A/N: Follow up to my story Punch Out. Picks up immediately after that one ends.

Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls is not mine. Not now, not ever.

Curveball

It's not there.

There is no half bottle of scotch anywhere in his room. Fuck!

He rarely touches harder liquor anymore, but damn it, right now he really needs a drink.

And then he remembers. He gave it to Matt two weeks ago for that party. Just fucking great.

There isn't even a beer in the fridge.

For a second he contemplates snagging the pack of smokes someone forgot at the open house. It's been lying in a drawer, taunting him, ever since.

But, ultimately, he doesn't want to get caught in that addiction again. No way in hell.

Left with the option of either staying in the apartment, or going to the bar on the corner, he quickly makes up his mind, heading towards the door again.

Dragging a hand over his face, he winces, and then backtracks to the bathroom.

Throwing his T-shirt in the laundry, he stares at his reflection in the mirror, inspecting the damage.

His nose has stopped bleeding and doesn't feel like it's swelling too much. There's a cut from Logan's ring at one side, but it's not very deep. The split in his lip starts to trickle again as he double checks his teeth, but it quickly stops again. There's another cut right at the end of his brow, and he might still get a black eye, but for now it's just throbbing, and he should be in the clear.

All things considered, he's lived through worse. Way worse.

It would probably be a good idea to get some ice, but he just can't be bothered, so he washes his face and hands and makes a detour to his room to get a new T-shirt.

Ambling down the stairs he mentally prepares himself to brush off Chris' questions, but they never come, so he shrugs and heads over to the door.

"I'm going to the bar. Don't know how long I'll be," he calls over his shoulder.

"Ok," Chris calls back. "Just don't forget your meeting tomorrow."

"I know. I'll be there."

He stalks out the door, closing it with just slightly more force than necessary, and stops dead in his tracks at the sight that greets him almost at the top of the stairs.

Rory. Oh, why the hell not?

Scowling, he shoves his hands into his pockets, suppressing a wince when his cracked knuckles are pushed into the cramped space.

"Well, isn't this just fucking fantastic?"

"Jess! What…"

He brushes her off. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" She falters. "What happened to you?"

"What happened to me?" He stares at her, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," she states forcefully. "Of course I'm serious. Are you ok?"

He shakes his head, not feeling up for this right now. "What are you doing here, Rory? We're closed, in case you didn't notice."

"I know, but the light was still on, and I…" She trails off, but soon finds her words again. "I needed to tell you something…and…" Should've gotten here faster.

He raises an eyebrow. "Told someone a little something, huh?"

"What do you…?" Her eyes widen.

"Got a little visit from that boyfriend of yours tonight."

"Oh."

For a moment she looks like she wants to reach out a hand to touch him. But she doesn't. And he tells himself it's nothing. Yeah, right.

"I'm surprised you didn't run into him."

"I…what?" She frowns.

"He just left a couple minutes ago."

"And he did…this?" she asks, gesturing vaguely towards his face.

He shrugs. By the tone in her voice she already knows.

"I'm sorry," she almost whispers.

"Yeah well…" He gives another shrug. "I'm pretty sure he looks considerably worse."

She winces. "I never thought he'd do something like this. If I'd known I never would've…"

He interrupts her, doesn't need to hear her say it. "Why did you?"

"I…" She opens her mouth, only to close it again, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Don't get me wrong here; I know I'm the one who said you could, but…" He lets the end of the sentence hang in the air between them. I must've been temporarily insane.

"I was angry," she finally admits. "He was going on and on about how I hadn't forgiven him. And I haven't. I suppose I wanted him to know how it felt."

He scoffs, shaking his head. "I'd say he felt something alright."

"I never meant for any of this to happen," she says sadly.

"Yeah well, things don't always work out the way you want them to." Ain't that the truth?

"I suppose not," she agrees with a sigh.

They grow silent, and the craving for alcohol comes back with force.

"Not to be rude or anything, but I really need a drink right now."

She blinks. "Oh. Ok."

He's already walking past her down the stairs. It's started raining and he hunches his shoulders for the short walk. How perfectly fitting.

He can feel her watching him, and then he hears her hurried footsteps coming after him. He doesn't say anything, just pushes the door to the bar open, not checking if she actually follows as he trudges up to the bar disc.

The bartender arches a questioning eyebrow, but he ignores her. "I'll have a scotch," he says, and after a moment adds. "Better make it a double."

