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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years ago

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If James Bond Was Bruce Springsteen

PART FORTY-FOUR OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Ella tries to focus on the future.

A/N: Surprise! Here’s the epilogue way earlier than I thought! Seriously, I have loved writing this story. Thank you so much to everyone who went on this journey with me. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

five years later

Biting at the inside of her cheek, Ella struggled to keep her eyes open. One hand was on her stomach, and her free hand went to her mouth. Ever since getting pregnant, the nervous nail-biting was nonstop. She didn’t know exactly why, and she didn’t know exactly how to get it to stop, either. After Jess finished another passage, he cast her a glance and frowned when he saw her fingers resting on her lips. He scoffed and gently reached over to bring her nails from her teeth.

“You need to quit that, Eleanor,” he said.

Rolling her eyes, Ella shifted and readjusted her position with her head on his shoulder as he read. “Fine. I’m sorry. I’m just nervous to see your mom tonight.”

“Why?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

She sighed. Things had been tense between Jess and his mother as of late, since she had accidentally landed in a religious cult with her husband and daughter. They had managed to escape before being totally brainwashed, but the incident left a bad taste in Jess’s mouth. It reminded him a bit too much of his childhood, and the thought of Doula having to experience any of what he had made his insides squirm. The atmosphere of frustration had resulted in Ella and Jess waiting as long as possible to tell Liz and TJ about the pregnancy. Seeing them at Luke and Lorelai’s wedding was simply inevitable, and the news would be obvious. Ella was a little over four months along, and had a clearly pregnant belly, which showed in the simple gray dress printed with small black flowers she was wearing. Jess, Ella knew, was more likely worried about exposing his own baby to Liz, even before she was born.

Ella shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t want seeing her to make you too upset. We’re the ones who get to decide how involved she is.”

Jess let a small smile across his lips. He leaned down to kiss the crown of Ella’s head. “Don’t worry about me, honey. I know.”

“Okay,” she said in earnest. “Just let me know if that changes.”

“Will do, Stevens.” Then, he shut the book, saving his place with his finger, and looked over at her inquisitively. Her eyes were tired, and she was a little pale. “You can sleep if you want to. We don’t have to be at Liz and TJ’s any specific time. No one here is gonna care if you rest for a little while.”

“Maybe, Mariano,” she said, running her hand over her stomach absently. “I just hate being so tired during the day.”

“Hey, at least the puking finally stopped,” Jess said with an opportunistic chuckle.

Letting her eyes flutter shut, she laughed with him. “That’s true.” Up until two weeks earlier had seen Ella constantly slammed with morning sickness. The tide was recently changing to crazy cravings, barbeque sauce on top of a banana being the highlight of the last week.

A couple minutes later, with Jess back to his reading, Ella did end up dozing off. She was cozy on the Gilmore couch, wrapped in a black cardigan over her soft, worn dress. The autumn chill had just arrived in the Northeast, and Ella had yet to adjust to it once more all the way. The air smelled crisp and familiar in Stars Hollow. It was the first time they had been back in over a year, busy trying to get pregnant, and then freaking out once they finally did. But distance had indeed made the heart grow fonder. Ella was happy to be able to see everyone again, and the idea that she was free to leave whenever she wanted, guilt-free, made the trip infinitely more enjoyable. The little blue house was finally sold to a young new family over eighteen months prior.

She floated back to reality at the sound of Luke’s heavy footfalls down the stairs. Opening her eyes, she didn’t move. Instead, she watched with Jess as Luke descended from the upstairs in his wedding suit. They’d barely arrived for the visit when Lue had raced upstairs with self-conscious requests for honest opinions. Then, he’d remained upstairs for twenty minutes fussing over himself before finally returning. Ella fought back a laugh as he came down, but he did in fact look decent in the suit. A fond smirk came over Jess’s face as he shut the book with a snap, putting it beside him.

“Well, where’s Right Said Fred when you need ‘em?” he drawled dryly.

Ella snorted, finally raising her head from Jess’s shoulder. “I second that.”

Luke barely noticed their compliments, instead fiddling with the small silk square meant to go in his pocket. “The guy who sold me this suit put this thing in the box. I don’t know what the hell to do with it.”

“It’s a pocket square,” Jess explained, brows furrowed. Even he knew that one after being forced to wear a tux at the launch party for Dave Eggers’ collection at Truncheon last year. “Do the math.”

“Oh,” Luke said, looking down at it. Realization dawned on his face and he put the pocket square in its rightful place. “Oh, it looks kind of nice.”

“Sure does, boss,” Ella said, biting back giggles. Luke was like a deer in headlights.

“So, this is the big outfit for tomorrow,” Luke announced, finally turning to them and putting his arms up to show them the look. “Get it all out now.”

“I like it. You look like James Bond if James Bond was also Bruce Springsteen,” Ella said.

“That’s what it is!” Jess said with mock excitement and wide eyes, pointing to Ella.

“But, I think it’ll make Lorelai’s whole life, Luke. Seriously,” she said with more sincerity, almost pride.

“Thanks, kid,” he said shyly. Then, he looked at his nephew. “Jess?”

Jess paused for a moment, then stood up and spoke with gravity. “Turn around?”

“Jess,” Luke said, sighing in exasperation.

Raising his eyebrows expectantly, Jess gestured in a circle. “Turn.”

Luke did as Jess said, spinning in a slow circle. “Well?”

“You are a very handsome man,” Jess answered.

Luke rolled his eyes. “All right.”

“I mean, very hot,” Jess continued emphatically.

“I got it,” Luke said.

Jess chose not to take the hint. “Rande Gerber hot.”

“Enough, Jess,” Luke warned.

Jess’s face softened with sincerity. “Hey. You look good.”

“Yeah?” Luke asked, surprised.

Jess clapped Luke on the shoulder and then went to sit back next to his wife. “I only do sincere once, man.”

“Right, thanks,” Luke replied.

Ella laughed, feeling nostalgic but not letting it overtake her. Since finding out about the pregnancy, Ella had been trying to focus on the future instead of the past. Even if it scared her a little. She was overjoyed at the idea she was going to get to see Luke and Lorelai marry. Before the conversation could go in any other direction, Kirk rushed into the house unannounced, taking a seat on the armchair opposite Ella and Jess. He put his head in his hands and gave a distressed groan.

“Luke! Everything is under control!” Kirk screeched.

“What happened to knocking, Kirk?” Luke asked.

“Yeah!” Jess said ardently, picking up his book again. “What if we were naked?”

Ella nudged him playfully with her elbow as a soft, sly smirk came over his face.

“Don’t say that,” Luke admonished him.

Kirk shot up and headed in the direction of the downstairs bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Luke asked.

Ella watched from her spot, her head back on Jess’s shoulder, as Kirk shouted about how he was going to throw up because he had messed up the wedding decorations at the gazebo, where the ceremony was to take place the following day. In the midst of the argument, Lorelai wandered in from the kitchen with a Pop Tart in her hands. She wordlessly handed one to Ella, who had been telling Lorelai about her recent sweet tooth during their frequent phone calls. Smiling gratefully, Ella raised her head and threw the wrapper away in the bin next to her as the scene unfolded in front of her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Luke asked.

“I live here,” Lorelai said plainly. “You look hot.”

“Rande Gerber hot,” Jess chimed in without looking up from his reading.

Ella snorted a laugh.

“Yeah.” Lorelai continued munching on her pastry.

“You’re supposed to be at the Inn!” Luke insisted. Lorelai was meant to be spending the day at the Dragonfly, before Luke, Jess, and Ella departed to sleep in the apartment above the diner for the night.

“I was,” Lorelai said. “They don’t have Pop Tarts.”

“Get outta here!” Luke exclaimed.

“Why?” Lorelai’s brow crinkled.

“I’m not supposed to see you before the wedding,” Luke explained. “It’s bad luck.”

“Oh, are we doing that?” Lorelai asked.

The confusion went on, as Rory entered the room as well and was equally surprised Luke wanted to partake in the superstitious tradition. The two Gilmore women pretended to leave lamely before Luke gave into letting Lorelai stay. At talk of pizza for dinner, Ella’s stomach growled, despite her having just finished the Pop Tart. Jess heard it and chuckled, standing and putting his book in his back pocket before holding his hand out for her to grab.

“We should get going. Liz is making dinner and we won’t have the heart to leave if you threaten pizza,” Jess said.

“You sure? There’s still time to back out,” Lorelai said.

Ella sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear after rising. “No, I think we’re stealing enough thunder telling her the night before your wedding, let alone the day of.”

