Teach Me Tonight

Chapter I

Jess slams into the back of his seat, eyes wide open. He stares at the worn wood of the telephone pole, standing erect. There's a yard sale on Plum Street tomorrow. The flyer floats down onto the crumpled hood, resting onto the blue surface like a leaf on a pond. Delayed reaction there. He tries to inhale and exhale deeply, but there is a strange sensation in his chest, a reverberation in his head. Hoping for some relief in his torso, he unlatches his seat belt, but it doesn't help. A bump is forming beneath his thick black hair, that's for sure.

He turns to look at Rory. Her eyes are squeezed shut. She had probably shut them before the collision, and is too scared to open them.

"Rory?" Jess croaks out, watching as a single tear emerges from the fold of her closed eyes, dodging her long black eyelashes then trailing down her cheek.

"Rory?" He says louder, though it hurt to draw in the breath to fuel repeating her name. "Are you alright?"

She nods slowly, and her voice comes out a quavering murmur, "I'm o-okay. My… my wrist hurts."

"Okay. I'm going to call 911. Just sit still." He slides the phone out of her jacket pocket, presses the three digits with aching fingers. Slipping out the car, he slowly walks to her side. He talks to the operator while he opens the passenger door, tries to remember the street name to tell the woman while he unclicks Rory's seatbelt. Christ, his head hurts. The voice on the phone says help is on the way, and he drops the cellphone into his pocket.

"Rory, can you get out?" He asks as calmly as he can, quietly so as to minimize lifting his chest. She doesn't make a move to exit the crunched vehicle, only cradles her wrist. Jess watches as more tears trickle out of her closed eyes, faster and faster, like gradually increasing the speed on a faucet. Soon she is sobbing, and Jess kneels down next to the open door.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. Everything will be alright." He reaches out a hand to touch her face, wipe away the crystal beads on her cheeks, but decides against it. He's glad her eyes are closed just then.

"I'm just—," she manages to get out through the watery veil, "I was just so scared."

"I know," he whispers, admitting, "I was too."

The fear and anxiety. That must be what is constricting in his chest, making his head hurt. Unlikely, Jess thinks, but I can buy that for now. He takes her undamaged hand, and she finally opens her eyes. As she turns to look at him through glassy sapphire orbs, he attempts a smirk and says, "I don't see roadkill, on the bright side."

"Since-since when are… are you the optimistic one?" She stammers out, her mouth lifting a little bit, clutching his hand in return. He helps her out of the car, watching her left wrist with caution. Her legs shake as her feet touch the pavement, and she almost collapses against him. Even her tiny frame leaning on him shoots bolts of pain through his chest.

"Put your arm around me," he instructs softly and she obeys slowly. He scoops her up and carries her to the sidewalk, a good 15 feet away from her car. He doesn't want her to look at it and start yelling at him. God, was he going to get yelled at. By Rory. By her mother. By her boyfriend. By her wannabe step-father. By every single person in this hellish enclave of spite who adores the town princess, so by every citizen of Stars Hollow.

He lets her down to sit on the curb. Would've chosen a bench, but it's a tad destroyed. He settles next to her, on her right side to block her view of Bagboy's gift, and sees her wipe her face with her right sleeve. Where's the fucking ambulance? He told them she's hurt, didn't he? In fact, he's pretty sure he said it twice, then reiterated a third time for good measure.

Rory sniffles next to him, staring at the concrete, and Jess doesn't know what to do but try to make her smile. That's what he always wants to do, but she reserves her special smile for Big-and-Tall. The first thing that escapes is, "Well, golly gee. I wish I knew how to swim."

She looks up with clearer eyes. "What?"

"I'm going to get pushed in the lake. Bet you a quarter." He peers around, looking for the cops, listening for the sirens, but the street is dead.

"Didn't you already get pushed in the lake?" she questions.

He smirks. "Yep."

"But you can't swim?" she asks confused.

"Nope. The bridge is built on a shallow spot, you know. This time, Luke will get me on a boat."

"Quite cathartic?" she recalls from our conversation, and he replies, "So I've heard."

Rory smiles. Objective reached. He wonders if she's thinking about that day too. The bridge. The basket. The wooden planks. The water. The sunlight. He has to hold onto that day, in case there is no next time. Who am I kidding? Of course there is no next time. Rory knows it too because the smile fades when she realizes aloud, "Everyone is going to blame you for this. Especially my mother."

Surprisingly, she looks distraught at the idea. Jess tries to catch his breath while thinking of a response, but it's becoming harder and harder on his lungs. His difficulty breathing is probably from trying to look like he isn't having difficulty breathing. Huh. All he can manage is, "Don't worry about it."

