A/N: There was this sentence and it was bugging me so I wrote it won and things rolled from there. Huge thanks as usual to the lovely Megan(Luke and Lorelai Brucas Fan) for reading it and almost convincing me is not as crap as I think it is. Review pretty please, I need the love :).

Act Four

"You should tell her." Matthew looks at his friend as he downs yet another drink.

"Tell who what?" He pretends to not understand as he motions the waitress for another drink, his expression suddenly serious.

"Don't act stupid."

"Stay the fuck out of it." He threatens, looking around for their other coworker to come and change the subject.

"Chris left with a blonde a while ago. Jess, tell her."

"No." He shakes his head, glaring again.

"Act four is the one with the happy ending." Matthew insists stubbornly. "Have you never read a play in your life?"

"Didn't you read? There's no act four."

"There has to be."

"Forgive my cynicism, but not everything gets to have a fucking happy ending. This is one of those times."

"Only because you're stubborn."

"Only because I'm the one who has been there before, ok?" He snaps, his fist clenching around the empty glass. "You think you get it because you've read 300 words and now you know what I should and shouldn't do? You have no fucking clue." He chuckles bitterly, closing his eyes for a second. "Her and me? We're done."

"You should at least…"

"No." He stands up, throwing a bill on the table. "I'll see you at home."

Earlier that day.

"Since when do subscribe to 'Curtailed'?" Matthew walked into Truncheon, holding a magazine. "We got it today but I had no…"

"We don't. It's mine." Jess snatched it out of his hand, throwing it on his desk.

"Are we doing micro fiction now?"

"No." Jess shook his head, pointing at his friend's desk. "Ever going to go back to work?"

"As soon as I've figured this out."

"There's nothing to figure out. I got a copy, that's it."

"Why?"

"Because." Jess grumbled again, staring at a paper. "We need to call the printer."

"Oh, come on, Jessie." Chuckling when his friend glared at him, he sat down at his desk. "Did you get a story in? Is that why they sent you a copy?"

"Yes." Jess admitted, shaking his head. "Now can we stop this?"

"Can I read it?"

"No."

"Ok, allow me to rephrase that: can I borrow your copy of the magazine and read it or do I have to walk to the shop and buy one?" He smiled innocently. Throwing the magazine, Jess tried to look disappointed when his friend ducked so it didn't hit him.

"Knock yourself out."

"You almost did. What page?"

"Fuck you."

"Hon, did you subscribe to a magazine and had it sent over here?" Lorelai asks as soon as he daughter picks up the phone.

"Not that I can think of. Why?"

"One came for you today. I opened it by mistake, you don't really get mail here anymore so I didn't bother reading the…"

"Mom, it's fine, I don't care. What's it called?"

"Curtailed."

"No, definitely not. I don't think I've even heard of it. You think they're doing some sort of promotional thing?"

"I don't think so, it was in an envelope. Huh, there's a post-it in it." Lorelai lifted her eyebrows in confusion. "It doesn't say anything."

"Maybe it's some sort of joke?"

"If it is, it's a very unfunny one. And humorous only to the sender."

"Have you made sure it's not porn?" Rory laughs, drinking from her coffee. "Maybe it's some really bad pervert."

"Hon…?"

"What's wrong?" She sits up straight, sensing the change in her mother's voice. "Is there something…"

"It's definitely for you." Lorelai takes a deep breath as her eyes keep reading the words.

"What is?"

"The magazine. The post-it."

"How do you…"

"I assume Jess isn't sending me stories."

She feels the world crumbling under her feet. There's something to be said about a man that still takes her breath away even though she hasn't seen him in years.

"What's it about?"

"I think…you need to read this one yourself." Lorelai shakes her head, smiling sadly as she reaches the end of the story.

"Is it bad?"

"Just…"

"What did you say it was called again?" Rory asks, blood pumping so hard it's making it almost impossible to focus.

"Curtailed. Page 38."

"I'll call you later."

Same story

He wishes he had owned her.

He could have taken her away.

He wouldn't have had to ask.

She couldn't have said no.

This story is unrepentantly the same as every other story.

Big city boy is sent to small town to atone for his sins. Big city boy meets innocent small town girl and then proceeds to ruin her. Or at least that's what everyone else thinks. He is not so sure who ruined who there. Big city boy leaves small town and girl doesn't go with him, because she belongs in her town and he never really bothers to ask her to come with him.

End scene.

Big city boy realizes that he hasn't been able to breathe since he left the small town and its girl behind. Big city boy goes back and finally asks her to go with him. He wants to ask her more than that, but she keeps saying 'no'. Every 'no' answers another question that never even leaves his mouth. Leave with him. No. Don't break him. No. Love him. No. Give him another chance. No. Don't let it end like this. No, no, no, no, no. Small town girl doesn't go with him. She probably makes the right decision.

End scene.

Big city boy learns how to live. When he is finished putting himself together, he goes looking for the small town girl. They briefly attempt friendship. Big city boy wants to believe he is finally forgiven for past sins. Small town girl tells him she loves another boy. Exit stage right. Big city boy stares dumbfounded into the bottom of a glass for a while.

