Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls. It belongs to Amy-Sherman Palladino, etc, etc.

A/N: Here the next bit. Hope you like.

Gilmore Girls

Weekends in Stars Hollow

Chapter Seven

RORY

In the morning I woke, after crying myself to sleep in moms arms, in my own bed, my blankets snug around me. I realised that mom must have moved me to the bed and tucked me in. The covers felt like lead on my body, pinning me down, but I just about managed to shuck them off and sit up. I felt so weak, as if I had cried my very muscles off my bones. I felt like a wet sponge, trying to form a firm shape and failing. I feared to stand, lest my legs not support me and I should fall.

The books I had thrown last night lay at my feet, scattered all over, some with pages bent backwards. I couldn't bring myself to care, even though normally I would be appalled to see books in such a state, especially my own. My life felt like that, the book of my life tossed down to the ground, its pages twisted and malformed.

What was I supposed to do now?

Nothing seemed important anymore. What was the point in getting up, when she wasn't there beside me? What was the point in eating, when I hadn't cooked for her? What was the point in breathing, when I couldn't breathe in her scent?

But I knew that I had to. That I couldn't just lie back on my bed and give up. There must still be hope left, surely? Surely, I hadn't ruined everything so bad, had I? Was I just trying to convince myself? Yeah, I was. I tried not to remember the look in her eyes, the way she had balled up her fist and hit me. Yet, by trying not to think of it, I did. I raised my hand to my cheek and winced. There was definitely a bruise there - a mark of my shame. I touched it again, felt the pain flare up, and knew I deserved it.

Maybe my wince of pain alerted mom to the fact that I was up, because, though I had not heard her, she must have been in the kitchen, just waiting for me. The door to my room opened and she stood there looking at me, coffee in hand. I looked up at her and we just stared at each other for several seconds. Then she crossed to me and put her arms around me, and I collapsed my head against her.

We stayed like that for a while; don't ask me how long, because I don't know. Finally, mom pulled back and looked into my eyes, at my face, at the dark bruise on my cheek. She scowled.

'Did she do that to you?'

I lowered my eyes. 'I deserved it mom.'

'Oh, Rory,' mom said, sadly, 'what happened?'

'I messed up. I hurt her.'

'Looks like she hurt you back,' mom commented sourly.

'Don't, mom.' I couldn't stand to hear mom talk about her like that – like she was the villain. No, that hat belonged to me. 'Please.'

'Okay.'

'I don't know what to do,' I said miserably, after several silent moments. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't believe I did that… that you had to find out like that, with grandma and all, and I… I'm so sorry mom.'

'Don't worry about that honey,' mom said. 'I'll handle Emily.'

'But I…'

'No. I won't pretend that what you did was right. I… but that's not important right now. You have bigger problems to deal with.'

I looked at her, my mom, the one person in my life I knew I could always count on, and I knew that she still loved me. That no matter what I did, what I was, she would always love me. How could I have doubted that?

'I love you mom,' I said, sniffling.

She smiled. 'I love you too daughter of mine.' She pulled me into another embrace. She soothed me, stroking my hair and letting me relax into her arms. I fought the new wave of tears down. 'So,' mom finally said, 'you and Paris, huh?'

'Yes.' I said, so softly I wondered if she had even heard me.

'How long has that… been going on?'

'Not long,' I said. 'It's… I don't know mom. It's pretty new to me. I… it just happened.'

Somehow it felt easier talking about it, when we didn't have to look at each other.

'You tripped and fell on her lips?' Mom teased, trying to act like her old self, but it wasn't the same. It sounded so false.

'It's a long story,' I said.

'You have somewhere to be?'

'No, I guess I don't.'

And so I told her, the whole long story.

PARIS

When I did sleep, it was fitfully; in bits and pieces that really wasn't what anyone would honestly call sleep. Towards the morning, I had given up, so I lay on Alison's sofa and I thought about everything that had happened last night. I analysed it all, every single moment, and felt my heart, the one Rory has somehow managed to uncover, hardening over once again. I felt it, and welcomed it, because then I didn't have to care. Of course I was lying to myself, I know that, but at the time I needed the lie.