“Well, considering you didn’t tell anyone you got engaged until after you got married,” Luke said gruffly, “she probably won’t be as shocked as you think she will.”

“Agreed,” Lorelai said, nodding.

They both still threw in the occasional jab about Jess and Ella’s elopement, having missed it. Mostly, it was good-natured. Mostly.

“You guys got copies of all the pictures!” Jess said defensively.

Ella could only laugh along with Rory.

“Yeah, and you can keep Liz’s thunder,” Lorelai assured her, back on topic. “I don’t think I’m interested in it.”

Ella laughed, but followed with her hand back in Jess’s grasp as he went over to the doorway. “We should be back in a couple hours.”

“Hopefully,” Jess added, sullen.

“Hey, look alive, Mister Sunshine,” Ella teased.

He rolled his eyes playfully as he grabbed their coats and Ella’s bag. Lorelai, Luke, and Rory began bidding them goodbye (while Kirk lay on the couch, wailing and wallowing). Ella’s smile faltered a bit as she looked at Rory. They spoke semi-regularly, but it was sometimes very hard for Ella to bite her tongue. Rory was floundering in her career, burnt out from her intensity in school, and back to sleeping with unavailable men. Her affair with Logan, who was engaged, had been going on for a while, and Ella tried not to judge her. Instead, she just felt sad that her childhood friend was struggling. Rory had experienced meltdowns over bad grades even when they were in kindergarten. She had just begun working as the editor of the Stars Hollow Gazette, though, which Ella thought might actually be perfect for Rory. She hoped things would brighten up soon.

Jess held Ella’s coat up for her to put on chivalrously.

It made Ella roll her eyes at how adorable he was. If she didn’t know it was only because of what a good dad he was already becoming, it would have been irritating. But she couldn’t help the way her heart glowed at the thought. He was a natural with kids. Always had been, even when he had no experience. And after the baby came, Jess and Ella were going to split time off, since Ella didn’t want to miss the summer semester at the University. Both of them would be part-time, and Ella was glad for both herself, and also, the baby. She was lucky Truncheon had finally picked up enough speed for significant taking of prolonged leave.

“It’s only a couple blocks, Jess. I think I’ll just carry it. I’ll be fine.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s what you said last time. Then you got a fever!”

“God, you have no concept of weather! You can’t get sick from it! We’ve been over this!” she argued warily. “It was a coincidence! And it was just a cold, anyway!”

“Seems like a pretty big coincidence,” he said.

“Yeah, seems like it,” she retorted flatly.

He sighed. “C’mon, Elle. Help me out. What’s the point in risking it?”

After a calculating look, she finally relented and turned, slipping her arms into the plaid peacoat’s sleeves. “Okay. But I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for you, James Dean.”

She faced him again, and shot him a look, as she pulled her blonde waves from beneath her collar.

“Thank you so much,” Jess deadpanned.

“And, for Rhiannon,” she added, putting a hand to her stomach again with the extra layer on.

Jess was donning his jean jacket, and he scoffed. “C’mon, Elle.”

“Rhiannon?” Lorelai asked.

“I’m trying to convince him,” Ella said, tilting her head to her husband.

“I just think it’s a bit of a mouthful,” Jess said, shrugging.

“But we can call her ‘Annie’ for short, like I said,” Ella continued, unwilling to back down. The name had been on her mind forever. And they had already decided the baby’s middle name would be ‘Sophia.’

Jess sighed through his nose, then glanced at her earnestly. For once, Ella saw him actually consider it. Very seriously. Fleetwood Mac still wasn’t his favorite, but as he looked at her back in the Gilmore house, a reflection of who she had been over a decade earlier, he could hear her playing the song on Miss Patty’s piano the night of their first Thanksgiving together so vividly. It was like he was there again. And his eyes shone with love. It seemed he might like the name for their daughter after all.

“Maybe,” he said finally.

She smiled widely, dimples showing and hazel eyes dancing. “Progress. I’ll take what I can get, cutie.”

“See you guys later?” Jess said, eyebrows raised at the other three.

They uttered various confirmations and Jess turned to open the door as Lorelai came up behind them, blowing a kiss. Ella and Jess walked out the door, hand-in-hand, towards the dark green Volvo, which now seemed like it had been their car forever. As they descended the front porch steps, orange leaves crunching under their feet in the yard, they talked amongst themselves.

“I can’t believe I finally converted you to good taste, Mariano!” Ella teased. “Your daughter’s gonna be named after a Stevie Nicks song!”

Jess scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like you’re anywhere close to indoctrinating me, Stevens.”

“So, you’re not denying the name thing, then?” she asked.

“No, I’m not denying the name thing,” Jess answered after a moment.

Ella pressed a kiss to his cheek. He rolled his eyes, but eventually became genuine, turning her head with a gentle hand on her chin so he could kiss her on the lips just before they made it to the car. From the doorway, Rory shook her head and laughed at their familiar brand of bickering.

“Guess some things never change,” Lorelai said, chuckling with her daughter.

Luke smiled fondly from behind the two women, while Ella and Jess prepared to drive away. He watched them go. “Yeah. I guess not.”

#gilmore girls #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls oc fanfiction #jess mariano #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano au #jess mariano x oc fanfiction #oc fanfiction #original character #x oc #luke danes #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore

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missgoalie75 · 7 years ago

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a gilmore christmas | fic: instead of cursing the darkness, light a candle

title: instead of cursing the darkness, light a candle word count: ~3,000 disclaimer: title is from ‘light a candle’ by neil young. summary: post-revival | in which paris invites jess over for hanukkah for reasons not limited to doyle screwing up his flight and paris cutting out everyone due to election day reactions. note: this was written for a gilmore christmas, so please make sure to check out all the works! thank you @alspancakeworld for hosting this again.

Jess only has Paris Geller's cell phone number because he babysat her two kids as a one-time thing: he happened to be in the city on the same night that her babysitter fell through and she had to go to a gala. It wasn't a bad night – he ordered pizza for the kids, they watched some animated movies that he missed when he was their age; he occasionally texted Paris, who checked in every hour. The kids were supposed to go to bed at eight, but he let them stay up and they tired themselves out by nine. Paris came home at one in the morning, tired and a little tipsy and she thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, which he doesn't think she would've ever done if she were sober. The next morning, he made breakfast for the family and then left.

That was about a month ago and he didn't expect to hear from her so soon, let alone a week before Christmas:

From Paris Geller: I’m assuming you’re not doing anything for the holidays this year because I’m told you rarely see your family during that time, so if that’s the case, you can come to my Hanukkah gathering on the 24th.

From Paris Geller: I’ve had to cut out 80% of my social circle due to the election and Doyle isn’t going to make it until Boxing Day because he’s a self-centered writer and screwed up booking a simple red eye.

From Paris Geller: And my kids actually like you, so please.

Jess stares at the series of texts, completely flabbergasted.

From Jess Mariano: I figured since you were in the medical field you would be in better company.

From Paris Geller: You’d think, but they’re either too wealthy and want to keep their $$$, they’re self-hating Jews, and/or they voted for Jill Stein.

From Jess Mariano: Yikes.

From Paris Geller: It’s been a rough 6 weeks.

He knows. After the gala, after she kissed his cheek in thanks, she proceeded to hiss about an asshole donor who loves his hunting rifles and money too much and how he's confident about the upcoming administration, tears of rage in her eyes. He couldn't judge her for that since Rory was incapacitated for days and can only imagine Paris just functioning for her kids' wellbeing.

(And he himself punched a hole in the wall at Truncheon at two in the morning on election night, drunker than he'd been in years, but nobody knows that.)

From Jess Mariano: Yep.

From Paris Geller: So, can you come? Incentives: you sleep in the guest room, you have access to my PRIVATE gym, state of the art kitchen, books.

From Jess Mariano: You think you have me all figured it out don’t you.

From Paris Geller: Private. Gym.

Jess sighs and rubs his eye before cupping his jaw in thought. It’s true, he hasn’t gone out of his way to come to Stars Hollow for the holidays for a variety of reasons, most of which revolve around bad memories with Liz, and recently he’s enjoyed spending the time either by himself or with a few other misfits watching Reservoir Dogs (his choice) and Die Hard (definitely not his choice).

From Paris Geller: AND I’m buying good rugelach. I’m going to Park Slope for them.

He does have an appreciation for good rugelach. Besides, with Chris attempting to mend his relationship with his brother and going out of town and Matthew going to his grandmother’s house, he thinks he can close up shop for a few days.

