Title: Pride and Prejudice
Author: Laura
Rating: PG
Summary: Rory Gilmore thinks she finally has it figured out. She's back with Dean and is looking forward to a fun-filled summer with him and her best friend, Lane, in Stars Hollow. But when Tristan DuGray shows up and intrudes upon her life, she immediately thinks that her summer is ruined. But life proves otherwise.
Disclaimer: Based on the characters, settings and situations created by Amy Sherman-Palladino.

Chapter Seven: Decision Dominoes

"Hey," Rory says quietly as she sits down next to Dean on the grass, moist with the night’s dew. He moves his head in slight acknowledgment of her presence but he does not look at her. "I’m glad you wanted to talk, because there’s kind of something...I want to talk to you about too. Rather...something I have to tell you."

"Something about Tristan, right?" Dean mumbles, picking at a blade of grass and tossing it aside. Rory frowns.

"Yes..."

"At least we’re in accordance as to what this little meeting is about, right?" he says, finally looking at her. "That will save us one argument."

"We’re going to be arguing?" Rory asks, taken aback despite her preconceptions. She had expected a fight herself, but she was the one privy to the information that would cause the fight, not him.

"You tell me."

"I kissed Tristan," Rory blurts out, very meekly, but Dean hears every last little syllable.

"You kissed him." He repeats, closing his eyes. "God, Rory..." he stands up, facing away from her. Rory cringes but forges ahead.

"I kissed him twice. Tonight."

"You mean you kissed him twice tonight on top of the time you kissed him before?" Dean’s voice cracks and Rory stands up as well, moving toward him.

"No, it all happened tonight. Nothing happened before tonight. It was a total surprise."

"It was a surprise? Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Dean gazes at her, hurt, confusion and anger filling his blue eyes. Rory wavers slightly, pangs of guilt and shame running through her.

"No...it’s not...I just..." She glances down at the ground, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "I don’t want you to think that this is something I’ve been hiding from you...this wasn’t...it wasn’t intentional. I didn’t mean to kiss him."

"What, you tripped and fell face first into his face? Your lips ran into his and you forgot to pull away?" Dean snorts. "I don’t think so, Rory. You don’t accidentally kiss someone. You kissed him because you wanted to. I know you wanted to."

"Dean-"

"I could tell just by looking at the two of you, do you know that? All night long. I knew that you were lying about just being friends with him."

"I wasn’t lying, Dean," Rory replies and it’s obvious he doesn’t believe her. "I wasn’t! This only happened-"

"Tonight, I know," Dean cuts her off, angry. "You got that point across. It doesn’t matter. It could’ve happened two seconds ago and it wouldn’t change a thing. Your lips were on someone else’s. Someone who wasn’t me." Dean points at her accusingly, his voice getting louder. "That’s cheating, Rory. Surprise or no surprise, that’s cheating."

"I know," Rory says quietly. She closes her eyes, not wanting to see Dean’s betrayed face. "I don’t know why...I don’t know why I did it, it was just...there."

"You did it because you’re attracted to him, Rory. You like him and you like him more than me."

"Dean, that’s not true," Rory protests, reaching out to touch him and stop him from moving away. He shoves off her hands. "I still love you, Dean, this has nothing to do with you."

"Do you think I’m stupid? Nothing to do with me - you must think I’m an idiot." He chuckles sardonically, shaking his head. "You kiss someone else and then say that it doesn’t involve me?"

"That’s not what I meant. I mean that..." Rory trails off, not sure what she means.

"It’s not you, it’s me, right? What a cliché," Dean turns and starts to stalk away but then stops, turning back and advancing toward Rory. She steps back, slightly scared. "I knew it the second you said his name. The second you told me you two have been friends all summer. It was over between us at that very moment. I tried to be supportive of you and and I tried not to be jealous but I should’ve known better. I never trusted him and I should’ve never trusted you."

"Don’t say that, please don’t say that," Rory pleads. "Until a few hours ago, Tristan and I were just *friends*, Dean. This wasn’t...it wasn’t some elaborate scheme to betray you," she tells him, wishing that he would at least see that she had never meant to hurt him like this, had never deceived him about her relationship with Tristan on purpose. "I didn’t know that I felt anything but friendship toward Tristan and I couldn’t be more sorry for how things are turning out."

"Your friend Mary was right, you know. She said that...I mean, she told me outright..." Rory looks at Dean, confused.

"What did Mary say?"

"She said that you were in love with him, you just didn’t know it. She said anyday that you’d..." Dean breaks off, tears threatening his eyes. "And I knew it too. I *knew* it and all I could do was sit there and watch it happen."

Rory is quiet, not sure what to say. She hadn’t really thought things through before coming; she had only known she had to tell him. But what did she want? Was this the end for them or was this just an obstacle for them to overcome? Was Tristan going to be a mistake she had to try and forget or a completely new beginning?

Dean reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the rectangular gift, looking at it for a moment before handing it out to her. Rory eyes him, unsure.

"Take it, I sure as hell don’t want it," he mumbles. She takes it gingerly, clueless as to what to do with it now as Dean stands there, watching her. Silence hangs heavily in the air, weighing down on both of them. Moving the gift nervously between her hands, Rory finally works up the courage to speak.

"I don’t want this to be the end, Dean. But I know things can’t go on the way they’ve been going with us. I’m just...I’m very confused right now and I don’t really know what I want."

"That doesn’t matter."

"It does matter, just-"

"No, it doesn’t. You’re not the one who gets to decide, Rory. I don’t care what you want. All I know is I never want to see you again."

"Dean, don’t-"

"Goodbye, Rory." He turns and walks away. Rory makes a move to go after him but stops herself, knowing that she shouldn’t. It would just make things worse. Tears finally escaping and running down her cheeks, she watches through blurry eyes as the tall boy who’d been her first love disappears around the corner, not looking back. Clutching his gift in her hands, she wheels around and runs toward home, never wanting to see her mother more than she did at that moment.

*******

"Rory, I need to talk to you," Mary hurries to catch up with Rory, who is barreling down the hallway at a breakneck pace. Rory glances at her friend then at her watch, continuing on her rushed journey. If she made it to her locker in thirty seconds, she could grab her books and be gone before Tristan even got into the hallway. She’d made it through half the day thus far without having to see him.

"About what?" Rory spins her combination quickly, dumping her bookbag on the ground unceremoniously.

"About something that happened at your party," Mary says breathlessly.

"You’re going to have to narrow that one down quite a bit," Rory remarks half-under her breath, throwing her locker door open. Metal clangs against metal and Mary jumps, already agitated enough to be startled by it.

"I might have said something really horrible to Dean about you and Tristan," Mary states, looking like she had been suffocating from the weight of that secret on her chest.

"What?" Rory grabs out her English text book and turns to Mary; she hadn’t really heard what Mary had just said, too occupied with her own worries.

"I didn’t know he was Dean when I introduced myself to him, he didn’t tell me, I swear." Mary grabs Rory’s hand, pleading with her earnestly. "I saw him looking at you and I told him that he shouldn’t even try because you were secretly hot for Tristan and Tristan was hot for you...you get the picture...And I know I shouldn’t have said that even if it wasn’t Dean because your relationship with Tristan is none of my business. Which it’s totally not and I know that. I was just trying to be amusing and interesting cause I thought he was cute but that was before I knew he was your cute. Honestly. I know I shouldn’t have even opened my mouth but I did, and I said that, and Dean heard it, and now I don’t know what I’ve done." Mary finishes her nervous rambling confession and waits in breathless anticipation for Rory’s reaction, fearing the worst.

"It doesn’t matter," Rory says quietly, turning back to her locker and closing it. Mary looks forlorn, reading Rory’s sad face as a bad sign.

"It does, Rory. I am so sorry. Me and my stupid mouth. Now you know why I’m so shy, I hate to talk; I can barely hold a conversation without ruining someone’s life!" Mary cries out and Rory throws a look up and down the hallway, self-conscious and wary. "I’m sure now Dean thinks that...I don’t know what he thinks and I only hope he knows I’m a stupid fool and that you would never do anything with Tristan to hurt him. God, he didn’t already say anything, did he? Did I screw up your relationship?" Mary is frantic. "Tristan tried to ask me what was wrong on Saturday night but I just couldn’t tell him. I was so embarrassed and so distraught and I...Rory, I couldn’t be more sorry."

"Don’t be sorry, Mary. It was an accident. And Dean already told me about it," Rory assures her, her voice flat. She doesn’t really seem to care one way or the other. "Besides, you were right," she shrugs, glancing up and down the hallway again.

"About what?"

"Tristan and I."

"I was?"

"Yes. I kind of...let’s just say I screwed things up royally."

"What happened?"

"Tristan and I kissed. Dean and I broke up. Things are a mess," Rory picks up her bag from the ground. "I have to go. Don’t say anything to anyone about this, please."

"I won’t," Mary replies, still a bit stunned. She was so worked up over her own mistake and involved her own worry that Rory’s news had taken her completely by surprise. She hadn’t even seen it coming, broadsiding her like a Mack truck. She had expected Rory to be upset, worried; but instead she barely reacted at all.

Rory, anxious to get away, turns to go blindly and gets a mere two steps down the hall before crashing right into someone. She lifts her head to see who it is and immediately her heart starts racing, her body freezing up entirely. Of course it had to be him.

"Hey," Tristan says and is met with wide, terrified eyes. Blinking quickly Rory averts her gaze, stammering something inaudible and awkwardly stumbling past him, looking down at the floor. Tristan watches her run from him, hurt and confused. He looks to Mary in hopes of finding any kind of clue as to what had just transpired but Mary just gathers her things and hurries away, not wanting to even attempt to say anything in response. He is left standing in the crowded hallway, never in his life feeling more alone.

*******

"Ror? Sweetie?" Lorelai knocks on her daughter’s bedroom door softly, not sure if Rory is sleeping or awake. She creaks open the door slightly and sticks her head inside. Rory is curled up under her covers, not asleep but not doing anything else. Just staring off into space. Lorelai sighs and walks into the room, approaching Rory slowly. "Rory, you’ve been laying like that since you got home from school. It’s been three hours. Will you at least eat something?" Rory shakes her head no slightly. "Luke brought over something especially for you. He even made a whole thermos of the best coffee he’s ever made and if you don’t drink it soon I’m going to have to steal it on you."

"You can have it," Rory murmurs, closing her eyes. "I don’t want it." Lorelai sits down next on the edge of the bed, reaching out and stroking her daughter’s long brown hair comfortingly.

"I know this sucks, honey, but laying in your room in the dark and refusing to eat is not going to make any of this better," Lorelai tells her gently. "You know I’m all for wallowing but wallowing involves being parked in front of the tv and eating immense amounts of food. This semi-catatonic coffee-denying state you’re in doesn’t qualify as wallowing and you’re beginning to scare me."

