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 Six

TRISTAN'S HOUSE

It had been a quiet ride from the clinic. Rory was still trying to process what had happened, while Tristan was intent on trying to forget.

They pulled up to the front door and sat there briefly.

"We don't really need to study tonight," said Tristan. "I think I'm just going to read."

He took Rory's silence as acceptance and got out of the car. As usual, Emmett came out to help him into the house. Rory didn't move from her spot. She just sat there staring off into space.

After getting Tristan inside, Emmett came back to close the passenger side door. He noticed Rory's strange behavior and sat down in the passenger seat next to her. She barely seemed to notice that he was there.

"How was school?" he asked.

"Huh?" she blinked, trying to shake herself from her thoughts. "Oh, it was fine. How was your day?"

"Not too bad. Although, I almost called the authorities about the neighbors' dogs tearing up the yard. But I didn't have the heart. It's not the dogs' fault. So, instead, I took them out to the lake and tossed sticks into the water for them to fetch. Then I walked them back to their own home and let them inside."

Rory quirked a look of confusion at him.

"They were covered in mud," he explained with a chuckle.

Rory cracked a small smile that quickly disappeared.

"What's wrong?" asked Emmett.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she tried to think of a way to summarize the events at the clinic.

"Tristan's therapist doesn't think he wants to get better."

"I see," said Emmett and considered it for a second. "And what do you think?"

"I think he just needs a kick in the butt," she replied.

He chuckled again.

"Maybe you should be his therapist."

Inside, Tristan immediately went to his room and changed from his Chilton uniform into a t-shirt and athletic pants. Grabbing his crutches again, he took the slow journey back downstairs to the solarium carrying ‘Exodus'. He had come to spend a lot of time in the room even when Rory wasn't around. Sinking down onto one of the chaises, he gloomily stared off into space. His mind empty. His emotions in a turmoil he had sadly become accustomed to. He tried valiantly not to think of her. But that was going to be difficult

The waterfall suddenly turned on and Tristan looked up to find Rory sitting at their usual table at the end of the room, with the remote control in her hand.

"What are doing?" he asked in surprise.

"Waiting for you," she replied. "We've got homework to do."

"What do you mean? Nothing's due tomorrow. I told you I was just going to read."

Rory walked down the stairs and over to where he sat.

"That's not the kind of homework I'm talking about. You've been neglecting some other homework."

"Other homework?" he asked, still confused by her presence.

"Remember? Physical therapy? Or did I just imagine the little temper tantrum you threw?"

"I don't think..."

"Well, you're going to do this whether you like it or not," she said taking his crutches and moving them away from him.

"Hey!" he said. "You know, I seem to remember you doing that before and what happened because of it."

"Yeah, but that was just because you were being stupid. And anyway, this time I'm here to catch you."

He blinked at her comment as she held out her hand. He couldn't seem to fathom what she was offering, or why. He just stared at it.

"Come on," she instructed and reached down to pull him up.

His mind spinning, he slowly stood up on his good foot using Rory for support. The warm contact of her hand in his made him lightheaded. Her other hand rested at his elbow.

"Now put some weight on your right foot," ordered Rory.

They both looked down to watch as he carefully brought his foot to the floor and shifted some of his weight onto it.

"How does it feel?" asked Rory.

"It hurts."

"It probably hurts because you never use it. Move it a little."

He moved it and winced.

"Don't clench. Remember to breathe," she instructed.

"What? Like Lamaze?"

"Yeah, only a little different. This is Lamaze FOR babies."

"I'm not a baby."

"Then walk," she insisted and pulled away but Tristan grabbed her arm tightly.

"Rory!"

"Okay," she relented, reestablishing her hold on him. "We'll take it slow. Today we'll concentrate on standing."

"Today?"

"Yep, but tomorrow you're taking steps."

"Tomorrow?" he repeated, feeling a flicker of hope that he thought had long died out.

"That's right. You're going to be walking. I expect a lot out of you, Mister DuGrey."

"And when I can walk?" he asked, the apprehension clearly showing.

"You're going to show me around these gardens and out to the lake and wherever else is out there. I'm sick of just looking at it. Don't you get sick of just looking at it?"

"Yes," he replied truthfully.

"Football too. I was thinking that maybe I should try playing some time. You know, theory versus application. It's a generally held belief that you learn more by doing."

"You want to play football?" he said, a small smile appearing on his face. The first she had seen in a long time. She smiled back.

"Sure, why not?" she replied. "I think it would be a good idea as a writer."

"You'll be a regular George Plimpton."

"I don't exactly plan on trying out for the Patriots."

"That's probably smart."

As she gazed into his eyes, she found an inexplicable joy bubble up from some dormant spring upon seeing the expression on his face. He looked like a little boy. She felt the impulse to reach up and ruffle his hair. She might've too had her hand not been held so snugly by his. She looked down at it and remembered what they were doing.

"Oh, hey," she said. "You're still standing."

"So I am," he noted. "Is that it for today?"

"Nice try, lazy. Your therapist asked if you had done any therapy at home. What was she talking about?"

He shrugged.

"Just stretches."

"That you haven't been doing?"

He opened his mouth to offer an excuse but, upon seeing her resolute expression, decided against it.

"No, ma'am."

"Well, you're going to do them now."

"Yes, ma'am."

"So, what are they?"

"Well, first, it helps if I sit down."

She helped lower him back onto the chaise.

"Okay, what next?" she asked.

"You take my foot..."

With a look of skepticism, she sat down next to his foot on the chaise.

"And start massaging," he continued.

Instead, she took his foot and gave it a small twist.

"Ow! Rory!" moaned Tristan. "You're mean."

"And you're not very smart. Either tell me what to do or I'll implement my own therapeutic program. How about we go the other way now?"

She grabbed his foot again.

"Okay! Okay," said Tristan. "I'm just supposed to do range of motion exercises. GENTLE stretches and rotation."

"I'm gentle. I only lay the smackdown when you don't behave. Okay, so let's get started."

Rory put him through as much as it looked like he could take. It's amazing how wimpy boys become when they're in a little pain. Tristan was saved when Hilda called them to dinner. Rory was definitely on a mission to get him walking again.

TRISTAN'S HOUSE (NEXT DAY)

"What's that?" asked Tristan.

"It's a cane," explained Rory, holding the chrome-plated neck with orthopedic handgrip.

"It's an old person's cane."

"I'm sorry. They were all out of pimpin' canes."

"Why didn't you just get me a walker?" he asked sarcastically.

"I considered it. They had this one with a basket and a horn. You'd be stylin'."

Finally relenting, he took the cane from her and planted it on the floor. With a little trouble he rose up onto his feet. Rory let him get comfortable with it for a second.

"I've been on those crutches for so long I don't know what to do with my left hand now."

Without thinking, Rory held out her right hand to him.

"Here," she offered. "If it'll help."

Tristan was at first stunned by the invitation to hold her hand. But he reacted quickly before she had the opportunity to rescind the offer. With her hand in his once again, he felt as though he could run a marathon.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Where are we going?"

"I thought we could just try across the room today. The steps might be pushing it, but we are definitely going outside tomorrow."

