"Hey."

Rory's world stilled for a moment in the rustic little coffee shop she was currently sitting in in the Village. She had her laptop in front of her at the bar-top, sitting in a high stool facing the window. She hadn't fully comprehended anything in what she suspected was a few hours, judging from the temperature of the black, stone cold coffee sitting to her right. Her article research had totally consumed her for what felt like five minutes, but realistically was probably closer to half a day.

It had been a long week for the youngest Gilmore, trying to finally get her editor to recommend her for features, and was working almost obsessively to that end. After she'd finished with the campaign trail, she had been automatically pigeon-holed for politics, and it was beginning to tire her. After almost six months of desperately trying to prove herself capable of other things, there was finally a window of opportunity – an open position (albeit temporary pregnancy cover) at a features desk. Her editor has given her the chance, and in true Gilmore fashion, she was trying not to disappoint.

Her fingers had stilled mid-sentence for a reason, though. Someone sat down to her left. The mess of unruly curls and scent of leather gave a sharp jolt to her heart.

"I figured it was my turn to come up behind you in the city, this time," he intoned, smirking.

"Jess," Rory managed, the shock of seeing him still disabling her.

He leaned over her laptop, tipping her coffee cup towards himself to look inside. In doing this, he'd come closer to Rory than she was ready for. But, still unable to move, she stayed still, letting him enter the personal space in front of her, the scent becoming stronger with the proximity.

He retracted his arm, smirking at her, probably, Rory supposed, knowing exactly what she had been thinking. He slid off of the stool, sauntering to the coffee bar to order, she heard, two coffees. "Black. No syrups, no. It's coffee. It's supposed to taste like coffee. No, I'm sure. I don't want to try the Gingerbread syrup, no. That sounds definitely disgusting. No. Black coffee. Thanks."

He returned, brushing past her, placing her coffee (the definitely black coffee) down next to her and setting his own to his lips, blowing on the hot liquid until the steam condensed on the window in front of them, frosting over the cold street. Rory watched as the mist receded silently, before taking the cup he'd set before her and muttering a small, timid "Thank you."

"Have I entered an alternate universe?" he asked, teasing evident in his tone. "I've said about five times the number of words you've said. It's starting to scare me a little," he laughed.

"I, uh ..." Rory struggled. She looked over to him, panic, she worried, written clearly on her face. His smirk widened a little, before looking at her laptop and nodding to it.

"Working?"

Rory looked down at the screen filled with articles and an open Word document. "Yeah, uh … I'm trying to get into Features."

"Features, huh?"

"Yeah. I loved writing Feature stuff at Yale. I've been writing Politics for a while now. I feel like it's time for a change," she said, still acutely aware that this was weird, this encounter with Jess Mariano.

She hadn't seen Jess since Philadelphia. The horrible night in Philadelphia. Years ago, now. He'd been invited back to Stars Hollow dozens of times, and no appearance. She knew, because Luke had asked her every time he'd invited Jess. And now Jess was acting so normal.

"For the Times, right?"

"Finally, yes. I love working there."

"But you didn't like the Campaign?" he asked curiously, sipping at his coffee, maintaining eye contact like he always had when they were kids.

"It was good experience," she answered, knowing full well Jess would be able to see through her, and true enough …

"You hated it."

"I missed Mom," she defended. Jess nodded silently, his eyes scrutinising her expression, his neutral. "And living out of a suitcase sucked."

"Okay," he said lightly, nodding a bit and taking another sip of coffee. His eyes kept searching hers. Rory wondered whether he would ask how she expected to be Christiane Amanpour while hating living out of a suitcase for an extended period, but he didn't. He finally shifted his gaze from hers to the street outside, saying, "I was walking past and spotted you in here. You were completely lost in what you were reading, because I must've stood there for at least five minutes watching you," he said, pointing to a spot on the pavement in front of them.

"Not creepy at all," she quipped, proud that she'd been able to quip all the while feeling complete turmoil and distress at the whole bizarre experience of seeing Jess again. Not that she hadn't missed talking to this boy. Not that she hadn't missed the smell of leather and old books he always brought along with him.

"What's creepy is how focussed you can be," he teased back.

"Don't pretend like you're not exactly the same, Mariano."

"Given the right book," he smirked. Looking down at his coffee cup, Rory was given the chance to take stock of the changes in him since she'd last seen him.

