By jcd1013
Away from home for the first time, Paris and Rory forge an unexpected friendship. Paris/Rory friendship. R/J, P/other.
Disclaimer: While the plot is mine, Gilmore Girls and their characters do not belong to me in any form. Music and lyrics contained herein are the property of Eva Cassidy's record company and family. No infringement intended.
Spoilers: Anything up to season 2 finale is game.
Feedback: Appreciated and rewarded with smiles. I'm not one who demands reviews "or else", but I do try to improve my stories, so honest criticism is welcomed.
Note: This story has been trying to write itself since the finale and I finally had to give in and help it out. I realize that there are a billion "post-kiss" stories, but hopefully you'll enjoy a "billion and one." This not a songfic, but like the show, the music is definitely central to the story and all of the chapter titles are from songs sung by Eva Cassidy. So, I highly suggest, no, implore you to go out and buy some of Eva's incredible music-Songbird is a good place to start. ;) This chapter's lyrics are from "Say Goodbye," from Eva By Heart.
Edited on January 23, 2004... This chapter was originally posted in two parts, chapter 1 and chapter 3. After rereading it, I decided that it would probably work best as one chapter, so I'm reposting it. Tell me if you like it!
It's funny how the distance can make you feel close
And the things you lost are the things you want most
Must be the mood I'm in
I'm thinking of you again
I call you up just to tell you why
Why I left you and say goodbye...
"Geez, Rory, what is it with your town? You're only going to be gone for six weeks and the whole place shows up for a fare-thee-well bash. I wish I was so adored." Paris complained again. The party had only delayed their departure by a half hour, yet Paris Gellar, never one to give an early death to a topic, had proceeded to fume angrily to anyone who would listen to her. And since Rory was presently the only other occupant of the car, she heard it all.
Rory suppressed a sigh. "Yeah. Stars Hollow loves an excuse for a party. If given a chance, they would celebrate over the fact that I got my hair cut. Besides, most of it was left-over from Sookie's wedding." Rory trailed off, suddenly homesick and lost in her own thoughts.
The silence lapsed in the car. Again. Ten minutes out of Stars Hollow, and the two girls seemed to be straining for conversation. It surprised Rory--Paris was not one that the word quiet or shy described. Normally, Rory would have welcome the quiet, but she found that her thoughts were wandering back to the wedding, the kiss, the way that she had avoided both Jess and Dean, the kiss, her party and Jess's absence or the way he bumped into her outside of Luke's as she was leaving and didn't say a word. Her painful goodbye with her mom. As the tears welled up her eyes, she forced herself to think of something else. The kiss...
She hadn't allowed herself to this about the kiss, or the reason for her temporary insanity (again). She had kept herself busy, finishing the school year and the final edition of the Franklin, packing for her summer away from home, helping Lorelai with the inn now that Sookie was off on her honeymoon, visiting her grandparents. Doing anything and everything to avoid the thought of that afternoon.
Now as the road breezed by, she was lured into those dangerous thoughts, thinking about how different and foreign the kiss felt. She was used to Dean-the way she reached up to kiss him, usually just a brief touch before she lowered her feet back to the ground. Jess was at lip-level: it had been more exhilarating than anything she had ever experienced.
Thinking about the kiss was too confusing, the mixture of guilt and excitement still swirling around in her emotions. She turned her mind to something safer-her party. She had wandered through her party, absently thanking those who wished her luck in D.C.-Kirk asked her to take a tape to the F.B.I., but he wouldn't say what it was. Rory had her suspicions, but gratefully Lorelai had dragged her away before Kirk could complete "the deal." Miss Patty had asked her to get addresses from the "hunky senators," and Caesar, recluse diner-cook Caesar, had taken her aside and warned her in low tones to avoid getting drawn into any conspiracies. Dean had only been there for a moment, kissing her briefly, a sour look on his face as he headed back to work. He hadn't taken the news about her summer program well.
But the one face she hoped and dreaded to see was absent. No matter how many faces she squinted into focus or the painful leaps of adrenaline when she thought she saw his hair or his walk-it was never he. She hadn't seen him since the wedding a week before. He hadn't worked at Luke's-gossip hadn't even surfaced that he was back.