They slowly made their way around the room. Tristan tried the stairs but Rory was right, it was too much. The next day they did make it outside. They didn't make it past the terrace but it was a refreshing change all the same. It was the first time Rory had been outside. She was excited to see more of them as their walks got longer and each one explored a new area of the property. Tristan himself wasn't even sure how big it was. He was sure that Rory was going to make him show her every inch. And he was happy to oblige.

RORY'S HOUSE

Emmett dropped Tristan off for the usual Sunday study session. However, when they showed up, Emmett was also carrying some sort of case along with Tristan's book bag. Once Emmett left, Tristan took the case and brought it into the living room.

"I came up with a brilliant idea," said Tristan excitedly.

"Wow. Should I call Guiness?"

Ignoring her sarcasm, he limped over to the television and dropped to the floor, setting his cane aside.

"It's a way for you to learn football and have some fun at the same time."

"I don't think that's possible."

"Oh, ye of little faith."

She saw him plugging cords into places she didn't even know existed.

"Well, what is it?" she queried.

He held up a CD.

"Madden 2002," he explained.

"A video game?"

"Not just any video game. This is Playstation 2."

"Oh, well, why didn't you say so?"

He pushed a button and then crawled back from the TV a ways.

"Sit down," he instructed. "You use this controller."

She looked at the crazy looking object.

"There's like twenty buttons on this thing."

"Don't worry about it," said Tristan. "What team do you want to be?"

"Team? Where are the directions?"

"You don't need directions."

"I'd like to know what I'm doing before I try to do it."

"I'll teach you. Now, come on, what team do you want to be?"

"I don't care."

"Fine. You can be Tennessee and I'll be Buffalo. I'll kick it to you."

"But...what... I don't know what I'm doing."

"All right. Hang on. We'll go slow. You use these little joystick things to move your guys around."

"All my guys?" asked Rory.

"No, just the one that's highlighted."

"But what if he sucks?"

"Choose another guy."

"How?"

"You see how they have little letters," Tristan said, pointing to the screen. "They correspond to the buttons with letters."

"Hey, don't kick it... Wait, my guy has the ball."

"Run!"

Eyes wide with sudden concentration, Rory raised the controller up in front of her as if the motion of her arms might help move the players onscreen.

"I'm trying."

"Not that way."

"This is disorienting."

"Okay, you're down."

Her arms dropped from their position and she took a deep breath, raising a hand to her chest.

"I'm going to have a stroke."

"Now you have to choose a formation. You remember us talking about formations?"

"Vaguely."

"Choose a formation and then pick the play you want to run."

Rory inadvertently pushed a button.

"What did I do?" she asked.

"You picked your play."

"I didn't mean to. What was the play?"

"I don't know. Hike the ball and see."

"Oh, of course," she said sarcastically. "That makes sense."

"Okay, it's a pass play..."

Rory's arms raised again, trying to figure out what buttons to push on the controller.

"What do I do?!?"

"Hit the letter of the guy you want to pass it to and then hit this button."

"What button?"

"This button."

Rory's arms dropped again.

"He didn't catch it."

"Once you throw it, you control the guy who's supposed to catch it."

"What? That's too complicated."

"No, come on, let's try it again. Choose your play."

"This isn't fun. I'm having heart palpitations."

"You're taking it too seriously. It's just a game."

"I want to read the directions."

"What did you say before about theory versus application?"

"This isn't application. It's just hand-eye coordination."

"You'll only get better if you practice," he teased.

"Oh, all right," she relented and then stopped. "Wait, why do I want to get better?"

"Because you can't stand losing to me," he smirked.

"Good point," she replied, raising the controller once again.

PHYSICAL THERAPY CLINIC

Rory had begun accompanying Tristan into his therapy sessions with Diane. She mostly just sat off to the side and watched, feeling that her presence wasn't really necessary but wanting to be supportive all the same.

When they had returned following the session where Tristan stormed out in a wave of profanity, Diane didn't seem at all surprised that Rory joined them. In fact, she had repeatedly given Rory some knowing looks when Tristan showed marked progress. It wasn't until Tristan went to the restroom and left them alone that Rory found out what those looks had meant.

"What did you do to that boy?" asked Diane.

"I beg your pardon," responded Rory.

"I've never seen such a complete turnaround."

"Yeah," agreed Rory. "He's improving."

"Improving? He's really chomping at the bit to get walking again. I'm actually holding him back a little so he doesn't overdo it."

Rory just shrugged.

"You're too modest, Rory," continued Diane. "You are the reason for this. I wish you'd tell me your secret. Although, I think I already know what it is."

"What?"

"I don't want to upset you like I did before but…" Diane sighed, "you and Tristan make a good couple."

"We are NOT a couple," said Rory emphatically.

"Excuse me for seeming dense," Diane pressed lightly, "but why not?"

Rory took a deep breath. How could summarize the relationship that was ‘Rory and Tristan'? It wasn't easy.

"We just don't belong together," explained Rory.

"It doesn't look that way to me."

"You don't really know the whole story," Rory sighed. "We sort of live on different planes."

"Planes as in different levels of existence or planes as in he's Northwest and you're Spirit Airlines?"

"More like he's the Concorde and I'm Virgin Atlantic," replied Rory without thinking.

Diane's eyebrows raised at the statement and Rory's face turned red upon realizing what she had just said.

"So," chuckled Diane. "Tristan has racked up some frequent flyer miles?"

"I guess."

"You guess or you know?"

Rory was getting annoyed with their discussion.

"Because," continued Diane. "I wouldn't believe everything you hear…"

"I know, okay," interrupted Rory, frustrated. "I know because….because one day I was kissing him and a week later he was kissing someone else."

Rory stared at the floor.

"I see," said Diane, slowly trying to understand. "But do you want…?"

"I don't want anything," said Rory, exasperated. "Especially not Tristan. And he doesn't want me. It's that simple."

Deciding she'd had enough of the conversation, Rory grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

"Rory," called Diane, causing Rory to pause. "I've been doing this job for fourteen years and I can recognize pain when I see it."

Not wanting to hear whatever trite advice came next, Rory walked out and went to sit down in the waiting room. Ridding her thoughts of their conversation, she pulled out a book and sank into her latest novel.

TRISTAN'S HOUSE

Although Rory wouldn't have admitted it, Diane had given her a lot to think about. Not in the ‘write an essay detailing your feelings' type of thinking, but more in the way she looked at Tristan, watched his reactions to her and to other people. While she realized that he didn't share certain things with her, they had become very comfortable around each other. She liked their relationship. Why would she want it to change?

Meanwhile, she and Tristan continued on their after school walks around the grounds of his home. Their goal for the day was to make it to the lake.

"What kind of flowers are those?" asked Rory.

"I don't know," replied Tristan.

"And that tree?"

"You got me."

"Is that dirt?"

"Hard to say."

"Do you really know so little about your own home?"

"You're not asking me about my home. You're asking me about botany."

Rory noticed a large area off in the distance that sort of stood out. However, it just looked like a mass of trees and brush.

"What's that over there?" she said, pointing to it.

He looked to see where she was indicating.

"Nothing," he replied. "It's just kind of a mess. I think that's where the gardener hides his mistakes. Here's the lake."

They walked to the almost to the edge, not wanting to step into the mud.

"It's very peaceful," she noted.