"I’m fine, Mom," Rory rolls over and curls up more tightly, shrinking away from her mother’s touch. "I just want to lie here."

"Have you talked to Tristan?" Lorelai asks and Rory immediately pulls her covers over her face, hiding herself from reality.

"No, I haven’t talked to him. I haven’t talked to Dean, I haven’t talked to anyone. Nothing has changed."

"You should talk to him," Lorelai says, tugging on the edge of the comforter, trying to pry it from Rory’s grasp. Rory’s groans and lets the blanket go, not feeling like it’s worth it to put up a fight. She eyes her mother, wishing that she would just turn out her bedroom light and let her be. If she could only fall asleep, then it would be fine. Every waking moment was spent re-living every moment of her break-up with Dean. The guilt and shame over what she had done to him was pounding into her mind, creating such tension within her own thoughts that she could’ve sworn she was waging war on herself. Every inch of her body hurt and she couldn’t stop reminding herself that she deserved every bit of pain she felt.

"I can’t talk to him. Either of them." Rory mumbles, not looking at her mom. Lorelai plays with a frayed corner of the bedspread, getting more comfortable on the bed as Rory shifts slightly and inadvertently makes more room for her.

"Why not?" Lorelai inquires, slowly prodding her on.

"If I try to talk to Dean - and he actually listens which would never happen, because he hates me - he’s inevitably going to ask if I want to be with Tristan and I won’t have an answer. Then there will be a whole other cycle of me trying to convince him to listen to me though even I probably wouldn’t know why I’d be doing it."

"And Tristan?"

"If I talk to Tristan it’s going to be the same thing. He’s going to want to know where he stands and I don’t know that yet. I want to be with him but I also don’t want to say good-bye to Dean." Rory turns her head, frowning at Lorelai. Lorelai continues to pick at Rory’s bedspread, cleaning off some lint and trying not to show her happiness that Rory is finally talking.

"Do you think you’re just scared to let Dean go? I mean, is dating him something that you really and truly want to continue to do or are you frightened to admit that your feelings for him have paled in comparison to how you feel about Tristan?"

"I don’t know."

"I really don’t even want to think about this but since I’ve always prided myself on handling things differently than my mother, I’m going to bring it up." Rory looks at her wearily, getting a sense of where she’s going. "I’ve gotten the sense from you that...your feelings for Tristan...whatever they may be...exist on the level of friendship, common interests, and stuff like that...but they also have a strong..." Lorelai pauses, searching for the right way to put it. "Um...carnal undertone?" Rory blushes faintly and Lorelai presses on, not wanting to linger on that longer than necessary. "And while I’m certainly not encouraging you to...act on these said feelings, I must admit in spite of my own motherly reservations that you have to have that if you want a successful relationship. And I don’t think you have that...oomph...that spark, with Dean. You’re passionate about loving Dean but you’re not passionate about Dean." She stops for a moment and waits to see if Rory is going to say anything. She remains quiet.

"I like Dean, Ror, I really do. He’s sweet, he respects you, he respects me...he’s a good kid. And he was a good boyfriend for you. He was a perfect first kiss and a great first dance and a lot of other great firsts I’m sure but...you’ve grown past all that now. Firsts shouldn’t always be your lasts, you know. I hate to see Dean get hurt but I know that things happen for a reason, and I *know*, more than anything in the world, that you would never have kissed Tristan and thrown away your relationship with Dean on some silly impulse. You wouldn’t do that and then say it didn’t mean anything."

Rory sinks back down into her mattress, knowing that her mother is right in many ways but still not able to face the truth.

"Could you leave me alone for awhile please?" Rory asks weakly. Lorelai nods, a bit crestfallen. She had thought she was making progress but Rory somehow seemed even sadder than she was when Lorelai had walked in. Rubbing Rory’s leg through the blanket, Lorelai stands up.

"Call me if you need anything," she murmurs, turning off Rory’s light again and walking silently out of her bedroom. Rory sighs deeply in the darkness, somehow finding the shadows more comforting than light. There was a strange fellowship within the deep dank grays and blacks and the turmoil in Rory’s mind and heart. All she wanted to do was lie there, still, wondering what it would take to just forget about Dean and Tristan for just one minute. A minute of peace wherein she wouldn’t feel her heart slowly and painfully cracking into a thousand different jagged pieces. Lying there did not bring any peace at all. Half an hour passes by before she realizes the thoughts running amuck in her head were about to collide any second and she would completely lose it.

Sitting up in her bed, she switches her light back on and looks around her bedroom, wanting to find something, anything that would keep her mind off of the pain. Walking to her bookshelf, she grabs her copy of The Westing Game and sits back on her bed, propping her pillows up.

The sun sets in the west. Just about everyone knows that. But Sunset Towers faced east. Strange! Sunset Towers faced east and had no towers. This glittery, glassy apartment building stood five stories high on the Lake Michigan shore. Five empty stories high. Then one day-

Rory snaps the book shut five minutes later, having re-read those same few lines over and over and not being able to process a word. Throwing the book down on the ground, she crosses to her desk, scrounging for a notebook to write in. She opens one up and discovers it’s her English notebook. A folded piece of paper falls out. She opens it, curious, and discovers it’s one of Tristan’s notes. His handwriting burns her eyes, his innocent blathering about the stupid teacher and ideas for the Beat so strange and innocent to read after all that had happened. She reads it about five times, every time the urge to call him growing stronger. Finally, she gives in, going into the kitchen to get the cordless from it’s place on top of the toaster. She returns to her room and begins to dial when her gaze falls upon the wrapped gift Dean had given her the night they broke up. It had been on her desk, buried under a week’s worth of school work, uncovered by the rifling she had just done moments before. Turning off the phone, Rory walks over and picks it up, her heart in her throat. The question is bearing down on her.

Slowly and carefully she opens the package, handling it delicately as if it were a cultural artifact. Casting the paper aside she flips the book over, tears springing to her eyes. Rory runs her fingers over the delicate gold leaf lettering, engraved into the old, worn leather of the hard cover. Pride and Prejudice. She lifts the cover gently, not wanting to stretch the binding if it was unwilling. There is a piece of paper inside of it.

Rory-

I know better than to write inside of a first edition; kind of wrecks the whole point of perserving it, right? But I had to inscribe something for you, so I hope this is okay. I just wanted to tell you to have the best birthday you’ve ever had and that I feel like the luckiest person alive to share it with you. I love you always and forever, Dean

Too exhausted and hurt to even cry, Rory closes the book and turns off her bedroom light. Curling up on her bed and not caring enough about being cold to pull up the covers, she lays there in complete darkness. Her mother was right; it wasn’t wallowing. It was the ‘depths of despair’ and she didn’t have the energy to get out. Maybe she would be able to stop it tomorrow. But not today.

*******

Tristan closes his locker slowly, watching Rory from down the hallway. She is at her own locker, digging out her books with about as much joy as a prisoner awaiting his own execution. He had been watching her for a week now, watching and waiting. He didn’t know what else to do, not that she was giving him much choice in the matter. She said she needed time to figure out what she wanted and at the time she told him that, he was unsure what that meant. He didn’t think it would entail having to leave her completely alone, or having to act like they weren’t friends, but apparently it did. She was avoiding him like the plague. She flitted around like a bumblebee strung out on crack, rushing from one place to another so fast he didn’t even have time to say a word.

Nothing in the world hurt him more than to have her see him and purposely turn in the opposite direction. His heart ripped open when she ignored him in class and dodged his questioning looks. She was last to arrive at classes and first out of the room when the bell rang. She ran to her bus everyday after school and had taken to eating her lunch in the library, alone. He had spoken to Mary and apparently the next issue of The Chilton Beat was already in progress, minus his contribution.

He looks down at his books for a moment and then back to her, wondering if he went and talked to her now, if she would stay instead of running away. Taking a deep breath, Tristan walks down the hallway toward her, pausing silently next to her as she closes her locker.

"Hey," he greets her timidly, unsure. He hated feeling clueless and he hated being basically at her mercy. But he had no choice. Rory’s big blue eyes flutter up to his and widen, startled, his voice echoing inside of her mind. Then came the familiar feeling. Panic. She immediately looks down at the ground.

"Um...hey," she mumbles. She shifts on her feet, like she’s getting ready to bolt.

"Can we talk?"

The words hang in the air and Rory debates them, wondering what she should do. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to deal with any of it. Rory fidgets nervously and her eyes close for a moment, wishing that he wasn’t standing so close, wishing he didn’t smell so good.

"I have to go to class..." Rory finally squeezes out, glancing up at him and taking a step to leave.

"Rory...can’t we at least..." Tristan stops her with a gentle but firm hand. She stops, her eyes falling on Tristan’s strong fingers encircling her tiny wrist. "Can you at least tell me what you’re thinking? I can’t stand having you avoid me like this."

"I’m not avoiding you," Rory denies, though she knows it’s pointless. Tristan shoots her a look. "Okay maybe I am but shouldn’t that have sent you a clear message? I’m not ready to talk about this yet. Hence the whole avoidance thing." She pulls away from his touch.

"So you’re just going to ignore me," Tristan states point blank, obviously hurt.

"Well...yes." Rory admits as if she hadn’t really thought about it that simply before. "I guess I am."

"Fine," Tristan mumbles, turning to leave. "I have to go to class."

"Tristan-" Rory starts, not knowing what she’s doing, only feeling that she couldn’t let him go.

"What?" He asks as he turns back around. She stands there silently, feeling like an idiot. Words are out of her grasp. When it becomes obvious Rory is at a loss, Tristan shakes his head and continues walking away from her. Rory stands there, still searching for her voice and completely unable to find it. Frustrated and angry with herself, her face begins to crumble.

Determined not to cry, Rory blinks away the tears that were forming and takes a deep breath. It does no good; her eyes keep welling up, making it harder and harder to keep them from falling. Desperate to get out of the hallway, Rory dashes toward the bathroom, not caring that she must have looked like the biggest idiot in the world while doing so. All she wants to do is hide.

Pushing open the door, she is met with a large thud and a half-scream half-yelp.

"What the hell is the matter with you, you freak?" Paris yells as she covers her forehead, closing her eyes in pain. They snap open to reveal her brown eyes, darkened with anger. "Should’ve known it was you." She glares at her, rubbing her forehead. "Only you would be so stupid."

"I should’ve pushed the door harder," Rory snaps back and storms past her. "If I had knocked you unconscious then at least one good thing would’ve happened today. It could’ve been a reversal of fortune." She continues cuttingly and then walks into a stall, throwing her bag onto the ground and locking the door. Not even caring that Paris is right outside, Rory sinks to the floor and lets the tears fall, unable to stop them. She hadn’t even cried once since everything had happened. She’d just been holding it back and willing it in and telling herself she had no right to cry. But at this point she didn’t care that all of her problems were of her own doing. The tears were hot as they dripped down her pale cheeks, sobs choking in her throat.

