Title: Before Sunrise

Author: Rainwater Tears

Author's Note: For Ari, the super-awesome beta of this chapter, Becka, who wrote the first two paragraphs, and all the lits.

Summary: "And MTV sends reporters to Bahrain?" Jess and Rory in the NYC. (loosely based on the movie of the same title.)

---

Don't say "no" just to make me stop talking or make me go away. Only say "no" if you really don't want to be with me.

No!

---

It's strange what happens when you're about to leave somewhere familiar. Things you never took the time to notice, or even see, suddenly emerge as if clamoring to be a part of the memories you'll take with you, wanting that acknowledgment while they still have the chance.

When she'd been preparing to leave home for college, she noticed a small crack in the door that led to her bedroom. A snag in her mother's favorite sweater. The way the flag on their mailbox never sat quite right. They'd probably always been there but only when she was about to leave them behind did she notice. And now, as she left New York, everything around her seemed new. It was a strange sensation - to be seeing somewhere you lived for ten years for the very first time.

After only a week in the city she had picked up the pace of a New York lifestyle. She rushed places, never really taking the time to appreciate the city for what it was. Never noticing the beauty that lay between the grime and the graffiti.

"Come on, Ror, it's your last night in the city. You've gotta decide what you wanna do! You can't off."

"You can't honestly expect me to be able to decide. What would you do if you had twelve hours left in the country for God knows how long?"

Molly was stumped. "I'd...I'd...oh, who knows." She sat back in the cab. "Why do you always have to be so logical?"

"It's what I do. Besides, I don't want to regret tonight. It has to be perfect, you know?"

"I know. I just don't see why I can't come along."

"Because...because I entered this city alone, and that's...that's how I want to leave it." She gave her friend a hug and pushed the cab door open. "It's not something I expect you to understand, it's just something you have to accept. It's one of my fun little quirks."

"Yeah, yeah, you're just full of those."

"Yes, well, in about five seconds you'll be done with them."

Realization dawned on Molly. "Oh, sweetie, give me another hug! Oh, I'm gonna miss you so much. You have to promise to write!"

"I'll write," Rory said as she gasped for breath. Molly was strong, and she was using her strength to squeeze Rory to death. "But I can't if you suffocate me before I can leave."

"I know. I know."

"You are gonna see me, you know. All you've gotta do is turn on your TV."

"I know, and I'll make sure to do that." The friends stared at each other for a moment. "I am going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you, too." They hugged one last time and then Rory pushed the door of the cab closed. As Molly disappeared into a sea of dirty yellow traffic Rory turned to face the Port Authority.

---

I mean, you ditched school and everything. That's so not you. Why'd you do it?

Because you didn't say goodbye.

Oh. Bye, Rory.

Bye, Jess.

---

After paying for a locker to store her luggage, Rory stepped back out onto the busy street. She felt naked without her baggage, but the sun was setting and the evening was warm, much like it had been the night she first arrived in the city.

She was twenty-two then. Twenty-two and naive, working as an intern for MTV of all places. Before she knew it she was on TV, her words about war and politics falling on the deaf ears of a nation of mindless teenagers who would rather watch TRL than CNN.

It seemed like so long ago, but it had really only been a few years. She had originally been hired for her face, but over time she managed to convince people that she actually understood what she was talking about when she was standing in front of a camera, reading off a teleprompter, and she gradually made a name for herself as a reporter. Not her own name, of course (on screen she was Laura Hayden, a name that fit with the Hilaries and Damiens, but maintained her privacy), but a name nonetheless.

Rory began walking aimlessly. Growing up in Stars Hollow had taught her how to get from place to place by foot, and it was one of the things she loved about the city. It didn't matter that it was huge, people still walked where they wanted to go, much like they always had in her hometown. After a few blocks (and approximately thirteen Starbucks) she stopped outside one of her favorite used bookstores.

Perfect.

"Hey Gracie," Rory said when she spotted the older woman behind the counter.

"Rory! I didn't think I'd ever see you again!" Gracie took about two seconds to leap up from her stool, practically climb over the counter, and tackle her.

"Well, I wouldn't leave without a good bye," she said, returning the hug.

"Good, 'cause I want to give you a going away present."

Rory sighed. "Oh, no, Gracie, you don't have to."

"What do you mean, I don't have to? Of course I don't. I want to!"

Rory smiled at the woman. "Okay."

Gracie beamed back. "Pick a book."

"What?"

"Pick a book. Any book. I don't care if it's a fifty cent paperback or that first edition Dickens you've been ogling since you first walked into this dusty little hole-in-the-wall I call a bookstore, just pick a book and it's yours."

"No, Gracie, I ca--"

"If you say you 'can't' I'm gonna force you to take the Dickens. Now, you've been my most loyal customer for five years now, and beyond that, you've been a good friend. Now, take the nice lady up on her offer. Go. Browse." Rory smiled at her and hurried up the ladder to the shop's balcony. Her favorite place in the store.

When Gracie had first opened her shop (officially called The Radley House but known to all the regular customers as Gracie's) she had ignored conventional rules for bookstores and gone for chaos over clean. The books were in no particular order. To find something you had to dig and dig and dig, and occasionally you would come across a real treasure.

It did not take much digging for Rory to find something that evening, but she definitely did not think it was a treasure.

Sitting between an old, dog-eared copy of The Stranger and a children's book about Hannukah was a cloud of tangled, gravity-defying brown hair.