"We actually share it with several neighbors. No one is allowed to run anything motorized on it. I always thought that kind of sucked. I would've loved to have taken my wave runner out here when I was younger."

"It'd just give you another opportunity to get hurt," she lectured.

"I had plenty of opportunity to get hurt, believe me. I just never did," he went on. "At least, until you came along."

Rory was about to request a clarification on his comment when a noise caught their attention. Two big, hairy dogs came romping towards them.

"Stupid neighbor dogs," said Tristan. "They're always running loose."

"It's not their fault," said Rory, bending down to give one a scratch behind the ears. The other came up and started licking her face. She started giggling as she tried to get away from his slobbering, but since she stopped with the ear scratching, the other one joined in the lick-fest. Tristan chuckled at the scene before him.

"I could...yleaugh," Rory pleaded, "use a little help here."

Tristan found a stick.

"Here, boys. Come on, chase the stick."

He tossed the stick into the water and they raced after it. Rory stood up finally, trying to wipe her face off.

"Yuck."

Tristan chuckled again.

"I appreciate your assistance," said Rory.

"Actually, I wasn't sure you really wanted my assistance," he smiled. "You looked like you might be enjoying it. I didn't know if I should help or join in."

One of the dogs came back with the stick and dropped it at Rory's feet. He was drenched and there was only one thing to do.

"No!" cried Rory, holding out her hands in front of her.

The dog shook his heavy fur, spraying water in a wide arc and getting Rory thoroughly soaked. Tristan had another laugh at her expense until the other dog came out of the water and pounced on him. Without the full use of both of his legs, Tristan went down with the very wet and muddy dog on top of him. No sooner had they hit the ground than the dog went to town licking Tristan's face.

"Stick!" hollered Tristan. "Throw the stick."

"I don't know," laughed Rory. "Are you sure you're not enjoying it?"

Suddenly, both dogs' ears perked up at some unknown sound and ran off just as quickly as they had appeared, leaving a wet Rory and a muddy Tristan.

"Well, that was fun," commented Rory. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, using his shirt to wipe off the slobber. Unfortunately, his shirt was covered in mud, which he just transferred to his face.

"Lovely," he murmured, glancing up to a thoroughly amused Rory.

He held his hands up to her.

"Little help, please," he said.

"You're muddy."

"You're wet."

"But I'm not muddy."

He stuck out his bottom lip and just held out his hands further. She knew better than to take them but she did anyway. Before she knew it she was being yanked down on top of him. He pulled her back to his chest and wrapped his muddy arms around her in an effort to transfer as much of it to her as possible.

"You're a jerk," admonished Rory.

"Say it like you mean it."

He rubbed his muddy face against her cheek and let it rest there. Rory only struggled briefly, resigned in some way to the situation. She just sat there quietly in his snug, albeit damp, embrace. His breath tickling her ear. They stayed that way quietly for a few minutes. The unexpected comfort of their physical contact gave each pause.

"What if I don't get any better?" Tristan stated suddenly.

"What are you talking about?" asked a confused Rory.

"What if I can't?"

Rory tried to turn her head to see his face.

"Tristan, at the rate you're going, you'll be back to yourself in no time."

"Yeah, back to myself..." he muttered, dropping his forehead to her shoulder and taking a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" she said, rocking herself in his arms a bit to get his attention.

"Nothing," he replied, raising his head. "Is tonight gonna be a full moon?"

Rory was even more confused.

"I don't know. Why?"

"I just got this strange feeling coming over me," he said and gave her neck a slobbering lick of his own.

"Eww," she groaned, pulling away from him and getting up. "Stop."

"You think you got it bad? I got a mouthful of dirt."

He leaned over to try and spit the dirt out of his mouth.

"Serves you right."

He finally grabbed his cane and pulled himself to his feet. They looked at each other, both caked in mud.

"This is disgusting," said Rory, holding her arms out from her sides.

"You still look beautiful," he murmured, turning towards the house.

"What?" she asked, following him.

"I said," he raised his voice but then lowered it when he turned his head and found that she was right next to him. He stopped then to admire her. Her bright eyes. Her questioning gaze. Even with her clothes in such a state and the streak of mud down the side of her face, he couldn't imagine a more perfect person. He reached to pull a leaf out of her hair.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

Rory could hear her own quickening heartbeat. She was too stunned to respond except to feel herself lean towards him...searching...offering...only to feel disappointed when he quickly turned and continued the trek to the house. She stood there briefly, unsure of what had just transpired. She waited until her breathing got back to normal before following him at a safe distance.

TRISTAN'S HOUSE

As had become the custom for them both, the moment by the lake was forgotten. Not forgotten really. Set aside. They drifted back into their usual, comfortable behavior.

Having gone on their longest walk yet, they returned to the solarium and relaxed into identical chaise lounges sitting next to each other. The sun had just disappeared from the horizon, its light waning in the distance, leaving a colorful spectacle in its wake. They watched quietly as the daylight slipped away.

"The days are getting shorter," noted Tristan, speaking in a hushed tone.

"Yeah."

She turned her head to look at him. Too much light was lost to see his features crisply, but it didn't matter. She knew what he looked like. The darkness just seemed to give a heightened awareness of him that wasn't about physical appearance. In fact, she thought the opportunity might make it easier for her to broach a subject she'd been meaning to discuss with him.

"Do you know what next weekend is?" she broached.

"Last football game of the year. Conference championship."

"Well, yeah, that too."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Is there something else?"

She hesitated a moment.

"It's also my birthday."

He turned to face her, surprised at the shy quality of her voice.

"I know," he replied.

"You know? How do you know?"

"I was at your party last year, remember? You introduced me to your grandfather."

"You have a good memory."

"He liked me."

"I told you. He was drunk."

Tristan chuckled and turned on his side so that his whole body was facing her.

"Are they going to throw you another party?" he asked.

"No, thank God, but my mom is. On Saturday," she paused. "Can you make it?"

He smiled playfully.

"Are you inviting me?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Hmm. I'll have to check my dayplanner."

"You have a dayplanner?" she asked skeptically.

"No, but I'll buy one and I'll get back to you."

She rolled her eyes and stared out at the flashing lights of an airplane moving across the sky.

"So, what do you want for your birthday?" he asked.

"You don't have to get me anything."

"I'm not showing up at your party without a gift."

"Fine. I want a hula hoop."

"Act like that and you may just get one."

"Well, maybe I really want one."

"Do you?"

"No."

"So, what do you want?"

"I don't know. I don't really need anything."

"I didn't say ‘what do you need?' I said ‘what do you want?'"

"I'll have to think about it."

He took a deep breath and turned back to his former position. The settling darkness also gave him enough courage to broach a subject of his own.

"Would you like to go out after your party?" said Tristan.

"What?" she asked, not sure she had heard him right.

"What time is your party supposed to end?"

"Oh, probably around six."

He turned to her again.

"Would you like to go somewhere after that? A movie or something?"

Rory wasn't sure if the offer had to do with her birthday or maybe something else. It didn't matter really. Her answer would still have been the same.

"Yeah," responded Rory. "That sounds like fun."

"Good," was all he said, was all he could say. He was absolutely, mind-numbingly giddy by her answer. He couldn't recall ever being ‘giddy' in his life. And he had no idea that the same feeling was coursing through the girl who sat next to him.