Paris stands silently for a moment after Rory closes the stall door. She could hear Rory crying and she was bewildered by how that made her feel. Paris stares at the cold, dark brown door, wondering what to do. Her usual self was saying to just leave and that Rory Gilmore’s problems were of absolutely no interest to her. In fact, they probably had something to do with her oh-so-perfect boyfriend whose very existence was just a reminder that Rory had everything she did not. But there was a small voice inside of her mind that was telling her that she should do something. A little reminder that Rory had once tried to be her friend, despite how things worked out at the end.

Taking a timid step toward the stall, Paris clears her throat nervously.

"Um...Rory?" Paris asks. Receiving no answer, she takes another step and knocks on the door lightly. "Rory, are you okay?"

"Paris, please leave me alone," comes Rory’s muffled reply, sounding so harsh coming from someone usually sickeningly sweet. Paris glances around the empty bathroom self-consciously before replying.

"Look, you’re obviously not okay so you might as well tell me what’s going on. I’m an excellent investigative reporter, I’m going to find out anyway. Save me the research time and maybe I can actually help," Paris states matter-of-factly, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. Rory shifts inside the stall, still crying heavily. "Need I remind you that you just hit me in the face with a large, heavy door? I’m being awfully nice considering. In fact, I’m doing you a favor. I should be suing."

"I don’t need nice, I need to be alone. Please just go away," Rory pleads, leaning her head against the cold cement wall of the bathroom. Paris eyes the closed door with a mix of contempt, hurt and worry before backing away.

"Fine. You’re going to be late to class, just so you know," she remarks as she walks out. Sure enough, thirty seconds later the bell rings. Rory debates just staying locked inside all period but knows that’s not really a tangible option. Groaning out loud, she opens her eyes and wipes her face with the back of her hand, then slowly rises to her feet. She opens the bathroom door slowly and glances at herself in the mirror, realizing she looks like a disaster area. Deciding she doesn’t care, she lugs her heavy backpack onto her shoulder and heads to class.

The hallway is completely empty. Luckily Rory’s history class is only two doors down. She walks in and it feels like every eye in the room is pointed at her. Her teacher looks at her sternly, crossing the room toward her.

"Miss Gilmore, how nice of you to join us. Do you have a pass?" He holds out his hand, waiting for one. Rory coughs slightly, feeling like a fool. She must look like one, her clothes all rumpled, her face streaked and her eyes red.

"I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t feeling well, I..." she trails off, knowing it’s no use. Surprisingly, her teacher moves a little closer to her and looks at her carefully.

"You certainly don’t look well. Do you need to go to the nurse’s office?"

"No...no..." Rory stammers. "I...I’m feeling better now. I should stay here." A few people snicker at her for passing up the chance to get out of class and she glances up. Tristan is sitting in his usual seat in front of hers, staring at her. The instant he notices she’s looking he looks back down at his notes, pretending he couldn’t possibly care less. Rory shifts her focus, knowing anyone watching her must’ve caught her looking.

"All right. You may take your seat, Miss Gilmore. You haven’t missed much, just the opening statement concerning today’s material. It’s on the board."

"Thank you," Rory nods and walks to her seat. Tristan lifts his head slightly and looks at her as she passes by but doesn’t say anything. He goes back to writing, facing toward the front of the room. She sits down slowly, staring at the back of his blond head. Across the room, Paris watches the pair, sensing that Rory’s tears were directly related to the tension so clearly present between the two of them. The sight of Tristan diligently paying attention to every word the teacher said while Rory can barely stay focused is enough to confirm her suspicions that something is askew. Ignoring the small but ever-present hope that Tristan would one day get past Rory Gilmore, Paris decides that the matter interests her greatly. Whatever was going on, she was going to find out.

*******

Rory steps out into the bright afternoon sunlight and sighs, unhappily but relieved. Only a few more minutes and she would be on the bus toward home, one week of hell officially over. She is looking forward to the two day break before another begins. She looks across the parking lot as it fills with students racing toward their fancy cars, hoping against hope that her bus was a little early and was pulling up to the stop right at that moment. Thrilled to find that by some grace of god it is, she picks up her pace and heads for its safety.

But the sight of a familiar dark green pick up truck causes her to come to a screeching halt. Dean is parked right where he was the last time he had come to Chilton, when they had gotten back together. But from the expression on his face, he wasn’t looking for a repeat. Rory hurries over to him, anxious for him to tell her what he wants and then go.

"Dean-"

"I’m not here to talk to you, Rory. Where is he?" Dean asks as he brushes past her, heading toward the school’s entrance. Rory desperately tries to cling to his arm and stop him from whatever mission he’s on, but he’s determined.

"Where is who? Dean, what are you doing here?" He pays no mind. "Stop!"

"I want to talk to Tristan."

"Dean, no. Come on. This is stupid."

"I want to talk to the jerk!" Dean throws off her panicky hands, angry. It’s too late now. Tristan walks out of the school, completely unaware Dean is waiting for him. Dean quickly sees him and is in his face before Rory can even shout out a warning. "You."

"You," Tristan says tightly in respose as Dean stands across from him, the power of their glares equally hateful. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think I’m doing here?"

"I’m assuming you came to try to get Rory back. It should be pretty easy, she certainly doesn’t want me," Tristan remarks, glancing over in Rory’s direction. Rory opens her mouth to protest his wrong words but Dean is already there.

"I wouldn’t have to be coming here if you hadn’t stuck your face where it didn’t belong."

"Hey, sorry to burst your bubble, but she kissed me. It wasn’t the other way around," Tristan replies, backing away from Dean. "And I’m not going to fight about it, if that’s what you came here for."

"It doesn’t matter who kissed who. Nothing ever would have happened if it hadn’t been for you. You’re a snide little spoiled rich kid who always gets what he wants and if you don’t get it, you think it’s all right just to take it. Well it’s not. Rory is not yours."

"She’s not yours either."

Rory watches helplessly as the two boys continue to battle verbally with one another, afraid that any second someone is going to throw a punch. A crowd is gathering, all eager to catch the action.

"She would be if you hadn’t stolen her away from me."

"Would you stop it?!" Rory intercuts, trying to come between them but it’s too late. The empty space is quickly narrowed as Dean steps forward and pushes Tristan backward, daring him to hit him back. Tristan looks at Dean for a moment, as if choosing whether or not it’s worth it. Dean pushes him again and Tristan swings, hitting Dean in the face. He reels back, his hand immediately going to his lip. "Stop it!" Rory yells, putting herself between them. Neither of them make a move, not wanting to hit Rory by accident if they go at one another again.

"This is between me and him now, Rory," Dean spits out while still glaring at Tristan. He wipes a trace of blood from his cut lip. "I want him to know exactly-"

"This is so stupid!" Rory cries out, trying to keep Tristan from fighting back at Dean once more. "If you’re going to be mad at someone, be mad at me, Dean. Tristan didn’t do anything except be my friend."

"And kiss you twice."

"I’ve kissed her three times," Tristan corrects him. "We kissed last year too."

"What?" Dean exclaims, turning his gaze to Rory. "What is he talking about?"

"It was when we were broken up, it has nothing to do with this!" Rory defends herself. She whips her head around and glares at Tristan. "What are you trying to do?"

"Just getting it all out in the open. That way when you go back to him, he at least knows I meant something then and I mean something now. Wouldn’t want to be wiped out and forgotten completely, now would I?" Tristan says to her, anger crawling along his voice. He’s obviously still upset about what had happened in the hallway and wasn’t going to let it go now.

"I never said I was getting back together with Dean-" She turns to Dean before he can open his mouth. "And I didn’t say I was with Tristan now either. You’re both being idiots. Complete idiots. I’m not worth fighting over." Dean looks at her long and hard. The crowd of students waits with bated breath to see what happens next.

"Yes, you are," Dean tells her and Rory’s eyes flit up to meet his. They exchange a long look as Dean’s words ring in her ears, heavy with sincerity and deeply-ridden with pain. Dean turns away and walks through the now dispersing crowd toward his truck. Rory sits down on the steps of the school entrance, emotionally wiped out. Biting back tears as they threaten to fall for the second time that day, she doesn’t have to look to know that it is Tristan who sits down next to her.

"I’m sorry, Rory," he murmurs quietly. He reaches out and tucks a strand of her long brown hair behind her small, delicate ear.

"Don’t be sorry," Rory mumbles back. "This isn’t your fault."

"It is." She turns her head toward him. He sighs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. "I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you. I’ve always wanted you. This whole time we’ve been friends I’ve always wanted something more. When you kissed me...I shouldn’t have kissed you back. You clearly didn’t want this and I should have known that. Any fool would’ve seen that. I was just willingly blind, I guess."

"Tristan, don’t act like this."

"Like what?" he asks, sitting back up straight.

"Like I’m purposely trying to hurt you. I’m not. I wanted to kiss you. It was my choice. I could’ve stopped at any point but I didn’t. Instead, I did it again. How does that seem like I didn’t want it?"

"If this week has made anything clear, Rory, it’s that you have no idea what you want," Tristan gets up, shaking his head.

"I want you, Tristan," Rory tells him honestly. "To tell you the truth I want you more than I’d ever admit." Her eyes drift down to her hands, embarrassed. "I’m scared and I’m confused and there’s all this pressure to make a choice; it’s only been a week."

"I know that, Rory. And I know you. You’ve already made a decision. You’re just too afraid to say it out loud. It has nothing to do with time or choices or whatever you say. It’s just a matter of breaking someone’s heart. Who’s heart is it gonna be?"

The silence that fills the space between them is broken by the sound of the bus’ airbrakes lifting as it pulls away from the stop. Rory’s face drops as she watches it drive away, too late to even think about running after it.

"I can give you a ride home," Tristan offers. Rory shakes her head no. "I can’t even give you a ride home now? God, Rory."

"I can just go to my grandparents. I have to be there tonight for dinner anyway."

"That’s not until six o’clock. And you can’t wear your uniform."

"They’ll understand."

"Can I at least give you a ride to their house?"

"I can walk."

"Rory..."

"It’s not far."

"Yes it is. What harm is it going to do to be in the car with me for ten minutes?"

"I can’t, Tristan."

"Fine," Tristan mutters, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I’ll see you on Monday then." He slowly walks down the steps and goes toward the parking lot. He glances back at her, hoping that she would give him some sign that she’ll change her mind, but she is just standing there.

Rory starts across the parking lot, dreading the five mile walk to her grandparents’ house with a book packed full of textbooks and heavy notebooks. She is halfway down the street when a car pulls up next to her.

"Tristan-" Rory turns to the vehicle, stopping short when she realizes it’s a black BMW beside her. She bends down and sees Paris behind the wheel. Rolling her eyes, Rory stands back up and starts walking. Paris quickly moves ahead a few feet, stops the car and gets out.