From Jess Mariano: Do I need to bring anything?

From Paris Geller: No, just respectable clothes.

From Jess Mariano: Do you still picture me like I’m seventeen wearing camo and baggy pants?

From Paris Geller: Obviously. I bet it shocks you every time to see my short hair.

From Jess Mariano: Fair point. I’ll come after lunch.

From Paris Geller: No, you come FOR lunch. You’re a guest. I will feed you.

From Jess Mariano: I have a hard time imagining your cooking…

From Paris Geller: I’m going to take you out to lunch in a damn restaurant. Unless you have made up important work to get done on Christmas Eve.

From Jess Mariano: Okay…I’ll come for lunch.

From Paris Geller: Great. See you then.

Jess reads over the exchange and shakes his head.

"So, what are you doing for Christmas this year? Staying at Truncheon?" Luke asks a few days before Christmas Eve.

"No, I'll be in New York," Jess answers as he's doing sit ups on his bedroom floor.

"Who's there?"

Jess sighs, does two more sit ups, and picks up the phone by his hip on the ground. "Are the Gilmores around?"

"What, why?"

"Because I don't want to deal with a reaction right now."

"Okay, weirdo, no, I'm in the storage room. Why is this a secret?"

Jess runs his teeth over his bottom lip. "Paris."

"What?"

"Paris Geller. I'm doing Hanukkah with her and her kids."

"…But why?"

"Because she asked and I figured why the hell not." He puts the phone back down and does another set of sit ups.

He does a few before Luke asks, "Is this about Rory?"

Jess clenches his jaw as he propels himself forward. "Not everything is about her."

"You know you're always welcome –"

"Thanks, Luke, but I'm good."

"Okay, if you say so…but Paris? Really?"

"You know, she's not terrible."

"She's terrifying."

She's a force of nature, but Jess just thinks at the end of the day, Paris Geller is someone who takes what she wants by sheer will and has always had a hard time finding – and keeping – people in her life who respect it. There's nothing terrifying about it. (Although the glint in her eyes when she talks about certain things like politics and women in television is a little bit concerning.)

"You know Rory and Lorelai are going to find out about it."

Obviously, but Jess doesn't want to have a conversation about it with Rory, who will probably be territorial about it. "Whatever, at least it's not right now."

"What are you doing?"

Jess finishes his last sit up. "Sit ups. Now pushups."

"You still have to tell me how the hell –"

"Bye, Luke, speak to you later." Jess hangs up on him, flips over, and begins his first rep of pushups.

(Look, Rory being pregnant is…whatever. None of his business.)

Even though Paris told Jess not to bring anything, he buys bagels because that's typically his go-to 'thank you for hosting me' gift since everyone loves a New York bagel. And he buys jelly doughnuts since he wasn't sure if she just bought rugelach and also, he was hungry on his way in and wanted a quick snack. And going by the way her collarbones are sticking out and her face appearing a little gaunter than the last time he saw her, he's glad he brought both.

Gabriela and Timothy hug him and make him promise to draw and play games and do other kid things that will end up exhausting him. But he likes them – they're surprisingly warm children, especially considering who gave birth to them.

"Alright, let's get moving, we have a reservation!" Paris says over their excited squeals. "Coats on! Hats too!"

"Where are we going, exactly?" Jess asks.

Paris rolls her eyes. "Don't worry, I picked American food."

"I wouldn't have minded diversity," he says with an amused smile. "I grew up with six different types of cuisine in the same block."

"There's Chinese tomorrow night."

"Wow, really? Something tells me you didn't adhere to that Jewish tradition growing up," he laughs.

Paris smiles. "Definitely not, but my mom ate a handful of almonds and coffee on a daily basis, so that was out of the question."

"You're going to have to buy a vat of lo mein," he warns her as he gets down on a knee to help Gabriela zip her coat.

"Don't worry, you won't starve," Paris scoffs, ushering her kids out the front door. "And, obviously," she adds, as if he were crazy to suggest not ordering enough lo mein to feed a family for a week.

"Just making sure," Jess sighs, shutting the door behind him.

Jess didn't know much about Hanukkah prior to living with Matthew. Before, his knowledge stemmed from "The Hanukkah Song" and living in some predominantly Jewish neighborhoods. Now, he has a better understanding – he even knows the blessings recited when lighting the menorah, but he butchers the pronunciation, according to Matthew, so he was never expected to do the honors.

"Who remembers the blessings of the first night?" Paris asks.

Jess raises his hand.

"Who out of the practicing Jews in the room remembers the blessing of the first night?" Paris clarifies dryly as her children giggle.

"Can't I be an honorary Jew?" he asks. "I bet if we put it to a vote, I'd win." He grins at her children, who beam back at him.

"Be quiet, James Taggart. Gabriela? Your Hebrew School teacher said you were doing well," Paris says, running her thumb over the apple of her daughter's cheek.

"Who's James?" Timothy asks.

"A character from a bad writer," Jess answers.

"You can't judge a writer by one book," Paris argues.

"Ayn Rand writes the same s…garbage every time. One is enough. Let Gabriela recite the blessings."

Paris scowls and shakes her head.

Jess technically only knows the first two blessings which are said every night of Hanukkah, so when Gabriela stumbles over a word, he whispers the correct one in her ear. He lights the middle candle with a Bic lighter from his pocket when Paris gives him a nod. Gabriela and Timothy both keep a hand on Jess' when he lights the rightmost candle after the third blessing is recited.

"You did beautifully," Paris says.

"Couldn't have done it better myself," Jess adds, putting the candle back in the menorah.

"Tomorrow, you can light the second candle," Paris tells Timothy, who nods.

"I'm going to be perfect," Timothy announces, very much an echo of his mother.

Jess will be very interested in how Timothy will grow up.

Jess got Timothy a stack of coloring books and a nice set of colored pencils since he seemed to have the bigger passion for art the last time he saw him. He gave Gabriela a large set of multicolored beads and different kinds of strings to make her own jewelry.

"What the fuck, Mariano, what is this gift giving genius?" Paris says quietly through her teeth.

"Nice alliteration. I thought about getting them the likes of The Phantom Tollbooth and Jacob Have I Loved but I figured you should do the honors in a couple of years."

She looks away innocently, eyes falling toward the closet where he's sure she's keeping her children's gifts. He feels such a strange sort of fondness for her.

After the kids are tucked in, Paris opens a fresh bottle of wine and Jess places a gift for her on the kitchen counter.

She stares at it blankly for a second. "Really?"

"You really have a horrible preconception of me," he jokes. "It's not much."

She finishes pouring the glasses and puts the wine back in the cooler before opening the box, which has an Amazon gift card and a nice, expensive pen.

She smiles – a soft, genuine one that probably hasn't been seen by many.

"Okay, I got you something too," she says, going over to the closet outside of the kitchen.

He opens the neatly wrapped gift and laughs, finding an Amazon gift card on top of a pile of different sized Moleskin journals, all black.

"I'm a cliché, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but it's fine. We all have our faults."

He snorts and sticks the card into the topmost journal. "Got any more latkes?"

So they're sitting on the couch with a plate of reheated latkes, a bowl of leftover blue and white jellybeans, and full glasses wine.

"This upcoming year is going to suck," Paris whines.

He nods in agreement.

"I swear to God, if I knew this was going to happen, I wouldn't have had kids. I'm devastated that my children will be exposed to this bullshit and will probably have to fix it their entire lives."

Jess frowns. "Not that I'm Mr. Optimistic, but I'm hoping we won't totally fuck ourselves over irreparably."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I have a hard time imagining this future fucked up administration will turn your kids into assholes. I'm sure you're instilling good feminist values."

"Honestly, Timothy I think will bully his peers into believing the right things. He reminds me of me so much, it's scary."

"He glowers like you, it's unnerving," he agrees.

"Gabriela has her moments when it's like I'm looking in a mirror, but she's definitely got Doyle's demeanor."

"How's that going?"

Paris sighs. "I can't imagine getting back with him. He's not the same. And neither am I in some respects, but –"

"You feel like you've pretty much stayed the same," he assumes.

She stares at him. "Is that bad?"

He shrugs. "I don't think so."

They drink and eat in silence for a few moments.

"I can't believe she's pregnant," Paris says flatly before bringing the glass to her mouth. She takes a long drink. "I know she was going through…I don't know. A rough patch. But…pregnant?"

He vividly recalls sitting across from a desk, sipping half-terrible whiskey as Rory talks about having no underwear. He doesn't bring that up, but he hums in agreement and drinks.

