Title: Gone

Author: Hito

Pairing: Rory/Tristan

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Hate it? Let me know at hitokamei@yahoo.co.uk

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Gilmore Girls belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB. Um, probably.

*

Tristan wasn't sure what had woken him.

Rory was fast asleep, draped over his body, her breath tickling his neck. Maybe it had been the clothes between them, folds digging uncomfortably into his chest; perhaps just the lightening of the sky.

He wasn't complaining. A careful shift brought Rory further into his arms without disturbing the rhythm of her breathing, brought her lips against his skin, and that hadn't happened often enough to be anything but cherished.

Even if she didn't know she was doing it. She had known, and had done it; had chosen it, him. And that was more than he had ever thought to be given.

Body memory jostled for space in his mind as he fell into reverie and she sank into him. Flashes of feeling that were nothing like vague, anything but blurry, sharp as pain. Clarity proved reality, if Rory in his arms hadn't already done so, but he couldn't think about it yet. Shockingly stark, it had actually happened and he would have to deal with it, but-not yet. Not just yet. He had come so impossibly far so fast; he had too much to assimilate already.

Life had taken a deliciously unexpected twist last night. If he'd thought there was a chance in hell of this happening he might have been better prepared, but as it was he'd just have to wing it.

And if he was going to be totally honest with himself, which was probably his only chance at surviving this, he really hadn't expected ever to get the chance. Rory had proved irritatingly loyal to Jess, and he had been on the verge of abandoning his pursuit. He knew she hadn't intended this. Hadn't believed that he could push her into choosing him, but had had to try.

And he had done it. He had won. And now, unbelievably, he had Rory. Impossibly. Victory snatched from the jaws of defeat, and he couldn't quite hold in a smile at that. It was all too like a stupid sports movie, one that he would have thought himself too old for before he reached double figures, except with sex, which admittedly, might have been a draw-

It was then that he realised that his hand was smoothing over her back, under her shirt. He pulled away quickly, but it was too late. And it was a whole new kind of jolt to realize that that could become instinct. That he was close enough to her not to mark the intimacy. And if he'd known this time yesterday that he'd be thinking like this he would have committed hara-kiri before he ever got out of bed. He would have missed out on a hell of a lot.

He didn't know why he was being so-schmoopy, about it; it wasn't as if- well. Maybe it was. Had to be, to make this so special. To make him care that her chest was rising and falling against his, that she was curled into him, that her hand was heavy on his shoulder. Their legs were tangled up together. Such little things, but they mattered, all of them. She mattered. And he cared, far too much. He did.

That pulled at him a little, and he tightened instinctively around her. Too much. She was stirring. Rory's eyelashes fluttered as she stretched against him. He watched as her eyes blinked open, watched the haze pass, saw the moment when memory returned. She stiffened. Disbelieving too, she turned her face up to him, eyes impossibly wide.

"Rory. Good morning."

"Tris-" She sat up, scrubbing her hands over her face. "What-?"

He wasn't going to supply difficulties. And this wasn't a position he had ever been in before, really.

His muscles ached as he pulled himself up, and maybe they should have gone back to her place after all. Too late to worry about that and there was no way on earth that things could have turned out any better than they had.

Her hair was a little tangled and he smiled as she tried to comb through the snarls with her fingers, halting her hand with his. He curled around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. She was still out of it, unfocused, and eventually he just grabbed her chin to get her attention.

"Rory. Hey."

And she was looking at him, finally, a smile trembling behind her mouth, and that was just too much for him to resist.

She was warm and welcoming, almost familiar, and it didn't hurt at all when she drew back.

"Hey. We-"

And he wanted to answer, even though he knew she was in her own little world again, wanted to voice this ridiculous joy. He didn't speak, but he couldn't quite bring himself to temper it. She was shaking her head a little, still smiling; he could relate.