"I can't help but worry about it! Everyone is going to hate you!" She leans on his shoulder, and he slips his arm around her back, folding his hand around her slender waist. It's natural this way, isn't it. That's not meant to be a question. He knows it. She knows it. When will one of them just say it?

He rests his chin on her head, distracted from his headache and the pain in his chest by the intoxicating scent of peaches and cinnamon in her hair. Maybe the pie they were snacking on earlier, or maybe it's just Rory. They've never been situated close enough for him to know. He murmurs into her brown locks, "Everyone already hates me, Rory."

She responds immediately, "I don't hate you. So… what are we going to do?"

Jess breathes in her scent in lieu of a painkiller. He hears the sirens, at last, alerting no one to move aside, since every single person in this stupid, godforsaken town was in bed hours ago. He says matter-of-factly, pressing his smile into her head, "I'm going to learn to swim, and you're going to go to the hospital. And then you'll be fine and I'll take care of things here and everything will be okay."

Rory nods slowly. She seems disappointed to Jess, but the two sentences had stolen the breath from his chest, and Jess cannot muster up a reply yet. He manages to pull both of them to their feet as the police and ambulance finally drive in. He thinks, Why hello there, officers, medical professionals. Did you have a pleasant drive through Stars Hollow? I hope you didn't feel rushed.

He keeps his arm around Rory's waist as a young officer quickly approaches. She asks, "Are you kids okay?"

Feeling a little old, but you guys get a pass. Punctuality is a minor virtue, Jess thinks but says with confidence, "She needs help. She needs to go to the hospital. Now."

The officer gestures the paramedics over, and they are already coming with a stretcher. Jess helps Rory onto the stretcher, and one of the paramedics asks, "What about you, son? How you feel?"

Not taking his eyes off Rory, Jess returns, "I'm fine."

"You look fine," the older man observes. He has greying hair, wiry glasses. "But we'd still like to take a—"

"I'm fine," he repeats, shooting the paramedic a glare. Pass revoked. He doesn't feel fine, but that's unimportant at the moment. Rory whispers, "Jess…"

The man attempts again. "If we could just issue a bill of—"

"Not necessary," Jess interrupts again, growing more aggravated with each breath drawn to talk to this blasted man. Just take the 'I'm fine' and shut up. He orders, "Just take her to the hospital… Please."

It works somehow, since the man relents and with his colleague, he starts to roll the stretcher back to the ambulance. Jess walks with them and slips Rory's cell phone into her hand. She stares at him with fear as she is pushed into the vehicle, farther away from him. Jess looks up at her and says, "I'll be there soon."

The doors close her away from him, and Jess wonders why he said that. He wants to be with her, of course, but he doesn't want to go to the hospital. He doesn't want to watch her in pain while they wrap the wrist he broke. He doesn't want to face Lorelai. He doesn't want to apologize. He doesn't need to because it isn't his fault, or Rory's fault, or the almost-roadkill's fault. It's an accident, but no one will see it that way.

He turns around to face the officer he can feel is lingering behind him. He sighs. It hurts, but needs to be done. It is a sigh-worthy night.

Luke approaches the shadowy figure on the bridge with its legs dangling over the edge, black boots nearly touching the water. The trail of smoke betrays his presence even further. Luke looks down at his nephew, black hair disheveled, elbows resting lightly on his thighs.

Jess doesn't return the gaze, merely takes a drag of his cigarette and says with a cracking voice, "I made sure she was okay."

"I know you did." Luke says then takes a seat.

Jess stares at his cigarette. "I said I'd see her at the hospital. But I guess it's too late."

Luke shakes his head. His nephew is trying to sound like he doesn't care too much, but this is breaking him. Rory managed to put a crack in Jess's wall, and now that small slit is being wedged apart. Luke insists, "It's not. You can still go."

Jess is puffing on his cigarette when he turns suddenly in anger. "No—"

Huge coughs and gasps erupt from the boy next to him. The cigarette falls into the water as Jess's hands grasp the edge of the bridge. His eyes are wide and body heaving, leaning forward so far that he almost slips into the lake. Luke catches him and drags him backwards. What the actual hell?

"Jess! Jess!" He yells, but it's no use. His nephew sporadically gulps for air that his body isn't accepting. There are droplets of blood on his lips. After laying Jess down on the planks, Luke fidgets with his blasted emergency cell phone while screaming, "Help! I need help!"

Nobody hears. When Luke looks back down, Jess is unconscious, his torso barely lifting to draw in breaths. One ear to his phone and the other to his nephew's chest, Luke can hear strange sucking and blowing sounds over the sound of the operator. Like a bloody balloon deflating. For a moment Luke thinks, Nobody cares.