Title: I Read The News Today, Oh Boy
Author: Carrie
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lorelai has called off her engagement to Max. Rory and Dean have broken up. Fumigators come to the house so they spend the day at the country club.
Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls and its characters belong to Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund/Polone in association with Warner Bros. Television.

Chapter Two

RORY'S HOUSE

Rory and Lane sat at the kitchen table. Rory was writing on a piece of paper while Lane was hunched over her math homework.

"Ugh!" moaned Lane, running her hands through her hair. "What is the point of trigonometry?"

Rory looked up at her.

"I give up. What is the point of trigonometry?"

"Well, I'll tell you," said Lane. "It's part of the process to speed up natural selection is what it is. It weeds out the weak in the herd who can't figure out a sine or cosine. And that's me. The weakest of the herd. I'm a three-legged wildebeest in the academic Serengeti."

She dropped her head to the table with a thud and Rory regarded her actions for a minute.

"Are you taking drama?" queried Rory.

Lane's head popped up.

"Yeah, it's awesome! We're going to do 'Our Town'."

"How'd you get your mom to let you do that?"

"She said I 'lacked realism' in our church's Christmas pageant. I'm not sure if the 'lack of realism' came from my acting ability or from the fact that I was a Korean shepherd, but hey, it got me drama class."

"See, school isn't so bad," said Rory as she turned back to her paper.

"Says the girl who hasn't yet started school."

"We start Monday."

"And you're looking forward to it?" questioned Lane.

"I wouldn't exactly say I'm looking forward to it but I am trying to be optimistic. In fact, I've been making a list of the positive things about going back to school at Chilton. Here, I'll read them to you. Number one, I get a good education with challenging classes and teachers with high expectations."

"Only you would count that as a positive."

"Two, I don't have to stress about what I have to wear every day."

"That's true. So, what's three?"

"That's as far as I got."

Lane looked over at the paper.

"What's the rest of the writing."

"I'm trying to remember all the shortcuts through the halls in case I need to avoid...certain people."

"You mean like Paris and Tristan."

"Mostly Paris. I think Tristan will be the one avoiding me."

"I still can't believe you got drunk and kissed him."

"I was NOT drunk!"

"So, you were sober and kissed him?"

"It wasn't like that...."

It was Rory's turn to be frustrated.

"What are you going to do?" asked Lane.

"What do you mean what am I going to do?"

"Are you just going to go through the school year avoiding each other?"

"Sounds good to me."

"You could talk to him."

"And say what? 'You remember when we kissed? No, not that time. The other time. Yeah, well, can we just forget about that and try to be friends?'"

"You have formed sort of a pattern. Break up with Dean. Kiss Tristan."

"It's not a pattern. It's a coincidence."

"A coincidence?" Lane chuckled.

"It was a mistake. An anomaly," continued Rory. "It was a synaptic short-circuit in my biochemical makeup."

Lane looked at her skeptically.

"Oh, what do I know?" said Rory. "I was drunk."

COUNTRY CLUB

After her conversation with Lane, Rory decided she would feel better if she did talk to Tristan before school started back up. However, she didn't want to talk to him over the phone and she didn't really want to show up on his doorstep unannounced. Time was soon going to make the decision for her when she realized that she might find him again at the country club. Although, she didn't want a repeat of the poolside incident. She figured it would be easier to apologize to him when he was fully clothed. She talked her mother into having dinner there again and the plan was set.

They went to the club Saturday night. Failing to spot him at dinner, Rory walked around the interior in search of him. It was the same crowd that had been there the last time. The same cloud of cigar smoke. Even the same bartender who smiled and waved as she passed. She decided it would be best to avoid that area altogether. As she exhausted her search in the ballroom, she made her way onto the balcony where she had found him previously, and what do you know, he was there. Only this time, he wasn't alone. He was making out with a blonde that resembled Mara Hopkins, a Chilton senior. She couldn't be certain, given the fact that her face seemed to be attached to Tristan's at the moment.

Rory stood and digested the scene for a minute. Here was Tristan DuGrey in all his reputed glory. All the stories were true. Girls were just playthings to him. And he sure knew how to play, as one of his hands rested on her ass and the other started a trek up to her ample bosom. Rory turned on her heel before she saw anymore. She was disgusted. She must have been drunk to have kissed him but she would be sure that that mistake would never happen again. She would never mistake Tristan for anything other than what he was, a player to the highest degree.

Refusing to acknowledge how much seeing them had affected her, she found her mom and they went home.