"Rory, get in," Paris demands across the roof of the car. "I’m going your way anyway. Don’t be stupid."

"At least I know you’ll never be able to kidnap any children. An advance like that would surely scare any kid far, far away."

"Aren’t you cute. Would you get in?" Rory hesitates. "I’m not going to sit here and wait. Make a decision."

Rory looks around, and seeing that there are no better options and since walking isn’t too appealing, she sighs and gets in the passenger side. Paris climbs back in and starts the engine.

"Thanks," Rory says lowly, feeling strange just being inside Paris’ car. She takes in her surroundings, noticing the extreme cleanliness and order of the vehicle, as well as its fully loaded luxuries.

"Don’t mention it," Paris states as she pulls back onto the road. "That was certainly an interesting little brawl today."

"You saw it, huh. No wonder you’re so eager for me to get in. You’re going to kill me and dump my body somewhere, aren’t you."

"Exactly how many episodes of America’s Most Wanted do you have on tape?"

"You’re channeling the funny today," Rory retorts, not amused. Paris eyes her as she comes to a stop sign.

"And you’re just full of joy," Paris replies. "What’s going on with you and Tristan?"

"You didn’t pick up on the main plot points as the two of them played cavemen this afternoon?" Rory focuses out the window and Paris shrugs.

"I gathered that you kissed Tristan, apparently twice this time, Dean found out about it, he dumped you, and after stewing about it for probably far too long, he burst a vein and came running over here afer his school let out to regain his wounded pride by bashing Tristan in front of the Chilton population and you. Which surprisingly didn’t happen. I thought they were both two seconds away from a deathmatch. You’re lucky, you and Tristan would’ve been in serious trouble with Charleston if that had happened."

"Yes, I’m so lucky," Rory snorts, shaking her head in dismay. "God, how did my life get so messed up?" She puts her head in her hands, frustrated and upset. Paris rolls her eyes at her former friend.

"Please, Rory. You have two guys fighting over you, one of whom is Tristan DuGrey. I can name at least fifty girls right off of the top of my head that would love to be you right now."

"Grass is always greener."

"Is this it?" Paris nods to the left out the window.

"Yeah, make a left." Rory checks the street sign. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends on what it is, doesn’t it?"

"I was just wondering why you’re being nice to me. I thought you liked Tristan."

"I do, always have," Paris replies frankly and honestly, knowing denying it would be useless. "And I know him better than anyone else."

"So...why am I sitting in your car, partaking in halfway normal conversation with you? I figured you, more than anyone, would be angry now that this is out."

"Tristan likes you, Rory. He feels something for you that he has never ever felt for *anyone*. I can see that even if you can’t. I have never in my life seen him so willing to set aside his ego to follow any girl around like some demented puppydog."

"You make it sound so romantic," Rory remarks, trying to ignore the weight of Paris’ words by focusing on her candid no-bullshit delivery.

"Girls have not wanted him before. Don’t think you’re special just because you said no to him for so long. It has nothing to do with that. You were the first girl he’s ever made an effort to be friends with. He worships you. And if you hurt him, you will live to regret it. I’ll make sure of that." Paris slows down. "This is their house right?" Rory nods. She pulls in the driveway and stops. "I’m not kidding, Rory."

"I didn’t think you were."

"Just as long as we’re clear."

"Crystal," Rory replies, opening up her door. "Thanks for the ride."

"Don’t mention it."

Rory steps out and walks to the front step with a heavy heart. Paris backs out of the driveway and disappears down the street, leaving Rory alone with her thoughts. But not for long.

"Rory?" Emily says as she opens up the large front door. "I thought I heard a car. What are you doing here?"

"Hi Grandma. I missed my bus," Rory informs her as Emily steps aside to let her come in. "Is it okay if I stay here until dinner?"

"Oh, how terrible. Well of course you’re more than welcome to stay. I’ll have Gertrude whip up an afterschool snack for you."

"She doesn’t have to do that," Rory says but Emily will have none of it.

"Nonsense, you must be starving. Why don’t you go to the kitchen and I’ll call your mother and let her know where you are." Emily ushers her toward the kitchen, letting the front door close by itself.

*******

Lorelai meanders through the market, trying to resist the appeal of running back over to aisle three where she had unfortunately witnessed a wonderful display of Hostess Cupcakes on sale. Biting her lip and summing up her willpower she moves over to the fresh produce section, determined to buy at least an apple. Or a banana. Or something.

"Damn it," Lorelai curses, stomping her feet slightly on the linoleum floor as she heads over to aisle three. She rips a box off the display and tosses it into her basket. "Don’t say a word, Taylor." She warns him as he works on putting more onto the display. He gives her a condemning look instead. Ignoring Taylor, she looks at the box for a moment, an expression of joy coming over her face. Rationalization has hit her. Two minutes later she strolls up to the register, basket completely packed to the gills with sugary sweets and fatty treats. Lois, the cashier, gives her a knowing smile.

"You’re going to have a movie night with Rory, huh?" Lorelai smiles giddily.

"She doesn’t know it yet but I’m sure after a long day at school and dinner at my parents’ house, I’ll be able to drag her into anything," Lorelai responds, placing items on the checkout counter. "Usually I don’t have to convince her to partake, but this week she’s been a little down so she hasn’t been too into the social fun stuff."

"Yeah, heard about what happened. Dean’s been storming around here all week," Lois informs Lorelai, not amused. Lorelai looks at her, puzzled.

"Dean actually told people what happened?"

"Oh, no. Miss Patty," Lois explains, swiping a package of sour patch kids across the price scanner.

"Oh, I was gonna say. Dean’s not really the type to spread things around, even if it is...you know...that." Lorelai finishes awkwardly. Lois nods in agreement. "But if it’s Miss Patty...I mean, I have no idea how she knows what happened but I know better than to question that by now."

"Tell me about it. I think she has super human powers," Lois chuckles. "That’ll be 22.50."

"Small price to pay for getting high without the aid of illegal drugs," Lorelai quips, handing Lois twenty-five. As the cash register rings open, so does the bell above the front entrance. Dean rushes in, obviously in a hurry. Taylor stops stacking the cupcakes and approaches him quickly.

"Dean, you were supposed to be here forty-five minutes ago. Where have you been?"

"I’m sorry Taylor. I...got held up somewhere. It won’t happen again."

"You’ve been moping around here all week, young man, and now you’re late? Leave your personal problems outside the door, please. This is a place of business, not a soap opera." Taylor seems like he’s finished but then he catches sight of Dean’s cut lip. "Don’t tell me you got into a fight."

"I didn’t. I fell." Dean responds. Taylor eyes him suspiciously.

"If you’re going to be late, please at least call. Tommy had to stay an extra hour because of you. You better apologize to him," Taylor points to the man who had just handed Lorelai her paper bag full of junk food before going back to his own work. Dean walks over and Tommy just hands over his apron to him so Dean won’t have to waste time going to the back.

"Sorry, Tom," Dean mumbles and Tommy waves him off.

"Not a problem. I’m in no hurry to get home," he says and Dean nods thankfully for his understanding.

"With a wife like Janice, I wouldn’t be in a hurry either," Lorelai whispers as an aside to Dean as Tommy walks away.

"I’ll punch you in when I leave," Tommy calls back from the entrance to the stock room and Dean gives him a signal that he heard. Lorelai sets her bag down on the edge of the counter, looking at Dean, concerned.

"You okay, Dean?"

"I’m fine," Dean mutters, quickling beginning to bag up the groceries of the next customer as Lois rings them out.

"You don’t seem fine."

"Why do you care?" Dean asks, obviously not in the mood to discuss anything with Lorelai. She is slightly affronted by his tone but tries not to let it get to her.

"I care about you, Dean. You were in Rory’s life for quite awhile and right now you’re both hurting so I care."

"Were. You’re already used to using the past tense," Dean laughs bitterly, tossing lemons into the bag forcefully.

"Hey. Watch it with the lemons there, buddy. Don’t want to prove me right after all this time."

"What?"

"Nothing," Lorelai waves it off. "Seriously, Dean, how are you doing?"

"How do you think I’m doing?"

"Not too good, I would say. Especially since I know you didn’t get that lip falling down."

"Rory already told you about today?"

"No, I was just about to meet her at the bus stop. I could just tell you were lying. Why, what will she tell me?"

"I don’t know what she’ll tell you. Who knows what her interpretation of events will be. She’s known to lie," Dean sets aside a full bag harshly and opens up another one with a loud snap.

"Watch it, Dean," Lorelai warns him, pointing a finger at him. "Now just tell me how you got the lip and I’ll ignore the fact you’re talking about my daughter like that." Dean pauses, huffing in teenage angst for a moment before he decides he better cooperate.

"I went to Chilton today after school."

"Dean..." Lorelai shakes her head, knowing immediately this is going to be a mess.

"I know. But all week I’ve been trying to...I don’t know what. But I haven’t cooled off, I’ve only gotten angrier and angrier, the more I thought about him...and her...and...I couldn’t take it."

"So you went down there and started a fight with Tristan?"

"I didn’t go there to fight, I just...I don’t know what. I had to do something."

"I can’t believe this," Lorelai runs her hands through her hair, worried about how much trouble this has caused. "Dean, what happened?"

"Nothing. I yelled, he yelled, Rory yelled, I pushed him, he punched me, Rory got in between us and I left. That was it."

"That was it?"

"Yeah, that was it. Why you wanted something else?"

"No, I just expected something far worse. Bloodshed or battle plans or, I dunno, at least a phone call from the headmaster’s office. But maybe not."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"The only thing that disappoints me is how this all turned out," Lorelai replies honestly and Dean snorts. Lorelai’s eyes widen, insulted by the implications of it. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Like you’re really disappointed? You’ve been rooting for Tristan all along. You like him with Rory. And your parents certainly would rather Rory to be with him, with his family being so rich and prestigious. This is what you all wanted." Lorelai sets her bag down again, hurt.

"Lookit, Dean, if you want to take out your anger on me instead of Rory, fine. In fact, I’d rather me than her, cause I hate to see her so upset. But at least get things right. The top priority that I have in my life is for Rory to be happy and safe. And as long as those two requirements are filled, I don’t care about much else. So as for your claim that I’d rather her be with Tristan, yeah, maybe I do, if he’s the guy that makes her happy. She’s happy with you, I’m rooting for you. It has everything to do with her. Not you." Lorelai picks up her bag yet again, taking a step away from the check out to let the customer behind her leave. The woman passes, giving them both a strange but interested look. People in the market are listening, but trying not to make it apparent that they are hanging on every word.

"But you’re saying that I can’t make Rory happy."

"You did once," Lorelai tells him sadly. "But things change." Dean stops bagging groceries, his anger abating and being replaced with complete sadness. "I didn’t want to see you get hurt, Dean. I didn’t. No matter what you may believe right now. And Rory never, ever, in a million years wanted to break your heart. These things just happen. No one can predict it."