He pulls out his wallet, placing a couple of bills on the counter. A few seconds later a glass is placed in front of him and he nods thanks before taking a large swig, welcoming the familiar burn as the liquid runs down his throat.

Then he walks over to a table in the corner and sits down on the bench lining the wall, tapping the glass in his hand with a finger. It's darker here than anywhere else in the almost empty room, and he likes it. He still feels at home in the shadows.

He watches her as she slowly approaches the bar disc, uncertainty radiating from her whole body.

She looks good though. Really good. But then again, when has she not? He supposes she always will.

She orders a bottle of Coke, pays with a polite smile, and then turns around. He can see her hesitate before taking a deep breath and walking over to his table. She sits down in the chair opposite him, not meeting his eyes.

She pours her Coke into a glass before taking a small sip.

"I drove here, so..." she says awkwardly, and he barely quells the urge to roll his eyes.

"I don't care," he shrugs.

"I'm sorry... I just..."

"What?" he says with a scoff. "Thought I went here to get plastered?" Though I suppose it would have its perks.

"Well...I just assumed, but..." You know what they say about assuming...

"You must have me confused with your other boyfriend," he shoots back, irritated.

"I didn't mean to imply anything," she says, defensively, and finally looks up at him.

"Whatever."

He knows he's acting overly hostile, but at the moment he can't really muster up the energy to care. To be honest, he hadn't thought he'd have to see her again until his uncle's wedding, and even that sounded far too soon.

And now she's here, in his bar, right in front of him, having a Coke. The universe really must have it in for me tonight.

It's painful just looking at her.

And still, he can't make himself ask her to leave. Fucking pathetic, is what it is.

She doesn't say anything more and finally he can't stand it.

"What are you still doing here?" he asks, partly out of genuine curiosity.

"I just…wanted to make sure you were ok," she says, but it sounds far from convincing.

"Shouldn't you be running after your boyfriend instead? Isn't that how this works?"

"I don't, I..." she stammers, and he can't take it.

"Look, my face hurts, I'm majorly pissed off, and I don't particularly care what you think right now, so can we just stop with the games?"

She seems taken aback by the blatant hostility in his voice, and he instantly gets the urge to apologize. But the anger, however misplaced it might be, is the only real defense he can put up against her at the moment, so he holds on to it by sheer force of will.

"I'm sorry, I... Of course."

"Why are you here?" He speaks slowly, pronouncing every syllable.

Her voice is quiet, but certain, and her gaze doesn't waver. "I wanted to apologize."

He blinks, not sure he's heard her right. "Apologize, huh?"

"Yeah."

"For what?"

She takes a deep breath. "For coming here at the open house, and doing...what I did."

"Oh." He frowns, because he really didn't expect this. Isn't even sure he wants it. "Why?"

"Because," she starts, her hands restlessly searching for something to occupy them, "I need to tell you how truly sorry I am."

"You already told me. That night. You really don't have to do it again." Why can't you just let me forget?

She shakes her head. "No, I do."

"Why?"

"Because. It was incredibly unfair, and completely unjustified. And I need you to know how much I regret it."

He takes a sip of his drink, watching her fidget with her glass, and tries to calm himself down. Then takes another drink before answering.

"Unfair? Yes. Unjustified? I don't know."

It's her turn to frown. "What do you mean?"

He lets out a humorless laugh. "It's not like I never did anything that hurt you."

She takes a deep breath, staring down in her glass for a few moments before looking back up.

"Well, that is true," she agrees. "But it's still very different."

"If you say so."

"I do." She looks him straight in the eyes, and it's clear she actually believes it.

"Ok," he nods. "I just have to ask then. Why did you really come here that day?"

She quickly looks down then, her shoulders slumping. "Honestly, I'm not really sure."

"That's great," he scoffs. Fucking hell, Rory.

Her eyes snap back up immediately. "No, I mean, I wanted to see you. See your life here, and just... I wanted to see you happy. But with everything else going on, maybe it was just a bad idea."

"What do you mean, everything else?"

"Well, with...um, Logan."

He nods. "Ah." Of course.

She takes a sip of her Coke before continuing, and he just watches her, wondering what kind of rambling is about to fall out of her mouth this time.

"That day, when I...came here, he'd just gone off on this insane trip to Costa Rica," she says, gesticulating with her hands. "Base jumping, or skydiving, or whatever it was they were supposed to be doing. And I was not in a good place." She pauses, nervously pulling at the label on her Coke bottle. "I think that, maybe, a part of me went here to spite him."

"Huh." He closes his eyes for a moment, and then takes a deep breath. Always the same damn story.