"Is it weird to be disappointed in a friend? Because I feel that way."

He shrugs. "Don't know. Probably not."

She stares at him over her glass. "You were a dark horse."

"What?"

"I mean, I never would've guessed this scenario happening in a million years."

"Is it the hair?" he jokes.

"The success, the lack of attitude, the rippling pectorals."

He just stops himself from laughing out loud. "Please don't ever say that again."

"Oh, come on, you're jacked, it's ridiculous, who are you." She finishes her wine. "What are you even doing with your abs, because I can't for the fucking life of me get rid of this pouch of fat right below my belly button."

"Are we going to work out together tomorrow morning?" he half-jests, but judging by the way her eyes flash with determination, he knows she takes the suggestion seriously.

"I'm up at seven and I think the kids will be in a food coma."

He shakes his head and finishes his wine.

As much as Jess enjoys doing plenty of things on his own, it's actually not bad exercising with Paris. They keep headphones in for most of the time and they somehow motivate each other, mostly by Paris staring holes into his face while either of them are completing sets.

While they're finishing up, both of her kids come in and exclaim "Happy Chrismukkah!" which Jess didn't realize was still a thing people outside of his friend group – still stuck in the mid-2000s – said to one another.

"Can you make pancakes again, Jess? Please?" Timothy asks.

"Yeah, please!" Gabriela echoes.

"Depends if your mother –" Jess starts.

"Oh, don't worry, I have everything you'll need, I was prepared for this request" Paris interrupts him.

Jess laughs. "Of course."

He makes chocolate chip pancakes for the kids and omelets for himself and Paris, even though they end up eating a pancake or two.

Paris gives her kids a few gifts to open in the spirit of Christmas, taking pictures and sending them to Doyle. They change into new winter-themed pajamas and watch holiday-themed movies.

At one point, Paris orders a disgusting amount of Chinese food to have delivered, but Jess offers to pick up.

On his walk, he calls Luke.

"He lives."

Jess rolls his eyes. "Merry Christmas to you, Uncle Luke."

"Merry Christmas. How's it going over there?"

"Very nice."

"Seriously?"

"If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here. Have you seen Liz yet?"

"We're having dinner later. She didn't call you yet?"

"I'm sure it's coming."

"It's Jess, want to say hello?" Luke asks distractedly.

Jess bites back a sigh.

"Hi, Jess, Merry Christmas!" Lorelai says. "Remember, if you need help, just text the SOS emoji and we'll send a brigade."

"Pretty sure the brigade has the day off along with the post office – I think I'll survive in the meantime."

"Wish Paris and her kids a Happy Hanukkah."

"I will."

There a few seconds of silence until: "Merry Christmas, Jess."

He wets his bottom lip. "Merry Christmas, Rory."

"I have another chapter done – at this rate, maybe by spring, the first draft will be done."

"Your rate is definitely better than mine at the moment. I hope when you're done you'll consider submitting a draft to a smaller publishing company."

"Truncheon is number one on the list."

He smiles. He reaches the restaurant and comes to a stop. "I gotta go, but I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Bye, Jess."

He hangs up and for a moment, he considers the fact that next year, she'll have a few-months-old baby, and desperately wishes for a strong drink.

(There's a point when Liz calls and while the conversation is brief – he speaks at length with Doula of all the gifts she received and thanking him for his gifts that he sent in the mail – Paris at one point slides him a beer and they cheer to being better than their shitty mothers. When the kids go to sleep, they watch Reservoir Dogs and Miracle on 34th Street and eat more Chinese food. Jess considers making more of an effort to hang out with Paris and her kids with the new year.)

Doyle arrives early in the morning and there's a weird moment when he sizes Jess up, which Jess doesn't want to think about or consider.

But Jess leaves soon after, letting the Geller-McMaster family have their time alone. Paris sends Jess home with leftover latkes and Chinese food and a box of rugelach. He's not one for hugs still, but he's okay with hugging Gabriela and Timothy and Paris.

On his drive home, he sneaks a rugelach or two, considers where he's going to hang up the drawings Timothy gave him, his new beaded bracelets made by Gabriela rolling up and down his wrist.

(He's also very excited to hole himself in his room and read, but that's just because some things just won't change.)

#agilmorechristmas #gilmore girls #jess mariano #paris geller #gg fic #missgoalie writes things

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pevensie-parker · 7 years ago

Text

Web of Lies

A Spider-Man: Homecoming Fanfiction

Summary: Liz visits her father in jail and receives an unexpected call from Peter.

Disclaimer: We own nothing.

A/N: We apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors in advance.

Part I: The Question

"I don't want to see him."

"You must. He's your father."

Was my father. The retort died on my lips. I couldn't disown him - not now, not ever, no matter what.

"Honey…" Mom clasped my hands as our eyes misted over for the umpteenth time since - "Your dad loves us. He did what he thought was best."

"Yeah, well, what he thought was best ruined our lives." Resentment breached the words despite my attempt to hide it. Senior year was destined to be the best, not worst, of my life. Priorities shifted from grades, prom, and college applications to uprooting and moving to Oregon in the middle of the semester - another repercussion of Dad's actions Mom and I had suffered the brunt of.

"Please, hon...we're the only family your father has. I'm upset, too, but once you see him you'll realize how sorry he is for putting you and I through this - which is why he wants us to start over. I'm sure talking to him will change how you feel and remind you why you love him."

I doubt it. "Fine." I dropped her hands. Unsure what to do, Mom busied them by twisting her gold wedding band with its blaze of diamonds around her finger. Was that, too, paid with blood money? Probably. How else could he have sustained our lifestyle? "But I'm not promising anything good will come out of it."

She nodded. "I know...just go in and see him. He's waiting for you, and we don't have much time." The analog clock on the wall read noon. Mom was right; our flight would depart in three hours.

My footsteps echoed down the corridor, amplified by nerves, the vast hall, or both. Corrections officers prowled about with guns, truncheons, and stone glares, their chests puffed with bravado. Crossing my arms, I brushed aside a wayward lock of hair, ignoring the inmates ogling me with sordid fantasies in their eyes. The tension permeating the air was a brittle calm before the storm; a pin drop could precipitate chaos. This place was as cold, hard, and forbidding as the men it contained.

Men like my dad.

Never in a million years did I envision him here. I covered my mouth, blinking back tears at the sight before me: my father in shackles and a beige jumpsuit, fingers drumming along the table. Besides fading cuts and bruises, he didn't seem different, yet he was - we both were.

His face split into a weary smile. "Hey there, hon."

"D-Dad?" I croaked, staggering toward him. His open arms invited me for a hug I accepted, to our mutual surprise, and, as resentment dissipated, I realize how much I missed him. Loved him. Eventually, we resigned ourselves to the fact this surreal moment must end and separated.

"Have a seat." He indicated the chair beside me. I collapsed into it, speechless still. How could this man build and sell intergalactic weapons of mass destruction during the day, then come home to kiss me goodnight like nothing was wrong?

"How are you doing?"

I ignored the pleasantries. All I wanted to know was, "Why?"

Sighing, he averted his gaze. "Liz…"

"No." I knew what was to follow: BS. Well, he could keep it because I wanted - deserved - the truth. "Why did you do this?"

He raised his head. "I needed to provide for my family."

"Through crime?"

Warmth drained from his eyes. "Revenge. If the Department of Damage Control never interfered with my business, none of this would have happened, and we wouldn't be sitting here today."

"Ever since the Battle of New York, you've been doing this? You lied to us for eight years?"

"I thought what I did was right."

"But it wasn't!"

His fist cracked on the table, startling me, and the officer nearby edged closer. I dodged quizzical glances thrown our way. "You think I don't know that?" he snapped before speaking again, his voice and face tempered by remorse. "I'm sorry, honey, for everything, but how else was I going to feed you, clothe you, provide for you? I had to think about your future - how was I going to to put you through school when Hoag and her associates took away the very thing that made it possible? I had to do what I had to do."

Despite his conviction, Dad's modus operandi didn't compute. "Why didn't you tell us? Mom could've helped, I could have gotten a job and paid some bills -"

"I didn't tell you or your Mom because I didn't want you to worry. I'm your father; I'm supposed to take care of you, not the other way around. I'm not proud of the things I've done, but I had no other option." The chair creaked as he leaned back. "My pride got the best of me."

"And that may cost you a life behind bars." The trial loomed, but I didn't need to gaze into a crystal ball to see he wouldn't return home in a long time, if ever.

"It's a price I'm willing to pay."