So, with disappointment, she had loaded up Paris's car with her belongings, kissed her mom goodbye, unable to say the words, and drove down the street. She made a spontaneous stop at Luke's, overriding Paris's protests. And he was there. Pouring coffee as usual. He didn't look at her, although she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Heart thumping wildly, she grabbed her coffee and headed out the door, brushing shoulders with him-
"Rory! Could you please pay attention to the road! No wonder you hit a deer!"
Rory was jolted back to the car. "A deer hit me. Besides, it's your car. Why am I driving?"
" I hate driving in the city." Paris barely looked up from the pamphlet she had been reading.
"Paris, we're going to be in a city. Washington DC is very much a city."
"I know that."
"So, the reason that we're driving, rather than riding in the bus with the other Chilton students is, why, again?"
"I am not riding in a smelly bus for six hours. Besides, we may need the car."
"Whatever. Fine."
Paris continued as if not noticing Rory's rising bad mood. "According to the handouts, it looks like we will be in class three days a week. The other days will be spent experiencing first hand how our government functions. Oh! And look at this. We will each have a congressman who will sponsor us for a week!" Paris's normally clipped voice almost squealed. She stabbed the pamphlet with her finger.
"I can read, Paris. And yes, it's exciting, but it's still school. School that I did not want to do. And right now, I just don't want to think about more school." Rory turned her concentration back to the drive.
Paris ignored her. "We'll be staying on George Washington University campus in the Lafayette Hall, named after Georgie's adopted son or something like that Probably one of those old, run down buildings that people think are so cute because they're ancient and have 'historical value'."
"Oh, that sounds nice. Can you tell me about the asbestos risk next?" This time, Rory didn't even bother keeping the sarcasm out of her voice.
"You're not still bent out of shape that we actually won, are you? I'm sorry I ruined your perfect summer, but did you ever consider me? While you get to have bond with your mother over Paul Newman and trying to juggle all the guys who are interested in you, I would be at home, studying to avoid any interaction with my beloved parents. Rory, this is going to be the best summer of my life and I'm not going to let you ruin it before we even get out of Connecticut!"
"Okay, okay. Sorry. I'm just in a bad mood." She sighed.
"So I've noticed." Paris paused. "You want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay. Fine. But if you wanted to..."
"It's just that... Things haven't been so good for me and Dean and I just left without even really saying goodbye."
"'Me and Dean?'" Things must be pretty serious if you start using incorrect grammar. What's next, you're going to start sentences with 'all y'all'?"
Rory smiled slightly. She hadn't realized that Paris was capable of teasing.
"So, what happened? You and Dean seemed fairy tale perfect."
"We are. I mean, I don't know, and I'd rather not think about it. Not yet. Can we change the subject? Do you have any music?"
"No, all of my CDs are in the back. Do you have any in your backpack?" Without waiting for an answer, Paris picked up the bag from between their seats and unzipped the pockets.
"Paris! I don't have any here! I didn't say that you could..." Rory's voice faded as Paris pulled out a jewel case from the front pocket.
"Songbird, by Eva Cassidy. What kind of music?"
"I don't know. That's not my CD." She protested in confusion.
"There's a note on the cover. 'Rory--can't go to DC without listening to the music of the locals. Enjoy.' It's not signed." Paris looked over at her companion's suddenly flushed face. "Rory?"
"Yeah, that sounds okay. Eva Cassidy. Put her in." Her voice sounded hollow and she could hear the beat of her heart echoing in her ears. And why did her stomach suddenly have flutters? She recalled the brush of shoulders...he had said goodbye after all?
As Eva Cassidy's version of Fields of Gold filled the car, Rory reflected that maybe, in spite of everything, the summer wasn't going to be so bad.
Eight hours later, Rory was starting to wonder if she had been too hasty in giving this summer a stamp of approval. For the first few hours, the drive had been non-eventful and for the first time in days, Rory had almost, virtually, well, not quite forgotten the events that had sent her on this trip. And the music was surprisingly calming-not what she expected from a CD from Jess.