End scene.

There are no more scenes. No fourth act. Act three almost killed the big city boy.

All stories are the same.

There was never anything but her and blue and smoothness and beatitude.

She is his only regret.

He is still not sure he can breathe.

For R.

She cries herself to sleep, reading the words over and over again.

She has to try hard to keep breathing when he walks downstairs and his eyes lock into hers. Chuckling bitterly, he promises himself to strangle his friend when he sees her holding the damned magazine.

"I was only saying 'no' to having my heart broken." She closes her eyes as she whispers the sentence, clutching the magazine to her chest. "Not to you. Never to you."

"I'd argue with that last sentence, but it's pointless." Jess sighs, smiling. "It's a story."

"It doesn't feel that way to me."

"Then you and Matthew can start a club over it."

"Matthew?"

"Guy who sent you that. The one who let you in, called me, made himself scarce just so he could listen in on this conversation from the top of the stairs?" He smirks again when he hears footsteps and scuffling coming from upstairs. "Don't worry, he's going to be dead shortly, you don't need to bond."

"You didn't…?" The realization hits her and she leaves the sentence unfinished.

"Sorry."

"So you…"

"I wrote that, that's about as much as I had to do with it. I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea." His calmness amazes even him, despite the fact that the only thing he can still wish is for her to leave and the bedlam of emotions to stop. It wasn't right. The heroine isn't supposed to take the hero's breath away.

But then again, he never was much of a hero.

"I'm sorry I bothered you."

Seeing the smallest of tears fall down her cheek, his resolve crumbles and he steps closer to her, unsure of what to say.

"You didn't." His words sound so pointless even to him, he wants to kick himself for even saying them.

"I…figured you meant it." She turns around and steps towards the door, hoping to make it outside before she starts crying too hard but his hand grabs her free one, stopping her. "I wanted you to mean it."

"I didn't say I didn't mean it, just that I didn't send it to you."

"No, you said you were sorry I got the wrong idea. There aren't many ways to read that one." She argues, her voice trembling from crying but he tries to push that awareness to the back of his mind and resist the urge to do whatever it takes to stop the tears.

"About who sent that to you. That's it."

She turns around, chewing on her lip. "So the story? Fiction or not?"

"We both know it's true." He admits, looking into her eyes. "I'm not sure I want it to be, but it is."

"Even the last line?"

"Especially the last line."

"Ok." She nods and he laughs because the entire evening had been far too surreal to do anything else.

"You only here to confirm that? I could have told you on the phone."

"You would have lied on the phone."

"Probably."

"You lied earlier. You said it's only a story."

"I'll make sure to say ten Hail, Marys. I'm sure I'll be forgiven."

"Why?" Rory shrugs and another tear drops down her cheek, but in one hand she has the magazine and the other one is still caught in his and she doesn't want to let go of either.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you lie?"

"Because it's us. And we don't exactly have a good track record with anything. So…if you believe it's not true, it's easy."

"For me, maybe. Not for you." She realizes and he nods.

"I'll take it."

"When did you become so self-sacrificing?"

"I grew up, figured we've about reached the point where more attempts would probably just lead to more damage."

"So you meant it but it doesn't matter?"

"Things rarely do." He is suddenly painfully aware of still holding her wrist so he lets go. "It's ok, last time made for a decent ending."

"But…this screws it up."

"We'll pretend it never happened."

"We can't. I tried." She chuckles bitterly, finally wiping her cheeks. "I think we've unwillingly started act four."

Somewhere in his head, Matt's voice is echoing, telling him over and over again that's the one with the happy ending. "What now?" He doesn't tell her what he's thinking of and she smiles.

"You always owned me. We just had to take a while to write the rest of the story." Stepping closer, she smiles softly and his hand touches her again. "And I can't breathe without you either, Jess. I don't think I ever relearned how."

"So?" He breathes out, taking the last step between them. Inside him, it feels like a hurricane has taken every shred of everything that he has known and is flying it all around, aimlessly.

"This is when we write a new ending." She smiles softly, her fingers against brushing his hand more firmly than before. "The happy one."

"You still believe in absolution?"

"We have to at least try, Jess."

Nodding, he cups her face in his hand and rests his forehead against hers. They weren't supposed to get another go. It wasn't supposed to be more than a story he wrote after a few too many drinks. He was supposed to know how to do this. "You sure?"

"Yes."

Inching closer, he presses his lips to hers, gently. She responds, just as gentle. He kisses the tears away before finding her mouth again, more in control of himself than before. The magazine in her hand falls to the floor. He doesn't notice.

Big city boy and small town girl start writing act four that night. They keep writing it for many nights after.

They're still inapt at breathing when the other one is not near.

Their own personal Cupid informs them that, according to the state of Pennsylvania and God, if there is one, they now belong to each other. It's not a bad deal for two characters in an unrepentantly unoriginal story.