Hiding

Summary: Before she's able to collect herself in order to meet Logan at Honour's engagement party, Jess bumps into Rory while she's at her lowest. Set during 'Blame Booze and Melville' (5x21).

A/N: Another little idea that's been in my head for a while. The title is a song by The Smiths, because I couldn't think what to call it, and I'm obsessed with this song as of late. This does not mean that I'm stopping TTR, and I'll probably finish that before I carry on with this, if that's what I decide to do. Oh, and a few things about the fic: I'm not sure which came first, Truncheon or The Subsect, so I'm having Jess working for Truncheon, but not having published The Subsect yet. Also, in my mind, Rory had her little crying on the steps thing (see story) before collecting herself and going yacht-stealing, because otherwise this wouldn't really make sense alongside the series.

This is pretty much a short introduction; if I continue this fic, chapters will be longer. I doubt it'll usually be this angsty but, given the setting, this introduction had to be, but I'm generally more comfortable writing humorous banter, so I hope to revert back to that in the future.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Gilmore Girls belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the title is the name of a (spectacular) song by The Smiths.

Rory Gilmore, ace writer for the Yale Daily News, former regular inhabitant of the top three percent of Chilton, thank you very much, and first steady girlfriend of the one, the only, Logan Huntzberger, sank down onto the steps of the Stanford Eagle gazette, head buried in her hands as sobs shook her shoulders.

Unlike other times in her life when she'd been faced with despair and panic, there was no voice in her head saying 'suck it up, Gilmore, you're stronger than this.' No, that voice was in full agreement with the rest of her body, owing to the fact that there was no longer anything to be strong for, no dreams left to attain. Every single dream she'd ever had had been carelessly plucked out of her psyche and discarded by Mitchum Huntzberger. But hey, she thought, never mind that, because I'll be making someone an excellent secretary one day!

This thought caused her to replay the whole conversation in her mind once again, bringing about a fresh bout of misery. The fact that she was in a public place and that, within an hour or so, the crusher of her dreams would walk down the very steps on which she was currently perched didn't really occur to her. God, it was like the Huntzbergers had gotten together and planned how best to make her feel like something they'd be careful to step over in their vintage Pradas. Maybe she could get a job as a shoe salesperson, she thought, it must pay well, considering the amount of rich snobs traipsing around in them. Yes, that would be perfect, selling footwear to the very people who'd robbed her of all journalistic ambitions.

"Rory?"

She didn't even bother to look up as she heard that achingly familiar voice of her past. She chose to ignore it, knowing it was likely to be her mind taunting her. She heard him a lot lately, talking in her head. Sometimes she'd walk into a diner, and she'd swear she'd hear a sarcastic remark coming from across the room, or she'd close her eyes for a second in a cab – Ooh! She could be a cab driver! – and he'd be asking her to run away again.

"Rory," The phantom voice persisted.

"Go away," she moaned, "I'm pathetic enough as it is without adding 'talks to self' to the list."

It was funny; it had never been this real before, the voice inside her head. For a minute, she thought she could just stay there the rest of the night, listening to the voice of her old flame play inside her head, at least until some unfortunate street cleaner – Hmm, street cleaner? No, the hours were too bad for it to be a viable career option – found her on the steps. Then, she felt a distinct nudge on her shoulder.

Huh. She'd never experienced anything more than his voice in her head before, this might be the next stage in the insanity. She braved a peek upwards.

And there he was, Jess Mariano. And the real one, too; her memories could never do true justice to the man in front of her. She made a quick attempt to discreetly wipe away the tracks of mascara from her face before stealing a proper look at him. He'd grown up a lot since the last time she'd seen him, trimming the "I-don't-give-a-damn" haircut and banishing most of the unwarranted defiance from his eyes. He wore maturity well.

"It's really you?" She asked, finally, with a lost, child-like quality to her voice.

If Jess was surprised to find Rory Gilmore crying out in the street, he was struck equally bemused by her reaction to his sudden appearance. He'd expected shock, maybe anger after their last encounter, but instead she just seemed numb to the world. Knowing it was best not to pry into what had caused her to be like this, he fought his impulse to ask who'd done this to her so that he could happily beat the crap out of them and, instead, took a seat next to her.

