HI! I'm trying my hand at a multi-chap GG lit fic, so please feel free to give me the good and the bad in that little review box. I welcome all criticism and encouragement :)

This is the first of what will most likely be (at least) a ten chapter fic. It takes place post S7, at least 6 months to a year into the future after the finale. Hope you like it!

Tick, tick. Time bomb.

Couldn't she go put some more clothes on? It was December. This was absurd.

And meanwhile, a manicured hand grasped at his, linking him to an alternate universe. He was a publisher, he ran a business, he used a calendar. He had a steady girlfriend, bought her a birthday present, had met her parents.

But somehow he felt just like that seventeen-year-old ragamuffin kid with a head full of gel and his heart locked on the one thing he couldn't have.

London giggled at something the faceless person in front of them had said, but it barely registered in Jess' sphere of courtesy. He robotically nodded his head as crowds swarmed in and out of the Dragonfly's dining room in a bustle and blur of hometown chatter and excitement. In the midst of it all, she glimmered like a comet in a golden dress. It was shorter and tighter than anything he had ever seen her in before—still conservative enough for the setting, but just snug enough to have brutally turned his head. An endless stream of townspeople had hovered over her, oohing and ahhing over her glamorous jet setting lifestyle. Luke had informed him of the gig she had landed after her time on the Obama campaign trail, a freelance correspondent with some major news conglomerate. He felt this strange and undeserved tug of pride knowing that she had achieved the illusive dream job. Not that he had anything to do with such an accomplishment, but he was proud nonetheless.

That was until he was forlornly trapped in the same room with her while she wore that. Her legs stretched on for days as she paraded around in an incessant display of shimmering supremacy. An inexplicable anger consumed him, firing instinctively somewhere in his traitorous gut. This was a prehistoric desire. A flame long extinguished…so where did this consuming double-cross of the mind come from?

He excused himself from the droning exchange going on before him, giving his oblivious girlfriend a squeeze on the elbow as he passed. His eyes charted a smooth course along the antique hardwood floors, praying that the townspeople would still believe him to be some terrifying spectacle of rebellious hostility. His already meager social skills were plummeting with an unmatched ferocity. God, he hated this place.

Bypassing a squealing mob of kindergarteners with noisemakers and confetti, Jess meandered through a set of double doors that opened out into the shadowy landscape. The cold snap of air beckoned him forward; maybe it could numb him straight to graceful oblivion. It might be nice there.

"I bet the men in Moscow were eating you up like whipped cream, doll face."

As per usual, Rory felt a pressing heat make itself home on her pale cheeks at Babette's suggestive wink. Struck speechless, she just shook her head and laughed weakly. Exhaustion was hastily setting deep in her bones—her mini assignment crammed into the week between Christmas and New Year's had left her reeling in a befuddling whir of time zones. If that were not enough to effectively zap her party spirit, the constant flux of well-wishers had been absolutely draining. She loved them so dearly, but she just wanted to crawl up somewhere remote and not come back out for the next thousand years.

Not that the walloping mix of hot disappointment and acute distraction of her breakup was helping to lift her mood. Six months of long distance phone calls and preoccupied emails—with the occasional date thrown in—seemed to be sinking miserably into the abyss. Another relationship marked with the bitter aftertaste of failure. And as if that were not enough of a humbling barb, she was forced to observe another botched attempt at love strut around with some sickeningly gorgeous blonde. Why was Jess even here? Surely a tame Stars Hollow bash was not his textbook definition of ringing in the New Year.

It certainly wasn't hers…this had been a very last minute shift, but her mother had persuaded her that it would be better than inhaling Rocky Road alone in the city to the sound of Ryan Seacrest on her TV set. And as horrendous as that would have been, showing up here alone was possibly worse.

A rowdy burst of frustration and sadness threatened its way to the surface, forcing Rory to sidestep an oncoming townsperson and make a speedy escape. She snagged a crystal flute of champagne from the sweeping arm of an overeager server and slipped through the kitchen with anonymity. The side door remained pleasantly vacant, so she ambled out into the refreshing chill of winter blackness. She sank down onto the obscure stone steps and allowed the suppressed sobs to split open into the indefinite stretch of milky stars. Just as the sound began to subside, the vibrating interruption of her cell phone from inside her clutch sent a few fresh tears spilling through her web of lashes. Connor.

After a few stabilizing breaths, Rory fumbled to answer. "Hello?"

The achingly familiar cadence reached his ears before his eyes could discover the nearly undetectable swatch of gold. She had tucked herself into a forgotten corner on the back stairs, hiding under the cover of an aged oak tree. Her voice rose through the frosty branches, allowing him to catch choppy snippets of her spirited refutations.

"You know that isn't true...can't believe you would…No! Then just—yeah, I'm sure she is…Bye."

For a static instant, he debated if it would be better to just take a few creeping steps backward, or if—

"Jess?!"

Well screw that.

"Hey. Nice night out, huh?" He took an involuntary step back, not wanting to intrude.

"Yeah, just spectacular." Her attempt at dry disdain floundered in the wake of an obstinate sniffle. "How much of that did you hear?"

Jess contemplated the effectiveness of a lie, an easy eject button on what was clearly a very personal moment. But there was something in her dejected expression, even at a dim distance, which required the truth. "Enough to know things aren't so great between you and the banker."

