Author's Note: Ok, Readers of the Gilmore Girls Fic world! I am working on a Rogan right now, but suddenly, inspiration struck. I am usually a Logan fan, but then I will get a picture of Rory with Jess and suddenly, I'm in a lit mood. So that is what this is. It is my first attempt at a one-shot, so be nice. If I get twenty reviews on this story, I'm going to write a Literati story again that will be much longer eventually. However, if no one reviews, I will assume you hate me and don't want me to write ever again. So, if you haven't guessed, reviews would be appreciated. Also: One time a long time ago I read a different lit story that gave me my initial inspiration. I don't remember who wrote it, but please note that I am giving you credit here, if you happen to read this and think that I am a Meanie who copied you. I think you are a great writer.

WARNING: This is depressing. No seriously. I made myself cry. But when inspiration hits, what are you supposed to do? Ok, Read On!!

There were ten books total. Some of the characters were recognizable, but it wasn't a story of his life. Rory remembers the day, so many years ago, that Jess Mariano had handed her The Subsect. She still has that same copy, in a special section of her bookshelf. The day he gave it to her, she had been with her grandparents. She could still remember those days. Days filled with no Yale, Emily and Richard Gilmore, and Logan. When he had walked away from her at her Yale graduation, she felt a huge piece of her go with him. She would always love Logan, but not the right way. Not the way that you are supposed to love a husband. She has never once regretted saying no.

She could sit down with that book in her hand, simply holding it, for hours, knowing that he had worked on it, spent hours making minute changes. The dedication was simple, yet eloquent and beautiful, much like Jess. Rory, Thanks for making life in the Hollow a bit less terrible.

When she had stumbled across the sequel to the book two years later, she had bought it immediately. Curling up on her couch in her one-person apartment, 23 year-old Rory Gilmore opened up to the first page, and froze. On the dedication page, he had written one line that stabbed straight through her heart. Guns of Brixton is my Shakespeare. He had remembered.

Six months later, she arrived at a book store on the very day the third book in the series would be released. She had looked up the release date on the internet and had spent weeks wondering about the story that the book would hold, but maybe wondering slightly more about the dedication. It's always better in a cone.

It had become a game. She would wait for the new book, and the moment it came out, she raced to the book store, and bought it. She tried to make it all the way home before reading his dedication, and usually failed. After reading his secret note for her, she would curl up and read straight through the short novel. Sometimes she would call her mom and tell her about the book, and tell her about his dedication. Lorelai understood, of course, that Rory never told her the full story. These moments were for her and Jess only. Book four's note had read: 22.8 miles.

There was no denying it anymore. Even after all these years, even though it had been almost four years since she had seen him, she still loved him. Reading his dedications and books were her main reasons for living. Opening up book five, she smiled at the memory he had provided for her. We are very fortunate to have good teeth.

Book six said Almost Famous and Indian Food, Saturday Night Live with burgers. It terrified her that after over eight years between that moment and the present, she could still remember the exact shade of his hair, the way his eyes bored into hers, his tone of voice, even what he was wearing.

Book seven cameand Rory anticipated the note that Jess had written her. She wondered sometimes if she should contact him. Call him, send him a letter. She didn't know where he was, but she could always beg Luke for a number or address. But for some reason, she felt like hearing him or seeing him again would ruin the messages that he had been sending to her. A twenty-six year old Rory opened up Jess's seventh book and read the dedication cautiously. Ernest only has lovely things to say about you.

There had been other guys, other dates, even other relationships. But none lasted. They were nice guys, guys that she knew she could have loved if he didn't still exist. If he didn't keep fighting his way into her mind. It amazed her that every dedication was a note to her, when he had no idea if she was even reading them, or if she even remembered him at all. Book eight was the hardest one to understand, but when she did, she had cried herself to sleep. "Why did you come back?" "I just… wanted to," she remembered that day. Sookie's wedding. The day of their first kiss.

Book nine was a short note. With two simple words, he had sent her into almost hysterics. It didn't make sense. Anyone could say those words. And she had always imagined his apology would be more lengthy, more specific. But it was Jess. She remembered him saying one day: "The verbal thing comes and goes." She wondered if it would ever be a dedication to her. But no, this one said something else. I'm sorry.

The morning that the last book in Jess's series was released, Rory all but ran to her car, sped off to the nearest bookstore she knew would be carrying the book, and ran over other customers to get to it. Opening up the leafs carefully, she eyed the dedication with a somewhat fearful eye, and froze solid. I Love You.

Pacing in front of Luke's Diner, she made a decision that she hoped would make everything better. She was twenty nine years old, single, and still madly in love with her high-school sweet heart. She walked through the door and saw Luke on the phone. She watched as his eyes teared up, and he stuttered to the person on the other end. "Th-thanks, Mark, yeah, I'll… um… I'll be there," he said, his tone grave. He hung up and turned around, coming face-to-face with Rory Gilmore.

"Oh, hey Rory," he said, somewhat nervous.

"What's the matter?" Rory said, suspicious and oddly freaked out.

"Um… I don't… uh… I hate this, but um… that was Mark, Jess's roommate on the phone…" he said, tears spilling over.

Rory felt her eyes well up too, in anticipation of the next words to leave Luke's mouth.

"Car accident. He died at the scene," he said solemnly. She stared at him for a full thirty seconds before collapsing, right there in the diner, sobs wracking her tiny frame.

A thirty year old Rory Gilmore walked bravely up to the simple headstone marking the resting place of Jess Mariano.

"Um… hey, Jess," Rory said, laughing nervously. "You… um… you left us six months ago. I was at the funeral, I don't know if you wanted me there, but I had to come… I was too confused to tell you this then. I've been… pretty upset, Jess," Rory said, pausing to take a deep gasping breath of air. "God, why do you always, have to leave?" she continued, almost yelling at him. "Sorry, sorry. You didn't deserve that. I'm not mad. You said you were sorry. But you didn't have to, I think I forgave you for everything a long time ago." One more shaky breath. "Jess, I… I read the dedications, all of them. I loved every single one of them. And… I love you," she said. Breaking down right there in front of him.

An hour later, she had calmed herself down enough to place her gift on the top of the grave and walk away. It was a big letter to him from her, giving her feed-back and comments on every single one of his books. A Clash CD. A box of ice cream cones. A map of Yale. A picnic basket. The Old Man and the Sea and The Fountainhead.

Out of sight, out of mind. If only it worked that way.