"I bet you Tristan’s been predicting this since the second he met her."

"Well then he should start his own psychic hotline. He can be the next Billy Dee Williams or Dionne Warwick." Dean cracks a small smile, for some reason picturing Tristan in Billy Dee’s Lando get-up from Star Wars. Lorelai smiles as well, happy to see him grin. "Rory will always love you, Dean," she says quietly, touching him on the shoulder.

"That doesn’t make me feel much better right now, Lorelai," Dean says, setting a package of Kleenex into a new paper bag.

"Someday it will. I’ll see you, kid. Take care of the lip," Lorelai nods at him before walking toward the market. Taylor turns toward Dean to rag on him for what just happened but Lorelai points a finger at him and shoots him a look of death and he focuses back on placing a large price sign on top of his cupcake pyramid. Just then a little kid races down the aisle and hits one of the bottom boxes with his foot. The whole thing tumbles. Taylor looks at it in dismay, shaking his head at the sad state of youth today.

*******

"Hey, thanks for leaving me to enter the lion’s den alone tonight," Lorelai remarks as she walks into the house, kicking off her high heels. "I left work early to meet you from the bus but there was no Rory! Just a blinking message from Emily on the machine when I came home."

"I’m sorry for like the millionth time, Mom," Rory says, following Lorelai into the living room and sidestepping her purse as she drops it in her path. "It was just dealing with Grandma alone for the walk from the foyer to the sitting room. It wasn’t a trek across Africa."

"I would’ve preferred Africa. At least there would have been pretty wildlife, and perhaps vicious animals who can spot easy prey."

"Mom."

"She didn’t get on your nerves tonight? She was in a prime mood."

"She was fine, I don’t know what you’re talking about," Rory responds, heading for the safety of her room.

"Hey, where you think you’re goin’?"

"To sleep."

"No, come on. I have tons of junk food all set to be laid out here on the table," Lorelai gestures to the bags full of junk food in front of the couch. "And look. Look!" Lorelai cries, grabbing and holding up a stack of four movies. "It’s Robert Redford and Paul Newman night. We’ve got Cool Hand Luke, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Sting, and Barefoot in the Park. Two together, two separate, for good measure."

"You’re a genius."

"Well, ya know ‘I’ve got vision and the rest of the world wears biofocals’, baby. Come bask in my brilliance."

"I’ll pass."

"Ror, come on. You love Barefoot in the Park."

"I’m not in the mood, Mom. Really. Maybe tomorrow."

"How can you not be in the mood for Paul’s baby blues?" Lorelai pouts, beginning to make puppy noises at Rory. "He’s so yummy. And Redford? Come on. Brad Pitt of his day."

"Need I remind you that they’re now both senior citizens?"

"They weren’t back then."

"Paul Newman is 77. Robert Redford’s face looks like a bassett hound’s."

"But they were hot! That’s all we need to know."

"They’re still going to be there tomorrow. They aren’t going to leave the videos during the night."

"How do you know? They could pull a Purple Rose of Cairo and walk right off the screen."

"Well, then you can stare at a real life version of them instead of a little mini tv version. You should like that option better. Please let me go to bed."

"Are you upset over what happened today at school with Dean?" Lorelai asks bluntly. Rory stops, shoulders dropping.

"How did you find out about that already?"

"Ran into Dean in the market and saw the fat lip. I pursued the evidence and was led straight to the crime, just like Columbo. I was planning on bringing it up mid-way through Butch when they to that god-awful-long montage of them in New York City but since you’re not giving me the chance..." Lorelai shrugs, patting the seat next to her on the couch. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really." Lorelai frowns, hurt that Rory isn’t sharing her feelings with her like always. "Tomorrow, Mom," Rory reassures her. "I just can’t deal with it right now."

"Okay," Lorelai agrees, deciding that Rory maybe does need some space for awhile. Spending the afternoon with her grandparents probably didn’t give her any time to process things for herself.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. I won’t pressure you if you really don’t want to talk. Just know I’m here if you want me."

"I know that. I love you," Rory walks over and gives Lorelai a hug and a kiss on the forehead. "I’ll be in my room."

"Kay." Rory goes to her room as Lorelai picks up the remote control, snapping on the tv. As Rory begins to close her door, she hears her mother exclaim happily: "Oh yay! Three Men and a Baby is on! This is the best!" Rory sticks her head out the door.

"You hate that movie."

"No, I hate Three Men and a Little Lady," She corrects. "This one, however, seriously packs some comedic punch. Steve Guttenberg is so misjudged as an actor, man."

"Night, Mom," Rory laughs gently.

"Night Rory," Lorelai calls as she hears her daughter’s door close. The phone rings and Rory groans, flopping onto her bed. If it’s for her, she’s going to go crazy. After a few rings, Lorelai finally picks up. "Hello, this is the Steve Guttenberg Fan Club. You might as well hang up now if you’ve never seen Cocoon." There is a pause. "Hey there Lane. Perfect timing. Commercial break. What do you think of Beyonce Knowles hair in the recent Feria commercial? Yeah, channel twenty-three. Doesn’t she look like a blonde clown? What were they thinking?" Listening to her mother jabber on endlesslly, Rory lifts herself up from her pillows and decides she must be a good friend and save Lane. She trods back to the living room, holding her hand out for the phone. Lorelai shakes her head at her. "Come on, Rory, Lane and I are having an intellectual conversation about how Feria commercials never ever make their spokesmodels hair look good. It’s an interesting paradox of sorts, don’t you think?"

"Mom, you’re boring Lane."

"Lane, am I boring you?" Lorelai asks into the phone then shakes her head, sticking out her tongue. "She says I’m very interesting. In fact, she says that Jessica Alba should never ever be a redhead and - what was that?" Lorelai inquires, then relays to Rory. "And neither should Jennifer Lopez. That maroon color does nothing for her."

"Lane says that or you do?"

"Lane did this time, though I am inclined to agree."

"If I agree can I have the phone?"

"Perhaps."

"Then I am in total concurrence with everything you have to say."

"That’s a dangerous thought," Lorelai jokes as she hands Rory the phone.

"Hey, Lane. Sorry about that."

"I don’t mind," Lane laughs. "Your mom is so much fun."

"Try living with her."

"Don’t even complain about mothers to me," Lane retorts and Rory nods to herself.

"Yeah, you’re right. Is she driving you crazy?"

"I’m in the process of trying to convince her that yes, I do need to go to the mall for the 5th time in a month and a half and that I can handle going alone. I think that she suspects something."

"That you’re a shopoholic, perhaps."

"She brought that up, actually. She thinks I’m focusing on the material aspects of my life and that a good girl would never do such at thing."

"Tell her that I’m the materialistic horrible one and that you’re just coming along to save my soul."

"Excellent idea. That is, if you’re still willing to come tomorrow. I was calling to check before I went through with the final begging process."

"I can go," Rory replies, not sounding too enthused. "I haven’t spent any quality time alone in a bookstore in awhile."

"Oh god, right. You’re not going to have anyone to hang with."

"Don’t worry about it. Maybe I can call Paris," Rory remarks, half-joking. "She gave me a ride to my grandparents’ house today after I missed my bus."

"You missed your bus?"

"Dean came to Chilton and started a fight with Tristan, thereby causing me to miss my bus. I figured you would’ve heard it through the grapevine by now."

"I’ve been locked in my room since five o’clock when I asked my mom if I could go to the mall tomorrow."

"Ah, that explains that."

"So Dean really came to Chilton and fought Tristan?"

"Tried to, anyway. Then Paris gave me a ride and threatened to hate me more than she already does if I hurt Tristan."

"Is that possible?"

"I don’t really want to find out."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I have no idea. That’s kind of becoming my mantra. I’m beginning to think I don’t know anything anymore."

"That would imply you knew something to begin with."

"Hey."

"Well, you know, from all your previous experience cheating on your myriads of boyfriends..." Lane points out and Rory sighs.

"Yeah, I guess you’re right. And could we not call it cheating? That just sounds so..."

"Trampy?"

"And you want me to come with you tomorrow?"

"Sorry," Lane says shamefully. "I’ll think of a better word and tell you tomorrow."

"What time do you want to go?"

"Two?"

"I’ll come and pick you up."

"See you then. And Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"Don’t beat yourself up about this. It could happen to anyone. No one is perfect."

"Mary Poppins is perfect."

"No, she’s a lady with a neverending bag and a talking umbrella handle. She was loopy. There’s a difference."

"Night, Lane," Rory laughs, clicking the off button. Lorelai looks at her in disgust.

"You just talked right over the best part of the movie, wherein Ted Danson dresses like a pregnant woman to go help bust the drug guys. I always loved the whole drug scam underplot in this movie. It’s so bad it’s good." Lorelai throws a piece of licorice at her daughter. "What’d Lane want?"

"We have to go to the mall tomorrow."

"Henry?"

"Of course."

"My, you’re a good friend."

"I suppose," Rory sits down on the couch next to Lorelai, chewing absentmindedly on the licorice stick. "If only she would tell her mom about him. I mean, he’s her parents’ ideal. I don’t get it."

"Well the instant they like him, she’ll hate him. I’m fully aware of the vicious circle of having parents you can’t stand."

"What if..." Rory stops gnawing on the candy, an idea occurring to her. "What if we told Mrs. Kim that we had found the perfect blind date for Lane..." Lorelai rips a stick in half, watching Rory as the wheels turn inside of her head.

"And then what?"

"What if we build Henry up as like, the perfect Korean guy, the ideal man for Lane, right...and then somehow we make Mrs. Kim see that all she has to do to get Lane to date him is act like she doesn’t like him..."

"You expect to make Mrs. Kim understand a plan like that?" Lorelai scoffs. "You need to start sleeping at night again, hon."

"Don’t you see?" Rory says, standing up. She is excited. "If Mrs. Kim says she doesn’t like him, for like, a personality reason or something, but then reluctantly agrees to let Lane see him...it’s perfect. Lane will have the permission to date him while still maintaining the disapproval of her mother. You think Mrs. Kim would go for that? I mean, Henry is everything she wants for Lane."

"So? You think Mrs. Kim is going to manipulate her own daughter to get what she wants? Mrs. Kim?" Lorelai repeats, then stops. "Right, Mrs. Kim! She totally would do this!"

"With a little convincing..." Rory sits back down, taking Lorelai’s hand. "Lane’s life would be so much easier..." Lorelai sets down the bag of Twizzlers and takes her hand away from Rory, knowing that pleading look.

"I am *not* going to talk to Mrs. Kim about this."

"Who else can?"

"You?"

"Me? After she finds out about the whole Dean thing, you think she’s going to listen to a word I have to say? That is, if she doesn’t already know."

