Title: Sway
Author: Coralfly
Rating: PG
Summary: After two years in military school, Tristan's back in Hartford for one last summer before college.
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of the WB, Amy Sherman-Palladino and affiliates.

Chapter Five

He hit the keys of the perfectly tuned piano in succession; it sounded off key. He had come to another of Madeline's parties to escape the loudness of his thoughts, drown them with the din of the party. It hadn't worked. The world around him was speaking in whispers and saying the same thing, in an echo to the voices in his head. He was going insane.

Cracking his knuckles, Tristan stared down at his hands and the white and black keys of the piano before playing in earnest. He played well, technically perfect, because that was how he was trained. However his instructors had always said he lacked the creativity, the passion, to make him great. What they had never understood was that playing the piano was only another thing to add to Tristan's (and his parents') list of accomplishments.

Rory had come to Madeline's party. After two weeks of supposedly being sick, she was now here. From the corner of the room where he had been brooding, Tristan had looked up to see Madeline and Louise greet the slender brunette. Before she could get a chance to spot him, Tristan had spun on his heels and headed slowly but deliberately to Madeline's piano room. The room of his shame.

He finished the piece he was playing and started a new one; music from his memories. Everything was off-kilter: the music, this room, this party, this world, his life. He was going insane. He was losing control. Tristan had headed to the piano room because he didn't trust himself, not when it came to Rory. There was no telling what he might do. The old Tristan he had thought he had long since buried at military school was suddenly re-emerging; blending with the new Tristan until he couldn't tell the difference between the two. He could see himself doing a stupid thing like going up to her and making a scene, and embarrassing himself. It was the last thing he needed. She was the last thing he needed. The voices in his head disagreed, so he banged a little harder on the keys of the piano.

"I, uh, didn't know you could play." His fingers faltered at the sound of her voice but he didn't look up, desperately trying to pretend she wasn't really there. "I noticed you weren't around even though Paris said you were here. And I looked for you but I couldn't find you and then I suddenly thought of this room. And I was right. You were here."

He looked up now and stared at her, his eyes burning with many things unspoken. "How are you feeling, Rory?"

"H-how am I feeling?" She seemed a little off-put by the question, not expecting it.

"Yes, how are you feeling? I heard from your mom that you've been sick." If he was a little snide, Tristan felt he was fully justified.

"Oh. I'm fine. Tristan-"

"Good, because I wouldn't have wanted it to be anything serious. What do you want?"

"W-what do I want?"

"Are you planning on repeating every single thing I say? Do you honestly need clarification on the questions I'm asking? They're pretty simple, not hard at all."

"Why are you being like this?" came Rory's angry, hurt response.

"Being like what? Being myself? Is there some other way I'm supposed to be? Some sort of scripted behavior you've imagined for me? Am I not acting the way you expected? Why don't you tell me how I'm supposed to act and I'll see what I can do?"

"Don't...don't be like this. It's not you," Rory paused before adding, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He didn't want to hear what she was going to say and yet, at the same time, he needed to hear it.

"For the kiss. Well, not really the kiss, but the way I ran out afterwards. I owe you an explanation."

He waved his hand, waved her off. He could pretend it didn’t matter, feign indifference. "No explanations needed. I think everything you've said and done is explanation enough. Elaboration is not necessary. I'm not stupid, y'know."

"I know you're not stupid," her voice started off soft before gaining strength and momentum. "But I think I have the right to explain. To make you understand because you don't. You've just warped and misinterpreted everything and it's not fair. Because I never meant...I mean it wasn't like...You see, the thing is-"

"Well, thanks for clearing everything up for me. Are we finished now, because I'd like to be alone?"

"No. No. We are not finished."

"Okay, but I think we are." He played on the piano some chords of death, and had the satisfaction of seeing her physically recoil as if he had a struck a blow.

"You don't even want to listen do you? You've made up your mind and you don't even want to hear the truth."

"The truth being?"

"I like you." Her words hung in the air, honest and sincere; he tried not to be affected. And then she spoke again, "I like you but-"

"But there's a Dean." His smile was scornful, at himself and at her.

"No. No. No. This isn't about Dean."

"Really? Because I get the strangest feeling that-"

"Will you just shut up and listen?"

"Fine." He crossed his arms and waited expectantly.

Rory stared at him, chewing her lip and not saying a word. As each second ticked by, he became increasingly confident in the belief that she had nothing to say, and his eyes grew colder. Finally she opened her mouth to speak but then closed it without any words spilling out.

"I'm still waiting," he prompted.

"I- I can't quite explain it," she said helplessly, "I never meant to kiss you. It wasn't intentional or planned. It just happened."