A mirthless laugh contorted her delicate features. "Yeah, that sums it up."

An imaginary force dragged him across the brown lawn. It was what unfailingly occurred when Rory Gilmore was involved. Settling onto the impermeable step next to her, Jess hesitated to comment. He knew he should stay the heck out of it. He had shamelessly thrown himself across the fragmented altar of her tangled relationships before, and it somehow never worked out for him. Those days were over. Lesson learned.

But the poignant smudges of mascara underneath her shining cobalt eyes summoned his every last undignified impulse. "His loss, Rory. I'm sorry he's treating you like that."

She shook her head briskly. "No, it isn't his loss, it is definitely mine. I messed this one up big time. I'm surprised it took him this long to call me on it."

His hand landed on her upper arm, which was haphazardly exposed to the Connecticut wind. "I find that incredibly hard to believe."

"You don't understand, Jess. I…I was barely ever there, always off on the next assignment…I haven't had my feet on solid ground in I don't know how long. If I was home, I was finishing an article, swamped with meetings, or collapsing with fatigue. All we've done lately is fight. Connor deserves so much more…"

Jess didn't know much about the guy, just a few tidbits that Luke had leaked here and there. From his uncle's understandably biased viewpoint, Connor the New York bank executive was less than impeccable. The words "stuffy" and "pompous" may have been thrown out in comical combination with a few colorful choice words. He somehow doubted, however, that Rory would find that information to be of any aid under the present circumstances.

"Then he wasn't the right one. Not if he didn't get how big this job is for you." His hand absently stroked her lithe arm, restoring some much needed heat to her icy skin.

She sniffled again, swiping away the last vestige of her glass tears. "What about you, Jess?"

"What about me?"

"Have you found the right one? I saw you with that Scarlett Johansson lookalike." The casual edge in her voice set off a little warning in his head, but he promptly ignored it.

"That's London. I met her a few months ago. And I don't know yet…if she's the right one, that is."

A sideways glance and upturned mouth prepared him for the mocking to come. "London, huh?"

"Yep."

"Is she calling?"

Only a solitary second passed before his own derisive smirk appeared. "The Clash. Nice one."

"Thanks. What does she do?" An innocent tone accompanied the gentle lift of her brow, but he would bet his favorite leather jacket that she would later use this as ammunition against him in a ranting dialogue with Lane or Lorelai.

"She's kind of between jobs right now, but she's done some modeling and a few TV commercials. She wants to get into fashion design someday."

Rory let out an ambiguous hum, withholding any further comment. An irrepressible shiver rattled its way through her slim figure as the winter wind stirred her chestnut tresses.

His hands slipped up and down her arms, his forehead creased. "I think it's time you went inside. That dress is not exactly weather appropriate."

"What, you don't like it?" she asked with an artificial frown.

"What's not to like? You clean up well, Gilmore." He stood, then bent to pull her up into a matching stance.

"Me? You're wearing a tie! I don't think I have ever seen you in a tie, Jess."

He smiled, flashing a full grin that was reserved for a short list of people. "It is a special occasion, you know?"

As if on cue, the distant roar of "ten, nine, eight," began to sound from within the inn. Their eyes locked in a notorious meeting of raw copper and spellbinding cerulean. The celebratory countdown marched impetuously on, wrapping the two lone drifters in a foggy trance. A motionless melody wove through the crisp air.

"Three, two, one, HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The raging festivities played on vaguely in the background. Rory blinked a rapid fluttering pattern and smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles out of her dress. He could tell she was nervous, could read it in every line of her flawless face.

"Happy New Year, Rory." As hard as he tried to keep a cool detachment in his tone, the effort was futile. She had known him too long—had dug in too deep—to be fooled.

A genuine smile perched on her sly lips. "Happy New Year, Jess."

An unstated consensus formed in the turbulent current between their eyes. Both leaned in for a chaste kiss. The impact of that second, just a brief tick of the clock on the first night of the year, sent a jolt of electric energy through them both. Jess pulled away immediately. A tiptoeing reminiscence anchored him to the spot. Her eyes widened in shared astonishment. That old relentless spark crackled, pleading for another shot of evoked ecstasy.

Rory timidly reached for his hand, incasing his fingers with hers. It was all the encouragement he needed.

Jess captured her lips in a fervent embrace, his eagerness met with equaled recklessness from the ethereal figure before him. Another shockwave ignited his veins as he sought the curve of her slender waist. Her body had just pressed flush against his when the harsh ring of reality drove them apart like shrapnel.

He removed the offending cellphone from his pants pocket, clearing his throat several times in a pathetic attempt to reclaim control. "It's London. She's looking for me."

"Right, of course…" Rory nodded automatically, suddenly painfully aware of how thin her dress was in the unkind midnight breeze.

He jerked his head wordlessly toward the side door and she followed him back into the kitchen. A distant sentence hovered on Rory's fickle lips, but the words were impossibly stuck somewhere in the ensnaring quicksand of her topsy-turvy brain. Her mouth parted in belated effort, but Lorelai bounded up to them just as they entered the main hall.

"There you are, sweets! Guess what?" Her eyes were glossier than usual as she flapped her hand around wildly. "You'll never guess, so I'll just tell you! I'm getting married, Rory! Luke just asked me to marry him—again!"