His hair was back to curly, a little longer than it had been when they were kids. There were a few more lines on his face. His fingers were still calloused as though he worked with his hands even though he didn't. He had stubble – not the clean shaven he'd always been. The leather jacket was still the same, as were the loose-fitting jeans. He was broader, like his uncle. Even though he'd always been muscular (not that she'd ever personally witnessed what was beneath his shirt), but he'd been a little thin as a teenager. The plaid shirt under the jacket made Rory almost laugh, thinking that he was becoming more and more like Luke, and pointing that fact out would be almost too funny to bear. Perhaps she should buy him a baseball hat, she thought. And the smell was still the same, with one aspect missing, though. The faint smell of stale smoke was absent. Maybe he'd finally kicked the habit.

Rory watched as his dark eyelashes brushed the apex of his high cheekbones with the same wonder that she had as a teen. He was still so beautiful.

He looked over to her eventually, noticing the silence and watching her as if wondering what she was thinking, narrowing his eyes a bit as he thought. Rory nervously took her first sip of the coffee he'd bought her, struggling to swallow under his gaze, wondering when she'd agreed to the date she now seemed to be on.

"Living near?" he asked.

Rory nodded, putting her cup down on the bar again. "Yeah, pretty near."

Jess nodded in understanding. "Go home to Stars Hollow often?"

"As often as I can, I guess," she answered. Jess, again, nodded, humming in response. "You apparently avoid it like the plague, still."

Jess' smirk disappeared a little at this. "I don't have much reason to be there anymore."

"All of your family live there," Rory reminded him. Jess raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment. He nodded vaguely again. "So what about you?"

"Me?" he queried, running a calloused hand through his dark hair, looking a little stressed, now.

"Where are you living? What are you doing?"

"I'm back in New York, actually."

"Yeah?" she asked, curious, and panicked too. They lived in the same town again. Although New York and Stars Hollow were worlds apart in many ways, she knew, of course.

"Yeah," he told her in his smokiest tone. "The publishing house in Philly finally made enough money to open another place, and I wanted to do it here."

"So you opened a new place like Truncheon here?"

"Just the publishing side. The store would be too difficult to handle on my own. I see authors and edit. So I still have time to write myself. I was always better at the publisher stuff, anyway. Not really a public relations person."

"Really?" Rory asked sarcastically, even herself hearing her mother in her tone.

He cracked a grin, and she had to smile back. They looked awkwardly away from each other again, watching the cold street outside as people bundled in coats and scarves and gloves hurried past, making their way to their destination seemingly as quickly was possible to get out of the cold. Rory rolled her eyes at herself, feeling as if she were breathing too loudly. She tried to quieten the noise, but found she was struggling to breathe as it was and huffed out air suddenly, attracting Jess' attention again.

"So, uh … " he tried, obviously suffering also. "I should let you work." He drained his coffee cup, dragging his hand through his hair again awkwardly and standing up. "It was nice to see you."

"No," she said, so abruptly that the words coming from her mouth startled her, not meaning it as an answer to what he had said. It had been nice to see Jess again.

"No?" he asked, the hurt tone of his voice making Rory's chest hurt.

"No, I mean … I'm done. With work. It's been … I mean, it's you."

He was smirking again, after realising what she meant. "And that in English?"

"You used to speak Gilmore. I'm disappointed, Jess." She was trying to joke, knowing that her words could cause the situation to become too serious, too soon.

"Rory," he said in a lower tone, his shoulders relaxing, looking at her in his x-ray vision sort of way.

"I've missed you. I don't want you to go." Her honesty made his eyes widen, his expression open. He looked just like she remembered in his unguarded moments. Her heart hurt a little more.

"Okay," he replied, smoky and soft. "Finish your coffee."

"Finish my …? Why?" she asked, in confusion.

"D'you have somewhere to be?" he asked, ignoring her confusion.

"N-no, but I..."

"Okay then. Come on."

"Come where?" He just grinned and didn't answer her. He started for the door of the warm coffee shop. "Jess!" she cried, trying to save everything on her laptop before closing it and shoving it in her bag. She hurried after him as he passed the window and down the street. "I can't believe I'm following you!" she cried as she tried to catch up, following the familiar gait.

"Makes a change from me following you," he laughed.

Rory gasped. "Stalker!" She finally caught up to him, still rushing at his side as he hurried wherever he was going.

"I was joking."

"Jess, can you slow down. You know I'm not built for sports!"

He turned to her with and eyebrow raised, walking backwards casually. "We're walking. If you think this is a sport, I think we've discovered your problem." He turned back around just in time to step skilfully out of the way of another commuter.

