Jess twisted underneath his thin blanket. His eyes felt like lead weights, but his mind was as busy as static.

Huffing in frustration, Jess flipped to lay on his back and his eyes slowly opened to stare at the water- stained ceiling. He didn't know how many days had passed since he came back.

It couldn't have been many, but after almost three nights of being unable to fling himself into the numb embrace of sleep, the days had started to blur. Nothing felt constant except the guilt that burned like fire inside of him, consuming what little peace Jess managed to find at odd hours like these.

Jess concentrated his gaze on the broken fan above him and halfheartedly began to count in his head. It was something he and Liz would do together when he was smaller and she still worried over little things like making sure he could sleep. Jess thought the task was monotonous as hell, but that was the point, he supposed.

One. One fractured wrist, his mind whispered. Jess squeezed his eyes shut. He dug his fingers into the mattress in an attempt to ground himself. Focus.

Two. Two of them in that car.

Jess tried to ignore the sound of his heart as it started to pound against his ribs, as if he were behind the wheel again, but now it was all he could hear.

His heart suddenly wasn't his heart, but a blue car, crashing incessantly like the ocean into the steel of his ribs. Beneath it all, Jess swore he heard the crunch of bone-Rory's bones.

Jess pushed himself upright. Distantly, he could hear himself gasping for breath as the darkness of the room seemed to press in on him.

A wave of nausea swept over Jess and before he knew it, he was stumbling into the bathroom connected to his room, collapsing onto his knees in front of the toilet in time to throw up what little he had managed to eat that morning.

Jess remained where he was until there was nothing left to give, until nothing but the ragged intake of his breaths as his body heaved in an effort to expel more, filled the stale silence.

Hot tears spilled involuntarily down Jess' cheeks, hitting the cold porcelain beneath his fingers, which then curled into fists.

Jess deserved this. For what he did to Rory, a little bit of sickness and lack of sleep was a price Jess would pay a hundred times over.

After a spell, Jess managed to peel himself away from the toilet to rest against the side of the tub. He felt empty, and exhausted, but at the same time... good? There was a numbness inside of him now that took the edge off his thoughts-a temporary shelter in the midst of a storm.

Jess rested his forehead on his bent knees as he sought to compose himself before facing the rest of the day. He had a moment of peace before he heard his alarm go off in his room, its shrill shriek cutting like a knife into the early morning quiet.

Jess groaned and pressed his forehead more firmly into his knees, as if making himself smaller would make him disappear altogether.

"Shut it off, Jess!" Liz shouted; the irritation in her sleep-heavy voice was clear, despite being on the other side of the apartment.

With a deep breath, Jess pushed himself onto his feet and stumbled back into his room, grasping in the semidarkness before finding the clock and switching off the alarm. Jess set it carefully on the floor before slowly laying back on his mattress, finding himself in the same position he'd been in earlier.

Weariness crashed over him, to the point where Jess was sure he could pass out if he tried, but his heart was picking up its anxious beat again, telling him to get up and do something before he could work himself into another nervous episode.

Upon his return, Jess had done his best to keep busy, determined to stay out of his head for as long as possible. He'd been restless, switching erratically between washing the dishes at three in the morning to smoking half a pack of cigarettes in a day to sorting through the bills that had piled up on the kitchen table in his absence.

Then Jess had gotten a job.

He liked working at the bookstore downtown-amidst the noise and crowds of the city, it almost felt like home. The thought of walking in to stacks of secondhand books, their pages crinkled and comforting, and thick encyclopedias was enough to get Jess reaching for a change of clothes before his second alarm went off.

Back in the bathroom, Jess started to go about his morning routine, keeping his gaze stubbornly on the sink to avoid looking into the mirror as he brushed his teeth.

He already knew he looked like crap, with his dark circles and the way his skin stretched over bones.

Jess spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth. He closed his eyes as he pressed a palmful of cold water to his face, relaxing slightly as it eased the headache that was starting to bloom in his skull.

Ten minutes later, Jess was at the door, struggling to pull on his shoes when the phone started to ring.

Without glancing at the caller ID, Jess plucked the phone from its cradle and crossed the living room to place it on the couch, throwing a pillow over it to muffle the sound.

He already knew who was calling.

Jess didn't understand why Luke took it upon himself to call almost every day when Jess already told his uncle he had gotten back to New York safely the first day.

It was only when Luke started asking about how Jess felt and if he was okay that Jess began to ignore the calls. Those were the kind of questions Rory should be given-not him.

Jess didn't need Luke pretending to give a crap about him, especially when he didn't deserve it.

He frowned as he shoved his feet into his worn sneakers and stepped out into the morning chill.

Besides, Jess thought, drawing his jacket a little closer to his body, he was fine.

Please leave a message after the tone.

Luke sighed as he hung up the phone. He knew Jess was there and probably annoyed with how often Luke wanted to check in on him, but since Jess had left, everything felt off.

It wasn't just accidentally setting two plates on the table for dinner or tripping over something Jess didn't have space to take with him and apologizing to an empty apartment.

That night, the expression in Jess' eyes-hollow and remorseful and dead-had almost been enough for Luke to choke back his decision to send Jess back to Liz.

Almost.

Yet even as he said those words, Luke was sure he had made the right choice. Luke had failed Jess, over and over, and the events of that night had convinced him of that.

Luke didn't know how to parent, how to guide, how to be the person Jess had needed him to be.

Nevertheless, Jess' absence had hurt like a sore tooth. Luke found himself missing Jess' sarcastic quips and his rebellious tendencies, despite how many gray hairs they had managed to give Luke over a span of a few short months.

Luke understood that Jess could be rough around the edges, however deep down, he was just a kid-mischievous but kind. Sensitive, even. It was why that haunted expression Luke had found in Jess' eyes after the accident now followed him everywhere, no matter how many days had passed.

Luke knew that Jess didn't have healthy coping mechanisms, instead choosing to bottle everything up and let it eat away at him from the inside.

Luke had seen a shadow of this habit on their first Christmas, when Liz didn't call about Jess. Jess had brushed it off with his usual mask of indifference, but Luke had noticed how the music Jess blasted had been louder that week and how panic had broken across his face when he realized he had run out cigarettes.

Luke felt frustrated, having not been able to help Jess back then. But maybe... Luke glanced across the diner towards the door. Before he knew it, he was making his way towards it.

Luke paused, hesitating for just a second, before reaching up and flipping the "open" sign to "closed". His heart started to pound quickly as he practically sprinted up the stairs to grab a weekend bag.

Luke immediately began to cram random clothes and toiletries, almost afraid to pause for a moment lest he doubt himself.

Once he had packed in as much as he could, Luke finally let himself breathe. He glanced around at the apartment for one last time, his gaze lingering for just a second longer on Jess' empty bed, before swinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his keys.

I might not have been strong enough to help Jess then. Hell, I still might not be now. But…

Luke grabbed a copy of a map of New York on his way out.

I can still try.

A/N: I honestly didn't think I would continue this, but I guess I am? Hope you all liked this one!