"Tristan-" Sudden movement and she was on him and, God, she had never been this warm before, this-this was-

Rory looking at him, sighing through that same smile, and his cheeks would hurt before the morning was out.

"Hmm. Tristan." And it was stupid, to be so pleased that it was his name that satisfied her like that, that it was him. Stupid to be so-blitzed. "What time is it?"

His watch had remained on his wrist. "Six thirty. Why?"

"We should-" And suddenly she was gone, halfway across the room, searching for her shoe, and that was just wrong, so he followed her.

"What is it?"

"We have to go. Here."

A sock thrown back over her shoulder at him and she was frantic now. Little snap of comprehension and maybe she wasn't the only slow riser here. Tristan slowly joined in the search, finally unearthing Rory's other shoe behind the counter; he had no recollection of how it had ended up there.

He sat staring at it, mind blank. It wasn't as if he had never seen out the night before, but he usually slept until noon afterwards. He couldn't remember ever waking up this early, actually.

He ambled over to the windows and let the blinds whoosh up. The world was still washed-out and silent, but the sky was glowing, the sun pushing at the edges of the town, and it looked like being a wonderful day.

Rory was quietly going insane behind him, and he had to overcome a faint impulse to go and calm her down, watching as golden light inched over the row of shops.

"Tristan!" He turned, instinctively catching the shoe that was flying at his face. "Come on."

Obediently bending to tug it on, he missed the other and had to scramble half-way across the room for it. Then he was done, really, although it felt like he was forgetting something. The candles were guttered; the lights were off-the blinds. Pulled them back down, Rory was waiting with the keys in her hands and still there was a nebulous, niggling something anchoring him there.

Tristan crossed the room to her with feet of lead and tugged her back into his arms. Rory tasted of cinnamon and some spice he didn't recognize, and everything that he wanted. Everything good, and coffee too, and beneath it all there was happiness and he didn't know whose it was. Could have been hers by the look on her face when his eyes flickered open briefly, but it felt like it was his.

Thought maybe he heard a door open. Didn't let her go.

*

Kissing Tristan was like what she remembered of being drunk, that one time. She couldn't think, could hardly feel, but she never wanted it to stop. Knew that she never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go away, and she leant forward, trying to get closer, more, further, although technically there wasn't any further they could go.

But that tiny voice was a grain in the oyster and she forced it down, beneath the numbness, below the spreading pleasure, until it was gone.

A handful of seconds and Tristan's fingers tightened on her arms. He was still kissing her, his tongue stroking inside her, but he was hurting her and it wasn't a choice at all to pull back.

Soft again, apologetic eyes, rather flattering to think she could make him lose control, and she was halfway through the move forward when metal clanked behind them.

A third person. In the room. Watching them.

Rory had to open her eyes to look at Tristan, but she knew there was someone there, knew that he was aware of it from the stiffness of his body. Tense, still as a mannequin or a corpse, and staring over her shoulder.

Jess, it had to be Jess, her boyfriend, watching them do this, watching her kiss Tristan, her boyfriend Jess-

Luke. It was Luke.

Shocky eyes staring back at her, open mouth matching hers. Disbelief that trounced anything she could summon.

Luke, her mother's boyfriend, her boyfriend's uncle. All those things she had never thought to see on his face: shock, disbelief, betrayal and - yes, she had betrayed him, too, hadn't she? Perhaps more, because - well, you expected it from your boyfriend, not your best friend, right? And had she had any idea what she was getting into, with Jess? Better by far that it had been him to know, to witness-

Luke, who might as well have been her father.

Rory's neck hurt, even more as she aligned her body with it. "Luke. Luke, this isn't what it looks-"

A step back, and it had been her, she had made that wounded look on his face. An invented delay before speech scrolled across her brain, because otherwise she would have crashed down.

"You-"

"Luke. Please." Broken voice, and tears stung, how had she escaped that knowledge until now? "Just let me." Turn back time, erase all this; make it up to Jess, to you; just make it up, lie, pretend. Anything.