They were both looking forward to what Saturday would bring.

FOOTBALL GAME

It was only fitting that the last game of the year would be the most exciting. Chilton was down by three touchdowns going into the second half when Rem Vasta returned a kickoff into the end zone to spark a change in momentum.

Chilton scored another touchdown and a field goal before the end of the third quarter, but Cranbrook answered with a touchdown of their own. It came down to the last four minutes of play when Chilton finally pounded in another touchdown. They tried an onsides kick to regain control but it didn't work. The game looked like it was over until a bad snap sent the ball past the Cranbrook quarterback and Chilton recovered, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

Tristan and Rory had sat in the back of student's section instead of their usual spot off to the side and had to stand on their seats to see the final minutes of the game. With less than a minute left, quarterback Trent Andres faked to his running back and went the opposite way with the ball. Known for his quickness, he split the unsuspecting defense and ran the ball until being knocked out of bounce at the three-yard line. The fans were going nuts as Cranbrook called a time-out.

"Trent should just give it to Brandon and let him power it in like last time," Tristan had to practically yell for Rory to hear above the din.

"I'd throw it to Jay in the corner," answered Rory. "They wouldn't expect it."

Tristan shook his head in disagreement as the teams lined back up for the play. The ball was hiked and Trent turned to hand the ball to Brandon. Brandon dove through the pile in the middle of the line and was stopped immediately. Fortunately, he didn't have the ball. Trent still had it. He turned back towards the line and lofted it into the corner for Jay Hobbs, one of the smallest guys on the team but had some of the best hands. He didn't even have to reach for it. He was all alone in the corner as it landed right in his lap. TOUCHDOWN! He slammed the ball and raised his arms as his teammates ran over to dogpile him. There were still eight seconds on the clock but barely anyone noticed as they kicked the ball and Cranbrook took over possession. It was too late. The time ran out and everyone stormed the field. Chilton had won.

As much as he might have liked to join the team and the rest of the school on the field, Tristan wasn't going anywhere with the condition his foot was still in. That's what he told himself anyway. He sat down next to Rory and they watched the celebration from their vantage point in the stands.

Tristan noticed the triumphant little grin on Rory's face.

"So, are you going to be assistant coach next year?" kidded Tristan.

"They offered," she joked back. "I said I'd think about it. Of course, if you ask me, the game shouldn't have been that close. If they had spread out the passing game instead of just concentrating on running the ball, they probably could've saved a few people from taking their high blood pressure medication."

"I've created a monster," he replied, shaking his head.

"DuGrey!" yelled a fellow student. "Everyone's going to Ashe's. You need a ride?"

Tristan looked at Rory.

"Do you want to go?"

Rory shrugged.

"I didn't bring a book."

He shook his head again and took her hand.

"You're coming."

PARTY

After detouring back to Tristan's to change out of their cold weather clothing, they entered the already rockin' party. Everyone was in high spirits from the game so it was noisy and it was crowded. They squeezed through to find something to drink. They dropped off their coats in a small room off the main floor and made it to the kitchen where people were taking turns filling their glasses at two different kegs.

"I'm guessing that that one's regular and the other is decaf," said Rory.

"Guess again," replied Tristan, picking up a cup. "You want a beer?"

The words came out before he realized what he was saying and who he was saying it to.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Clouded memories crept back into his consciousness.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he answered, putting the cup back down.

"Tristan!" said Trent Andres, slapping him on the back. "What a game, man! What a game! Did you see that?"

Tristan used his free hand to lock fists with Trent.

"Did I see it?" said Tristan. "Of course, man. You were awesome!"

"I was good, wasn't I?" smiled Trent, obviously well on his way to complete inebriation. "Hey, grab a drink, man. The rest of the team is out on the patio. Come with me."

Tristan opened his mouth to answer and then looked at Rory. Trent noticed.

"You can come too," said Trent. "Rory, right? Come on, have a drink and party with the football team. I guarantee you a good time."

"Oh, well," Rory hesitated. "I'm sort of the designated driver."

"I get it," said Trent, nodding. "You're the responsible type. That's cool. You can still come and party like a rock star!"

"Maybe later," she replied in amusement

"Okay, well, is it all right if I borrow DuGrey here? It's hardly a party without him."

"Sure," shrugged Rory.

"All right," said Trent. "Let's grab you a drink and head on out. See you later Rory."

Trent turned to leave and Tristan turned to Rory.

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

"Thought I'd just chill with my homeys," drawled Rory.

He quirked a grin at her.

"You're not going to go find the library are you?"

"No, but it would be nice to find a bathroom."

"Can't help you there," said Tristan. "We won't stay too late though."

"Okay."

"DuGrey!" called Trent from the sliding door leading to the patio.

"I'll see you later."

"Okay," she replied.

Rory went off in search of a rest room while Tristan caught up with Trent. The patio was filled with the rest of the football team and quite a few of their admirers. They saw Tristan appear walking with his cane and couldn't let it pass.

"Hey, it's the old man," teased one guy.

"Hey, Brandon, good game," replied Tristan.

"Good game?" said another. "Shit, it was awesome!"

Tristan moved further out onto the patio in search of a chair.

"Wish I could've been out there with you guys."

"We do too, man. It was sweet."

"Wait ‘til next year, T. Lose all these dumbass seniors and we won't need to come from behind to beat anybody."

Protests from the group of seniors went around. Brandon rose from his seat and approached his fellow drunken teammate.

"Come on Anderson, why don't you put your skinny little junior ass up against me."

"Naw, man. I ain't got time for that shit," said Anderson, grabbing the girl next to him. "‘I'm a lover not a fighter.'"

That comment brought even more groans and chuckles.

Inside the house, Rory had used the bathroom and then began to wander around. She actually did find the library. However, she also found a couple only half-clad and too ‘absorbed' in what they were doing to notice her abrupt exit. She wandered back into the crush of fellow classmates and whoever else these people were. She barely recognized anybody. She felt even more uncomfortable than usual. It would have been nice if even Paris was there to argue with. Unfortunately, there wasn't anyone she felt like talking to. Well, there was one person.

Out on the patio, Tristan was laughing and carrying on with his football buds when, from a door at the other end of the patio, tripped a very intoxicated Mara Hopkins.

"Tristan!" she slurred, making her way over to him immediately.

"Hey, Mara," he replied mildly.

She grabbed his hands to raise him to his feet.

"Dance with me," she instructed, leaning into him.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"Why? Because of your foot? That was so long ago. I bet you don't even need this thing."

She took the cane from him before he can do anything about it. Though not in much discomfort, he still felt a little unsteady without it at his side.

"Mara, come on, give it back."

"What? This?"

She waved it in front of him, just out of his reach. He grew impatient at her childishness. She stepped up close to him with the cane behind her back. Her other hand tracing up his chest.

"I wanna hear you beg."

He reached behind her to grab the cane, but her unsteadiness sent her falling into him. He grabbed a hold of her tightly, acting to keep them both from crashing to the patio floor. Unfortunately, from Rory's perspective in the doorway it looked more like an act of passion rather than an act of self-defense. Rory suddenly felt sick to her stomach and a blind panic overtook her as she made her way back through the house.

