A/N: I'm baaaaack!

WARNING: IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE REVIVAL AND DO NOT WANT THE LAST FOUR WORDS SPOILED, DO NOT READ. This story starts with the end of Fall. The last four words appear about a quarter of the way through this first chapter, so if you haven't watched A Year in the Life, or don't know how it ends, don't read this until you do. I've watched the revival three times since it was released on Friday and the first viewing was the only one where my wheels weren't spinning. I don't have a lot of this story worked out yet, but I have the bare bones, so hopefully the first chunk of chapters will come easily as I work out the rest.

Who's ready for another crazy ride?! Early bird shoutouts to DrewSaywer, who helped me nail down a premise.

"Jess! Jess, look! The first three chapters!" Rory squealed with laughter, grabbing the lapel of Jess' jacket lightly as she jumped up and down, waving the pages in front of him.

Jess felt a chuckle bubble up from his throat. He smirked at her joviality; it was a welcome change from a few months ago, when he'd been driven to offering to loan her money so that she could buy underwear.

She took his advice and started writing a book. Jess was proud of her, and secretly pleased with himself; their connection over the last nine years may have drifted some, but he was glad that he still knew her so well. What's more, he was all the sudden Stability Guy, in a position to offer advice and monetary loans for female delicates. It wasn't in fact sudden; Jess' life had calmed years ago, but whenever it was Rory who was spinning aimlessly and not him, it felt foreign.

"What was that all about?" Luke asked when Rory disappeared back into the house as suddenly as she had appeared.

"Oh, just a thing between us," Jess shrugged.

"A thing between you…" Luke started skeptically.

"A work thing between us."

"A work thing, huh? So then, you're over that, right?"

"Yup. Long over," Jess said, shoving his book into his duffel bag.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Can't wait to see if you're going to wear that pocket square or not."

A bemused smile came over Luke's face as he nodded to his nephew and went back inside the house.

Jess picked up his duffel bag; he was surprised when an unseen force pulled him towards the living room window. As he tucked his hair behind his ear, his hand trembled slightly. Rory was laughing, picking up something pink and glittery, playing with Paul Anka and joking with Lorelai; he could hear her soft giggles from where he stood. Something washed over him and he felt sharp pangs of longing, love and regret, things he hadn't felt or associated with Rory for a long time; the water under that bridge was calm.

Over the years, they'd managed to find their way to a comfortable friendship which remained steady and constant even though they rarely saw each other. There was an ever present unspoken acknowledgement of their long history; they each held a piece of the other that no one could touch.

Jess' emotions in this moment almost choked him. He took a quiet deep breath and forced it back out. He felt his brows knit down and his lips twist into a pained expression as he watched this girl –this woman whom he still loved in so many ways. Jess would always be there for her, no matter what. He fleetingly wondered what the present might look like if things in their past had been different –if only he could've been half as steady at eighteen as he was now, at thirty-two. Forcing the thoughts out of his mind, Jess leaned away from the window and made himself turn away. Maybe he wasn't as long over it as he thought.

That night, Jess slept soundly on one of Liz and TJ's many couches. He was barely awake the next morning when, only a few blocks away, Rory sat beside Lorelai on the steps of the gazebo in the town square, staring into the distance sadly, steeling herself to tell her mother something that would change everything.

"Hey, what's going on in there?" Lorelai asked quietly, noticing her daughter's empty gaze.

"I just wanna remember it all. Every detail," Rory answered wistfully. "Mom?" she said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm pregnant."

At the wedding, Jess was impressed to learn of Luke and Lorelai's stealth the night before, marrying secretly under cover of night; he was a little disappointed that he hadn't stayed at the house like he meant to, which would've meant he got to be in on it.

He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary between Rory and Lorelai –he had no clue as to the secret that was weighing them both down.

"Hey," Rory smiled at the reception.

"Hey," Jess smirked. "So you're quite the little writer bee. How long did it take you to write those chapters?"

"Not long. It all just flew out."

"Looks like you tapped into that elusive well of passion; you found what makes you feel."

"Only because you steered me –led me right to it."

"Nah, I didn't steer you anywhere. I was reminding you not to lose the trees to the forest. All I did was suggest the most bountiful tree, which was always there."

"Well, thank you."

"No problem."

"Jess? I want to ask you," Rory whispered, suddenly finding it hard to look him in the eye, "will you –"

"Will I what?" Jess asked, trying to meet her gaze.

"Will you help me?"

"With what?"

"The book –my book."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Well, it logically follows that if I'm writing a book –it stands to reason that I should be working towards getting it published. That means I need an editor and a publisher. You're both of those things…"

"You want –you want me to help you get it published? You want –me?" Jess asked falteringly.

"Yeah," Rory smiled. "If you're willing to take on a rookie."

"You're hardly a rookie writer, Gilmore."

"When it comes to books I am. Will you help me?"

"You mean will I be your editor and publisher?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

"I think –are you sure? I mean, I have no question that it's good enough to publish, but why do you want me to do this?"

"Because you're –you."