Nothing. "You. Rory, you-" Eyes darting about, taking in their rumpled, creased clothing, the candle-sticks burned down to nothing in their pretty, pretty holders and, damningly, the still-inflated couch. Hot pink, to cap it all.

"You had sex. With him. Tristan."

Breaths expelled loudly with every sentence, like he was taking punches to the stomach, but the tone was carefully non-confrontational, giving her, even now, the chance to refute. Asking it of her. She couldn't.

"Yes." It had never been a struggle to hold up her head before, on a neck gone liquid, but her eyes were glued to his face.

A moment more of denial, and then something far too close to grief; her eyes slammed shut against the sight and nausea rose steadily.

"Luke, no-" A weak, pathetic thing that couldn't possibly be coming from her. "Please, no.." Weaker.

Luke straightened, coming back into focus behind his eyes and, oh, yes, it was Rory who would hurt here.

"Yes. You have to go now. Jess is coming down now and - I need time to think. This isn't over."

Bending to retrieve his keys from the floor and then he was taller than she could ever be. And he was waiting for the appropriate response, but she couldn't move, turned to stone or maybe salt. She should have paid better attention to her Bible. Then she'd know what to do. Would have known.

"Go." Harsh. Luke had never been that, not with her. "Leave. Get out of here, Rory. Now."

One menacing half-step towards her and she was stumbling backwards, tripping over her own feet. Another body guiding her towards the door, but her eyes remained on Luke's, still wide and fearful like his, but lacking the fury. That anger overwhelmed everything else, and she couldn't tear herself away from it until the door slammed shut in her face.

Somehow, she made it a street and a half before collapsing. An empty lot on Evergreen that would be swarmed by children in a couple of hours. Shining shards of glass incredibly, regrettably, absent, and nothing like this belonged in Stars Hollow.

The stone scraped her elbows as she sank to the ground. Felt like it tore to flesh, and she wondered what her blood would look like on the wall. If there'd be streaks of gaudy, cheerfully wet colour when she turned; if playing children would stumble across it unknowing, later, dried to brown by the sun. It would be flaking, by then; they might mistake it for chalk. It would be drifting on the wind, travelling like jimmy-joes.

The faint, stabbing pain in her arms wasn't helping, and Rory really thought she was going to throw up, head going between her knees instinctively, and, hey, she was wearing underwear. Who knew? Really wanted to throw up, but couldn't. Felt incredibly sorry for herself because of it. Wanted to cry because of it, and she couldn't even force this out of her body, let alone her mind. It had set up camp; was here to stay.

A pebble hit the wall beside her and she was suddenly aware of Tristan hovering on the edges of her existence. But she had known that he must be there: impossible that he should leave her. "Gonna split the stones, huh?" he remarked, squinting into the sky.

The sun glared down, blinding her, and she knew the one about wax and feathers, even if she couldn't remember the names. Or the moral.

*

Tristan sank down beside her. He was restless, shifting so their arms touched, kicking aimlessly at the concrete.

Rory gazed at him, trying to tap into some hatred, some anger, or resentment, even. There was none. Only envy, and longing for what had vanished. She sighed instead, tilting her head upwards and hoping that the blue of the sky would reach her somehow.

Vivid indigo; glowing, stretching, golden rays. The beauty of the day was incongruous, almost insulting to her pain. It should have, she supposed, given her a sense of the smallness of her concerns, instilled some modesty into her, but in point of fact, it just added to her glumness. Even the weather was working against her. Why couldn't that nice storm have been today instead of last night?

Tristan had less patience than her mother, and louder sighs than either of them. "Hey. You okay?"

"Fine." Rory was striving for some scrap of dignity, but had the sinking feeling that it was destined to elude her. "You?"

"Oh, you know. Wishing we hadn't been disturbed."

Rory's head snapped around so she could glare properly. "Really? Because I wasn't sure."

"Of what?" Patience, the implication of long-suffering, and it was all she could do not to grit her teeth.