She didn't belong here. She needed to leave here. Finally, she stopped when she realized she didn't know where she was going. Her hands were shaking. She decided she should first get her jacket. She headed in that direction.

Out on the patio, Mara relinquished Tristan's cane when the world started spinning. She sat down and began throwing up some very expensive liquor on a very expensive patio floor. A few of her friends came over to keep vigil with her while the rest decided they'd rather be elsewhere. Tristan figured there were enough people to make sure she was all right so he decided he'd rather be elsewhere as well.

Rory found the room where they had thrown their jackets. Hers was lying underneath Tristan's and when she went to move his, she felt the cell phone in his pocket. Struck with an idea, she grabbed the phone and started dialing.

"Hi, you've reached the Gilmore residence..."

"Damn it," said Rory, rubbing her eyes. She started dialing again and then stopped. "I can't call Lane."

She tried another number but it rang and rang but no one answered.

"Mom, where are you?"

Rory sat with the phone in her lap and pondered over how desperate her situation was. She needed to leave. She didn't want to take his car. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to be there at all. She needed someone to come pick her up. Anyone. She hesitated briefly before dialing again.

"Hi," she said as calmly as she could. "I'm sorry to call so late, but is Dean there?"

Tristan stood in the doorway, frozen. He stared at the back of her, his chest tightening.

"Oh, no," she continued. "No message. I'll call back another time. Thanks."

Tristan literally felt like he was going to be sick. He turned from the room before she was aware of his presence.

Rory sat there for a minute trying to figure out what to do. When a tear tracked down her cheek, she swiped at it angrily.

"This is so stupid," she said to herself.

She grabbed the keys to his car and headed for the exit.

Tristan had made it to the front porch to get some air and avoid the rest of the partygoers. The more time he had to think, the angrier he became. He turned to go back into the house in search of her but he didn't have to go far. The heavy wooden door swung open and Rory had to stop abruptly before barreling into him. They stared at each other in shock for a moment, before the anger took back over.

Rory shut the door and walked right past him.

"Where are you going?" he said and followed her.

"I'm leaving."

"To go where?"

"Home."

"I bet."

At the moment, Rory didn't care what he thought. She was more intent on making her way through the maze of cars to find his.

"Were you even going to tell me?"

"I'm sure you can get a ride."

Rory got to the car and opened the door. She was surprised to look up and see him on the passenger side. He'd never moved that quickly on his bad leg before.

"I want to go home now."

"So go."

"The least you could do is drive me."

"Fine."

They both got into the car and Rory took off. The silence gave them a renewed opportunity to let their anger grow with the person beside them. They got within a couple miles of his home when the fireworks began.

"I don't want you driving my car anymore," he stated.

"What?!" asked Rory.

"I don't want you driving my car anymore."

Rory couldn't believe it. She slammed on the brakes.

"What are you doing!?" said Tristan in disbelief.

"You said you didn't want me to drive it."

"We're almost to the house!"

Rory unbuckled her seatbelt.

"I don't want to drive your car. I NEVER wanted to drive your stupid car."

She opened the door and got out. He did the same.

"It's not a stupid car!"

She walked over to him and grabbed the cell phone from his pocket before he knew what she was doing.

"Hey!" he growled, taking it from her. "That's my phone."

"I need someone to take me home."

"Emmett can take you home."

"I can call my grandparents."

"Emmett can take you!"

"Emmett doesn't need to take me! I could walk if I had to! Anything that would get me away from being with you!!!"

That was it. The nail in the coffin. It came so suddenly.

His face turned to stone, and the world fell out from under him. He tossed his phone onto the ground in front of her and walked back to the car.

Rory picked up the phone and took a second to catch her breath while dialing.

"Hi, grandma..."

RORY'S HOUSE

Lorelai noticed headlights coming through the front window and supposed that Rory was home but she was confused when the lights retreated from the driveway. She got up to investigate when Rory appeared in the doorway.

"Rory?"

"Hey, mom," she greeted casually.

"Did someone give you a ride home?"

"Yeah, Victor."

"Victor? As in ‘Victor Victoria' Victor? My parents' driver Victor?"

"That would be him."

"Why did he give you a ride?"

"I would've taken the subway but we don't have one."

"Where's Tristan's car?"

"I don't know," replied Rory casually.

"You don't know?" inquired Lorelai.

"Where were you?" said Rory, changing the subject. "I called."

"What? Oh, I got your message about the party."

"I called after that. Where were you?"

"I was at Sookie's. She was putting the final touches on your cake."

"Oh my God, my birthday. I nearly forgot."

"You nearly forgot? Gilmore girls do not forget birthdays. Other people's birthdays, yes, but not their own. What's going on?"

"I should really get to bed."

"Did something happen between you and Tristan?"

"Good night, mom," said Rory as she kissed Lorelai on the cheek. "See you in the morning."

Lorelai just stood in confusion, watching Rory disappear into her room.

RORY'S HOUSE (NEXT DAY)

It was Rory's birthday and Lorelai wanted to make it as special as possible. That's why she didn't question Rory further about what had happened the night before. It was easy to deduce that Rory was hiding something, and that something had to do with Tristan. That was clear from the empty spot in the driveway that used to be filled by Tristan's sports car. Lorelai didn't know how bad the situation was until it was an hour into the party and Tristan had not appeared.

"Rory?"

"Yeah, mom?"

"Where's Tristan?"

She watched Rory's reaction carefully.

"I don't know," Rory shrugged.

"Did he say anything last night about not coming?"

"No," she replied evasively, and was saved from further inquiry by the arrival of her grandparents.

Throughout the party, Rory gave no indication that anything was wrong or unusual. She chatted happily with her guests, opened her gifts with the excitement of a little kid, and even helped pass out the cake and ice cream. No one was the wiser. Except, of course, Lorelai. She recognized the act the Rory was putting on and it pained her to see it. She was determined to get Rory to talk to her about what had happened. As soon as everyone had left, she approached her.

Rory was sitting on the couch looking through the books that someone had given her.

"Hey," said Lorelai, sitting down next to her. "How's your birthday going so far?"

"Great," replied Rory. "I can hardly wait to start reading."

"You're not going to read them right now, are you?" uh oh, here she goes. "In fact, weren't you supposed to go out with Tristan tonight?"

Rory froze.

"Is that still on?" continued Lorelai. "Since he wasn't here, I wasn't sure..."

Rory jumped up from the couch.

"Actually, Lane and I are going to the movies."

"Lane? What about Tristan?"

Rory walked towards her room.

"I've got to go or we're going to be late."

Lorelai got up to follow her.

"You know I know what you're doing," said Lorelai.

Rory came out of her room with her jacket and purse.

"What I'm doing?" asked Rory.

"You go all weird when I say the ‘T' word."

"The ‘T' word?"

"Tristan."

"I'm going to be late," said Rory quickly, trying to walk past her mother, but Lorelai put her hands on her shoulders to stop her and look her in the eyes.

"Hey, I know something is wrong and I don't understand why you won't talk to me."

Rory looked at her feet, not wanting to relive the emotions that stirred within her.

"Rory, what happned?"

"Nothing. It was stupid," she said quickly.

"What was stupid?"

"We got into an argument about his car."