The peace hadn't lasted long though, as they hit the standstill traffic into the city, with Paris barking orders onto which of the many twisting highways to turn. Rory's city navigational skills were minimal at best-even visiting her grandparents only took to the outskirts of Hartford-and it wasn't long before her nerves were frayed. Three times they had gotten lost-turning down streets that appeared to lead to the university onto to have the weave into another one-way street that was crowded with eager tourists there to see the sites. By the time they finally found and pulled into a parking stall at George Washington University, it was late, and Rory wanted nothing more than to just get into bed and hope to wake up back in Stars Hollow.
No such luck. Somehow, she felt like she had managed to royally angring some nameless god as things steadily decline. The front-desk boy had been clueless about their arrival and only after talking with the resident advisor (who had to be paged), did they discover that Paris had misread the dates-the rest of their group wasn't arriving until the next day. With a tight smile, Rory had managed to sweet-talk the clerk into giving them their rooms early-the thought of going back into the traffic to somehow find a room for the night was nauseating-and finally dropped wearily onto one of the twin beds in their room, too tired to even look around or unpack her stuff. She pulled a book from her backpack, hoping to read a bit before falling into a deep, merciful sleep.
Of course, Paris hadn't been willing to just shut up and go to bed and she was seemingly oblivious to the fact that Rory was trying to read. After an hour of listening to Paris complain-about the room (apparently, there was a tree right outside the window... oh the horrors!), the incompetent staff, the smallness of the room (which, to Rory looked fairly roomy for a dorm room. Nothing like Felicity's room, but that was television), the injustice of not making dates absolutely clear in the handouts-and making small one-word remarks back, she had just about decided to sleep in the car that night.
The conversation had evolved in the midst of a mouth full of toothpaste to Paris's expectations of the political world, and she had finally, climbed into the twin bed, still with the dorm bedding, and fallen promptly to sleep with visions of world dominations dancing around in her head.
Paris thankfully didn't snore, Rory noted, as she once again shifted her pillows. She closed her eyes firmly and willed her brain to shut down and sleep to come. It didn't happen. Frustrated, she opened her eyes, threw off her blankets and climbed out of bed.
Digging silently in her bag, she managed to locate the thirty feet phone cord her mother had purchased right before she left. She smiled briefly at the memory of her mom arguing, "of course you need a phone cord! You have to get a really long one so you can make secret phone calls in the hall in the middle of the night and not worry about Paris discovering the dates you plan to take the SATs!" In the end, Lorelai's faulty logic had conquered and the phone cord was tucked in along with twenty sets of batteries and three prepaid phone cards.
Quietly, she attached the new cord, and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. The hallway was deserted and silent. Most of the students had gone straight to their rooms after the welcome reception.
She picked up the phone and made it as far as the area code before hanging up, fear rising in unison with disgust in her belly. She was such an idiot. What was she going to say to him? "Hi Jess, missing you already. Sorry for the kiss and go incident? By the way, could you tell Dean I say hi?" Yeah, that would go over well. He probably already hated her for running.
What was she doing? She was acting like she was talking to her sixth grade crush and worrying of whether he liked her or not. It was ridiculous! Kiss or no kiss, he was still her friend. Friend. That was it.
She picked up the handset again, and with shaking fingers, dialed the memorized numbers (how often had her fingers traced those numbers while he was gone, wishing that if she dialed him, he would be on the other end?), and listened to it ring once, twice.
"Yeah."
"You bought me a CD!" She exclaimed and instantly cringed at her abruptness. This was not how she had planned this to go.
"Huh. Most people say hello at the beginning of a conversation. Considered polite. A way to introduce who exactly is yakking away."
"Jess..."
"Of course, with caller ID, it may be unnecessary, but since Uncle Luke refused to get one of those "privacy traps," because, it takes the power out of the call, he says, calling people and having them know who he is, even those weak arguments don't hold up."
"Jess." She said again, and then stopped. "Hi."
She could almost hear his smile. "Hey to you, too. No, I did not buy you a CD. I lent you a CD, one that you had better return without a scratch on it. The case intact. Nothing I hate more than a broken case."