"That's why I wanted to see you again and apologize. Because I can't ever really be sure I didn't come here wanting something to happen." Her voice gets quieter with every word, but then she takes a deep breath, and continues. "And that's horrible, because despite everything else that ever happened between us, you definitely do not deserve to be used like that. And I'm really sorry for making it that way."

"Ok." He's staring at her now, not quite sure what he's hearing. Damn it, Rory. What happened to you?

Rory doesn't seem to notice, just keeps talking. "He came home today, bragging about how he'd almost died jumping off a cliff. And I lost it. We had the most monumental fight ever. And I... Well, I broke up with him." Huh.

He just stares at her for a few seconds. "You broke up with him?"

"I did." She emphasizes the words by nodding her head repeatedly. "It actually felt good."

"Huh." He can still hear the possessive tone as Logan proclaimed her his girlfriend.

Her head abruptly stops its nodding, her eyes searching his. "What? You don't believe me?"

He shakes his head. "Well, to be honest, I'm not sure what I believe right now."

"What do you mean?" she wonders, her eyes betraying worry.

He sighs, suddenly tired of all of it. "Oh, come on, Rory. A week ago you told me you were in love with him, despite everything he'd done. And now you tell me you broke up with him? And that you actually feel good about it?"

Her hand stills at the bottle, and she swallows thickly. "Oh. Right. When you put it like that..."

"And judging by what he said to me, I don't think he got the message." Definitely not.

"What?" She asks, her eyebrows narrowed in a frown.

He shrugs, sipping on his drink before answering. "He basically told me to stay away from his girlfriend."

There's a sharp intake of breath before she speaks again, sounding angry. "He did what?"

"He was quite articulate, and said that..." He pauses, rubbing his chin as he thinks back. "Oh, right. He was pretty upset about what he called my apparent inability to keep my filthy hands off of his girlfriend."

She blinks. "Oh."

"I have to say, I never considered myself as particularly filthy. Well, apart from the times back in New York when we didn't have access to running water. Can't really apply that here."

"Jess. I'm..."

"The thing is though, the way he spoke, it almost sounded as if he was under the impression that whatever you told him happened wasn't a onetime thing."

"Oh." She swallows, her hand suddenly very still.

"Care to explain that?"

Her grip on the bottle tightens, and she swallows loudly once more. "I may have slipped something that could have been interpreted as if that wasn't the first time."

"Huh." He clenches his jaw, biting his cheek almost painfully. "So, were these other times during all of your numerous trips to Philly? Or even better, did I come and visit you at his apartment? Did we do it in his bed? That must be it right? That must've really pissed him off."

"Jess! Stop it! It wasn't like that, ok?"

For the first time she raises her voice, but it isn't in anger. It almost looks like she's about to cry. At any other time, that would've made him ease up, but not this time. Because he just can't go there right now. You're angry, remember?

"Then tell me, because I'd really like to know. What did you say that made him furious enough to come here and try to beat me up?"

"Please, I don't…" she begs, looking desperate.

"No," he cuts her off. "You came here, wanting to talk to me. I didn't ask for any of this, and I could damned well have done without all of it. So no, you don't get to stop now, just because you don't want to acknowledge whatever it is that you did."

He can feel the blood pumping through his veins, drumming in his ears, and he can almost feel the desperation radiating from her. He knows she's about to say something huge, and his whole body is preparing for it.

In the meantime she seems almost calm again where she sits, fiddling with her glass, as if contemplating drinking her Coke. Then she nods slowly before talking, her voice quiet, eyes meeting his. "I told him that… I told him, there were…feelings involved. I told him…that I love you. And that I have, this whole time."

"Oh, Rory." Why do you always do this?

Silent tears start running down her cheeks, and he has to fight the urge to lean across the table and wipe them away. Because he just can't do that. Damn it!

"And it wasn't until I said it, that I realized it's actually true."

The words are whispered, but he can still hear them perfectly. She breathes out loudly, almost as if she's relieved, and it's his turn to swallow thickly. Holy Shit!

"Rory? What are you..." He tries to form words, but can't seem to find them.

She shakes her head vigorously, lifting her eyes to look at him. "No, please, just listen, ok. You asked for it, and I have to say this now. You can decide later what you want to do with it. Ok?"

"Ok." He agrees, because he doesn't know what else to do right now.

