Author's Note: This is my first attempt at writing any real fanfiction. I've been cleaning out my DVR and watching season 2 and 3 of Gilmore Girls made me incredibly nostalgic for Jess/Rory goodness. The title "Ever After You" comes from a Gabe Dixon Band song of the same name. Beautiful song. The lyrics bleed Literati. If you enjoy the story, please rate and review. If you don't like the story, please still rate and review. It will let me know if I should continue the story or not. Thanks for reading! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I - unfortunately - do not own Gilmore Girls or any of it's characters. This story is for pure entertainment purposes. Besides, if you sue me, it's not like I have much to give anyway :)

Ever After You
by FuriousRose920

Chapter One

She wasn't exactly sure how it happened.

Sitting on the cool wooden floor of her New York City apartment, Rory Gilmore unceremoniously made a decision that would take her off the path she had set for herself since before starting Chilton at the age of 15. Perhaps it was the fact that the lease on her tiny studio residence was up soon. Maybe it was that she'd just wrapped up the intense Masters of Journalism program at Columbia University and that the term "burned out" was more than applicable. It could have been that she missed her mother and the hoi polloi of Stars Hollow. Yeah, maybe that was it.

The hardwood floors of her historic building were worn with age and felt smooth against her bare legs. It was the perfect spring afternoon in New England and the curtains on her open window fluttered softly in the breeze. Sandwiched between the Upper West side and Harlem, the Morningside Heights neighborhood had been kind to her over her tenure. Living just off Riverside Drive put her in walking distance of not only her studies at Columbia, but also Riverside Park, the Husdon River, several train stations, and more eateries and coffee shops (thank God) than she could shake a stick at – if she was into that sort of thing.

Rory mindlessly sipped her still-steaming coffee from the nearby Atropolis Café out of a paper to-go cup. The coffee was some of the best she'd ever had. It left a bitter but delectable taste on her tongue and the earthy aromas reminded her of the early (and some not so early) mornings she'd spent with her mother at Luke's Diner in Stars Hollow, devouring cup after cup of the dark nectar. Maybe it was the combination of the perfect New York day, the sounds of children playing at the nearby park, and hot cup of joe in her hand but Rory Gilmore was more homesick than she'd ever been.

Perhaps that was how she found herself sprawled out on her living room floor with photos of her not-so-recent past splayed out in front of her. She smiled warmly at the candid shot of a young Lane and Rory playing dress up with Lorelei's clothes. Also warmly at the myriad of 3x5's of her mother, Luke, Miss Patty, Babette, and even Kirk. She even smiled at the old photos of a teenage Rory and Dean looking blissful in their naiveté and early-20s photos of her with Logan.

Now in her mid-20s, Rory had made peace with both of those former flames. Dean had ended up attending college in Denver, where he had met and married the love of his life, Jenna. They were expecting their first child in the fall.

Logan and Rory had met up a year after their split. Rory was fresh off the campaign trail, temporarily living at home and applying to Grad schools. Logan was in Hartford, visiting his family. They'd met for coffee and buried the proverbial hatchet. A year had given Logan ample time to understand Rory's decision not to marry him. Sometimes, loving someone just wasn't enough. They'd remained friends since then, calling periodically to check in on how life was treating the other, if they were dating, and how work and school were coming along. Logan had dated casually for awhile but had just recently started seeing someone seriously. Rory was happy for him.

Though Rory had dated since Logan, none had been exactly what she was looking for. Every relationship felt like it was missing something important, even though sometimes she couldn't put her finger on what. There had been Jeremy, the political science junkie she'd met while covering the campaign. Jeremy had been incredibly intelligent, incredibly handsome, and (unfortunately) incredibly boring.

Then there was Drew, whom she'd met one afternoon at a local coffee shop. When she'd noticed him, he'd been sketching furiously in a leather-bound notebook. When he'd looked up at her, she couldn't help but be drawn in by his familiar lost-puppy-dog eyes. They'd had a brief and inspiring romance but, as it turned out, he was having brief and inspiring romances with other women he'd picked up around town. A shame, since his fire had been absolutely intoxicating.

Her most recent relationship had been with one of her classmates, Michael. Michael had been everything she was looking for in a man, or so she thought. He was intelligent, witty, handsome, loyal, and – above all – head over heels for Rory. They'd been together for almost a year when Michael began hinting at marriage. Surprising even herself, Rory unceremoniously broken things off with Michael. She couldn't explain it, but she knew something was missing.

She sighed as she closed the photo album, hugging it to her chest tightly. As she cradled the photo book, resting her chin on the worn spine, she heard a picture flutter free of its confines. This photo was unique to the others. While the entire album consisted solely of traditional 4x6s and 3x5s, the photo that had landed face down at her feet was an old-school Polaroid.

As she delicately lifted the photo off the floor and held it between her suddenly-shaking fingers, she knew without looking what – or more accurately who – would be staring out at her from the other side of the film. She knew this because this photo represented the last vestige of her short and tumultuous relationship with Jess Mariano. She knew this because it was the only Polaroid she'd ever kept. She knew this because instead of throwing the photo away, she'd painstakingly hidden it where the binding and the cover of the album had become separated over the years. Turning the book on its side had allowed the photo, buried both in her thoughts and within the album itself, to escape.

Taking a breath, she flipped the memento over and took in the image. Suddenly she was seventeen all over again. It was a good thing she was already sitting down because her knees suddenly felt like Jell-O. The photo had been taken by her still-best-friend Lane, when she'd gone though her brief photography phase in high school. She'd found the Polaroid camera at a local thrift store and documented just about everything for about a month before her mother found the contraband camera and removed it from the Kim household. This picture had been taken at dusk during the Stars Hollow Autumn Festival. The shot – a candid snapped by one Lane Kim in full Korean stealth mode– depicted a smiling Rory, off on one of her patented Gilmore rants, arm interlocked with Jess, who was looking at her with that smirk designated only for Rory. His hair was as unruly as ever and his dark eyes were locked on Rory like he was drinking in every drop of her.

Gingerly setting down both the photo album and the Polaroid, she reached for her cell phone which was perched on the compact Ikea end table beside her well-worn futon. She still wasn't sure of what she was doing as she pressed the first number on her speed dial. The call connected almost instantly and the familiar ring-back tone of her mother's cell phone seemed boisterously loud in the quiet peace of her apartment. Rory found herself humming along to The Bangles "Walk Like an Egyptian" as she waited for her mother to pick up.

"Salutations," said a distinctly familiar and sarcastic voice from the other end of the line. "I regret to inform you that Lorelei's phone privileges have hereby been revoked due to violation of Section 1 Rule 1 of Luke's Diner – heretofore known as the 'No Cell Phone Rule.' Would you like to leave a message for the accused? Mocking is expressly encouraged."

"Jess?" A dumbfounded Rory breathed into the receiver. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard him say that much at once.

"Rory? Yeah…Uh… Hi."

Yep. That was more like it.