I interpreted "sees" a little loosely. Also, this kind of ran away with me. Yeah.
It is Christmas Eve, and it is snowing in Paris.
Rory spreads her thickly coat-enclosed arms wide and twirls until she can feel the ground waving beneath her. She falls backward onto the park bench, the trees and buildings and streets spinning around her.
The snow falls lightly and silently, slowly muffling the noises of the city to which she has grown so accustomed.
How long she sits on the bench, Rory does not really know. She sits and watches and thinks until the gentle gusts of the wind become bone-chilling on her numbed legs, until she has rehashed the last several years of her life.
The snow and the silence change something within her, she senses. There are fewer regrets this time, less self-admonishment and her guilt seems mitigated. She thinks of her mother and of the exhilarating, contagious self-confidence Lorelai (almost) always exhibited, and she remembers how hard she tried to be just like Lorelai for so many years.
But she had missed a step.
Rory smiles, because she understands now. Lorelai's (nearly) unwavering trust in herself came from the knowledge that she could handle whatever was thrown at her, as she'd brought more crushing burdens upon herself and learned to bear them with grace.
Sadly, she wishes someone had told her how much climbing to the top of Maslow's pyramid would cost her.
By now the snow is falling fast and sticky and wet, and Rory is beginning to shiver. Four blocks away, she knows, is a café with amazing coffee and a sign hung on the door reading "Oui! Nous sommes ouvert le 24 décembre!"
Head bent into the now-gusting wind, she hurries down the avenue. Too late, she sees the man headed straight towards her, his vision obscured by the umbrella he wisely carries. The collision is inevitable, but Rory tries to avoid it nevertheless. Her dodge is too little, too late, though, and as she clips his shoulder, his umbrella drags over her hat.
They stumble past each other awkwardly, with Rory mumbling "Pardon" into the snow-covered sidewalk.
Seconds later, a hand falls on her shoulder.
"Rory?" asks the umbrella-carrier.
She gapes. "Jess?"
"What are you–" "Why are you–" Their words collide and stumble as awkwardly as they themselves had not a minute earlier.
They smile uncomfortably and make eye contact – real honest eye contact – for the first time. Another piece of the puzzle of how she can become this person she knows she wants to be clicks into place.
"I was headed to a great cafe just around the corner," Rory opens. "Do you want to come?"
Jess smiles and a tiny piece of her is seventeen again, but she ignores the feeling because that's not a time they need to revisit (again). "I'd love to," he replies. "Would you like to share my umbrella? You look pretty wet."
"My knight in slightly soggy black armor," Rory answers, smirking.
After a few seconds filled with entirely too many elbows while they try and arrange two people under an umbrella made for one, his arm falls over her shoulders and the world is just a little bit more right.
Gilmore Girls -- Rory/Jess -- i'm dreaming of a
It is Christmas Eve, and it is snowing in Paris.
Rory spreads her thickly coat-enclosed arms wide and twirls until she can feel the ground waving beneath her. She falls backward onto the park bench, the trees and buildings and streets spinning around her.
The snow falls lightly and silently, slowly muffling the noises of the city to which she has grown so accustomed.
How long she sits on the bench, Rory does not really know. She sits and watches and thinks until the gentle gusts of the wind become bone-chilling on her numbed legs, until she has rehashed the last several years of her life.
The snow and the silence change something within her, she senses. There are fewer regrets this time, less self-admonishment and her guilt seems mitigated. She thinks of her mother and of the exhilarating, contagious self-confidence Lorelai (almost) always exhibited, and she remembers how hard she tried to be just like Lorelai for so many years.
But she had missed a step.
Rory smiles, because she understands now. Lorelai's (nearly) unwavering trust in herself came from the knowledge that she could handle whatever was thrown at her, as she'd brought more crushing burdens upon herself and learned to bear them with grace.
Sadly, she wishes someone had told her how much climbing to the top of Maslow's pyramid would cost her.
By now the snow is falling fast and sticky and wet, and Rory is beginning to shiver. Four blocks away, she knows, is a café with amazing coffee and a sign hung on the door reading "Oui! Nous sommes ouvert le 24 décembre!"
Head bent into the now-gusting wind, she hurries down the avenue. Too late, she sees the man headed straight towards her, his vision obscured by the umbrella he wisely carries. The collision is inevitable, but Rory tries to avoid it nevertheless. Her dodge is too little, too late, though, and as she clips his shoulder, his umbrella drags over her hat.
They stumble past each other awkwardly, with Rory mumbling "Pardon" into the snow-covered sidewalk.
Seconds later, a hand falls on her shoulder.
"Rory?" asks the umbrella-carrier.
She gapes. "Jess?"
"What are you–" "Why are you–" Their words collide and stumble as awkwardly as they themselves had not a minute earlier.
They smile uncomfortably and make eye contact – real honest eye contact – for the first time. Another piece of the puzzle of how she can become this person she knows she wants to be clicks into place.
"I was headed to a great cafe just around the corner," Rory opens. "Do you want to come?"
Jess smiles and a tiny piece of her is seventeen again, but she ignores the feeling because that's not a time they need to revisit (again). "I'd love to," he replies. "Would you like to share my umbrella? You look pretty wet."
"My knight in slightly soggy black armor," Rory answers, smirking.
After a few seconds filled with entirely too many elbows while they try and arrange two people under an umbrella made for one, his arm falls over her shoulders and the world is just a little bit more right.