He clapped his hands, loud and deliberate. "Well done, Rory. I'm impressed. I can honestly say that your explanation was beyond my wildest expectations. In fact, it was so good I think you should say it word-for-word to Dean. Oh wait, let me guess, you're not planning on telling him."

"Actually, he already knows."

"Oh. How did he...never mind."

She anticipated his question anyway and answered, "He broke up with me."

"Oh." It was all that Tristan could manage.

"It was wrong for me to kiss you, to run away like I did, to not call or anything like that. And I just wanted to apologize, because you deserve to be treated better than that. So, I'm sorry."

He took in her words, one by one, dissecting them, examining them, turning them over and over in his head as he tried to comprehend. He looked for hints of deception but only found sincerity. And the beginnings of shame emerged because he had been treating her badly. The truth was Tristan hadn't really been angry at Rory but more at himself and his own insecurity. She made him doubt himself, reminded him of failure. He could accuse her of leading him on but that wasn't exactly true either. There were no dichotomies; no black and white but only shades upon shades. The kiss on the Ferris wheel was unexplainable and while wrong on so many levels had also been right. And suddenly, he realized it didn't matter that Rory had initiated the kiss and then run away.

Meanwhile as Tristan deciphered her words and came to an understanding, Rory was waiting for a flicker of acceptance or at very least acknowledgment on his behalf. Upon receiving none, she sighed and then turned to leave.

Her movement seemed to jolt him out of his reverie, and he stood up and called out, "Wait!" Quizzically, she turned to face him. "It's okay. I mean, it's not really your fault. Yes, you initiated the kiss but if you hadn't I would've. Plus I kissed you back. So, in that regard, we're both to blame." Tristan paused as if he had run out of things to say. Then he took a few steps forward, narrowing the gap between them, and suddenly started again as if he had gained a second wind. "I accept your apology. And I'm sorry, about you and Dean. He's an idiot. He shouldn't have let it become the end of you two. Not that I want the two of you back together, because you can do better, but the kiss was an impulse thing brought on by the moment. He should realize how lucky he is, was, to have you."

"Thank you." Her smile was small and soft; it warmed some part of him, as all her smiles did.

"Hey, you got into Harvard, right? At least I heard from Paris that you'll be joining our ranks."

"Our? You never mentioned that you got into Harvard."

"It never came up. Besides, I thought you were all knowing when it came to Hartford gossip."

"Delusional boy. As if you are worthy of being the object of gossip." Her twinkling eyes belied her words.

"That's not what you said the day at the country club," he reminded her.

"Do you remember everything?"

"No, not everything. Just the important things. Like this piano room." He said the words carefully and let the significance sink in.

"Tristan-"

"I'd just like to kiss you once without you running away."

"I just broke up with Dean." Her eyes told him that she wasn't ready for another commitment, another boyfriend.

"I know." He made his eyes tell her that he wasn't asking for anything but a kiss; didn't want or expect anything more. And by some silent agreement he inched closer, leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. They kissed and parted; it was fleeting and brief. Mutual smiles were exchanged before they stepped back, widening the personal space between them.

"It was a nice kiss," she said.

"It was. Made nicer by the fact there were no tears and no running." He paused, still smiling, before inquiring, "So, any particular plans on how you're going to spend the rest of the summer?"

"My mom and I always talked about going to Europe, the summer after graduation. But we can't this year. However we are going to be taking a small road trip in a few days' time. Besides that, it'll be mainly spending time with my best friend Lane in Stars Hollow and then preparing for the whole college thing. You?"

"I'm pretty much staying in Hartford, although my family will probably be Vineyard bound for a few weeks."

"So, maybe when I get back from my road trip and if you're not at Martha's Vineyard we could meet up or something?"

"Sure."

"And we can get together and talk Harvard. I know Paris is dying to make plans, so we can be prepared when school starts."

Tristan chuckled, "That sounds like Paris."

"So, I guess I'll be seeing you then?"

"That you will."

Rory smiled then backed away before pausing to add, "Tristan, I'm glad-"

He returned her smile, "Me too." And then watched her leave the room.

As he turned his gaze back on the room and the piano before him, Tristan was surprised at how ordinary everything looked. Nothing had changed and yet...

He felt the urge to leave the party; to drive out into the night with the stars twinkling above him, the night air fresh and cooling against his face and the radio playing in the background. Or to take a walk down his street and stare at the world he lived in with new eyes. Or to go to Chilton, to revisit his childhood as an eighteen year old just starting to become comfortable in his own skin, and with the friendship of Rory Gilmore and the memory of a nice kiss.

Tristan left the piano room and the party, saying his goodbyes to Madeline, Louise, Paris and other friends. His eyes caught Rory's just before he exited and he gave a quick wave of the hand before heading to his car. There were things to do.

The End