"His car? You guys argue about everything. Why would that...?"

"Mom," Rory swallowed. "It's my birthday. Can we not do this today?"

Lorelai looked at the hurt in Rory's eyes and relinquished her hold.

"Okay," she sighed. "But we are doing this. Tomorrow is not your birthday you know."

"Okay, tomorrow."

Rory started for the door.

"But not tomorrow morning," said Lorelai, following her again. "I've got to meet my study group."

"Not tomorrow morning."

"Oh, and we can't do it between one and three. Ice skating is on. Sookie's coming over."

Rory reached for the door.

"Ice skating. Got it."

She was just about to walk out the door.

"Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday, kiddo," said Lorelai with a smile. "I love you."

Rory smiled back.

"Love you too."

Lorelai leaned over to kiss her forehead.

"Okay, don't stay out too late."

DOWNTOWN HARTFORD

After meeting with her study group, Lorelai immediately sought out the nearest coffee vendor. She ordered and then waited off to the side with the rest of the caffeine addicts. As she glanced around the establishment, she noticed a familiar figure sitting alone in the corner. Tristan. Hunched over his own cup of java, he was looking pretty downtrodden. Nevertheless, she didn't even have to debate whether or not to approach him. She just waited for her coffee and then set a course for meddling.

"Tristan. Hi," she greeted.

His head jerked up in surprise.

"Oh, hi..." he stammered.

"May I sit down?" she asked, while sitting down.

"Um, sure."

She took a sip of her coffee and smiled.

"Mmm," she said. "So, how are you?"

Tristan didn't know how to respond.

"How am I?"

"Okay, let's cut to the chase. What happened Friday? How come you didn't come to Rory's party?"

He was even more surprised that she didn't know.

"Rory didn't tell you?"

"The only thing she said was that you two got into an argument about your car."

He looked away.

"Now, really, what happened?" she continued.

"We got into an argument about the car."

"Okay, so you got into an argument about the car. Why?"

He didn't respond.

"Tristan..." Lorelai was at a loss for words. "I know you two have this complicated relationship that, frankly, I don't get, which is why I haven't butted in. But now Rory's acting all weird and won't talk to me about it and, being the mother that I am, I am officially butting in."

Tristan still had no response.

"I know you like Rory," she said, expecting a bigger reaction than the one he gave. "She likes you."

He snorted at that suggestion.

"You don't believe me?"

"She's actually said that she likes me?" asked Tristan.

"Well, no."

"Has she ever said she didn't like me?"

"Uh, well, she did call you a jackass once. Okay, maybe more than once. And, well, yeah, she has repeatedly complained to me about how frustrated you make her and I have to admit…I can't believe my big mouth won't shut. Shut, big mouth. Shut."

Lorelai took a sip of her coffee and sighed, trying to refocus.

"Do you realize how much time you two spend together?" said Lorelai. "Good Lord, she spends more time with you than she does with me and we live together. Of course she's going to get frustrated with you, and you with her, but she comes back doesn't she?"

"Out of a feeling of duty," added Tristan.

"Try out of a feeling of affection," clarified Lorelai.

Tristan dared to consider the truth of the statement.

"Did you know that ever since you left your video game at our house, she's played it for hours, forsaking her usual literary habits. She's even gotten me to play."

"She's competitive," he shrugged. "She just wants to be able to beat me."

"I don't think so. I think she wants you to be proud of her,"

As Tristan's expression began to change, Lorelai felt she may be getting through to him.

"I'm her mother. I know these things. She acted like this with Dean."

Unfortunately, she picked a bad example to use in comparison.

Tristan shook his head in disgust.

"Does Rory tell you everything?" he asked.

"Well, no, obviously not."

"And she didn't tell you about anything else that happened on Friday?"

"No."

"Then forgive me for saying so, but I'm not sure you really know her as well as you think you do."

With that, Tristan grabbed his cane and exited the building, leaving a frustrated Lorelai sitting at the table, still wondering what had happened. Teens. Good Lord, they were exhausting. She only wanted to help. But, if no one wanted to talk about it, that was fine with her. However, she wasn't quite done meddling yet.

TRISTAN'S HOUSE

Later that same afternoon, Lorelai pulled the Jeep up to the front door of the DuGrey estate.

"Grandma's going to be upset," complained Rory from the passenger side, wondering once again how she had gotten talked into coming here.

"For the last time, she is not going to be upset," replied Lorelai. "We're only stopping long enough for you to drop off Hilda's pan."

Rory opened her mouth to make another protest.

"I'll even keep the engine running," said Lorelai.

Rory sighed in defeat, the pan sitting in her lap.

"I called Hilda and told her we were on our way over," she said, unlocking Rory's seatbelt and giving her a gentle shove. "Now go."

Rory unhappily dragged herself from the Jeep and up to the front doors. She rang the doorbell and stared down at the pan in her hands.

She was there to drop off the pan. It would only take a second. She would most likely not even see Tristan. She didn't want to see Tristan. She came to drop off the pan. Who knew that pan delivery caused such anxiety and nausea?

Finally, the door opened and Emmett appeared.

"Rory," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "It's good to see you. Come in, come in."

"I just..." she began as she stepped inside.

Emmett hurriedly closed the door behind her.

"Forgive me," said Emmett, still trying to calm his breathing. "I'm was just looking for something when you rang the bell."

It suddenly occurred to Rory that Tristan might not have told Emmett or Hilda all the details of their falling out which would explain why Emmett was acting as if things were the same as usual.

"Would you like some juice?" he asked. "I could whip you up a batch of celery, carrot, orange juice."

"No, um... Thanks."

"All right," he replied with a smile.

It felt comforting to see his kind smile, like nothing had happened. She would go and find Tristan in the library and they'd laugh and study and things would be back to normal.

"Actually," said Emmett, distractedly. "I really need to finish what I was doing. Make yourself at home."

He turned away from her and she abruptly remembered why she had come.

"Emmett..."

She held out the pan in front of her.

"Oh, the pan, of course," he said. "Hilda said you were going to drop it off. Um, could you just set it on the counter in the kitchen? I have something that I need to attend to."

He turned and hurried from the room. Rory still stood holding out the pan, trying to will him to come back and take it from her. When he didn't magically reappear, she looked around for someone else and then realized that the someone else who might show up would be the someone else she didn't want to see. She quietly made her way into the kitchen.

Hilda was nowhere to be seen. There were no pans bubbling. No bread baking. No coffee brewing. The kitchen was strangely devoid of the usual warmth and cheeriness that she had come to associate with the room, and the people who usually occupied it. She stood there briefly, filled with sadness. But there was no use in dwelling on it. She gave her head a shake and then placed the pan on the counter. She turned back towards the door only to find her exit blocked by Tristan leaning on his cane.

They stared at each other uncertainly.

"Hilda said you were here," said Tristan.

Rory's heart raced at his presence. Her cheeks were on fire.

She was just surprised. That was all.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she said quickly, somehow finding her voice. "I'm just dropping off Hilda's pan. Mom's out in the car waiting for me. We're going to be late."

He blinked in comprehension and disappointment. Inside admonishing himself for believing that she was there for a more specific reason. His gaze hardened and shifted away from her.

"Oh," he responded blandly. "Well... Thank you for returning it."