"That you wished to remain undiscovered. You did have your eyes open you know."

A pause. A suitable length if he had needed to process, enough to divine her meaning. It would have been wholly convincing if she hadn't been so disgruntled.

"You think I wanted Luke to know?" Only slightly widened eyes; but Tristan wouldn't overact, would he?

"Oh, come on. Even if you discount all your, ah, interests, it's hardly something I'd want."

"Why not?"

"Because it's just fucked everything up, hasn't it? I could have convinced you, I could have made you see--" A hand swiped over his face; he looked as tired as she felt. "Now everything's ruined." Sudden hope. "If you let it be."

"What?" She had to be suspicious; it was right, even if everything in her was railing against it.

"You don't have to let this change anything. Things can go on just as they would have. You just have to talk to Jess before Luke does, then everything will be fine."

Pretty to think so. Oh, so pretty to think so, and Rory did want to be persuaded. Even as she knew it would be a falsehood, she wanted it.

"Luke loves you. He wouldn't--"

"No." Knee-jerk, new, unwelcome. Here. "No. Luke wouldn't do that for me, and I wouldn't deserve it anyway. No, Tristan."

Closer to a twist of his mouth than a quirk, and she wanted to kiss it away.

"Well, anyway." There were blue flowers embroidered on the net curtains of number nine. They contrasted nicely with the orange whatevers blossoming in the front garden. "Hey. Listen. Pay attention to me."

An arm slung over her stomach to gather her back in, and she hadn't meant to ignore him. Had just needed to.

"I'm listening." Quicker return than he had expected, maybe; he blinked at her. "You know, we didn't even--we didn't--" Bewildered. Another blink. The response for all awkward occasions. "We didn't even use-you know."

"Ah." Almost shockingly startled. "You're not--" A gauging look. "You're not on the pill?"

And she had thought her humiliations were over for the moment. "No."

"Ah. Well, this is awkward." Finally, he had caught up. His hand scrubbed through his hair in an achingly familiar gesture. She was most used to seeing it when he was sitting a test that he hadn't prepared for sufficiently. "Well, there are things you can do about that, there are. It's not a crisis. It's not like you need an abortion, or anything."

"I know." She did. In the vaguest of vague senses.

"A friend of mine says that if you take a month's worth of your prescription at once it acts as an abortifacient."

Rory thought about not dignifying that with a reply, but Tristan showed no sign of offering another comment.

"That is not true." At least, it was one she hadn't heard. Not that she had heard any, admittedly. "It is not. God, Tristan." Ridiculing other people for not knowing stuff you didn't know was always a balm for all wounds.

"Well, I don't know. I'm a boy." They relapsed into silence, Tristan flickering at the curtained windows across the street with considerably more agitation, Rory staring at his profile. It was -- engaging. "Oh, but I do know somebody who knows these things."

A blazing smile, pleased to be of service, and Rory had to drag herself back into gear.

"Who?"

*

"I've had two."

Louise wasn't supposed to drive without a qualified adult in the vehicle, and it didn't take a genius to see why. Rory gulped as they dodged past an overflowing Land Rover. Babies on board; visible, unfortunately. Proudly advertised via a tacky sticker slapped across a windowpane. Somebody had been suitably ashamed: there had been an unsuccessful attempt to scrape it off.

"Hmm?"

"I've had two. Abortions."

"Oh." Never had Rory heard something that so completely removed her ability to breathe. "Well. That's--" Nice for you? Hell, at least you aren't toting a matching set to calculus? I'm sorry? "I don't need one. Right? You can take it up to seventy-two hours afterwards, right?"

Whatever Tristan had said to Louise had made her more accommodating than Rory could ever remember her being, and she was immensely grateful for it. Grateful to Louise, not Tristan. Louise was being helpful beyond measure, beyond thanks, but her savoir-faire was throwing Rory off just a little bit.