"Yup, last time I checked I was still pretty solid." He said, in answer to her question.

She let out a quick laugh that sounded more like a whimper.

"I guess it'd be kinda redundant to ask how you're doing." Jess stated, still knowing after over a year that it'd be best to keep things light while she was in this delicate state.

She laugh-whimpered again, replying, "I guess so."

Jess wasn't sure what to do with his hands, having suppressed his instinctual 'Rory's crying' reaction to drape one over her shoulder as a form of comfort, remembering the fiasco that had been their last meeting. He knew he'd have to ask her what had caused her to enter this state at some point, but he wasn't sure she was equipped to answer as of yet. God, he hated this uncertainty! When they'd first met, she'd been the shy, unsure one, and he'd always known exactly what to do or say. Now, a glimpse at a crying brunette from across the street and he comes running. The fact that she didn't seem that surprised by his sudden re-appearance into her life (or at least her peripheral vision) was yet more cause for concern, and he fought back yet more questions as they sprung to his mind.

"What do you do when everything – every plan, every dream, your whole life – just falls out from underneath your feet?" Her small voice breaks through his thoughts, and – screw it – he gave in, draping an arm across her shoulder as she leaned her head onto his.

"Pack up and run away to California?" He suggested, weakly, hoping that enough time had passed that he could mention his cowardly departure without receiving a blow to the head. Luckily, he remained unscathed.

Another laugh-whimper, and then, "What are you doing here, Jess?"

"Business." He said, then expanded, "Which I know sounds like a foreign word coming out of my mouth, but I'm with this publishing company now. They basically use me to run around the country for them, begging independent book shops to accept various works. They're good guys, though, they'd have to be to accept a guy with nothing but a heaving literary collection and an all-too-obvious lack of GED."

If each of his words hadn't felt like a blade between her shoulders, Rory might have found the fact that her nervous rambling habit had rubbed off on the world's most succinct man rather funny. Instead, her mind was just on what he'd said. Jess had a job. Jess was travelling around the country, doing what he loved. No doubt even the almighty Mitchum Huntzberger would agree that Jess had it, whatever this elusive "it" was.

"You're- wow, I can't believe you're..." she broke off as more tears ran down her face, before trying to sound as sincere as possible in saying, "Well done, Jess."

He gave her a hint of a smile, before her tears started to come again, fresh and raw, "Are you staying round here? Do you need a ride home?"

This only seemed to upset her further, "Oh, God, I can't go home, I can't do it! My mom and Logan and my grandparents, how am I supposed to tell them that I- that I failed?"

Fighting back the new onslaught of questions that sprang to mind – for starters, who the hell was Logan? – Jess backtracked quickly, "Okay, okay, no home. Home bad. Got it. So, do you plan on spending the night on this step because, as it turns out, you've kind of been blocking people off for the last twenty minutes."

Rory's eyes widened, as she looked around herself, as if noticing her surroundings for the first time, seeing all the business people – people that she'd spent the past week adapting to and working alongside – part in order to step around her and Jess. She quickly got up and began to pace on the sidewalk.

"I just- I want to hide."

"From what?"

She let out a dry laugh, "My life? My boyfriend? My boyfriend's father who, speaking of which, should be descending these very steps any second now? The person I thought I could be?"

Trying his very best to appear unaffected by the mention of her boyfriend, Jess pushed himself off the steps, signalling for a cab and replying to Rory with a nonchalant, "Okay."

"Okay?" She asked, "Okay what?"

"You can hide. For one night. I'm staying in a hotel nearby, I'll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed." He replied, getting into the cab that had just pulled up, "Or, you could stay on the steps and wait for someone to trip over you and sue you for injury."

"Okay," she agreed, unsurely, before repeating, with the most certainty he'd heard in her voice that night, "Okay."

She got in beside him, and they drove in silence, before her voice rippled through the darkness.

"Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

A/N: Not really sure whether I'm continuing this or not, depends on the response, since I'm not particularly sure about it, myself. I definitely won't be finishing it until I'm done with 'There's The Rub', which still has about four chapters to go which, knowing me, could take a while. Anyway, please review, and let me know whether to continue, or whether you liked it, or even what colour socks you're wearing, I just like reviews.