He stepped aside to allow her to pass.

"You're welcome," she said quietly, wishing she could think of something else to say. But there was nothing.

They avoided making eye contact as she moved past him and headed for the front door.

The sound of hurried footsteps came from the hallway.

"Tristan?" called Emmett, suddenly appearing and carrying a wrapped package.

They both turned towards him.

"Did you want to give Rory her birthday gift?"

Tristan was stunned. He couldn't believe what Emmett was doing. He glared at the older gentleman for putting him in such an awkward position.

Emmett innocently held out the gift. Tristan stared at it and back up at Emmett. He sighed resolutely before taking it and turning towards Rory.

"I got you a present," he stated unhappily, and made no attempt to give it to her.

She didn't know how to respond. She knew he hadn't meant to give it to her.

"Oh," said Rory. "Well... You don't have to give it to me."

"I thought you'd appreciate it," he continued, trying to figure out what to say, but still not attempting to give it to her.

"So...you...are giving it to me?" said Rory, unable to interpret his intentions.

He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"It's... It's not just this," he said, motioning to the gift. "There's more to it. You can't open it here."

She had no clue what he was talking about but he had apparently come to a decision.

"Come on," he instructed, turning on his heel and quickly moving through the house. She was surprised by his action and then realized he had no intention of waiting for her so she rushed to catch up.

She followed him through the solarium, out the door to the terrace and through the gardens. Not once did he look back to check her progress. Despite his need for a cane, Rory had to jog every so often to keep up with his long legs and purposeful gait. Slowly she realized they were on the part of the grounds that they had never explored on their walks. He had said there was nothing to look at there and from what she could tell, he was right. In front of them was a massive and overgrown tangle of bushes and trees that twisted into an almost ugly wall of foliage. This was where he stopped.

He turned and looked at her as if he still wasn't sure whether he wanted to follow through with his gift. But finally, he held the package out to her.

"Happy birthday," he stated simply.

In a sort of weird confusion, she took the gift in her hands. The wrapping was simple. No bows or ribbons. She figured it was best to get it over quickly so she tore most of the wrapping off in one swift motion, revealing a book – "The Secret Garden" by Frances Hodgson Burnett.

Rory was speechless.

"It's a first edition," he explained.

She looked up into his eyes but only found a coldness there.

Rory pulled the rest of the wrapping off and tried to gain her bearings. Her head was spinning.

"I... I can't accept this."

"Of course you can't," he chuckled bitterly.

Tristan walked closer to the cluster of branches and leaves that towered over them.

"Ready for the next part?" he asked, grabbing hold of a dense section of the foliage.

Rory was still trying to absorb whatever meaning was behind such an expensive gift when he drew back the brush to reveal a wooden door set in a stone wall. Her jaw dropped.

"That's not... You... It's..." she stammered.

Instead of the joy he might have felt by her stunned reaction, he only felt annoyance.

"See for yourself," he muttered. "It's unlocked."

Rory walked up and gently pushed the door open. What she saw on the other side took her breath away. It was as if she had entered a manmade Eden. The most unusual trees and plant life she had ever seen adorned a lush, grassy courtyard. A small pond sat off to the side with strange fish that seemed to be feeding off of the flora that had grown up from its clear depths. Flowers she did not recognize outlined and dotted the ornate landscape. And locking it all into its hidden world was the stone wall that surrounded it. It was truly a secret garden.

While Rory attempted to take it all in, Tristan made his way over to a sculpted concrete bench and sat down.

"It was my mom's favorite book," he said.

Rory looked over at him but he didn't meet her gaze.

"My dad had it built as a wedding gift," he sighed. "Of course, they don't come out here anymore. No one comes out here. Except the gardeners."

Rory walked over to him.

"It's beautiful," said Rory quietly.

"It's an illusion," he said.

She looked at him for an explanation and he glared at her.

"It's fiction," he continued, his gaze once again shifting away from her. "She didn't want to move here. She grew up in Northern California and would've preferred for us to live there. But my dad's job required him to be on this coast. Apparently, to make it up to her, he promised to build the best house money could buy. And a garden, a special garden for her to come and read her books. I guess they would come out here together early on. Then, after I was born, my mother would bring me out here and read to me."

His wistful tone began to take on an edge.

"But, when I was six, her parents were in a car accident. She tried to get a hold of my father but he was in New York doing God knows what. She doesn't like to fly. She wouldn't get on an airplane without him. So she waited. When my mom finally got the news that her parents had died, she disappeared. It was almost forty-eight hours until they discovered her out here nearly dead herself from hypothermia. She's hasn't been out here since. In fact, she's rarely at home at all. My dad makes an appearance every now and then when he's not too busy with work or his women ‘friends'. My mother has friends of her own. Johnny Walker, Jim Beam, Jack Daniels..."

He slipped into silence. Rory didn't know what to say.

"So…there it is. The other part of your gift," he chuckled sadly. "Me."

He stood up from his position and she watched him sadly. Abruptly, he wheeled around to face her.

"But you can't accept me either, isn't that right!?" he said, raising his voice. "Because I will never be someone from one of your books! A... a first edition or even a cheap paperback. I'm sorry but I won't ever be one of them, Rory! I can't. I can't be a Colin or Heathcliff or Mr. Darcy or...or Sydney Carton."

She was stunned by his admission.

"What..?" she squeaked.

"I will never do a far better thing than I have ever done! I..." he looked around, helplessly searching for words. "I'm not heroic or enlightened or.... I... I can't... I'm not... I..."

Tired and defeated, his shoulders sagged and his head dropped.

"I can't be Dean," he finished quietly.

His revelation rocked Rory to the core. She struggled to process all that was going on.

He shut his eyes in frustration and spoke softly.

"The book. The... These are just things I have in my life. I didn't buy them and I didn't put them there. I just wanted to share them with you."

Rory realized she had to say something. She wanted to say something. She just didn't know how to say it.

"You know," she began. "For my birthday, Lane gave me some CDs. Pete Yorn, Remy Shand... They're good. I like them. Luke got me a gift certificate to Barnes and Noble. He's no good at buying people things. Miss Patty bought me some clothes. A sweater and two shirts..."

Tristan was at first surprised by what she was saying and then he became increasingly agitated as she continued.

"My grandparents..."

"Okay, Rory, I get it. I'm an idiot! I don't know how to choose a simple birthday gift. I get it..."

"No!" declared Rory adamantly. "You don't get it! I sat in a room with the people I love more than anything in the world and who love me and shower me with more gifts than I could ever ask for and... and I didn't care. I didn't care that they were there. I didn't care that they had gone out of their way to give me things. I didn't care if they gave me the keys to the Taj Mahal."

Rory took a deep breath and swiped at a tear that rolled down her cheek.

"All I wanted," she continued, "was for you to walk through the front door. I didn't care if you were still mad or not. I just wanted you to be there."

It was Tristan's turned to be stunned by her revelation.

"It's been only like thirty hours and..." she swallowed. "I missed you."

He couldn't believe what she was saying.

"Twenty-nine hours," he clarified quietly.

She looked up at him with a small smile.

"I missed you too."