"Ok then," she mumbles nervously, before taking a deep breath and diving in. "Well, yesterday was Lane's wedding and we were all in the town square for the reception. And mom found this picture of me and April from your open house, so I told her I went to see you, and do you know what the first thing she asked was? And please, don't answer that. She asked if I was seeing you. Why would she do that? I mean, as far as she knows, we haven't even seen each other in two years. And still, that's the first thing she asks?"

She takes a shaky breath, holding her hand up to stop him from interrupting, before she continues, and he quite literally holds his breath.

"And later, I was talking to Lane, and she assumed there was something going on too. And I just couldn't figure out why. And then, today, during that fight with Logan, do you know what his answer was, about us? He said, and I quote: Yeah, I figured. And all of a sudden, so many things made total sense. There's a reason why you were the only one who could get me out of my funk in the fall. And now I'm terrified, because I know I screwed everything up, and I know you probably hate me right now, and I never planned on telling you any of this, but you just have this ability of making me want to tell you things, and now I'm just completely humiliated, because you probably think I'm crazy. I'm sorry. I'll just..."

Suddenly she's preparing to stand up, and he knows, logically, that he should let her leave. But, he's always been good at sabotaging himself.

"Rory. Would you please just breathe?" he says, his voice sounding strange even in his own ears.

She nods, her eyes trained to the table between them as she sits back into her chair.

"I don't hate you."

Her head whips up in surprise, but she comes just short of meeting his eyes. "No?"

"No." He shakes his head slowly. "Maybe it would be easier if I could, but I don't."

"Oh. Ok." She wipes at her eyes, and finally meets his gaze. "So, what now?"

He sighs. "I don't know."

"Well," she says nervously. "Do you have any thoughts at all about…anything?"

"Look, Rory," he begins, dragging a heavy hand through his hair. "I think I made it pretty clear last week where I stand."

She nods, a sort of hopeful spark visible in her eyes.

"And so did you, by the way," he continues, and he can see her freeze.

"Yeah, I know. But…"

"I love you, Rory," he says slowly, tasting the familiar, and yet so foreign, words as they roll off his tongue. "I probably always will. I just don't know if I could do this again."

Her face turns into a frown. "Jess, what do you mean? What's this?"

"I just…" he sighs, shaking his head sadly. "This whole thing, it feels just like Stars Hollow three years ago all over again."

She blinks in confusion. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, come on," he scoffs. "Don't you see it?"

"See what?" she asks, shaking her head.

"You, me…" he starts, then raises an eyebrow. "Dean…"

"Dean?" She stares at him.

"Switch out the jolly green giant and it's all just the same old bullshit," he mutters, getting frustrated because she clearly doesn't see his point.

"Jess…" She says his name almost desperately. "That's not how it is." Oh, no?

"Then tell me, Rory. Tell me how this is any different." Please.

"It's…" She's struggling for something to say. "Logan isn't Dean." No shit, Sherlock!

"Maybe not. But it's still all just the same mess."

"How? Please, tell me, because I don't know what you're talking about!"

"I know. And that's the thing," he almost growls. "We did this one time already, and it went straight to hell. I can't… No, I don't want to do that again."

"But this is different," she tries again. "I know it is."

"Maybe," he shrugs. "I know I'm different. I'm not that screwed up kid anymore. But..."

"But what?" She sounds even more desperate by now.

He sighs, deciding to just jump straight in, because her confusion is starting to turn his frustration into anger.

"I won't say I've been waiting, because I really haven't. I didn't see any point to it. But then you came here, alone, and that part of me started to hope again. For the first time in two years, I let myself feel something for you. And all the while you were basically leading me on, just to throw me to the ground. Because of another boyfriend. Again. And now you come here, full of apologies, and tell me that, oh hey, guess what I realized? I don't actually love that asshole, because I love you instead. Except, you weren't even gonna tell me."

She blinks. "I'm sorry. I didn't think. I just…"

"And that's just it," he continues, not able to stop now that he's begun. "I feel like I'm always just gonna be that guy you keep in your back pocket, to pull out when things get hard with your current boyfriend, and I can't do that. I don't want to be your backup, or rebound, or whatever you wanna call it. I just can't." There. Happy now?

Her eyes widen as she realizes what he's talking about, what he thinks, and then she shakes her head almost frantically. "Jess, please, that's not how it is at all, don't you see?"

He feels drained, and more exposed than he's ever been before, so he just shakes his head. "See what?"

"That it's always been you!" she exclaims forcefully, then lowers her voice again. "I've had two boyfriends in my life, apart from you, and I've kissed you while I was with both of them." Huh.

"Rory..."