"Right. Three days. But, you know, I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

And that statement left Rory wondering just what favours Tristan had called in, and if she shouldn't be just a smidgen thankful after all.

They were pulled over before they reached Hartford. Louise talked her way out of the ticket for speeding, but had to accept the one for breaking the terms of her permit; it was that or be impounded.

She drove extra fast in compensation, and almost managed to make up the time.

They pulled up in front of the clinic just after ten.

*

The nurse had been very pleasant, and that made Rory feel guiltier than anything else had. Because she was underage, she spent some time getting what amounted to an interrogation on her sex life, but that might have been paranoia at work. She took the first pill in the office, and the nurse brought her to the front desk to pay.

Louise was waiting in the reception area, and jumped up when Rory returned. The woman named more money than Rory had, and Louise tossed a few bills on the counter.

Bright smiles ushered them out into the blinding sun, and warnings about the timing of the second pill drifted out as the door swung shut. The humidity had dropped.

"I’ll pay you back."

Louise threw something that approached a grin at Rory. "Don’t worry about it. Tristan’ll get it."

She pulled sunglasses from a pocket at her hip. "I must say, I expected better from him." An uncomfortably appraising look, broken by a laugh. "You got this really early, you know. You’re lucky you didn’t need an IUD, with Tristan."

The smile faded when she realised Rory didn’t get the joke.

As they climbed into the car, Louise reached across and dropped a handful of free condoms on Rory’s lap. Rory ignored them, staring out the window, embarrassed at her moodiness, but unable to help it. Louise fiddled with her sunroof, and the silence became awkward.

Finally, she sighed, and reached for the ignition. "You’ve always behaved better than I have. Don’t drop your standards."

*

They hung around for a couple of hours, drifting around from place to place. All the locations were all isolated.

They didn’t talk much, but Louise stopped for coffee without being asked. Rory thought for a second that Louise had been paying closer attention than she would have credited, but something was mumbled about her mother wanting her to quit.

The cup didn’t look so innocuous in Louise’s hands. Rory berated herself for being a hypocritical bitch; it seemed that Louise hadn’t done anything but get a head start on her.

They ended up at a field overgrown with weeds and gnarled wooden limbs and brambles. Louise wandered to the edge of the greenery; Rory stayed slumped against the car door, although she didn’t want to leave.

The wind picked up. It made strands of hair whip across Rory’s face, and the long yellow grass rustle and dance. She watched Louise chain-smoke, and was glad that she wasn’t talking, but somehow wished that she was.

*

The front door closed on that section of the day at four. Rory was exhausted, and looking forward to a brief respite from herself. Jess expected her at the diner at eight, but for right now, she could ignore everything.

Lorelai came out of the kitchen, doughnut in hand.

Rory felt a frozen moment of terror before she remembered that her mother had no idea where she’d spent the night. Probably. Yet.

"Where have you been?"

The relief shocked the truth out of her. Not that she could have come up with anything else. "I was with Louise."

"From Chilton?" Lorelai’s eyebrows were doing something mildly disturbing. "I didn’t think you liked her."

Deep breath. Brain-freeze, rather than bone. "She’s Tristan’s friend."

"He was there too?"

Yes. Rory never would have thought of that. "At first."

"Right." Lorelai licked a sticky red smudge from her finger. "Well of course it would have to be that, because he was here when I got home. Looking for you."

Breathe. Good. "Why are you home so early?" Out before she could think, and it would have been a bad idea to ask what Tristan had wanted.

"Melissa wanted to work overtime. I jumped at the chance. What did Tristan want?"

And yes, her mother knew something was going on between them. She just didn’t know that it had ended. Or begun, whichever. Rory hadn’t decided yet.

"I don’t know. He didn’t say?"

"No. He looked pretty, ah…." Speculative look, and Rory wished her mother wasn’t so interested in her life. "What happened?"

Rory shook her head, tried to look blank, and made for the stairs.