CHILTON

The year began with a lack of fanfare and a load of homework. Nobody seemed too pleased to be back. The only excitement seemed to come from a group of guys that Rory recognized as the football team. They were hyped up about the coming season and took every opportunity to share their testosterone. Rory wasn't too surprised to find Tristan among them. It seemed to fit and she had heard that he was going to be starting wide receiver, whatever that was. Rory didn't know much about football, or any sport for that matter and the news about the football team only made her less interested. She had more pressing things on her mind. The biggest one being 'The Franklin' and it's new editor, Paris. She wondered if the summer had mellowed Paris at all. She thought it unlikely but one could hope. Today was their first meeting and when she entered the classroom, Paris was already speaking. She stopped momentarily to glare at Rory.

"As I was saying," Paris drawled. "I want this to be the best year ever for 'The Franklin.' I don't think that should come as a surprise. However, until I know what each of you is best suited to write, I'm going to be assigning you to areas you may not have considered writing in. In this way, I think we'll have a more well-rounded staff than previous years. I want to get started right away so here are the assignments."

She set a sheet down on a table in the front of the room. Everyone slowly made their way up to read it. Rory lagged behind the rest, not looking forward to her assignment.

"What?! What the hell is this?" said one of the guys. "Cross-country? You want me to write about the cross-country team. I don't know anything about cross-country."

"Did you miss my little speech?" She got into his face. "You're going to learn about cross-country. You're going to write about cross-country. Or you're going to find yourself another elective. Got it?"

He turned unhappily and went back to his seat. There were a few other groans but no one else dared to take on Paris' wrath. Rory finally got close enough to read what was next to her name and she couldn't believe it.

"Football?" asked Rory, dumbfounded.

"Is there a problem?" said Paris.

Rory couldn't believe it.

"I don't know anything about football," she sputtered.

"What am I, a parrot? You want to be a journalist, don't you? So learn."

Paris was about to turn from her but Rory wasn't finished.

"Give me a break. This isn't about journalism and you know it. You're still mad so you want to punish me. That's fine. But it doesn't make sense that you would do this when you're trying to make this 'best year ever' for the newspaper."

"The thing is, Rory," Paris lowered her voice and stepped up to Rory. "I'm not stupid. It's doesn't matter what I assign to you. I know you'll do a good job. It'd probably kill you if you didn't. In fact, I expect you to be one of the best writers on staff. But while you're under my direction, you're going to have to work for that honor. So I suggest you take a seat like everyone else and start thinking about what you need to do to write your assignment."

Paris then turned and walked away leaving Rory dumbstruck. She couldn't believe it but Paris was right. Rory would work her ass off to write the best story no matter what it was about. Amazing. Paris hadn't mellowed over the summer. She had become more conniving. Rory made her way back to her seat as she wondered how many books at the library could teach her about football

FOOTBALL FIELD

Rory sat in the stands with her notebook. She had checked out a number of books on football but figured it would help to actually watch and try to figure out what was going on.

On the field, Chilton's team was split into two and they were scrimmaging. Tristan's team recovered the ball on a fumble so he ran out to the huddle with the rest of the offense. When he got there, the quarterback, Trent Andres, was looking up into the stands.

"Hey, DuGrey," said Trent. "Isn't that the Gilmore chick you've been hot for?"

Tristan turned and was surprised to see that it was Rory.

"Something like that," he mumbled. "I wonder what she's doing here."

"Aw come on, boy. She's here to check out the goods. See if you can live up to the hype. Now we know you're the shit so how 'bout we give her a little demonstration."

Trent held out his fist and Tristan tapped it with his own.

"Let's go deep."

"You know it," replied Trent. "Okay, boys, I'm going to air it out for the T-man. Let's give him some room."

Meanwhile, Rory had never felt dumber in her life as she sat watching. She couldn't even figure out who the players were with their helmets on. They didn't have their names on their practice jerseys. She did figure out Tristan was number eighty. She had caught sight of him on the sidelines without his helmet on. Although, she had to admit it was hard not to miss his confident swagger, helmet or no helmet.

She watched as they came out of the huddle and could have sworn that he glanced up her way. But before she could contemplate it, the ball was hiked and Tristan was sprinting down the field leaving the defender behind him. The ball was launched in his direction but it was under-thrown. Tristan had to slow down, giving the defender time to catch up. As the ball reached them, Tristan jumped to catch it while the defender also made an attempt, which only served to take Tristan's legs out from under him. Tristan caught the ball and twisted to right himself but landed awkwardly on his right foot. The subsequent howl of pain that came from his mouth made it more than apparent that he had hurt himself badly. Coaches and trainers came running. The rest of his teammates circled him.