They stared at each other, both wanting to say so many things but still too scared to. Finally, Rory reached out and took his left hand in both of hers. She ran her fingers over it and down to the silver ring that adorned his middle finger.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked.

"No," she replied, confused.

"And you haven't just broken up with anyone?"

"Stop."

She didn't appreciate him acting like this was a joke.

"I just want to make sure."

But he was very serious.

"Rory?" he asked. "Are you sure?"

To be honest, she wasn't sure. But it hurt too much not to be with him. She looked up into his eyes. And letting go of his hand, she abruptly grabbed his face and met his lips with a frantic kiss. Trying to say with her lips what she couldn't say with her voice. That she so desperately wanted him. Needed him. His immediate response was that same desperation. He let go of his cane so that he could use both arms to bring her closer. She felt so wonderful. Tasted so good. He never wanted to let go.

The kiss began with such a fury and then deepened into a soulful tangle of tongue and tooth and lips and breath. They only pulled apart when passing out became a definite possibility. He rested his forehead against hers as they tried to catch their breath.

"So..." he began, a smile forming. "You want me?"

"Yes," she replied, kissing his chin and then the corner of his mouth.

"But are you still mad at me?"

He kissed his way over to her ear.

"I forget," she breathed. "What did you do?"

"I don't know."

He bent his head into the crook of her neck and gently sucked on the area just above her collarbone.

"Tristan..." she moaned.

"Mmmm," he moaned back in reply.

"Can we sit down?"

He brought his lips back up to hers and began dropping kisses there.

"The bench (*kiss*) is too far (*kiss*) away."

"It's five feet to your left."

"Too far," he mumbled, nibbling at her lips.

"Then what are we going to do?" she asked.

"How about this?"

He began to lower them to the ground. Unfortunately, in the excitement, he forgot that his foot still wasn't totally healed. It still hurt to support his full weight and when hers was added to it, they both toppled to the ground, Rory on top of Tristan with a thud.

"Ow," he stated, lying on his back.

"Are you okay?" she chuckled, moving off of him and sitting at his side.

"No."

"Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere."

"Can you get up?"

"I don't want to. Can you kiss me from here?"

She chuckled again and ran her hand across his cheek and up into his hair. Their lips met much more gently this time. Savoring. Accepting. Affirming their place in each other's life. Hands not needing to possess, but rather explore and share.

They broke apart again and Rory rested her head on his chest. He closed his eyes and relished the feel of her as his hands caressed her back and arms.

"As least we're not covered in mud this time," she noted.

"Hey, I'm all for kissing in the mud."

"You didn't kiss me last time."

"You smelled like a wet dog."

She swatted at him playfully but he just held her closer.

"You smell much better today," he explained. "Very Rory-like."

A serenity washed over them.

"Let's stay out here all day," said Tristan.

Suddenly, Rory's head popped up.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Rory.

"What?"

"My mom. She's waiting in the jeep."

She jumped to her feet.

"I'm sure she's come inside by now," said Tristan, reaching for his cane and joining her.

"I was just supposed to drop off the pan. Then we were going to my grandparents."

"You had to drop off the pan today?" asked Tristan, suddenly considering the circumstances that led them out there.

"Mom said Hilda had called about it."

The gears in Rory's head started turning as well.

"Huh, and Hilda told me you were here then she disappeared."

Everything was starting to make sense.

"Then Emmett brought out your gift. You think...?"

"I think we've been set up," said Tristan.

INSIDE THE HOUSE

Lorelai, Emmett, and Hilda were all pressed up against a large window that overlooked the property.

"I don't see them," said Lorelai. "Are you sure that's where they went?"

"I'm not absolutely certain," said Emmett. "Tristan didn't tell me what the gift was."

"But he spent a good deal of time talking to the gardeners a couple weeks ago," explained Hilda.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," said Lorelai. "I've been known to have some...not good ideas."

"Why don't I go do a little snooping," said Emmett, turning around to find the objects of their discussion standing there.

"Tristan. Rory," he announced to the others.

They all turned around with guilty expressions on their faces until they saw that Rory and Tristan were holding hands.

"So..." said Lorelai. "How's it going?"

"Great," said Rory. "In fact, we've got some news."

They all looked happy as Tristan stepped behind Rory and put his arm around her.

"We're going to get married," said Tristan.

Everyone's jaws dropped.

"Um, did you say married?" questioned Lorelai.

"Yep, and we're moving to Kentucky," said Rory.

"To raise goats," said Tristan.

"And pickles," continued Rory.

"Pickles?" asked Hilda.

"Cucumbers. Whatever," clarified Rory. "We think pickling is going to be the next big fad. People will want to pickle everything. There's the usual stuff, eggs, mushrooms, pig's feet. But why limit ourselves, right?"

"Right," smiled Tristan.

The three relaxed as Rory went on.

"We can market startup kits so that people can pickle just about anything. Ice cream, cookies, shoes, stuffed animals..."

"Stuffed animals," repeated Lorelai. "Don't tell me..."

"Yep, we're going to call it ‘Pickle Me Elmo'," said Rory.

"That is just wrong," said Lorelai.

"Wrong like in how you tricked me into coming here and Tristan into giving me his gift."

"It worked, didn't it?" asked Lorelai.

"We're not complaining," said Tristan, giving Rory a squeeze. "In fact, we're very thankful."

"Oh, I'm so happy," said Hilda, clapping her hands together. "Will you all stay for dinner?"

"Aren't we supposed to go to grandma's?" Rory asked her mom.

"Ugh, yes," replied Lorelai. "I told her we would be late but I can only imagine what new criticism she has for me this week."

"I know. I've got a dessert you can take with you," offered Hilda. "Maybe that will help."

"Hilda," said Lorelai. "May I once again express what a goddess you are."

Hilda scoffed at the suggestion and left the room.

"We better get going," said Lorelai turning to leave along with Emmett.

"Um, mom," said Rory.

"Uh huh?" she said and turned to face Rory and Tristan.

Emmett realized he may be intruding on their conversation.

"I'll go help Hilda," he said and retreated from the room.

Lorelai turned her attention back to the two.

"What is it?" she said.

"Can Tristan come with us?" asked Rory.

"Are you kidding?" said Lorelai. "Of course, he's coming. He'll take the attention away from me. You're coming, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," he smiled.

"Good," said Lorelai. "Now you two get the rest of your kissing out of your system or whatever will hold you for a few hours and I'll meet you at the jeep."

She then left the room and Rory turned around in Tristan's arms.

"I like how your mom thinks," said Tristan, catching her lips with his in a long, lingering kiss.

"You know what," said Rory, between kisses. "I think you're wrong."

"Gosh, that's a surprise," he chuckled. "What am I wrong about now?"

"When you said you aren't like the characters in the books I read. I disagree. I think you're the epitome of the tortured, romantic protagonist."

"Mmmm," he growled, nuzzling her neck. "Tell me more."

"You're handsome..."

"Thank you."

"Rich, intelligent," she continued. "You can have anything you want..."

"Except the beautiful woman that bewitches me at every turn," he added.

"But once she sees the real you..."

"They share one of the greatest loves of all time."

Rory just smiled and kissed him lightly.

"That's quite a story," he said. "I only have one question."

"What's that?"

"Who'd want to read it?"

Rory shrugged.

"You got me."

THE END