"Hey!" Lorelai vaulted across the back of the couch and cornered her on the third step. "What is it? Did you kiss him? I mean, again?"

"Mom, just—" Rory scrambled backwards, tripping over her own feet. Lorelai followed.

"Rory, tell me what happened! Now!"

It was a lost cause. Rory made her eyes as wide and beseeching as was possible without looking ridiculous. She knew that this sometimes worked if the fear in her eyes was real. It meant that she’d have to tell her mother at least part of the truth later, though. "Nothing. I mean, I don’t know yet. I haven’t made up my mind."

Lorelai’s grasp on Rory’s sleeve tightened and she opened her mouth, but no words came out. She tried again, squinting suspiciously. "All right. But make no mistake about it: I am hearing this later."

Rory nodded eagerly, and took the opportunity to slip away.

Her bed was warm and welcoming, and it was nice and restful with the quilt over her head. She tried not to think about the feel of another body beside her, and arms surrounding her, and how nice it would be to be even warmer. And how nice it would be to have him in her bed, how much more comfortable if they could stretch out and relax. And they had done that before, but it would be so different now, and God, she wished she didn’t know what he slept in. Warm skin under her cheek, the cotton of her sheet far too rough, and she tried to remember what his skin felt like besides burning and wonderful. Wondered if he’d be awake, and what he’d be doing—

She rolled over onto her back, and reminded herself that she wasn’t thinking those thoughts.

Wasn’t. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and tried to pretend that his image wasn’t emblazoned on her eyelids.

And she wanted peace, so eventually, she just pretended that Jess didn’t exist.

*

Rory slid into the diner through a crack in the door. Jess smiled at her, and went back to scribbling on his pad. Luke was behind the counter, and hadn’t seen her yet. She would have preferred to keep it that way, but she knew she couldn’t. She had to deal with it.

She forced herself to continue breathing, and made her way to the counter. Luke stilled as she approached, and watched her come.

Unable to meet his eyes, she spoke to his nose. "Hey, Luke."

A moment’s pause. "Rory."

And the worst thing was that she didn’t know what to expect; didn’t know if he was going to start screaming at her in front of the whole room; didn’t know if he was going to tell Jess and force her to confront what she had done. She didn’t want to do that.

"Did you want something?" That was unexpected, and her eyes flickered to his for a second before dropping again. "Your usual?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Her voice was strained and hoarse even though she hadn’t been crying.

Luke grunted. "Jess should be able to join you soon."

He turned away to another customer; dazed, she felt her way to an empty table.

Once she was sitting down, she felt her entire body slump in relief, limbs turning liquid. Aware that she was rocking slightly, she leant against the wall to steady herself. She still had to face Jess and Tristan and she didn’t know what she was going to do, or what Luke was going to do, but it was over, and it hadn’t been nearly as bad as she had expected.

The tension was succeeded by mild nausea. Rory had been feeling ill all day. She had to take the second pill in an hour and a half. She tried to remember if it would get worse once she had.

She felt utterly helpless and unable to deal with anything, knew she was being ridiculous and it was her own fault, and couldn’t do a thing about it.

It wasn’t long before Jess brought her food, but he had to keep working. Rory picked at her hamburger and waited for the flow of customers to trickle off. She kept checking her watch. She wanted to leave.

When Jess finally came to join her she straightened in greeting, and found a smile for him. He leaned across the table and grabbed a handful of fries, grinning mischievously at her. She didn’t mind; she hadn’t planned on eating them. She reached for her water as a distraction.

"So, what’d you do today?"

It was sheer force of will that prevented her from choking on her mouthful. She swallowed, and tried to work the trick twice, and keep her voice from squeaking. She couldn’t. "Do today?"

"Yeah. Did you see Lane? Did her surprise have the desired effect?" His forehead creased.

"Whatever that may have been, because I have to tell you, I really don’t understand that girl… Rory?"

"Mm?"

"Did you see Lane?"