"Oh." A part of her was expected disappointed. No, she hadn't wanting him buying her gifts. She didn't, but the gesture had been so... sweet.
"You like it?" He questioned lazily.
"Yeah. I loved it. She's really good. Paris even liked it; we listened to it for the whole ride up."
"Good."
"It doesn't seem like the kind of music you'd like, though. There wasn't the beat of the drums and angry lyrics-oh, she was actually singing-- with words and everything!" She teased.
"Hey! Just because I got one kind of music that I listen to, to drive Luke mad, it doesn't mean that I don't have others. Your friend Lane's got nothing on me."
"Fine, be defensive." She was laughing loudly now.
"So" he drawled. "How you been?"
"Good." She answered, stopping a flood of an answer that sprang to her lips. How she wanted to tell him about the horridness of her day, the regret for even coming. But she was the one who had called him, he surely didn't want to listen to her complain, especially since she still wasn't sure of why she had called.
"The conference?"
"So far, non-existent. Paris had the dates wrong, nobody's here until tomorrow. Then we'll have the mandatory 'meet and greet' dinner with superficial conversation served with the mashed potatoes."
A comfortable pause lingered over the phone. She could hear his bed squeak as he settled more comfortably into the cushions.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"Talking to you." She could feel him smirk.
Rory smiled, "No, I mean, before."
"Reading."
She waited, the silence lengthening around her unspoken question and his refusal to answer. It was a game of chicken to see who would give in first, and hating the silence that ticked away the few minutes of connection, she spoke first. "What?"
"Lord of the Rings."
"Oh."
"Don't like it?"
"No, I didn't mean, I mean, it was a good movie."
"You've never read it." He sounded incredulous.
"No. I've been meaning to, but I don't know. I'm just not into fantasy." She finished lamely.
"Rory Gilmore, you are a literature snob." He laughed, a real deep laugh without the usual layers of sarcasm.
"I am not!" She protested.
"Admit it. You won't read it is because everybody else likes it and it's popular. Not one of your obscure, morose Russian authors, so you won't get it a chance."
She was quiet, startled by the insight that he had about her. He was right. Then, timidly, "So you like it then."
"Yeah. The Hobbit was one of the first long books I read in the third grade. For weeks after, I was Bilbo in search of a dragon's treasure. Liked it ever since. Read again every summer, 'cause the descriptions are beyond parallel. It's more than just a story about good against evil, it's the unsure against the ultimate and most subtle evils-fear and greed, and how we can't hope to conquer those evils unless we got friends to support us. The movie, the movie was good, but it missed much of that and turned it into the usual over-the-top Hollywood battlefield." He finished, his voice more animated than she had ever heard.
"Once again, not the response I was expecting. First Eva and now you're getting all sentimental. Are you a Touched by An Angel fan too?"
"You call for a reason?" he said abruptly, more than a hint of annoyance filtering across the phone line. She ignored it.
"I seem to remember a conversation with you, me and Paris where you admitted that you liked Jane Austen, too. Iz dar a widdle teddie bear under all dat webel?" She cooed, now smiling broadly. She hadn't had such good teasing fodder in a long time.
"I'm going now." He threatened, but she thought she could also hear amusement in his tone. At least she hoped so.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop! Sorry, it's just so...cute."
"You said you'd stop."
"That was it. Scout's honor." She smiled once more at the image of little Jess running around chasing dragons. "Okay. I'll give it a try."
"If you're nice," he heavily emphasized the word, "I'll lend it to you when you get back."
A sudden idea flitted across her brain, and something strange, deep down inside grasped hold of it tightly. "Um, actually, I mean, if you're reading it now, maybe you could read it aloud, some of it, I mean, if you want, you don't have to . . ." The rational side of her, which seemed to have a large lag time recently had kicked in. She was so silly sometimes! What had she been thinking? "Forget it, it's a silly question, I'll find a cop-"
"Rory. Sure. You comfortable?" At her affirmative, he cleared his throat. "The Fellowship of the Ring. Chapter 1: A Long-Expected Party. 'When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced...'"