Rory ignored it at first. There was nothing particularly unique about it. Whoever owned it was merely another customer. She began to browse, picking up a Hemmingway, exchanging it for Bronte.

"Rory!" Gracie was at the foot of the ladder calling up to her. "Ror, I got in a couple I thought you might like yesterday. They're in your corner!"

Rory turned to the back corner of the balcony, a spot that she had claimed as her own early on, and where she liked to go to read or think or write. Most people stayed away from it, and it was almost an unspoken agreement between Rory and Gracie that this corner was "hers."

As she walked to her corner she did not notice the bird's nest look up. A few minutes later Gracie shouted again, though not to her this time.

"Hey, Jess, sweetie, you still up there?"

"Don't call me sweetie, Gracie," the bird's nest replied.

Rory looked up. The name, the voice. Jess Mariano was sitting ten feet away from her. Not only that, he was staring at her.

Jess had never been very good at hiding his feelings. When he was mad, he was mad. When he was upset, he was upset. It was a character flaw of his, the inability to conceal his emotions. Or, at least, that was the way he saw it. Now, though, watching Rory, his face was masked with indifference. For a moment they just stared at each other, saying nothing. It was Gracie who finally interrupted their silence.

"Alright then, Honey," she said, pulling herself up the ladder. By the time she reached the top she was panting. Gracie was not fat, but she was plump, round in a nice way, and she didn't notice the tension between her two customers. "I've been meaning to ask you, Honey," she said, referring to Jess, "have you met Rory?" She gestured to the corner, where Rory was shooting him dangerous looks.

He paused for a moment before saying, "No, Gracie, I don't believe I have." He smiled at Rory, and even from across the room he could see her let out the breath she had been holding.

"Imagine that!" Gracie exclaimed, throwing back her head and spreading her arms. "My two best customers, and you've never met? How outrageous!"

"Yeah, well, what do you know," Jess said.

"Well, this must be remedied!" She shuffled over to Rory and grabbed her wrist, dragging her over to Jess. "Jess, this is Rory; Rory, Jess."

"Nice to meet you," he said honestly. He held out his hand to shake.

She looked at him strangely. "Hi." She shook his hand as quickly as possible and then turned to Gracie. "I think I should go. You know, busy night ahead of me and all."

"Did you pick out a book yet?"

Rory held up a copy of Nine Stories. "Second edition. Is that okay?"

"You're sure you don't want the Dickens?"

"I'm not going to take a first edition Oliver Twist without paying you for it."

"Fine." Gracie pulled her into a tight hug. "So, what exactly are you going to do tonight?" she asked.

"I don't know," Rory said. "We'll see where the night takes me."

"Stay safe," Gracie said. "Have fun in Bahrain or wherever it is you're going."

"I'm not sure that's the idea, exactly."

"Yes, well, try your hardest." She smiled and stepped back from the girl. "And don't forget to write!" she said, pointing her finger accusingly.

"I won't," Rory said, holding her hands up in mock defense. With one last hug Rory headed down the ladder and out of the store. Behind her she heard Jess tell Gracie he was going to head out, too.

The city was lighting up in neon as she stepped onto the street. At age 17 New York (or the Big Apple as she had called it then) may have been a mystery to her, but now she was capable of navigating it in her sleep. She headed towards Times Square, her brief run-in with Jess quickly dissipating in the magic of the city.

"Still scared of the subway?" asked a voice in her ear. She jumped about a foot in the air.

"You followed me?" she asked, not daring to stop walking on the busy sidewalk.

"Honest curiosity." He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her over to a building where they could stop without disrupting the sidewalk traffic. She shook the hand off. "See, now I've got to know what Gracie was talking about."

"What?" She avoided eye contact, trying to act like she had somewhere to rush off to.

"Bahrain?"

She gave in, turning to face him completely. "I'm a reporter."

He nodded, but did not look particularly surprised. "TV?"

"Yup."

"How come I haven't seen you before?"

She straightened and shot him her biggest TV grin. "This has been Laura Hayden with MTV News."

"Laura Hayden?"

"Mature enough to earn respect, but still MTV appropriate."

"MTV?"

She glared.

"Right, sorry." He smiled. "And MTV sends reporters to Bahrain?"

She shook her head. "No, but CNN does."

"Classy."

"I'm probably not going to be on TV much. It's more of a back-up position." She looked down at her feet and wrapped her arms around herself as a gust of cool air blew past them.

"Well, I guess you take what you can get."

"I guess."

What had become a comfortable conversation quickly reverted back to awkward. After a moment Rory said, "I should probably go. You know, places to go, people to see."

"I thought you told Gracie you didn't have any plans."

"Well, not technically," she said, realizing she had been caught. "I just, I'd planned on spending tonight alone."

"Oh," he said. "Okay." He nodded and stepped back. "Well, then have a nice trip, I guess." Have a nice life.

"Yeah. Okay." She stuck out her hand to shake. "Bye."

He took it. "Bye."

She let go and turned. "Bye," she said again, grounding herself.

She began to walk away. Thirty seconds later she turned around and ran back to where she had left him. He was still there, staring after her. When he saw her returning his eyes widened briefly in surprise. "Umm...hi," she said when she was once again standing in front of him.

"Hi."

"What are your thoughts on dinner?" she asked.

"I should eat some at some point."

She smiled. "I know a place."