"Oh, no. I met up with a girl from school. Ended up spending most of the day with her. You?"

"Nothing interesting. You didn’t talk to Lane at all?"

He was frowning. She hadn’t talked to Lane at all, and she realised for the first time that she was going to need a reason for that. Lane was going to be upset.

"No. The girl was in a bit of trouble, and it just slipped my mind."

She could feel Luke staring over at them. Her head turned of its own accord. He turned away when she met his eyes. She had never seen him look so empty.

"Oh, I get it. What kind of trouble?"

Her mind was a void; all she could remember were her own terrors. She couldn’t speak them, but she couldn’t think of anything else. "Girl stuff. You know, trouble with her boyfriend."

"Have we met?"

"No. It’s not -- it’s nothing serious. It’s not irreparable."

Jess smiled. "I’m glad."

"Me too. She was -- it’s affected me a bit. I’m sorry if I’m not very good company tonight."

He leaned across the table and grabbed her hand. "Hey. Are you okay?" There was a faint crease between his eyebrows. She stared at it, memorised it frantically, and wanted to cry. "Is this girl all -- is she pregnant?" She was having a heart attack, or palpitations, or maybe just snapping.

"Or getting beaten…" He trailed off when he saw her expression. "Pregnant."

Rory swallowed, and wondered why numbness hurt. "Not anymore."

"Oh. Oh, Rory, I’m-- Were you with her? Today?"

"No. It wasn’t today. But she was upset." She was weaving lies from half-truths, and maybe this would come right. Maybe she could pretend, and they could tell each other stories, and imagine themselves a happy ending. But Jess wasn’t playing her games.

"Rory. I don’t know what to say. She’ll-- She will get over it. She won’t always be unhappy."

"I know. I know she’ll be fine. It’s just all been a little traumatising. It was unexpected. I never thought it of her."

"It’s not a bad thing. To see a less than perfect side of people. You shouldn’t think less of her."

He paused. "Was it that girl from last night?"

Rory’s eyes came up sharply, seeking out his for the first time since the conversation started. "What?"

"The girl with Tristan. Kristin--"

"Crystal." Without thought, and why had she started this, how had she gotten into this?

"Right. You don’t like any of the girls at Chilton and I know how close you are to him, so I just thought… I’m right, aren’t I?"

And this shouldn’t hurt, because she wasn’t talking about herself, and Jess would never know that there was any way that it could have been the truth. And she wanted him to comfort her and tell her it was all right, and he never would. She shook her head abruptly, gaze dropping to her clenched hands.

"No. No, you’re not." She doubted he was convinced, and there was no reason he should be; she had been lying to him with every word she uttered. Had been lying to him since long before this night. She had a few minutes before she had to leave, but she couldn’t stay. "Jess, I’m sorry, I’m feeling a bit worn out. I think I’ll just…"

She risked a glance. He looked puzzled, and a little hurt, but mostly just worried. "Of course. I understand."

"Thanks."

Her smile floundered. She gathered up her things and they made their way to the door. Jess pecked her on the cheek on the sidewalk in front of the diner.

"I’ll call you tomorrow. Things won’t seem so important then."

"Yeah. I’ll talk to you then." She walked away quickly.

A light wind had been whisking all day. It was sultry, adding to the heat, but she didn’t mind; it was soft, too, caressing and cradling her. She was sorry when the walk home was over.

Her mother was waiting.

Lorelai’s eyebrows shot up when she saw Rory. "You look snagged."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Didn’t you sleep through the afternoon?"

"Yeah."

Rory headed straight for the stairs. Sleep, first, then she could deal with this.

"Hey, Rory."

She sighed, and turned. "Yeah?"

"Why does Tristan keep calling?"

"Because he learns by rote, obviously. Keep repeating yourself; he’ll get the message eventually."

"He wants you to call him back."

Rory knew that. She didn’t want to. She smiled. "I’ll call him back tomorrow."