A blink of my eyes unleashed a warm gush of tears. "You're going to miss everything, Dad. My graduation, sending me off to college, my wedding...everything! Doesn't that bother you?"

"It doesn't 'bother' me - it's tearing me apart, and I'm sorry I won't be there to cherish those special moments." His voice, too, quavered with emotion - but the apology couldn't rewind the hands of time, as much as we wanted. "But you've got good people on the outside looking out for you. You have your Mom, your friends, Peter -"

"Parker?" I scoffed. "He stood me up at Homecoming. I can care less about him." Yes, I could, but couldn't - I really liked him, and wanted things between us to work, but how could they after his grand disappearing act? My senior homecoming dance, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, was ruined forever - thanks to him.

"For good reason."

"Please enlighten me, Dad."

He shook his head. "It's not my place to tell you - it's his. And if he doesn't, you're smart enough to figure it out yourself."

"I doubt he'll tell me. He's so secretive." Pursuing romance with an immature sophomore was a mistake I'd never repeat. "Not that it matters. I'm over him." My innards squirmed at the lie.

"That Peter Parker...he's a good kid. I gotta lot of respect for him."

Recalling the ride to Homecoming made me frown. "You only met him once, and even then, things were so tense between you guys."

He shrugged, chuckling. "Well, things are supposed to be tense when a guy takes my daughter out for the night. He left a good impression. But," He stared at me pointedly. "Stay away from him."

I stood. Time to go. "You don't have to tell me twice."

Dad rose with a clink of chains. There must have been a weird expression on my face because he insisted. "No, Liz. I'm serious. For your own good. I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but it's best you move to Oregon and never come back."

I nodded like I understood, but not really. "Okay, Dad."

The ominous note we parted on plagued me. Why was he so adamant I never return to New York?

I vowed to keep in touch; Dad said he'd keep us updated, although the media would indubitably beat him to it. I left the state penitentiary in a hat and sunglasses, a disguise contrived by mom and I to thwart the paparazzi that might betray me on this overcast day. The arrest and consequent investigation had garnered national attention and thrust us into the limelight; it wasn't until then I realized I took privacy and anonymity for granted. Hopefully in Oregon I could walk the streets without being pursued like a gazelle on the African savanna.

Mom hailed a taxi. "JFK, please," she told the driver as we clambered into the backseat before draping an arm over my shoulders and drawing me close.

"How'd it go?"

"I'm going to miss him." She nodded, expecting no different. My eyes were fluttering closed when my phone vibrated against my thigh. I rummaged through my bag - why'd I carry so much junk in it? - hastily extracting it and punching in the passcode. Ned. Swiping my index finger across the screen and pressing it against my ear I murmured, tentatively, "Ned?"

"No. It's Peter."

I rolled my eyes. Clever boy. I should hang up now, but I was in a magnanimous mood and willing to give him another chance - perhaps one too many. "Oh. You." My lip curled into a sneer.

"Liz, I'm sorry about everything."

"You've said sorry so many times its lost it's meaning. You left me at the dance, Peter."

"I did. I wish I could tell you why, but I can't."

My eyes narrowed. "Why are you acting so shady? Do you not trust me?"

He hesitated before replying. "It isn't that."

"Then why waste our time?"

"I'm not asking you to forgive me, Liz; I'm asking you to understand."

"Well, help me!"

"I'm not who you think I am. I want to be with you, but I can't. It's for your protection."

"From what? Who? My dad told me to stay away from you but I don't know -" Our trip to DC flashed before my eyes, of Peter going MIA before the team and I visited the Washington Monument, where Spider-Man rescued us from a plunge to certain death at the bottom of an elevator shaft. What were the odds of him and the webslinger - whose stomping ground was NYC - being at the nation's capital simultaneously?

Then the dance. Peter bailed at the start, hours before Mom's hysterical call about Dad's detainment by police. What was my runaway date doing all that time?

I glanced at Mom; thankfully, she was too engrossed with her own phone to pay my conversation any mind. Still, I lowered my voice, proceeding with caution. "You're him, aren't you? Spider-Man? You put my Dad in prison?"

I didn't need to see Peter agonize over this; his silence spoke for him. I waited for (no, wanted) him to deny it, laugh at the joke it was, but instead he asked, "Do you hate me for it?"

A/N: Thanks for reading! How do you think Liz will respond to Peter's question? Please let us know what you think! You can also read this story on fanfiction.net where you can find us @lost.in.elysium.

#spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #peter parker #liz toomes #tom holland #laura harrier #fanfiction #vulture #adrian toomes #michael keaton #marvel

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years ago

Text

Not Joyce or Monet

PART THIRTY-NINE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: major discussions of parent death/death in general, smoking, drinking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 6.3K

Summary: Jess publishes his second book and Ella receives a troubling call from Stars Hollow.

Flopping face-first down onto the bed, Ella breathed a sigh of relief. It would have felt strange not to have a little champagne at Jess’s book launch party. But, she was a lightweight. She was floating somewhere between tipsy, buzzed, and drunk. At least she was still capable of slipping off her shoes before making her way to the bedroom. She’d even managed to change into pajamas, brush her teeth, and wash her face. A far cry from the screwdriver incident at Liz’s baby shower. A heavy winter snow fell outside the windows and a touch of cold air seeped into the draughty apartment. Goosebumps rose lightly on her skin. In her state, they felt nice instead of uncomfortable. She was already dozing when Jess came in, having taken a quick shower. His hair was still damp as he climbed into bed next to her, the movement shaking her from her haze.

“Did you like your party?” she murmured, watching as he shut off the lamp and rolled over to face her.

His face was aglow with the bluish light of the snowy Saturday evening. “Mhm.”

She snickered a bit at his nonchalance. “I know you hate parties, but Chris insisted it was the best way to drum up business. And you do like surprises, Mr. Spontaneity. Matthew and I made it as lowkey as we could.”

“It wasn’t so bad, Eleanor. Really,” he said, shrugging. “You’re remembering that you whispered lines from Catch-22 in my ear all night, right?”

“I figured you’d need some Joseph Heller to make it through,” she explained, slightly sheepish.

Jess smiled. “Of course. And watching Chris and Leo get so drunk they do their acapella version of ‘Under Pressure’ could never be bad.”

“Leo does do a damn good Freddie Mercury,” Ella agreed, chuckling. “I didn’t realize the publishing agents would all go blackout level, too.”

“Oh, yeah. You should’ve seen what Chris did for the Subsect launch. It was like that scene where E.T. gets drunk. But if there were fifty aliens in the movie instead of just one,” Jess said flatly, begrudgingly.

“You must be a little drunk if you’re letting a cheesy eighties movie slip. Or have I finally converted you?” she teased, snuggling deeper into the pillow.

Jess smirked. “Not yet. Chris made me try his Manhattans to see if they ‘tasted too much like gasoline.’”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that they did,” Ella said.

“Someone give the lady a prize,” Jess shot back tiredly. “Good thing we walked there.”

“Yeah. And good thing I got to watch you catch a snowflake with your tongue on the way back.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed, cutie,” she said, forcing her laughter down. “I’ll be eating my words when you watch me fall on my ass while we’re ice-skating with April.”

She knew if he’d been entirely sober, he wouldn’t have gotten so caught up in his wonderment at the storm. But Ella had also seen him sticking out his tongue awaiting a snowflake in an old, yellowing photo album Liz had shown off during her baby shower. In it, Jess had been no more than three. Dressed in a raggedy winter jacket on some grimy corner of New York City. He and Liz were sticking their tongues out together. Seeing the photo had given Ella’s mouth a bittersweet taste. It was hard to imagine Jess ever feeling so relaxed around his mother. She saw the same rare awe from him on the walk home. Most of the time, he was so weighed down by the world he could barely come up for air. She thought she had never seen him look so young at heart before.

“Can’t wait,” Jess hummed, mocking. It was nearly time for April’s winter break, and Anna had somehow agreed to let her spend it with Luke, Lorelai, and Rory. Ella and Jess had opted to return to Stars Hollow for Christmas, after the bumps in the road on Thanksgiving. Two more days, and they’d be braving the icy roads on their way up to Connecticut. April had already called them to schedule a time for ice-skating. The proper, analytical way the little girl spoke never failed to amuse Ella.

“Me neither,” Ella quipped as her eyelids began to droop again. She could smell the minty scent of Jess’s shampoo.