"So she’d rather take guidance on her daughter’s romantic life from someone who got pregnant at sixteen and then ran away from home?"

"We’re both harlots, Mom," Rory says, dismayed. "What are we going to do?"

"We could *both* go," Lorelai smiles wickedly. "It’ll be a double whammy. Maybe if we confuse her enough, she will forget what a corruptive force we probably are on her daughter’s life."

"It could work."

"Though it would probably be easier if I go tomorrow when you two are at the mall," Lorelai reconsiders and Rory looks at her questioningly. "Cause if Lane finds out what we’re doing the whole thing will be pointless."

"It’s important that she’s clueless," Rory agrees.

"We have to be 007 about it."

"I hate going behind her back," Rory squelches but Lorelai jumps in reassuringly, now thoroughly convinced that their plan will be airtight in its effectiveness.

"It’s for her own good."

"If she ever finds out about it, she’ll thank you. And besides, she’ll want Mrs. Kim to like him eventually. We all want that at some point, whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not. And then the farce can be dropped."

"Good point." Rory states, standing up. "We should start planning exactly what you’re going to say to Mrs. Kim." She goes to the kitchen to get a pad of paper and a pen.

"What happened to going to bed?"

"I’m awake now. This is gonna be great," Rory tells her mother. Lorelai nods, pondering something thoughtfully as Rory excitedly begins scribbling down notes.

"You know, Rory, fixing Lane’s lovelife isn’t going to help you forget what’s going on with yours," Lorelai observes and Rory hesitates in writing for a moment.

"That’s not why I’m doing this," Rory replies, not looking up. She continues writing, concentrating ferociously.

"Okay," Lorelai lets it go, knowing eventually Rory will realize it on her own. "So how should I start?"

*******

Lorelai and Mrs. Kim wave good-bye to their children as the Gilmore Jeep disappears around the corner, Lorelai grinning at them and Mrs. Kim appearing as if she fears for Lane’s life. Lorelai turns to Mrs. Kim expectantly.

"So, Mrs. Kim...while I have you here...there’s kind of something I wanted to, uh, discuss with you," Lorelai begins. Mrs. Kim just glares at her, moving her broom across the sidewalk slightly. "That is, if you have time."

"What do you want to talk about? I am a very busy woman."

"It’s about Lane, actually."

"What about Lane? What did she do? I heard about your daughter. She’s a bad influence on Lane. I always knew she was bad influence."

"It’s nothing bad, Mrs. Kim," Lorelai reassures her, ignoring the comment about Rory and keeping her focus on the mission at hand. "It’s actually quite good. Very good, in fact."

"Good? Why good?" She looks at her accusatorily and Lorelai almost jumps back.

"Could we go inside and sit and talk, maybe?"

"No. Tell me now." Mrs. Kim stops sweeping, putting her hands on her hips.

"Why don’t we go make some tea, sit down...have a little chat. I think you’ll like what I have to say," Lorelai states, kind of nudging Mrs. Kim on, hoping she’ll feel like changing her mind.

"Fine. We go inside."

"All right! Now we’re getting somewhere," Lorelai grins, rubbing her hands together as she follows Lane’s mother inside the house.

"You think you’re cute. You’re not. That’s the problem with you and your daughter. You don’t know when to be serious."

"Well, I have a very serious matter to talk to you about today, so maybe I can change your mind," Lorelai responds as she manuvers her way through the maze of piled antiques, careful not not to touch or god forbid break anything. That wouldn’t help matters at all.

"Serious? You said it was good," Mrs. Kim pulls out a chair from the kitchen table, moving a couple things away. "Sit." Lorelai complies.

"Good and serious can go together. Especially when healthy, intelligent, devoutly religious Korean men are concerned," she lays down the bait and Mrs. Kim bites immediately. She sits down across from Lorelai, who now has her full and rapt attention.

"What did you say?"

"I came here today with an offer for you. For Lane, really. I happen to have met one of Rory’s classmates at Chilton - which, need I remind you, is one of the best prep schools in the nation - and I was just amazed by what a wonderful kid he was. Now, I would have loved if Rory had been interested, but seeing as how I don’t have as much control over Rory as you have over Lane, I couldn’t make her see that a potential doctor was a mighty good catch," Lorelai sighs overdramatically.

"A doctor?"

"Pediatrician, in fact. He’s planning on going to Yale."

"Yale?"

"Yes, indeed. Now, he’s very involved in his church and is very close to his parents. Top grades at school, and he speaks fluent Korean. It turns out he even visited there last summer to see his relatives."

"This boy goes to Rory’s school?"

"Yep," Lorelai nods. "He lives in Hartford...in a big ol’ mansion..."

"What is his name?"

"Henry Cho."

"Cho. That is a good name. A very good name."

"I thought so too," Lorelai grins, leaning forward. "Now, don’t you think he just sounds fabulous for Lane? I thought...you know, I could easily set her up on a blind date with him....if you’re interested."

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Lane will be enthused. I will tell her tonight when-"

"About that," Lorelai interrupts, getting daring. "See...the thing is...Lane is a teenager."

"I know this."

"Teenagers...they don’t want to be set up with boys that their parents approve of. They want someone their parents hate. Even good girls like Lane. Now...the way I see it...you can either have her find a bad boy and date him to defy you, or..."

"Yes?"

"You can find an excellent, wonderful young man and trick Lane into thinking you don’t approve." Lorelai says, then continues before Mrs. Kim can say anything. "Because face it, you set Lane up with Henry and she’s gonna hate him before she even meets him. Just on principle. You let her meet him, you meet him...tell her that you don’t like the way he looks at her. Poof. You’ve got an iron-clad perfect candidate for her to want to date. It’s a win-win situation you see."

"I do not like lying."

"It’s not lying," Lorelai says. "It’s...pretending a little so you can do what’s best for your daughter." Lorelai tries to see if Mrs. Kim is buying it and it doesn’t seem like it. "Take Rory for example. I said I liked Dean. Welcomed him into our home. And you know what happened with that." Mrs. Kim makes a face. "Now do you want that?"

"Of course not."

"Then you should do this."

"I will."

"Excellent! I’ll set up the date and let you know when it’s gonna go down. Polish your acting skills, missy!" She exclaims in excitement, clapping twice. Mrs. Kim scowls and Lorelai almost cowers. "I mean, ma’am."

"I think you had better leave now. Please send over this boy’s home address and phone number, I would like to speak to his parents."

"Sure thing," Lorelai responds, trying to conceal her utter joy over her relatively simple success. She walks out of the antique store equally carefully, waiting until she reaches the safety of the front walk to do a little dance. Twirling out onto the sidewalk, she nearly knocks over Kirk.

"Hey, Dancing Queen, watch your step," Kirk tells her, and she only grins wider in response.

"It’s a wonderful day, Kirk, give me a smile!"

"No thanks. I have to go to the beauty parlor, I’m late."

"You getting your hair done?" Lorelai smirks.

"No, manicure," Kirk holds up his hands, perfectly serious. Lorelai waits until his back is turned before she bursts out laughing. He turns back, hurt. "I can’t help it that I have sensitive hands!" He stalks off, leaving Lorelai in a giggling fit.

*******

Lorelai’s head snaps up as the front door slams loudly and she drops her stitching.

"Rory?" She asks as a whirl of brown hair and jeans flys by, slamming another door as she goes into her bedroom. "Rory!" Setting down the pillow case she was embroidering with the face of Red from Fraggle Rock, she goes to Rory’s door and knocks. It flies open and Rory comes stalking out, obviously very upset. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened. Henry and Lane had a good time. A great time." Rory snips, moving past Lorelai and going to the fridge, pulling it open and grabbing the milk. She sets it on the table harshly then looks around the room, agitated. She opens up a cupboard - the wrong cupboard - and then crosses the kitchen to open another cup-less cupboard. "God, where do we keep the glasses around here?"

"Right here, where they’ve always been..." Lorelai eyes her wearily, edging past her and opening the right door, handing Rory a glass.

"They have not always been there."

"Okay," Lorelai agrees, backing away.

"They used to be over there the first few years we lived here, they were not always there."

"That’s true..."

"So don’t say that they’ve always been there cause they haven’t always been there!" Rory exclaims. Lorelai holds her hands up in defense.

"Hey, Cup Nazi...why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened."

"There’s nothing to tell. Henry and Lane were happy. So happy. Everybody’s happy." Rory explains angrily. She pours a glass of milk, accidentally spilling a little on the table. "Oh come on! What is *wrong* with me?" she cries out, giving up and just sitting down, the sleeve of her shirt begginning to soak up the milk. Lorelai moves it for her, grabbing a towel and wiping it up. "I can’t even pour a stupid glass of milk without screwing it up. I don’t deserve to live, you know that?"

"Uh, you’re freaking me out here."

"I’m sorry, I just..." She lets out a cry of frustration. "It was like Valentine’s Day in October at the mall and there were like these stupid happy couples everywhere and Henry and Lane were like, ugggghhh. I don’t know how I’m going to handle it once they’re actually allowed to see each other whenever they want."

"I guess this wouldn’t be a good time to tell you Mrs. Kim agreed, then, would it?"

"Probably not," Rory glares.

"Thought not."

"But that’s perfect. Great. I mean, I should be happy for her, right? It’s a good thing."

"Yes it is. And it’s something you wanted for her."

"I know I did. I mean, it was my idea, right? It’s stupid for me to sit here and complain that she’s happy."

"But when you’re completely down in the dumps, it probably doesn’t make you feel any better to see everything falling into place for Lane," Lorelai points out.

"I’m a horrible friend," Rory says and Lorelai shakes her head adamantly.

"You’re only human."

"You told me it wasn’t going to make me feel any better. But did I listen? Of course not."

"Ah, so what. You’ll be glad you did it later," Lorelai tells her. Rory slumps back into her chair, frowning deeply. She thinks to herself for a moment, her frown growing even more severe.

"I couldn’t go anywhere in that entire stupid mall. I couldn’t go to the bookstore cause that was where I ran into him reading Leaves of Grass. What was he even doing reading that anyway? He shouldn’t like books like that. That’s where the trouble started, you know. I should have just walked away, but no. I’m stupid." Rory pauses, getting up and shoving the gallon of milk back into the fridge. She sits back down and looks across the table at Lorelai, frustrated. "I couldn’t go to the arcade, I couldn’t go to the movies, I couldn’t get coffee at Barnie’s, I couldn’t go cd shopping, I couldn’t even go to Johnny Rocket’s with Lane because that was what we did the very first time I hung out with him at the mall."

"By him you mean Tristan, I gather," Lorelai clarifies, trying to just buy some time because it felt like she was expected to say something and she had no idea how to respond.

"Yes. Everything just made me feel worse. By the third hour there I was about to do something drastic."

"Like go shopping at Lane Bryant?" Lorelai quips, trying to lighten her daughter’s mood.