"Ah," Jess smirked, "now that's what I call an airtight exercise in logic. Aristotle and Plato would be proud."

"Jess, you steered me to this. And you were right –this story's been sitting inside of me, just waiting to be told. Plus, you know me, you know my mom. You know what I'm trying to do and you know it without even seeing what I've written so far. You know the story I'm trying to tell almost as well as I do."

"That's a bit of a stretch. Your mom likes me well enough now, but one tiny misstep and she'd be right back to threatening to shove a pie in my face. I'm not sure I'm the one who should be trying to keep you on message here."

"But she's not writing it. I am. And I trust you," Rory said. "I trust you more than I'd trust some stranger."

"Well, that's a stellar vote of confidence, if I've ever heard one."

"Jess, you know what I mean."

"I do," Jess conceded. "You're sure?"

"Yes. Will you do this with me? Please?"

"Rory, the Truncheon office I run in New York is tiny. I'm not sure I'm the right –or that Truncheon's the right –"

"Jess," Rory sighed, "you just asked me if I was sure and I said yes. If you're not –you can say no…"

"No," Jess breathed heavily. He saw Rory's face fall and quickly back-peddled, hoping to recover. "I meant no –I'm not saying no. If you're sure you want me –you want Truncheon to –I'll do it. I mean, I have to run it by Matt and Chris but there's no reason they wouldn't be up for it, we need to bolster our non-fiction endeavours. It'd be a good thing."

"Do you mean it? You'll do it?"

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. But Rory, you need to tell your mom. I don't want her coming to New York and devil egging my car, my apartment, my place of business."

Rory laughed. "You remember the deviled eggs?"

"Kinda hard to forget. My car stunk for weeks. You guys threw deviled eggs at my car –that's a very special level of vitriol."

"You deserved it."

"I probably did."

"I'll talk to Mom, I promise."

"Okay. Let me clear it with Matt and Chris, but I'm pretty sure you've got a deal."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Rory said excitedly, wrapping her arms around Jess in a tight hug.

Jess was slightly taken aback by the gesture; he couldn't actually remember the last time they'd embraced like this –joyfully, lightheartedly. Slowly, he relaxed and wrapped his strong arms around her and hugged her close.

Rory felt a rush of emotion as Jess returned her embrace. He was strong, broad-shouldered and steady as a rock. She felt like a delicate leaf against him. Even after all this time, after everything they'd put each other through, she felt safe with him and she knew he felt the same. She needed that safety –and his uncanny ability to be unflinchingly honest- if this book of hers was to have any chance at success. Rory needed this book to be a success, in ways Jess had no comprehension of yet. When she realized the weight of the secret she was carrying inside of her –something she wouldn't be able to keep hidden from Jess, or anyone else for very long- she froze. Instantly, she was overtaken by a wave of nausea.

"Are you okay?" Jess asked when he felt Rory's body stiffen.

"Yeah," she answered shakily. "Yeah I'm fine. Just a little woozy, I guess."

"Should I go tell Kirk you're cut off? Have him lock up the booze?" he teased. "Whoa, you're really pale, do you want me to get you some water or something?"

"No –I mean, yeah. I'll get it. I should go to the bathroom, splash some water on my face. I'll get it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thank you though. I'll be right back," Rory said, trying to reassure him with a smile.

Jess wasn't buying it. He knew something was off, but he had no idea exactly what was going on. He could still decipher Rory better than almost anyone, but it'd been so long since they were on the inside track of one another's lives –he couldn't pretend that he had the slightest idea what was going on with her; all he knew was that something was. His instincts when it came to Rory were still razor sharp, but it was like trying to ride a bike that's been in storage for years without greasing the chain –it doesn't matter how good of a rider you are, if you don't grease the wheel and re-acclimate yourself to the activity, the path is going to be bumpy and you're bound to fall off.

When Jess talked to Rory in the offices of the Gazette in the summer –that was his chance to delve inward, dust things off and see if his instincts were still razor sharp, and good enough to be trusted. He'd forgotten how much figuring her out could resemble solving a Rubik's cube –the minutia of her complexities proved allusive as she ran off to the bathroom. It made no sense, he saw her yesterday and she was fine –joking, eating Pop Tarts and jumping up and down with a ferocity that right now would knock her out like a one, two punch.

"Lorelai," he whispered discreetly, sidling up next to her, "you might want to check on Rory."

"Why?"

"She took off for the bathroom like a silver bullet. I think she might be sick. Which is weird –she was totally fine yesterday, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, but –thank you. Thanks for telling me, Jess. I'll go see her now," Lorelai answered hollowly, without looking at him. She took off in the direction of the bathroom at a determined clip.

Jess could be going insane; his instincts about Rory in no way extended to her mother, but Lorelai seemed –exasperated, maybe even angry, which made even less sense. The reception was loud and every woman in attendance was wearing high heels that clacked on the floor, but he could swear he could hear Lorelai's stilettos stomping above the rest, even when he could barely see her anymore; he was also positive that he heard the door to the women's bathroom bang against the inside wall as she opened it and disappeared into the same place where Rory was almost assuredly hugging a toilet bowl.