As he stamped his punch card he was silently grateful for the job. Wal-mart. Filled with cheap atrocities made by small children, in third world countries, whose worker injustices almost tallied as high as its profits. Yet somehow, it comforted him, to be back in a place he knew. Back doing a job that was mindless and that he was good at. He was silently grateful that they hadn't asked him to refill in the application, when he had come to his old boss and explained that he was taking a break from college. They hadn't asked him to fill in the application that would ask if he was bondable, or if he was physically capable of operating heavy machinery. Because for the rest of his life on every other application he would have to let it be known, that he was technically an ex-convict of the mentally psychotic equation. And everyday he read as he popped his pills, right beside TAKE WITH FOOD, do not operate heavy machinery. He didn't care, he needed a job, he needed away from Luke.

8 hours on a forklift allowed him a lot of time to think. Mostly he thought about the state of his life, and the things he would do different, starting with Astoria, and cycling down to beating up random men, to moving into small basement apartments, to going to see his father in California, instead of graduating high school. Sometimes he thought about getting his GED, so he wouldn't have to work at Wal-mart forever. Sometimes he thought of nothing, he let his mind go blissfully blank, for hours on end, not comprehending the responsibilities he had, or the things he had to do.

Yet everyday he drove back to Stars Hollow, back to Luke, back to the late dinner rush, back to talking to people, back to being polite, back to being starred at, by the clientele of Stars Hollow. He knew he looked different to them, skinnier, gaunter, more sad, his voice was lower, his head not held as high, yet still he was regarded as that punk kid. The same punk kid who had youthfully chalked a dead body outline, who had gleefully knocked over the prize snowman, who had unbendingly left the town princess. But they simply didn't understand, he reasoned, they didn't understand that he didn't do anything youthfully, anything gleefully anymore. He felt like a shell most of the time.

He needed to wake up, he knew that, he needed to be alive, he needed to stop dragging himself through the day, and as he looked at the calendar that night, he realized he had three more days to do that. It was November the fifth. Three days from now, he would have to explain to a judge that he had two jobs, that he worked 55 hours a week, that he had 1854 in his bank account, and the support of his uncle, and somewhere permanent to stay. The thought of it made beads of sweat run down his forehead, made his heart palpitate and his hands shake. How could he possibly attempt to prove something he knew he wasn't ready for, but at the same time, how could he possibly let his kid, his own flesh and blood, go into a system where he would be made to believe his parents didn't want him, to believe that he was useless.

He reasoned this everyday. I can do this, he would mutter quietly to himself, everyday as he marked off another day on the calendar.

Luke was strangely quiet, they rarely spoke beyond the compulsory, 'good morning.' 'good night.' 'Orders up.' 'Have you taken your meds?' Luke watched him, he knew that. He went through Jess' pockets, smelled his clothes, inspected the bathroom for blood. But there was always nothing, perhaps a order sheet, or a candy wrapper in his pockets, his clothes smelled of nothing but fast food and cigarette smoke. William's pocket-knife was always in the same place, on the table besides Jess' bed, it hadn't moved, it was actually gathering dust, Luke noted.

"Did you take Wednesday off?" Luke asked as Jess walked away from the calendar.

"Of course." He nodded, he had taken it off three weeks ago.

"I've got Caesar opening the dinner that day." Jess nodded again. "We'll take the truck, probably wouldn't look that good to take your car."

"Good point."

Silence stretched over the room, as the both stood in the kitchen, awkwardly facing each other.

"Goodnight."

"'Night."

Jess felt like he had his eyes closed forever, yet he would open one eye and glance over at the clock and it had only been five minutes. He would turn, and start counting sheep, or try to think about the plot of his favourite books, but it would all come back to one thing. Astoria; pregnant and needing him. He would think about his kid, and even though he knew it was a responsibility he wasn't ready for, a responsibility that scared him shitless, it left a tore opened pain in his stomach to think of losing him forever into the system.

He wondered if Astoria lay awake under the watchful eye of the crucifix over her bed, he wondered how she was feeling now. He looked again at the clock; 3:16am, in less than twelve hours he will have drove into the city, parked at the courts, seen Astoria, seen her parents, seen a judge, and it will have all been decided. He would be driving back to Stars Hollow in twelve hours, either feeling alone, and sad, or feeling frightened and needing to buy baby clothes. It had been one of the longest nights of his life, and there was still hours to go before the sun rose.

He crept downstairs at 5, and made coffee. He starred out the dark windows of the dinner, into the abandoned square. Luke came down at 5:30, and poured a cup from a half empty pot, and looked over at Jess standing by the window, his hair tousled, and his eyes wide.

"Morning Jess."

He nodded and grunted.

"Big day."

"Yup."

"You doing okay?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

They arrived in the city by 10:30. Jess started out the window, amongst the familiar snare of angry traffic, he knew every corner, every street. He had delivered packages to what felt like half the city. He had baked in the summer heat, but now the city was cold. He shivered.

As Luke pulled into a parking spot, he hesitated and looked at Jess.

"You okay? Because we don't have to do this."

"I have to do this." He said in a calm, strong voice, a voice Luke hadn't heard in months. He got out of the car, and walked towards the door, he wasn't hunched over, he wasn't shuffling, he was walking tall, and Luke knew that it must be taking all of his power to do that.

The elevator stopped at family court, it's wood panelled halls were almost empty, except for the clicking of hells of a heavy set middle aged woman as she paced, back and forth, and that of her pregnant daughter as she cried softly. Jess slowly made his way over to them, using all of his self resolve to keep on going, to be strong. Astoria stood up when she saw him. She was big, 8 months pregnant, her hair had grown out, and her electric green eyes were sad.

"Hi Jess." She said softly.

"Hi 'Toria."