"It’d be one place that wouldn’t remind me of Tristan - too bad I didn’t think of that."

"You would’ve come out looking like your grandmother."

"Like Grandma shops for her clothes at the mall," Rory replies and Lorelai shrugs, acknowledging that she’s probably right. The phone rings and Lorelai ignores it. "Don’t let the machine get it," Rory says, knowing what her mom is doing.

"That’s what it’s for, dear."

"No, it’s there so we can screen our calls and not talk to evil people."

"Well, I’m screening then. I don’t want to talk to anyone annoying."

"Mom."

"It’s true. Now just ignore it. What were you saying?"

"That we should answer the phone." Lorelai makes no movement and Rory reaches over to the counter and grabs it a split second before the machine would’ve picked up. Lorelai makes a face at her. "Talk." Rory spits into the phone. "Luke. Hi." Pause. "Everything’s fine." Pause. "I do not sound weird. Do you want to talk to Mom? Good." Rory hands off the phone to Lorelai. "Luke."

"I gathered that, thank you." She takes the phone. "Hey, Luke." Rory heads for her room but Lorelai spots her before she gets two steps. "Hey, stop right there missy. We haven’t finished here."

"But you’re on the phone."

"Are you still upset?" Rory opens her mouth to protest but Lorelai shushes her. "I know you are, don’t even try to say anything different. As long as you’re upset we’re not done." She turns her attention back to the phone. "No, I’m still here. Can I call you back in a second?" Lorelai clicks off the phone so Rory assumes Luke must’ve said okay. "Rory, you can’t keep doing this."

"What?"

"You have been riding this emotional rollercoaster all week, hiding in your room and running around school, and god, being fought over by two guys you love-"

"Are you making fun of my problem?" Rory interrupts, Paris’ comments refreshed in her mind. Lorelai has no idea where that came from at all.

"Making fun of you? Rory, no. You have two boys, each of whom have come to matter very, very much to you and now you have to suddenly cast one of them aside? Break the heart of someone you love? Rory, hon, I’m not making fun of you. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes for a second."

Rory’s shoulders slump and she runs her hands through her long hair, closing her eyes.

"I’m sorry, Mom, I...I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Every little thing that happens is just...I feel like I can’t handle anything this week."

"That’s fine, Ror."

"It’s not fine. I should be able to handle anything. I can’t be falling to pieces just because of some stupid boy," Rory sighs.

"You’re hardly falling to pieces."

"I’m a jigsaw puzzle."

"You are not. You might be one of those little baby toys where they have four cut-out shapes and they have to match them up or something, you’re not a Charles Wisocki or anything."

"Maybe," Rory shrugs, touching her wet sleeve. "I’m going to go change my sweater."

"Okay. Want me to make coffee, since, ya know, that milk thing didn’t quite work out?"

"Sure." She goes to her bedroom and re-emerges awhile later, wearing pajama pants and a baggy dark blue hoodie. Lorelai is getting out mugs and setting them up in front of the coffee pot. "You know what?" Rory says as she watches her mother move around the kitchen.

"That Hugh Jackman used to be the Australian equivalent of a Broadway star? Yes, I did."

"What?"

"It’s true."

"I did not know that."

"He played Curly in Oklahoma!."

"I didn’t know that either. But...I was actually thinking that you should call Luke back and go out tonight."

"I want to stay here with you."

"You’ve been worrying about me constantly. It’s not fair. You should call him back and go out."

"Are you re-directing again? ‘Cause focusing on me and Luke is gonna be kind of pointless because we have nothing to fix."

"It’s not that. I just...I’m gonna curl up on the couch and watch re-runs of The Cosby Show or Family Ties all night and feel sorry for myself, and really, I don’t want any witnesses to the downward spiral."

"I can keep my eyes closed."

"You’ve been neglecting Luke all week."

"I have not."

"It’s my fault, I know, but you have."

"He understands."

"Yes, he probably does. All the more reason for you to go on over there and thank him for being so wonderful."

"I have a feeling you’re trying to get rid of me," Lorelai says suspiciously.

"I’m not," Rory assures her. "I just feel guilty for dragging you down with me."

"That’s what mothers are for."

"Mother!"

"Will it really make you feel better if I go?" Rory nods earnestly. "Okay, then I’ll go. Just because I love you."

"Thank you," Rory responds and Lorelai shakes her head in dismay.

"If I come home to find you doing anything except lying on that couch watching Alex Keaton praise Republicans, you’re going to have some ‘splainin’ to do."

"Luke’s waiting, Mom."

"Yeah, for me to call him back. Not to show up at his place," Lorelai points out and Rory replies by turning and going into the living room.

"Go have fun," she demands, sitting down and turning on the television to Nick at Nite.

"I won’t be gone too long," Lorelai says, picking up her purse and jacket. She opens the front door then moves back to look at Rory through the archway. Rory curls up and pulls a blanket over her as the opening credits of Cheers begin to play. "Don’t you want to go, where everybody knows your name? And they’re always glad you came-"

"Luke’s!" Rory cries out.

"K, I’m going!" Lorelai exclaims and heads out the door. Rory smiles gently to herself. Snuggling deeper into the couch as if trying to melt into it. Breathing in deeply, she closes her eyes and merely listens to Ted Danson and Shelley Long bicker.

*******

Stepping out of her car and walking up the carefully tended path to the front door of the DuGrey mansion, Paris tugs off her jacket pre-emptively, the night being unusually warm for October. Ringing the doorbell, she can hear it echo inside. Moments later, the door is opened by Antoine, the DuGrey’s long-time maid. She smiles extremely stiffly at Paris, her face not entirely co-operating with the emotion she is trying desperately to fake.

"Hello, Miss Gellar. It’s been quite awhile since I’ve opened up the door to find you here."

"I know, Antoine. Is Tristan home?"

"I’ve been instructed to tell all visitors that Mr. DuGrey is not available," she replies. Paris eyes her, knowing from past experience what that meant. She nods at Antoine and backs off of the front stoop.

"Thank you very much, Antoine. It was good to see you again."

"It was nice to see you as well. Good night." She shuts the heavy front door. Paris retreats back down the front walk, but instead of returning to her BMW, she walks around the large house to the expansive back yard, crossing it casually and approaching the pool house with equal candor. Turning the handle to the back door of the rec room, she finds it locked. Not even having to think, she stands on tip-toe and finds the small groove etched into the paneling around the door, lifting out a small key. Unlocking the door, Paris goes inside.

The faint sound of Sloan’s "The Other Man" echoes within the cavernous room. Paris smirks to herself, shaking her head. Tristan is laying on the couch, partially hidden by the billiard table. His eyes are closed but Paris knows full well he’s not sleeping.

"Feeling slightly sorry for ourselves, are we?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking an eyebrow at her.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, not opening his eyes.

"Saving you from an evening of sitting alone in the dark listening to music like this. I’m sure in half an hour you’ll be on to the real hard core stuff, you know, instant musical depression. I’m here to see that you don’t end up pulling a Girl, Interuppted."

"Girl?"

"Well I’d say One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest but I know I’d be walking right into a Nurse Ratchett comment so I decided to go another route."

"Wise decision, cause that was the first thing that popped into my head," Tristan responds, finally opening his eyes and looking at her. "How’d you get in here?"

"You haven’t moved the key in ten years," Paris shrugs. "I have an exceptional memory." Tristan nods, not really caring all that much.

"Antoine gave me away, huh."

"She didn’t tell me where you were."

"She just said she was instructed to tell you I wasn’t home, right?"

"Exactly."

"I hate that." Tristan mutters. "So why’d you come here?"

"This is where you always go."

"How do you know?"

"I told you I have a good memory. I’m beginning to think you don’t listen to me," Paris remarks, gesturing for him to sit up. He doesn’t move.

"Are you here to rag on me about the Rory thing?"

"Why would I rag on you?" Paris asks, casting her gaze down as she leans against the pool table.

"I can think of a million reasons off the top of my head, the first being that you hate Rory and the second being that I expect you don’t condone me going after her."

"I don’t hate Rory."

"Could’ve fooled me."

"I came here to help, are you going to be a jerk?" Paris says, hurt. She takes a step to leave but Tristan sits up.

"Wait." She pauses. "I’m sorry, Paris, I just...I didn’t think, considering the circumstances, that you would be the one showing up and offering anything."

"Well, we used to be friends, remember?" Paris states. "I just figured that maybe now would be a good time to remind you of that."

"I’ve never forgotten," Tristan responds honestly. "But things change."

"*You* changed," Paris retorts simply, sitting down next to him. Tristan opens his mouth to protest but stops, the thought occuring to him that she’s right. "When you’re with Rory, you’re like you used to be."

"What?"

"Before everything. The past few months...I mean, I know you and Rory think that you’re in your whole own little world most of the time but everyone else can see you," Paris half-jokes, then gets serious. "I mean, I’ve watched you with her. You’re...you."

"Astute, Paris, especially coming from you," Tristan replies and Paris glares at him.

"You know what I mean. You act like you used to before being popular and following societal dictums became more important to you than being true to yourself," Paris says and Tristan starts to make another sarcastic remark about the Hallmark cliché world she’s about to enter into but Paris continues, knowing full well what he’s going to say. "It’s true no matter how stupid it sounds. And you don’t know how much I wanted to be that person, Tristan..." she stops now, not having the courage to say what she wants to for the first time in her life.

"What person?" It’s silent for a few minutes before Tristan repeats his question. "What person?"

"The person who could make you do that. To make you act like you used to, you know, to be the person who would hide out in the pool house when he was upset?" She tries to joke, feeling uncomfortable with what she has just said. Her forced smile falls quickly. "But it wasn’t me. It was Rory. And I did hate her for it." Paris wavers. "I don’t anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because she finally realized what I knew all along, I guess," Paris shrugs, looking away. "You adored her and she didn’t even see how great a thing that was. She took it for granted...cast it aside." Tristan snorts.

"She might do that again, so don’t get ahead of yourself," he tells her, leaning back against the couch with a deep frown. Paris shakes her head slowly.

"Except she won’t."

"All evidence points to the contrary."

"That’s just what you think."

"And what do you think, Paris?" Tristan inquires, annoyed. "I guarantee you that you’re completely wrong."

"I’m almost never wrong."

"Almost never isn’t always."

"It’s as close as you can get. Almost always right is pretty good."

"Yeah, well, almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades."

"Pulling out the old anecdotes already? You used to be good at arguing."

"I’m sick of arguing. I’m sick of having to debate everything. Things just are what they are."

"Unless what you think they are, and what they really are, are entirely different things," Paris counters and Tristan lets out a small groan.

"Can you stop?"

"I could, but I won’t."

"Why not?" Tristan climbs up off the couch, walking across the room before turning back and looking at her.

"Because I happen to think that Rory Gilmore is absolutely crazy about you."

