The lake. Her grandfather stops. His presence looming in its silence. She still walks right into his tweed, so tired. And then there's just him holding her.

She wakes up with her face buried in Jess' shoulder, her body twisted. The room is murky, distinctly darker than before. He wakes with a gasp, she briefly wonders what he's been dreaming.

"What time is it?" She asks.

"Late. We should get out of here."

He gets up and heads outside. She starts packing her stuff. Moves on to empty the fridge and collect their trash. She shoves the bags in the corner next to the door and turns her attention to the bed and couch, still made up. She stands still for a strange second, blinks and a minute has passed. She uses the bedsheets as a bag, tying it around the rest of the cloth.

Jess enters and looks at her pile, reaches for the sheet in her hand, but stops in the middle of the motion.

"No," he says as if talking to himself, "you should take them home, I was never here."

Instead he grabs the trash bags and walks out to put them in his car. She drops the sheet and goes to use the bathroom.

When she gets out, everything is packed into their cars. Jess is on the driveway, holding out her jacket. She walks up to him and takes the garment. They stand for a few moments, just looking at each other. He finally breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry for projecting all my shit on you. It wasn't fair. I'm not really in a position to take some high ground considering I've wanted this for a long time. And I've rarely cared about consequences." He sighs. "And, even if you'd been clear about your lack of intentions to begin with… I still would've done it." He smiles, with genuine warmth and glee, in stark contrast to the situation. It's beautiful and it breaks her heart. "I wouldn't have been able to resist."

He walks up to her and puts his hands on her face, leans in and kisses her until her knees shake. He pulls back.

"Follow me to Highway 91 at least, so you won't get lost."

He gets in his car, while she still stands around. Empty. His engine starts and loud music of the Shoegaze variety blares from the car. A female singer blustering on about not wanting it to end. She blinks away tears and gets into her vehicle. On instinct she reaches into her bag to hook up her phone to her sound system, finding it discharged, of course, once more reminding her of the outlandishness of the past days. She switches on the radio instead, as well as her engine, heart heavy.

She follows him. An hour passes before they reach the highway, and by then it's dark. He takes the exit at a roadside diner, and she follows. Makes sense, they haven't eaten since this morning. They park the cars, he dumps the trash bags while he's at it and they walk inside in silence. He takes a booth, and she slides in next to him. They eat and drink coffee mostly without talking. Underneath the table they fidget with each other's hands. The compulsion is comforting. After a while he lifts her hand to his mouth, dragging her fingers over his lips. It's just for a moment, then he asks for the check.

She does follow him. Hour after hour. Has some time to consider things. Her thoughts return to the sweet and sour thing from yesterday. And for the first time she considers what she herself feels, outside mere sensations. Why does she need him to admit his feelings while she gets to run? It does seem cruel when she thinks on it. And it strikes her that maybe that dangerous vibe she keeps experiencing, is herself. The only scary thing about him, at least in this interaction, has been that he never flinches. But his strength allows him to both lead and be lead. So, does she want to break him? Is that why she behaves this way? Why did she come here? Right, her grandfather, her crumbling world.

She thinks about her apartment, and Jess' as well, on what he said, how he sounded when he said it. How she left her place, and she tries to imagine walking back into it. All at once she's sobbing, and panics, so scared of what else could sneak up on her. She turns to the curb, and tries to stop with as much care as possible. She leans into the steering wheel, shaking. Eventually it subsides, and she's pacing her breathing again. She looks up, through her windshield, and sees Jess and his car a couple hundred feet ahead, parked by the curb. He's leaning on the trunk smoking, the ember of the lit end glowing in the dark, the smoke blue from the passing headlights. Waiting for her.

It's not really a question of jumping or not, there's not a choice, she's already mid-air. Grabbing and scratching to survive, and he's trying to catch her.

She starts her engine, and waits for him to step on the cigarette and get back in his car.

The last stretch is painful. She's tired of driving and feels like she in retrospect gladly would have left her car if it would have meant sitting in the passenger seat of Jess', feet on the dashboard, listening to loud music. All she has now are the area's hopeless radio stations playing songs on hook-ups and heartbreak, to be fair the music she might have listened to would have been about the same things, but at least she wouldn't have been able to tell. She also experiences a near physical resistance driving the familiar roads from the Hartford exit to Stars Hollow.

But then something happens. The lowered speed limits slow her down as well, and she feels her thoughts sharpen. She's unable to keep the comforting sense of home at arm's length as their cars enter her town. The turn taking her to her mother's house comes up, but she doesn't take it. Instead she keeps following him to the town square, where he parks by Miss Patty's. She stops her car behind his.

She gets out, stretches her legs with relief and takes a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of the town in late summer. He exits his car too. Walking to the back of it and stands there regarding her.

"Why'd you come here? Thought you were going to your mom's, Luke's."

"I didn't want to-" she starts, but he interrupts.

"We're good, Rory. We'll always be good."

The strength of his words hit her, comforts her, and then she's pissed.

"Would you shut up?" She stomps. "I swear, it's like hanging out with my mom these days..."

He actually laughs.

"Your mom? Huh. At least no dude."

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep her concentration. It almost works.

"The original dudette, though." She lets out, and then clinches her fists, pushing her nails into her palms, to focus. Tries again. "I have something to say, and I may not be as quick as you, or even all there yet, but I need you to wait for me to get this out."

"Okay."

He falls quiet and leans back on his car, and she straightens her back, looking around the square. Her home. Empty at the moment. She closes her eyes, and imagines it tomorrow buzzing with activity. She imagines sharing that with him, them sitting in Luke's just like at the roadside diner. Hand in hand. She can't do that without imagining everyone knowing. Her stomach flips at the thought, but she does feel it; it's not all fear, it's excitement also. The memory of her tossing herself into the lake flashes before her. And she imagines the alternative, for good measure; coming here tomorrow, finding his car gone. Anguish. She opens her eyes. He's still standing in front of her, serious, expression shifting between curious and defensive. She sighs in relief, then takes shaky aim.

"So." She starts. "This happened."

"Yes." He confirms, gaze steady.

"And what are the odds of it happening again?"

"Without us actually trying? Pretty slim, I'd say, I'm not planning on another good deed for a good few years, and the chances of that coinciding with your next existential crisis-"

"What if we tried?"

"You mean-"

"Are you staying above the diner tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Can I stay with you?"

"What about your mom-?"

"See I have this nifty thing that I can plug in and charge and that will enable me to communicate remotely with a person of my choice. Verbally or via text." She steps closer. He doesn't smile at her joke, just looks vulnerable. She understands she might have to do blunt again, not her forte. She does it anyway.

"This thing between us…" She forces out the words, she's never used them before, has to stare at the ground to manage. "I've been scared of it since day one, and I think you've always known that." She looks back up, tries to do what she did at the lake, and raises her voice slightly so she can't back out. "It's big, and hasn't gone away, and after what happened I'm not sure it can, so… I'm scared, but, applying myself is the only way I've ever solved any problem. And I'm not in the best place emotionally. Well, let's be honest; I'm a professional and personal mess at the moment, but-"

He suddenly steps closer to her and locks eyes with her.

"If this is what you want, if you want me... You don't have to convince me, Rory. I'm in."

He looks happy, it's all in the warmth of the eyes. Her breath sounds like the combination of a sob and a laugh, but what she feels is relief. She reaches out and takes his hand, takes a stride up to him. He hesitates at the sound of steps approaching, but she grabs him firmly and kisses him. They never see who's coming. It doesn't matter.