Rory winced when she saw him land. As much disdain as she felt for him, she couldn't help but feel a little compassion as she heard his groans of pain. She sat quietly in the stands wondering why anyone would want to play such a silly game. She decided she'd had enough for one day and got up to leave. She could still hear Tristan as she made her exit, causing her to quicken her pace.

CHILTON

Tristan hadn't shown up for school since his injury. Word was that he had ruptured his Achilles tendon and had to have surgery. He wouldn't be able to play football this season, if ever again. The team seemed to take it hard for a day or two but then Kevin Driscoll was named the new starting wide receiver and things were back to normal.

Rory was having a hard enough time with her own studies let alone trying to figure out the Zen of football. Luke tried to help but Rory only got confused when he started running plays using condiment containers in the different positions. The first game was going to be Friday and Rory was desperate to come up with something to help her write the article. She went to see if she could catch the football coach in his office. When she got there she stopped short upon hearing the coach already talking to someone.

"This is a huge disappointment to everyone, Tristan," said the coach. "You're a tremendous athlete and I expect you to work hard so that you're back with us next year."

Tristan made no response.

"This year," continued the coach. "Well, it's just a setback. These things happen."

Still no response.

"But no matter what, we'll always have a spot for you on the bench."

That elicited a short, tired chuckle from Tristan.

"Yeah, thanks," he replied.

Rory could hear some shuffling and guessed that Tristan was getting ready to leave. She moved off to the side so he wouldn't be able to see her.

"If you need anything," said the coach, "just let me know, okay?"

"Yeah."

Tristan slowly emerged from the office slouched over a pair of crutches, a cast on his right ankle. His brow creased and the circles under his eyes gave him an appearance that Rory had never seen. He looked older and worn down. She started to follow him. He slipped into an empty classroom and when she peeked in the door he was sitting at a table with his head in his hands. She was about to leave him there when he suddenly shoved the table away from him slamming it into another table.

"God damn it!" he yelled.

He used his good leg to kick a chair that went skidding across the floor. He then picked up one of his crutches and threw it across the room. It crashed into a small bookcase and sent it to the floor.

"Stop it!" said Rory.

He was startled to find her standing in the doorway.

"Stop acting like a baby."

His breathing calmed a little as his anger receded.

"It's just a stupid game."

That comment brought his anger back full tilt.

"A stupid game? God, how can you stand there and say that to me!? You don't know anything about it." he growled. "Do you have any idea how hard I worked to get to where I was? The hours in the gym. On the field. Learning plays. You think that's easy?!?!"

He reached for his one crutch and tried to raise himself so that he could stand up while he yelled. He had to settle for the crutch and a chair for support.

"Then to go out during practice, practice no less! And one stupid play and it's all over. That's it. Thanks for coming out!" he shouted. He hopped on his good foot as he tried to maintain his upright position. "I don't expect you to understand."

They stood quietly for a second and then Rory made a split decision. She walked across the room to retrieve his thrown crutch. Perplexed, he watched her pick up the books that had been knocked to the floor. After getting them back into their original state, she grabbed the crutch and even picked up the chair that he had kicked. She held the crutch out to him. He glared at her before taking it.

"I don't need your help," he said angrily.

"I need yours," she replied evenly.

"What?" he asked, confused.

Rory sighed not really wanting to ask him what she was about to ask him.

"Paris has assigned me to be sportswriter for the paper..."

He snorted at the idea.

"Yeah, thanks," she continued. "Anyway, I'm supposed to write about the football team and the games and such and, yeah, I don't know anything about football so I thought that maybe you could help me."

He stared at her for a minute trying to figure out what she was up to.

"Is this some attempt at trying to make me feel better?"

It was her turn to look confused.

"Why would helping me make you feel better?"

Her question seemed to piss him off.

"So, what, the game's tomorrow. You want me to teach you all about football between now and then?"

"Well..."

"I'm not exactly in the mood to talk football right now."

She thought for a second.

"What if you just sat next to me at the game and explained what was going on?"

He stared across the room, contemplating sitting in the stands and watching a game that he should be playing in. It made him sick to think about.

"And am I supposed to do this out of the goodness of my heart?"

"God forbid," she said to herself, though loud enough for him to hear. He turned to her.

"Look," she said, irritated. "I'm desperate, okay? So if you're going to help me, fine. I can maybe help you catch up with the schoolwork you've missed. But if you're not going to, just tell me so I can go and find someone else."