By the time Alison came stumbling sleepily out of her bedroom, I was like stone. I moved and I spoke and I ate, but I felt nothing. I'm sure Alison could tell, but thankfully she let me be. Maybe she didn't know what to say to me. I don't know.

'I have to go,' I said after eating the breakfast she had cooked for me.

'Paris,' Alison stalled, and I could tell she was trying to think of the right thing to say.

'Thanks for everything Alison.' I nodded at her, keeping my distance, and then grabbed my coat and was out of the door before she could say anything else. I didn't want to be a burden on her new life. I remembered her words from last night, the words I had somehow not heard, at least that I had not taken in at the time. Alison had a girlfriend now. It was painfully obvious. Signs of her littered Alison's apartment, shirts too big for her, a second toothbrush in the bathroom, and most obvious, a picture by the window, of a smiling brunette kissing Alison's cheek.

I hesitated outside the dorm, with thoughts of walking in and finding Rory home going through my mind, even though I knew she wasn't. Her car wasn't there, I had checked. Finally, I unlocked the door and entered the rooms we shared. I firmed myself and shut the door behind me, looking around at our joint habitat. Signs of the divide that had used to separate us no longer existed. We no longer had sides to the room. My things littered hers, and hers mine.

It took me most of the day to rectify that. First I got all of my stuff from her side of the room and put it all back in its rightful place on my side. Then I took all of her things, and threw them over to her side, not caring where they landed, as long as they no longer existed in my world. I recreated the divide one item at a time. I was a like a hurricane, whizzing about at a brisk pace, undoing the last month.

When my job was finally done, I sat on the end of my bed, and looked around. My side was pristine, of course, what else would you expect? Rory's? Yeah, I guess I had made quite a mess of hers. Did I care? Nope. I looked at the door, wondering when she would walk through it, and what would happen when she did. I wondered if she even would walk through it ever again. Maybe she would just vanish from my life, never to appear again. I lied to myself and told myself I wouldn't care if that happened.

While I waited, I rehearsed in my head what I would say when she returned, going over and over it until it was a perfectly prepared speech.

RORY

Mom, for once in her life, was the perfect audience. She sat and listened quietly as I spoke, as I retold everything that had happened over the last few months since I had been reunited with Paris at Yale. Some time during the whole story, we had moved into the kitchen, and sat opposite each other, nursing cups of coffee. I took a sip of mine, now that I was finished, and waited for mom's response.

'You could have told me kiddo,' she said, blowing on her coffee. 'You should have told me.'

'I know mom,' I replied, lowering my eyes, staring into the depths of my mug of coffee.

There was a momentary pause, and then mom spoke again, sounding guilty. 'I've been seeing Luke.'

I wasn't really surprised. 'I know.'

Mom looked at me, shocked. 'How?'

'Mom, come on,' I said, gesturing around at the too clean kitchen, 'you never clean up after yourself. Plus, I keep finding flannel coloured shirts everywhere, so unless you've decided to become a lumberjack, it's pretty obvious.'

Mom looked disappointed that her attempts at subterfuge had been such a failure. She pouted and grumbled to herself, something like, 'too smart for her own good'.

But the brief moment of levity didn't last.

'I guess we've both been keeping secrets,' I said softly.

Mom nodded. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Luke.'

'I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Paris,' I returned.

'What are you going to do now?'

I thought about it. 'I guess I have to go back… I mean we share a dorm. I can't hide from her.'

'Do you want to?'

'No.' I wiped at my eyes, pre-empting the tears I could feel coming. 'I don't know what to do mom. I hurt her so bad. I want to fix things, but I don't know if I can.'

'You won't know unless you try.'

That was true. And I knew that I had to try. I couldn't just curl up into a ball and give in. I had screwed everything up, but I couldn't leave it like that. I had to at least attempt to fix it. I had to return to Yale, to Paris, and face the music.