"Maybe you’re a little biased to be giving that opinion."

"I’m perfectly capable of setting aside my own opinions and looking at matters objectively, Ego-boy," Paris retorts. "And you know that so don’t even bother to tell me otherwise."

"Do you want to play some pool?"

"And don’t try and divert my attention from the subject."

"Well I don’t want to talk about it. The last thing I need is you coming in here and getting my hopes up only to fall flat on my face again. I’m not willingly walking into that again."

"Then I’ll drag you, kicking and screaming all the way," Paris states simply, accepting the cue stick from Tristan as he hands it to her. He rolls his eyes at her as he set up the balls, trying to focus all his attention on the arrangement of solids and stripes so Paris’ words don’t sink in. "Dean is history, Tristan. There’s no way Rory is going to get back together with him."

"You want to break?" Tristan asks, gesturing to the table. Paris hesitates and Tristan doesn’t wait. "Fine, I will." He sends the cue ball shooting across the table forcefully, skillfully sinking two solids. He smirks at her as he circles the table. "You’re stripes."

"I hate stripes."

"I know that."

"I’ll still win," Paris responds with a smirk of her own. "I bet Rory is thinking very dirty things about you right now," she tells him as he takes his next shot, causing the cue to slip out of his controlled grasp and the intended ball goes ricocheting the opposite direction. Tristan glares at her.

"That wasn’t fair."

"No, probably not," Paris shrugs, lining up her own shot with a small smile. "But probably true." There is a quick cracking noise as the cue connects and number 2 ball sinks in the right top corner pocket swiftly.

"Nice shot," Tristan compliments Paris, who merely shrugs again.

"Pool is merely a game of precision, prediction, concentration and simple mathematics," Paris explains as she off-handedly sinks another ball. "You don’t stand a chance."

*******

Rory sits up stiffly from her long-held position on the couch, stretching slowly. The closing credits of the third straight episode of Family Ties were rolling and if asked, she wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone what had happened on any of the three.

Glancing at the clock, which now reads 2 am, Rory stands up and plods toward the kitchen. Her mother was sleeping soundly upstairs, having returned from Luke’s in a blissful, relaxed state of happiness. If only Rory could enjoy the same feeling. She opens the refrigerator aimlessly, and then the freezer. Not really hungry, but bored, she takes out an ice cream sandwich and unwraps it slowly. Rory then goes to her bedroom, determined that she get some reading done. She hadn’t picked up a non-school book all day. It felt unnatural and unsettling.

After five chapters, she realizes that it’s not the lack of extracurricular reading that’s unsettling. Tossing her book aside, she angrily punches at her pillow, not able to get comfortable. After a few minutes of rolling and tossing and adjusting Rory gives up. She throws off her covers and gets out of bed, grabbing her portable cd player and a couple cds.

It only became an endless parade, every cd not doing it’s desired job. Even Sarah Harmer didn’t do the trick. She couldn’t relax, couldn’t stop thinking about him. Ready to scream, Rory climbs out of bed again, but this time she has an entirely different mission. Grabbing a pair of sneakers from her floor and the car keys from the kitchen counter, she sneaks out the back door.

Half an hour later, she pulls up at the DuGrey mansion, not entirely sure what she plans on doing, especially since it’s 3:30am and the house is cloaked in pitch black darkness. She parks behind the black BMW in the driveway and climbs out, trembling in the night cold and in nervous anticipation. Taking a few steps toward the front door, she hears someone else’s footsteps behind her and she freezes, her heart jumping into her throat. She was in trouble.

"He’s in the pool house." Paris’ voice is crisp and clear, somehow not at all surprised to come across Rory standing there. Rory whirls around, embarrassed.

"Paris! What are you doing here?"

"It’s almost 4am, I could ask you the same question," Paris responds calmly, folding her hands in front of her.

"Um...I just...I had to talk to Tristan about something," Rory says, her voice cracking. Paris raises an eyebrow, implying that she wants further explanation. Rory scowls slightly, already agitated. "Well what are you doing here? I mean, I doubt you’re usually here at -" Rory grabs Paris’ arm and looks at her wristwatch - "3:41 am either."

"I had to talk to Tristan about something too," Paris replies. "Like I said, he’s in the pool house. You can get in the back door, it should be open."

"Oh. Okay..." Rory says, backing away from Paris.

"If it’s not open, the key is hidden above the door. Just reach up there and you’ll feel it," Paris instructs her as she unlocks her car door. She pauses after she opens the door and waits for Rory to respond.

"All right." Rory slowly starts to turn and walk away.

"And Rory?"

"Yes?" She doubles back, not having gotten very far anyway. Paris starts to say something but clearly has second thoughts.

"Nevermind," Paris climbs into her car and starts the engine. Rory watches as Paris’ expensive car backs out of the driveway, feeling even more unsettled after this strange and random encounter. She then looks up at the huge house, wondering where the pool house even was. Figuring it was most likely in the back, she makes the long walk to the yard, keeping her fingers crossed that the DuGreys didn’t have a weird alarm system or guard dogs. Visions of being trapped in a spotlight and cornered by vicious German Sheperds fill her mind and she picks up her pace. Her worries of finding the pool house vanish when she realizes the indoor pool is completely surrounded by glass windows and doors on two sides, making its location quite obvious. Walking past the pool to the closed off portion of the building, she finds the only door that Paris could have been referring to.

Rory stops, staring at the door. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing. What was she even doing there? At 4 in the morning? Was she crazy? Letting out a frustrated little groan, she steps back, reconsidering. With every passing moment, she felt more and more stupid. Her gaze sweeps the carefully maintained yard, the gardens vaguely visible in the darkness. It was cold and lonesome, entirely frightening in its own right.

Taking a deep breath, she sets her hand on the doorknob and closes her eyes as if trying to muster the courage. Twisting it, she finds it unlocked. She hesitates before pushing it open, the possibility of leaving before Tristan sees her still seeming like a good idea.

"Just go in," Rory whispers to herself. She pushes the door all the way open and her gaze sweeps the room anxiously, quickly trying to take in all that she can. Tristan is nowhere to be seen. Rory’s heart drops to her feet, wondering if all of the courage she had just struggled to muster was all for naught. Cautiously, she takes a few steps into the large room. Hearing a noise from down the hallway, Rory jumps, slightly startled, before deciding to follow the sound.

Walking down the hallway, she finds herself at the back entrance to the pool. The only light in the vast room came from the lights along the pool walls, shining out from beneath the water. The aquamarine glow casts flickering shimmers of light onto the wall and the glass walls. The smell of chlorine hangs in the warm air. Tristan is sitting on one of the deck chairs, lost in thought. Rory watches him for a moment, taking advantage of the fact that he is unaware of her presence. She can feel her pulse quicken as she observes him, every angle of his face and body somehow seeming all the more appealing tonight. She could have easily stayed there for hours, just watching him. The idea seemed tempting, for she had no idea what she was going to say to him.

Somehow sensing her, Tristan turns his head as she begins to walk toward him. He felt a surge of happiness seeing her standing there, a swell of emotion immediately coming to the surface. Tristan stands up, not quite sure if he’s dreaming.

"Rory?" His voice betrays him, cracking. "What are you doing here?"

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come," Rory wavers, losing her nerve. She turns to go.

"Rory, don’t go," Tristan says quickly. She stops. "What’s the matter?"

"Nothing’s the matter," Rory replies, shaking her head. "I just..."

"Just...what?" Tristan asks softly, staring at her from across the room. Rory walks closer, bridging the gap slightly.

"I had to see you."

"Why?"

"Because, I..." she starts, a frustrated look crossing her face as she struggles to explain herself. "Because I can’t even listen to PJ Harvey because of you. I’m laying in bed, in the dark, and I can’t sleep...and when I can’t sleep I listen to her except now I can’t because I listen to her and I think of you and then I’m worse off than I was when I started."

"I’m sorry," Tristan mutters, looking away.

"You should be," Rory shoots back. "You’re making me go crazy. Like this? This? Coming here at 4 in the morning? That’s crazy. It’s all your doing. I would never have done something like this before. But here I am. I’m here...and you’re there...and I’m crazy. Crazy and confused and upset and...god, I don’t know what. All I know is that you’re standing there and you’re looking like that and all I want to do is kiss you and that’s not right."

"Why is that not right? Because of Dean?"

"No!" Rory spits out. "Dean and I are over. It’s wrong because this isn’t me. I don’t sneak out of my house and drive to Hartford in the middle of the night to go see a boy. I don’t think about making out instead of War and Peace. That isn’t who I am, that’s not what I do."

"I don’t see why it has to be that way," Tristan moves toward her, the space between them shortening to a mere few feet. Rory looks up at him, momentarily losing her train of thought as her gaze trains on his smoldering blue eyes. A shudder runs through her body, an urge running through her that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Growing even more frustrated, she groans slightly, closing her eyes and stepping away from him.

"Well...I do...so..."

"So?"

"So..."

"So why are you here, then?" The question hangs in the air for a moment, the words turning over within Rory’s mind. She didn’t have an answer. All she had was her instinct and all her instinct was telling her to do was to act. So she does. Moving forward she pullsTristan to her, her lips meeting his with extreme passionate fervor. Rory’s entire body instantly feels different, shifting from nervous, anxious tension to deep arousal within seconds. Her worries melt away into a puddle of lust; the small voice inside of her head that was questioning and debating and telling her to go home dissipating entirely.

Their mouths move against one another’s, his tongue slipping into her mouth and seeking hers. His hands cup her delicate cheeks, now flushed, as their kiss continued, neither wanting to stop. Rory finally tears away from him, desperate for air. They both pause, gasping slightly. Rory’s hands travel over his arms and chest as she tries to regain stability, the room swimming around her. She felt hot and dizzy, acutely aware of every thing that Tristan is doing, but completely oblivious to everything else. A marching band could have gone past the windows playing 76 Trombones and Rory wouldn’t have noticed anything except Tristan’s quivering, full lips.

Tristan begins kissing her neck, surely hard enough to leave a telling mark. Rory had always warned Dean against doing such a thing, but now she didn’t care. In fact, the idea that he wanted to kiss her so badly almost made her inclined to do the same to him. Her fingertips graze the heated skin of his muscled stomach and Rory finds herself tugging up on the hem of his loose t-shirt. She pulls away from him and his eyes move up to hers, wondering if she wants to stop. She tugs up again, this time getting the courage to lift it halfway up his chest. Tristan helps her pull it off over his head and they both toss it aside. Tristan moves to kiss her again but Rory has other ideas, pulling her own shirt off in a swift determined motion, completing the task before she has a chance to second-guess herself or be embarrassed.

Tristan tries not to show his shock but fails, his mouth dropping open at the sight of Rory Gilmore in a state of half-undress. Not knowing what else to do, he does what comes naturally and pulls him to her. They hu