"I love you, Jess. I have for a long time. And I'm sorry I never told you. I've just been too scared to admit it. Even to myself." The last part is almost whispered, and she seems relieved to have said it.

It's his turn to stare in disbelief. "Scared, huh?"

"Yeah," she confirms quietly.

"Of what?"

"Of you. Of myself, of my feelings."

That stops every other train of thought running through his head. "Oh."

"I never trusted myself around you," she says, a sad smile playing at her lips. "I always write lists, for everything, my whole life could be summarized in those lists. And then I met you. And I couldn't fit you into any of my lists. And it was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time."

He nods slowly. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

"And I tried," she goes on. "I tried so damn hard to make you fit, to make some sense of why I was feeling the way I was, but there was no logic to it. It just was. And that scared me more than anything. So I tried to ignore it, and we both know how well that worked." No kidding.

"Yeah," he mutters, letting out a short humorless laugh.

"And you hurt me," she continues quietly. "When you left, that crushed me. And it terrified me how much I missed you. And I couldn't risk that happening again. Somehow I convinced myself that it was better to miss you than to risk losing you again. And somehow, in the process, I convinced myself I was over you."

He nods slowly, finally seeing what she means. "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry about how I handled everything back then."

She smiles sadly. "I know. But it's good to hear."

"Yeah well, I can't really blame you if you hated me either."

"I wanted to," she admits. "But I couldn't."

"Sounds familiar."

She smiles sadly, nodding in agreement. There's a pause after that, and then he decides to just get everything out.

"I can't completely regret leaving though, because that place was slowly breaking me," he confesses. "But I should've done everything differently. Easy to say now though. At the time I was so messed up, and scared out of my mind, that I didn't even know what I was doing."

"Everything is clearer through a rear view mirror," Rory mumbles sadly.

"Yeah."

"Maybe it was just not meant to be."

"Maybe." Well, isn't this depressing?

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and he tries to gather his thoughts, wrapping his mind around everything she just told him. It's all so damn backwards, but somehow it still makes sense.

Finally, he sighs and speaks up again. "What did you expect to happen when you told me all of that?"

"I don't know," she admits. "I didn't exactly plan this out."

"Right."

She finally looks up and meets his eyes fully. "I know how I feel now. For maybe the first time in my life I'm not trying to ignore it, or hide it, or run from it."

He nods, accepting her words. "Yet, up until today you were in, what I can only assume was, a pretty serious relationship."

She nods slowly. "I was."

He watches her for a few seconds, trying to gather his thoughts, and then takes a deep breath. "And it kills me to say this, but it doesn't matter what you just realized. I can't jump right in like that again. I just can't."

She inhales sharply. "So, what are you saying?"

"I don't know," he confesses, dragging a heavy hand through his hair.

"Is this it?" she asks, her voice wavering just the tiniest bit.

"No," he says quickly, maybe a little too forcefully, and then looks down to the table, embarrassed by the outburst.

"Ok. Good." The relief is thick in her voice.

He takes a deep breath. "We could stay in touch, see what happens down the road."

"I'd like that," she says, a fraction of a smile creeping onto her face.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiles fully now, if somewhat sadly. "I've really missed having you in my life. I missed just talking to you, about everyday stuff, books I'm reading, everything." I missed you.

"I missed that too," he says, realizing at the same time how true those words are.

He twirls the liquid in his glass a few times, contemplating it, but then pushes it aside, looking up at her. It's strange. Not even an hour ago he was living this new life he'd built for himself, doing inventory on a Sunday so he didn't have to think about her. And now...

Now he's not sure about anything, but it doesn't physically hurt to look at her anymore. And he no longer wants her to leave. Huh.

"You hungry?" he asks, pretty sure it's still a reasonable question. Not quite as sure it's a wise move. What the hell am I doing?

She smiles brightly at the question, the relief showing plainly on her face. "I could eat."

"They make great fries here," he says, nodding towards the bar. "Not much else, but..."

"Sounds perfect," she says. "I'll see if I can order us a bowl."

He watches her go, replaying their conversation in his mind, silently wondering what he's gotten himself into.

He knows what he wants, have wanted since the first time he met her. And for the first time in years, she seems to want the same thing. He just wishes it was that simple, but knows it isn't.

Then she turns around, sending him one of those bright smiles, and it sparks something deep inside of him, something he hasn't felt this fully in a long time.

When she comes back she's carrying a huge plate of fries and a smaller plate stacked with tiny packets of salt and pepper, and he smiles back at her.

Huh.