"This isn't fair! I've got stuff to carry."

Jess stopped abruptly, turning, nodding. "That's true." He took her laptop bag from her, and her book bag, carrying them at his side. "Better?"

"I can carry my own bags," Rory huffed a little, her feminist side taking a small knock.

He laughed, rolling his eyes at her, giving her her laptop back. "Okay. We'll share. Better?"

Rory looked at him furtively. "Yes," she admitted, knowing full well that he'd handed her the lightest bag back, but he knew she'd pout about it if there was no gesture to rectify.

"Okay then," he smirked, before hurrying off again. She sped after him.

"Jess, where are we going? Because in all honestly, alarm bells are ringing about following a strange man to an unknown location without anyone knowing my whereabouts."

"Strange man?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her over his shoulder.

"You know what I mean."

He stopped again, turning to face her. "Do tell," he suggested, his eyebrows still raised in a sarcastic manner.

Unexpectedly, Rory was overcome. This was Jess in front of her. Her Jess. A boy she'd loved for all too long. A boy she'd never expressed that particular sentiment to. Her Dodger. Someone she could be herself with – completely. Someone other than her mother who understood every quirk of her personality.

His expression softened, watching her think all of this,and then there were tears in her eyes. And then she was standing right in front of him.

"Ror'?" he choked a little, the closeness being on her terms this time, rather than his, clearly taken aback.

"Are you with anyone?" she made herself say, her eyes searching for an answer before he could reply. Her voice wobbled and the tears welling at her lashes, then graced her cheeks.

His jaw snapped shut, staring at her for a long moment, before slowly shaking his head minutely.

Rory nodded, looking down, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Okay," she said, her voice breaking.

"You?" he rasped, gripping her book bag a little tighter. He was staring at her intently, and she couldn't help but laugh humourlessly.

"I'm not seeing anyone," she confirmed. They stared at each other for a very long time.

Jess looked down at his shoes, and Rory tried to wipe away the tears that were still flowing down her cheeks. But as she did this, Jess' hand joined hers, drawing her closer to him so that she could feel his warm breath against her cheeks in the cold air of New York in December. Somewhere along the way, her bags dropped at their feet.

His forehead rested against hers and she closed her eyes, her heart swelling painfully, her lungs screaming for the breath she hadn't taken in several moments. They stayed in a safe cocoon like that for a long time, just breathing each other in for a while. But then Jess kissed her, and everything melted away, like it always did when he kissed her.

Her heart throbbed painfully, blood rushing all over her body. She felt light-headed and lost and drunk, and she was on fire. His hands were hot on the sides of her face, his body pressed to hers so perfectly. They fit. They worked.

God, she'd missed him.

God, she loved him.

Minutes passed and he drew away to look at her, her cheeks still wet from her tears. He brushed her hair back from her face seriously, before smiling the most genuine grin Rory had ever seen on his beautiful face. "I missed you," he rasped out.

"I love you," she told him, suddenly feeling brave and non-calculating and didn't feel any need for a pro/con list, for the first time in her life. She looked at him standing there, his lips having just been on hers, knowing that she had made them that way, all pink and kissed, and she loved him.

His eyes widened fractionally at her admission, his mouth opening wordlessly for a second, before his brain kicked in. "I love you, too, Rory."

"Good," she nodded, her eyes still searching his face. She pulled at the collar of his leather jacket, dragging his lips to hers again, her eyes closing as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he rasped again, noticing that her tears were still falling.

"Sorry. I never cry this much," she said, pulling away from him a bit.

"You do around me," he said, a little bitterly.

"Jess," she said sadly, placing her hand on his cheek. "Don't be sad."

"I'm not – really, I'm not." He looked at her, searchingly, his hands still holding her at her waist. "Ror'?"

"Yeah?" she asked, wiping her face with her sleeves again, her tears finally stopping – happy tears, nostalgic tears.

"Are … uh. Do you want to be together again?" he asked nervously, watching her with soft eyes.

She smiled at his terrified face. "Was that not clear?" Despite her mockery, Jess remained serious. He drew her face to his and almost killed her with the emotion he put into it. Panting, they eventually pulled away. "You do realise you now have to come home to Stars Hollow with me at Christmas," she teased, grinning at him in close proximity.

"Worth it," he mumbled against her cheek, and she laughed brightly as they stood there in the freezing cold outside The Strand, wrapped up in each other and finally feeling like they were home.