As he watched her begin to drift off, he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. From what Matthew had said, Ella had essentially been put in charge of the party when Chris’s trademark irresponsibility made an appearance. Matthew had jury duty and couldn’t assume his usual role of organizer in the wake of Chris’s chaotic decision-making. What she’d managed to throw together, though, was one of the better parties Jess had ever been to. The publishers they knew usually sent younger employees to the underground press launches, and Chris had ended up making friends with most of the usual suspects at the launch for Jess’s first book. Ella had made sure the guest list only included familiar faces. If they just had to throw him a surprise party, which Chris demanded (normally, she wouldn’t have listened, but if it was a matter of getting his book better exposure, she was willing to risk it), she’d try to make it as comfortable for him as possible. Or, at the very least, bearable.

And she’d just gotten done with finals two days earlier. He could see how tired she was. Her nerves over the possibility of seeing her father during the winter holidays hadn’t helped her sleeping recently either. Though Jess wasn’t sure how it would actually pan out, she claimed she wanted an attempt at apologizing for what she’d said at Adam’s graduation. She was sick of family nonsense, she said. Maybe if she levelled the playing field, they could begin to understand each other again. Ella herself wasn’t sure exactly what had sparked her desire to try again with her family, but suspected it might have been Thanksgiving. Jess, simply put, was someone she admired. Seeing him trying to mend his relationships (even though he didn’t have to, even though it was difficult), made her feel just a little more confident. Maybe not everything turned out bad, after all.

Shutting his own eyes, Jess slipped his hand beneath Ella’s shirt, his fingertips ghosting over her back. She smiled softly at his touch, feather-light. A pleasant shiver rolled through her.

“Thank you for the party,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Well, thanks for writing my new favorite book,” she answered instantly, sleepy and sincere. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

. . .

There were still a couple hours left until lunchtime when Ella slipped through the door at Truncheon, but it wasn’t entirely uncommon for her to show up and work a little. Especially when she was on break from school and got antsy. Jess had debated giving her the easel he’d bought her for Christmas early, so she would have something new to focus on while he tied up the odds and ends at the book press. But, ultimately, he wanted to wait until the morning after they returned to Philadelphia. It would be far more surprising to wake up and find a Christmas present wrapped up in the living room on the morning of New Year’s Day than on the actual gift-giving holiday.

When he’d left for his last day of work prior to their trip to Connecticut, she’d still been half asleep. Her sketchbook was open on her bedside table, a pencil drawing of a child with hollow eyes having yet to be shaded. She’d been up late working on it the night before, on a roll. He hadn’t even shut the door to the apartment before she was out cold again. He’d been anxious to get back home, to pack and prepare for the trip. In his opinion, there was no use in only opening for a Monday and then closing for the holidays the rest of the week, but Matthew’s stickler spirit won out. Jess wasn’t going to be skipping around the store in merriment as the rest of the world took a vacation, but he also wasn’t moping around like Chris. He was in the midst of diffusing an argument between his two coworkers when Ella arrived.

He wanted to smile when he saw her, and almost did. But then he got a good look at her hazel eyes, and immediately he could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t that she was sleepy, though she looked a bit haggard in with her peacoat tied around her haphazardly and her hair wild, dotted with the snowflakes falling steadily outside. Instead, she looked almost unreachable. His Eleanor who was always so present and vivid and alive, even in the midst of drudgery. And she wasn’t daydreaming, either. She wasn’t off in her own thoughts, thinking of Emily Dickinson or James Joyce or Claude Monet. No; she was simply not there. Not really.

“Hey, honey. You’re early,” he began as she approached him, where he stood in between Matthew and Chris. The two of them didn’t even notice she’d come in until Jess addressed her, still too caught up in their argument over where to place the new books of free-form poetry.

Swallowing harshly, Ella gave a weak smile and raked her fingers through her hair. She walked up to them, wringing her hands together. Jess didn’t need to see her hands to know she had already bitten her nails down to the quick. At the interruption, Chris gave a frustrated huff and turned to Ella.

“Ella, please tell Matthew it makes zero sense to put the free-form poetry anywhere near the sonnets! They should be on opposite ends of the store, as far as I’m concerned,” he exclaimed in exasperation.

Matthew rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as his jaw clenched. “I’m glad you’re here, Ella. Please tell Chris that we don’t only sell poetry, and free-form or not, it has no business anywhere near science fiction!”

Furrowing her brows, distracted, Ella shook her head. “Um...I don’t know...but I….”

“What?” Jess asked as she gestured slightly with her hands. Her face was pale, and she almost seemed confused, at a loss for words. It didn’t happen to her often, to say the least.

Blowing out a breath, she tried again, jerking her thumb back over her shoulder. “Back at the apartment...I just got a call from my brother. My dad’s dead.”

Jess’s heart dropped into his stomach. “What?”

“Yeah,” Ella said, nodding. As she continued, she took a hair elastic from her wrist and began pulling her locks into a ponytail. “Adam said he was in a car accident this morning. Driving home from some bar in Maryland. If I had to guess, he was still a little drunk from last night. No one else got hurt, which is good. He hit a patch of black ice, and he was going too fast, and I guess he just went right off the road. Into a tree. And he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.”

Her speech became more urgent with every word, as they heard it sink in for her in real time. But she was never frantic, only determined and stern. The spacey fog was fading from her demeanor, though it remained in her eyes. Only in her eyes. She didn’t give them time to respond, just kept thinking out loud.

“Noah’s already on a plane from Oregon, but I don’t think he’s gonna be any help. And Adam said Fiona’s freaking out, so I’m almost definitely going to have to make the arrangements. I know you guys have work and stuff, but we need to pack up and get there before the rest of the family does, or everything will probably just explode on principle. Fuck! This is just like him. To die a week before Christmas!”

“Whoa, hey, Eleanor, just slow down for a second, okay?” Jess began, taking a hesitant step towards her and grabbing her hand. He squeezed once, hard, hoping to calm her down at least a little.

“Jesus, Ella-” Chris began.

“I’m so sorry,” Matthew said.

Ella shook her head, her face stoic. “Don’t, okay? Don’t be sorry. No one needs to be sorry. He was a fucking drunk, and it finally caught up with him. I just need to get back to Stars Hollow to take care of this, and then maybe Christmas won’t be completely ruined. Sound good?”

“Elle, just hold on. You should sit down and-” Jess said, but she cut him off.

“No, Jess. Seriously, I’m fine. Let’s just go and get it over with, and then it’ll be done,” she said, her hand never leaving his though she didn’t squeeze back. Her tone was tight, clipped, but she didn’t sound angry. He recognized it from the night on the bridge when she’d told him about the days following her mother’s death. The way she held it all together, and blocked it all out. Numb and headstrong.

“Do you want us to come with?” Matthew asked, watching with uncertainty as Ella began to tug Jess towards the door, grabbing his bag for him and handing him his coat.

“What? Of course not,” Ella said, insistent, as though it were obvious. “All I need to do is steal Jess for a few days. You need to do whatever it is you’re gonna do with Mabel. And Chris needs to do whatever it is he’s gonna do with Leo, and you need to tell me about it when we get back. I can pretty much guarantee your stories will be more fun than mine.”

“Are you sure?” Chris chimed in, brow heavy with worry. Her iciness surprised him. He had never heard someone react to a parent’s death quite so flippantly before.

“Yes. Jesus, Chris, keep up,” she replied, in a way which would have spurred a playful argument on a normal day. Again, her nonchalance unnerved all three of them.

Jess interlocked their fingers again instantly once he had his bag and his coat, almost heading out the door already. She was moving too fast for him to process much of anything, only reacting. He hadn’t seen her in such a frenzy in a very long time. “Eleanor, wait. Stop.”

“I can’t stop, Jess. I told you, we’ve gotta get there before my uncle has time to hit on Fiona and before Noah has time to piss off Adam. It’s fine. I promise. I’m fine.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she pulled him out the front door instead. As they went, she shouted over her shoulder to Matthew and Chris: “Happy holidays! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

And then, she and Jess were gone. Chris and Matthew exchanged concerned, flabbergasted glances.

. . .

Flashback was the word that came to the forefront of her mind, as she stared up at the ceiling in the Gilmore living room. Luke and Lorelai were trying, and she appreciated it. They could both tell she didn’t want to talk about it, only wanted a bit of normalcy after the long day. And they’d obliged. After all, they’d had practice. Lorelai knew exactly what to do. She’d had Luke bring dinner home from the diner: turkey sandwiches and sodas. She’d suggested they watch a movie after dinner, something campy horror. Finally, they had settled on The Lost Boys. Ella knew how much Jess hated the movie, especially Kiefer Sutherland’s mullet, but he never complained once. A large part of her wished he would. She wanted it to be the way it was supposed to be. She wanted to have Christmas in Stars Hollow with the people who felt more like her family than her father did. Adam celebrating with one of his school friends in Boston, Fiona with her sister, Noah with his finacée in Oregon. But, of course, things never went as planned. Not in Ella’s experience at least.