Silence filled the room as they looked at each other defiantly.

"Fine," he said. "Meet me at my locker after school tomorrow."

He then made his way past her to the door and disappeared.

Rory stood wondering if asking him for his help was such a good idea given their history. She decided that she would just not think about it. He would help her with her article and afterwards they could just go back to avoiding each other. She straightened the room back up before leaving herself.

TRISTAN'S LOCKER

Rory waited impatiently at his locker. School had let out twenty minutes before and he had yet to show up. The halls were almost empty of students gone for the weekend. She looked at her watch for the umpteenth time and was getting more and more aggravated with each passing minute. She was about to say to hell with him when he came around a corner and slowly made his way towards her. Her aggravation receded somewhat upon seeing his approach. He was weighed down by an obviously heavy knapsack thrown over his shoulder and he looked exhausted.

"Mrs. Hitchcock decided she was going to summarize a week's worth of lectures into fifteen minutes," he said glumly as a way of explanation for his tardiness.

"Oh," was all she could think to say.

He hardly looked at her while he slipped the bag off his shoulder and opened the locker. He let go of one crutch so he could maneuver and Rory watched him struggle to balance on one foot while he added more to his already full bag. He almost fell once but caught himself by grabbing the shelf in his locker. Rory couldn't stand to watch any more.

"Stand up," she said.

"Huh?"

He stood up and she shoved the other crutch back under his arm. She then got in front of him and took over putting his books in the bag.

"I don't need your help."

She turned to him.

"Yes, you do," she replied, exasperated. "I know you're a big, tough man but you're on crutches and look at me." She waved her arms in demonstration. " I'm not."

She waited to see if he had any reply besides the look of annoyance on his face, but he didn't so she turned back to her task.

"So, is there anything you don't need?"

"No," he sighed.

"Besides," she continued. "I'll be lucky if I don't miss my bus if I wait for you to do it."

"You don't need to catch a bus. We're taking my car."

"You can't drive."

"You're right," he said sarcastically. "Because I'm on crutches. But look at you..."

She glared back at him.

"How do we get your car?"

"It's out in the parking lot. I had it dropped off."

"I wanted to go home first."

"So? The game doesn't start 'til seven. We'll go to your house first and then we'll go."

Rory looked at him, feeling a need to object to the plan but realized that there was no reason to. She finished putting his stuff in his bag and shut the locker. They both looked at the bag and then up to each other.

"Don't look at me," said Tristan. "I'm on crutches."

He started his way down the hall. Rory sighed heavily before attempting to lift the bag. It weighed a ton.

"Are you sure you need all these books?" she called after him.

"I can't hear you," he replied. "I'm on crutches."

She rolled her eyes and followed him.

RORY'S HOUSE

Rory opened the front door and Tristan came in behind her.

"Shut up," said Rory.

"I would loved to have taught you how to change the station on the stereo, but I'm an invalid, remember?"

"Shut. Up."

Rory dropped her backpack on the kitchen table and turned to him.

"So, this is my house," she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which wasn't much. "Do you want something to drink?"

"I can get it," he replied, already heading for the refrigerator.

"Fine. I'm going to change."

Rory went into her room and shut the door. She had just gotten her blue school blazer off and had started unbuttoning her shirt when she heard a glass shatter. She flung her door open to see Tristan standing in a puddle of glass and water.

"It just... It slipped," he sputtered. "I'll clean it up."

She walked over and started shoving him into the other room.

"No! Just go and sit down," she ordered. "I'll clean it up."

He allowed himself to be ushered into the living room and sat down on the couch.

"Give me two minutes to change and I'll get you some water or whatever," said Rory. "Do you think you can behave until then?"

His grouchy demeanor wasn't helped by her apparent suggestion that he was acting like a child.

"I'll try," he grunted.

Rory stared at him for a second then snatched his crutches and took them with her. He couldn't believe her gall.

"Bitch," he mumbled, well within her range of hearing.

After she disappeared, he immediately became antsy. He grabbed a magazine from the coffee table and flipped through it briefly before tossing it back. He looked around for the television remote control only to see it sitting on top of the television across the room. It wasn't really that far away. He got up on his good foot and supported himself using the coffee table. He hopped slowly towards the TV and grabbed the remote. His attempt to turn around threw him off balance and he inadvertently put his bad foot out to catch himself. The pain ripped through his leg and he went down like a sack of potatoes with a yelp. His first instinct surprised him.

"Rory!" he groaned.