At some point during the movie, she’d fallen asleep on the couch. No matter how much she wanted to stay awake until the end, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Dealing with Fiona’s blubbering and Adam’s silence and Noah’s anger had pretty well exhausted her. Not to mention the business setting up the funeral at the church. She’d spent nearly two hours with the pastor, but the service was only halfway planned. She wished Aunt Julie could arrive sooner, but the girls were in school until Tuesday. Erin had some big recital she was pitching a fit about missing. Ella couldn’t blame her. She wouldn’t want to be there if she didn’t have to be. No, they would arrive on Wednesday morning. Two hours before the funeral, set for noon. At some point before then, Ella would have to sort out the flower arrangements and the music and the programs. At least Luke was providing the food. She assumed he would before he even offered. And she would have to write the eulogy. But she wasn’t even thinking about it yet. Every time the idea of writing it entered her mind, she would start humming a Stevie Nicks song and pointedly ignore it.

It was all too familiar. The planning, the writing, the consoling. Since they’d arrived in Stars Hollow that afternoon, it had been a non stop barrage of tasks and tears. None of it was surprising. And it almost made her want to laugh. The minute she heard that her mother was dead, she had burst out laughing, a nervous reaction she couldn’t control. Granted, the laughter came from deep inside her, and probably resembled a pained shriek more than an actual giggle. But it was laughter nonetheless, and her father had recognized it as such. He’d yelled at her until his voice became hoarse. She knew it wouldn’t happen again. He was the dead one now, after all. But still, she didn’t let the anxious laughter escape. She didn’t let anything escape. After the punishment she’d received for letting go last time, she knew not to do it again. No one was there to smack her, to scream, but she just couldn’t bring herself to forget how it had felt. Like she couldn’t even grieve right. And the best way to grieve became to not grieve at all.

She laid with one hand on her stomach and the other behind her head, analyzing the popcorn ceiling. She’d awoken with the room dim and the TV shut off. A quilt which she hadn’t fallen asleep under was draped over her, and there were hushed whispers in the direction of the kitchen. She hadn’t planned to wake up until morning, but she hadn’t planned to fall asleep there either. They were supposed to be sleeping in the apartment above the diner for the vacation, while Rory and April took the spare beds in the Gilmore house. But neither girl had yet to arrive, and Lorelai insisted Ella and Jess stay over after dinner. It was no use driving over in the snow, even if Luke’s was only about a minute away. Ella couldn’t believe how similar it all was to before. Sleeping alone on the Gilmore couch as others worried over her a few feet away.

She listened, in spite of herself. It was too tempting not to eavesdrop when she’d already heard her name so many times. Luke was concerned about her forgetting to eat. Lorelai was concerned about her shutting everyone out and being overwhelmed by the funeral preparations. And both of them were concerned about her coming to blows with Fiona at some point in the next few days.

Sighing, Ella ran her tongue over her teeth and remembered she hadn’t brushed them. She debated not doing so, but decided to just bite the bullet. With everything else on her mind, she thought it best to eliminate all the outward elements which might impede her from getting back to sleep. She rolled over on her side, preparing to sit up, when she saw Jess. She thought he’d be in the kitchen, talking with Luke and Lorelai. Instead, he sat on the floor with his back against the sofa. His head was near hers, leaned back. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t snoring. She doubted he was fully asleep, but nonetheless attempted to get past him and rummage through the bag on the armchair to find her toothbrush. Her stealth proved lacking, however, when he began to stir as soon as she reached the bag.

“Hey,” he said quietly, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands and doing his best to seem lively. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied, fishing her toothbrush out from the sea of clothes she’d thrown into the duffel before they sped away from the apartment in Philadelphia. “I just forgot to brush my teeth.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding and hoisting himself up. His neck was already sore from the position he’d dozed off in, unwilling to follow Luke and Lorelai into the kitchen with Ella asleep on the couch. “Me too. I’ll come with.”

She nodded back, grabbing his toothbrush as well. The whispers didn’t cease until they made their way into the kitchen, Luke and Lorelai looking up at their entrance. Ella debated using the upstairs bathroom, not disturbing the two of them. But she didn’t have the energy to climb the stairs, and it would be the first time she could get a good look at the new half-bathroom they added next to Rory’s room. The smell of the diner food lingered, and it made Ella’s chest feel just a touch less tight. Lorelai broke out into a small smile at the sight of the two of them.

“You need anything, sweetie?” she asked, speaking only to Ella.

Though she felt a bit uncomfortable under everyone’s gaze, Ella smiled back. There was a warmth in her stomach at Lorelai’s voice. She focused on that feeling, and only that feeling. “No, we’re fine. Just brushing our teeth. The dentist would be pissed at me if I broke the pattern after over twenty years.”

“That’s true. Always best to avoid the Sweeney Todd dentistry possibility,” Lorelai agreed, nodding. Then, she yawned theatrically and looked at Luke, who only rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “I think we’re gonna head upstairs. It’s past our bedtime.”

“Still got those four o’clock deliveries, huh?” Jess asked sullenly, eyeing Luke. Many a morning when he was a teenager, he’d been awoken at half past three by the sound of Luke’s alarm.

Luke sighed. “For the business that housed and fed you for two years? Yeah, I do.”

Ella snorted a laugh, and nudged Jess playfully in the ribs. “Like you’re not always up before the sun, even on Saturday.”

“Where do you think that started?” Jess shot back, pointing an accusatory finger at Luke. “He screwed with my internal clock for life!”

“I think that’s enough fuel for future therapy sessions for tonight,” Lorelai announced, rising from the table, Luke following.

“Agreed,” Luke grumbled.

As they exchanged goodnights, Lorelai gave Ella a kiss on the cheek. Immediately after, she scrunched up her nose and smudged the lipstick from Ella’s freckled skin with her thumb. To Ella’s shock, Lorelai also gave Jess a short hug before making for the stairs. Luke hugged Jess, too. The two of them still had trouble showing physical affection for each other, as they probably always would. Ella had to stifle a laugh at the awkwardness between them.

When Luke hugged Ella, though, she felt tears prick at her eyes for the first time all day. She recognized his familiar smell, the soft feeling of his flannel, his strong arms around her. Somewhere in her mind, it occurred to her that the way it felt for Luke to hug her was what she had always wanted it to feel like when her own father hugged her. And she knew for sure she would never get it from him. She could finally be certain there was nothing left to do to repair her relationship with him. There was no time left for Jake to make her feel as safe as Luke made her feel. As he never had, even in her childhood. But by the time she and Luke broke apart, she had gathered herself enough. She cleared her throat and blinked away the glassy sheen in her eyes.

Luke ruffled her hair as he stepped back from her. If he saw that she was upset, he didn’t acknowledge it. “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get everything figured out tomorrow.”

“I know, boss,” she replied.

. . .

The cigarette smoke made her a bit nauseous, but it was also comforting in a way she was slightly ashamed of. The winter air was crisp and biting, and her cheeks were frosted roses. Embers glowed orange in the darkness as she took a long drag, burning her lungs. She was already regretting it, but she simply felt too tired to think out the actual consequences of what she was doing. She had tried. She really had. But falling asleep, with Jess snoring softly beneath her as they lay on the couch, was absolutely impossible. Fatigue was weighing down her bones, and there was a perpetual ache throbbing behind her eyes. But each time she got close to sleep, the thought of her father would flash across her mind, and she would be wide awake once more.

Once she gave up, she had managed to sneak outside unnoticed. The wind whispered past her, hollow and haunting. But maybe everything was feeling spookier because death was at the forefront of her mind. Then again, when wasn’t it? Though the shock had certainly hit her with full force when she heard the news, she couldn’t bring herself to be surprised. The other shoe had dropped. She knew it would, just when she let her guard down. The moment she forgot to worry, the universe had knocked her down again. She flicked her cigarette and watched the excess ash melt a small spot in the snow below the steps.

At the sound of the front door creaking open, she startled only a little. For a wild moment, she wanted to put her cigarette out and hide it behind her back, pretending to be innocent. Especially if it was Luke. But she had to remember she was a grown up. And the feeling disappeared entirely when she saw only a disheveled Jess wrapping himself up in his jacket as he came out onto the porch and sat down next to her.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here,” he remarked, holding her peacoat out to her.