Rory rushed out of her bedroom to find him sprawled on the floor and grimacing, tears leaking out of the corners of his tightly closed eyes. She knelt down beside him.

"Are you okay?"

"Painkillers," he choked out. "They're in my bag."

She went out to his car and retrieved his medication. When he finally opened his eyes, she was leaning over him with a glass of water and a pill. He washed it down quickly and shut his eyes again. She set the glass on the table and grabbed his arm.

"Let's move you to the..."

"NO," he said and swallowed. "Just give me a minute here."

He was obviously in a lot of pain and Rory didn't know what to do. She pulled a pillow off the couch and gently lifted his head, taking him a little by surprise.

"Thanks," he managed.

She took a larger cushion and gingerly put it under his bad leg. He still didn't look all that comfortable but she didn't want to argue with him. At least his breathing seemed to have calmed a little. She quietly went into the kitchen to clean up the broken glass. By the time she was done and came back out to ask if he wanted something to eat, she was surprised to find that he was asleep. She pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over him. She retreated once again to the kitchen.

RORY'S HOUSE

When Tristan finally woke up, it was dark outside. The only light in the room came from the far end of the couch where Rory sat reading. She noticed that he was awake.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

"How do you feel?"

"I'm okay," he replied. "What time is it?"

"It's a little after midnight."

Tristan couldn't believe he had slept that long. He struggled to a sitting position.

"What? We missed the game."

Rory put down her book.

"WE didn't miss the game. You missed the game. I went and recorded the game on a camcorder so don't think you're getting out of anything."

He relaxed a little and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Sorry."

She shrugged it off.

"Who won?" he asked.

"Chilton," she replied and watched as he looked almost pained by the news. "Everyone was asking where you were."

"What did you say?"

"Well, since they weren't asking me, I didn't say anything."

He stared off in a daze.

"Are you hungry?"

"No," he said quietly and sighed. "I should go."

"An hour ago that might have worked but my mom's in bed now and she doesn't want me to drive you home."

"I can call to have someone pick me up."

"Actually, my mom called your parents or whomever. I'm not sure who she talked to but she told them where you were and that you'd probably just stay here."

He digested the news for a moment and then reached for his crutches.

"Fine," he said. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah," she replied and led him to the bathroom. "My mom laid some towels out for you. There's even a toothbrush. Oh, and Luke brought over some sweat shorts and a t-shirt so that you could be more comfortable."

Tristan was surprised by the hospitality.

"Luke?"

"He owns the local diner."

Tristan couldn't think of anything to say.

"Is there anything else you need?" she asked.

"No," he said, and hesitated before adding, "thanks."

Twenty minutes later he reappeared from the bathroom wearing the shorts and shirt. He went to the living room to find Rory curled up on the couch reading again. It was obvious that she was tired.

"I assume the couch is mine, unless you want me to resume my position on the floor."

"No, you get my room," she yawned. "I'm taking the couch."

"That's not necessary," he stated firmly. "I'll be fine out here."

She got off the couch sleepily.

"It's late and I don't want to argue, Tristan. You'll be more comfortable on a bed rather than scrunched up on our couch."

She went to her room and flipped on the light. The bed had already been turned down for him. She noticed his hesitancy.

"Come on," she said. "I want to go to sleep. Get in."

He slowly got to the bed and sat down on the edge. Rory took his crutches from him and set them against the dresser. He swung his legs onto the bed and she took an extra pillow to put under his bad leg. Before he knew it, she was pulling a blanket over him. He didn't know how to respond to her actions.

"Do you need anything?"

He blinked in confusion.

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay, well, if you do, just holler. I'll leave the light on over the kitchen sink just in case you get up."

"Okay," he said quietly.

"Okay, good night."

"Good night."

She turned off the light and pulled the door so that it was open a crack. He looked through it to watch as the rest of the lights went off in the house leaving only one on, which he figured must be the kitchen light. He then sunk back into the bed and allowed his day to come flooding back to him. It had been such a long and crazy day. He remembered getting a workout from his first full day of school on crutches. Picking up the ton of school work that he had to make up certainly didn't help. Next came arguing with Rory followed immediately by stupidly putting his weight on his bad foot. And finally, falling asleep and missing the football game. But none of that compared to the fact that he was presently laying in Rory Gilmore's bed. It was unbelievable and yet something he didn't want to think about. He was still trying to deal with his injury and putting Rory into the equation only seemed to make dealing worse. It was too exhausting to try to sort out so he settled on avoidance. He'd deal with it another day. At the moment, he was comfortable and he was tired so he quickly fell back to sleep.

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