She took it with a trembling hand.

“Thank you,” she said solemnly, breathing out a long stream of smoke as she spoke. The coat was old and cheap, and did little to help a Connecticut winter, but she shrugged it on anyway.

He nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “Don’t mention it.”

They sat in silence, an owl hooting somewhere in the trees beyond the house. Ella didn’t put the cigarette out until it got so small it began to burn her fingers. After she’d discarded it, her breath still puffed out, along with Jess’s, in frigid white clouds. Flurries of snow fell in scattered sprays, but the night was mostly quiet and overcast. Jess crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

She spoke, as he knew she eventually would, after a few more minutes. Gesturing down to the crushed cigarette, her tired eyes met his. “Do you want one?”

“No, thanks,” he said, shaking his head. “Where’d you get those in the middle of the night in Stars Hollow, anyway?”

A thin smirk ghosted over her lips. “Snatched ‘em off Bootsy’s newsstand.”

“Really?” he asked, laughing slightly, with eyebrows raised.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised, Mariano. I was sneaking out of my bedroom window long before you got here.”

“Touché.” His eyes lingered on her, hair glistening golden in the soft light and eyes still far off somewhere miles away. He hesitated before he continued. “Did you walk all the way to Bootsy’s without a coat?”

She shrugged, glancing down at the Doc Martens on her feet. “I’m fine. I had my good shoes on. Besides, it’s only like a minute away.”

“Alright.”

“Seriously, Jess. I’m fine,” she snapped after a moment.

“Okay. I get it,” he said instantly. “You’re fine. You’re not cold.”

Ella ran her hands through her hair. Her body shook as she yawned.

“You wanna go back to bed?” he asked.

“No,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus, Jess! Stop trying to take care of me! Stop asking me questions! Just let me fucking sit here!” Ella exclaimed, huffing in frustration.

Jess recoiled slightly, and he nodded at her again. He ran a hand over his mouth and swallowed down the million other questions which were rising in his throat. The ones she’d refused to ask on the drive up, and the ones she apparently still wanted to avoid. “Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself. “No, I’m...I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I couldn’t fall asleep.”

“We don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to. We could watch one of Lorelai’s cassettes in there,” Jess suggested, fighting hard to keep his tone light, bracing for whatever reaction she was going to have.

“I love that she still has cassettes,” Ella said wistfully, though not smiling. Her voice was low and raspy as she stared out ahead of her into the darkness and the lightly falling snow.

He nodded a little. “I know you do.”

Ella’s hands were itching to hold another cigarette, but she fought the urge. The pack which sat on the porch steps next to her would almost certainly be crumpled up and thrown in the trash the moment she reentered the house. Along with the lighter. But it was nice to have them there. If she wanted. They sat wordlessly, listening to the rustle of the wind in the evergreen trees. Jess didn’t make a sound. He was just far away enough not to touch her, almost in silent askance of whether she wanted space. She did. And she didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to talk almost as much as she didn’t want to write the eulogy. She wanted to be able to push down the sorrow and the rage until they just dissolved and she was as happy as she had been just a day earlier. Yesterday, she may have even been hopeful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt hopeful about her family. But, now, she had to stop herself from reaching for a cigarette yet again. And she felt herself wanting a drink. A drink stronger than champagne at a book launch. And then the words started flowing before she could overthink them, before she could lock them away in her heart forever.

She swallowed thickly, looking down into her lap at her nail-bitten hands. “This is just like it was the last time.”

“Oh yeah?” he whispered, shifting a bit closer to her.

“Yeah,” she echoed, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear. She sniffed. “I mean, last time my dad was the devastated one instead of Fiona. But Adam still got pissed at Noah, and Noah only got more pissed because Adam was mad at him.”

Noah had only made it to town an hour before Ella left to go back to the Gilmore residence for the night, but he and Adam were at each other’s throats pretty much as soon as they saw each other. Upset that his Christmas vacation was being disrupted, Noah had insisted on staying at a motel instead of at the little blue house in which they had grown up. Adam wasn’t happy about it, accusing Noah of acting as though he was too good for them. In turn, Noah asked Adam why he wasn’t mad at Ella for staying with Lorelai. Adam had shot back immediately, saying Noah had abandoned the entire family the minute he could, while Ella stayed behind. At that point, Ella knew there was no way to diffuse the situation. She’d only offered to walk back with Noah to the motel, leaving Adam to sleep in his old room. Luckily, Fiona’s sister was already in town for the holiday. So, it didn’t wholly fall to any of the three of them to console her.

Jess and Luke had both offered to go over to the house with her after helping with the arrangements, but she’d insisted on meeting her brothers there alone. The surreality of the moment didn’t dawn on her until she saw Adam’s teary eyes and Noah’s flushed face. It was like she had stepped into the past. She’d come back to the Gilmore house to find Jess sitting in the living room, halfway through the Russian novel he’d brought with. In the face of his questions, she’d only given him the liner notes and then fallen mostly silent for the rest of the evening.

“And Lorelai and Luke won’t let me brush my teeth without asking me if I need anything,” Ella continued, with a scoff in her words. “And, I love them. I do. And I’m so fucking grateful that it hurts. But, I’m fine. I’m totally fucking fine.”

“So I’ve heard,” he quipped.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’ve heard that, too,” he said.

She laughed breathily, lifting her head to look up at the sky. “Shut up.”

“Will do.”

Then, after a moment: “I just wish...I wish it wasn’t like this. I mean, he was a shitty dad. But he was still my dad.”

He watched as she chose her words, carefully. Her voice had more emotion than he’d heard all day. Bringing his arm around her shoulders, he hoped to lessen the trembling of her hands just a little. She leaned into him, letting herself feel his warmth but fighting the wateriness in her voice. Of all the things she didn’t want to do, crying was at the top of the list.

“And now...I don’t have parents. I don’t even have a dad who hates me and never calls,” she continued.

“He didn’t hate you,” Jess interjected.

She shook her head. “Yeah, he did, Jess. He fucking hated me. Because I looked like my mom and I didn’t like Fiona and I wouldn’t quit talking back at the dinner table. But it doesn’t bother me. I hated him most of the time, too.”

He hummed in response, listening.

Her face crumpled for only a moment. But, again, she regained her composure. A couple silent tears threatened to slip over. “But at least I had someone to hate, y’know? Now, it’s just...no one.”

She took in a shaky breath, and Jess began to rub circles over her back. He recognized that her shivering was no longer due to the cold but from the sobs she wouldn’t let loose. Ella’s stomach did a flip, as she clenched her hands into fists. But she just couldn’t hold it in any longer. She let a single wimper pass her lips. And then, the levee broke. She put her head in her hands and finally began to weep, cries from deep within her escaping at last.

“I just...I don’t have p-parents anymore,” she spoke through sobs, trying to get her voice under control but failing miserably. “I’m not anyone’s daughter anymore. I don’t belong to anyone anymore.”

Jess shut his eyes for a moment, feeling a crack in his heart as he heard her anguish. But a part of him was relieved she was finally letting it out. He knew not all of her tears were for her father, but for her mother as well. He’d never seen her cry so hard before, so hard she couldn’t catch her breath and she was beginning to feel sick to her stomach. She stopped being able to talk after a while, only crying, folding in on herself.

“I...I don’t...belong to anyone anymore,” she repeated.

Gnawing on his bottom lip again, Jess smoothed an affectionate hand over her hair. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Though he couldn’t see her face, Ella felt her cheeks heat up at his seeing her sob so openly. Jess spoke in a clear, strong tone.

“Listen, Eleanor, I know it feels like you’re alone without them, but that’s not true, okay?” he said.

She let out a tearful scoff.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m serious,” Jess continued, placing a hand on her damp cheek and turning her face gently so she would look at him.

She wanted to avoid his eyes, embarrassed, but simply couldn’t bring herself to look anywhere else. The sight of him almost made her physically relax.

An earnest crease stood out between his eyebrows when he spoke again. “You belong to me, and I belong to you. That’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it?”

She stared at him for a moment, stunned at his words, as tears kept rolling steadily down her cheeks. But then, her lip began to quiver and she closed her eyes. Jess was worried she was about to get angry again. But instead, she slumped weakly against him. He could feel her tears begin to wet the neckline of his t-shirt as she rested her head on his chest. Breathing out long and slow, Jess wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t know whether his words had helped, but he was doubtful. No amount of talking was going to make her feel any better. He couldn’t crack a joke or start a playful argument or do a magic trick. He could only be there. He simply sat and held her against the wind.

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