Lorelai looked troubled. "And you’ll talk to me tomorrow, right?"

Not if she could help it. Not really. "Absolutely."

"All right. Goodnight."

Finally, finally, she made it to her bedroom. She was exhausted. It took too long for her to be ready for bed. Once she was, she lay awake for hours, thinking of nothing.

*

Rory had no idea how her mother had worked as a maid for so long. The routine of her day varied, but the tasks never did, and her mind was fast cycling through numb and approaching non-existent.

Lorelai had been prodding at her all day, hoping that she’d split and all the beans would come tumbling out, but she’d managed to avoid it so far. It made for a very uncomfortable ride home, as Lorelai’s frustrated curiosity took the form of a whole lot of whining.

Rory knew she’d have to give her something, but she needed to fix this first, so that she wouldn’t be lying any more than she had to.

Lorelai had trailed off into dissatisfied growls by the time they reached their street, so Rory was immediately fearful when she made a little noise of pleasure and sped up. They were only a couple of houses away from their own, and the car jerked violently as Lorelai swerved into the driveway and hit the brakes.

Satisfaction was coming off her in waves, and her door was already open, and Tristan’s car was parked on the street and he was climbing out of it.

Rory sank back into her seat, instinctively crouching down, but she didn’t have the time to gather herself; she couldn’t leave her mother alone with Tristan, because she had no idea what he’d say.

And it was a shock to see him again, to be able to look at him, and to know that he was looking at her. And she had been — she had just been hoping, she supposed, that he would go away, and she wouldn’t have to deal with this.

Because if Luke was willing to ignore it, there was no real disaster. She had been wrong, so wrong, but she could fix it. This didn’t have to be the end of the world.

Tristan was moving towards her, undaunted by her mother’s preparation to pounce, and she could still feel his pull. She wanted to go to him. Something in her shifted, and she felt like she’d stepped closer, and maybe she’d just leant forward, because she was rooted to the spot. The ground was tilting, and balance was a distant memory.

"Tristan!"

"Lorelai." He stopped. Lorelai was so obviously thrilled to see him that it would have been churlish not to.

"Long time no see."

"I just talked to you yesterday."

"I’m more of a visual person. I’ll be expecting you to pay much more attention to my needs in the future."

Her overriding need at present appeared to be to ruin her daughter’s life. "Mom—"

Lorelai slid a frantic glance at her, sensing the opportunity slipping away.

"I’ll keep that in mind."

"Good. I thoroughly approve of your agreement with me in all things. So, uh—we should go inside and have a nice little talk about Rory. That is, I will talk and you will agree."

Horror spread across Tristan’s face. He didn’t know what Lorelai was talking about — Lorelai didn’t know what she was talking about — but his conscience, if he had such a thing, must be suggesting terrifying subject matter for that talk.

"We’ll have a nice little talk about your choice of nighttime activities, hmm? I’ve already been over it with Rory, but I have the feeling we need to give it a good going over too. We should all sit down and do it together."

Rory could almost see the excuses and apologies scrolling through Tristan’s head. He choked, puzzled by the excitement running below Lorelai’s faux-stern manner, and looked to Rory for guidance.

"Mom. I really need to talk to Tristan. Alone. You know, that thing where you’re not here?"

Lorelai’s lower lip slowly slipped out, the happiness fading. She glanced from Rory to Tristan, apparently unwilling to trust them to run their own lives satisfactorily. "Fine," she muttered, without bothering to pretend that it was anything of the sort. She squinted suspiciously at Rory for a moment more. "Don’t make me have to set up visitation."

And finally, she flounced off to the house, leaving the promise of a sulk behind. Rory frowned over that last comment, and even though Lorelai hadn’t specified who she was talking about, she couldn’t help visualising her mother trying to spend as much time as possible with Luke while she spent even more trying to avoid Jess. And that would never work. That could never work.

"What was she—"

Tristan was wide-eyed, still verging on panic. "She was talking about the drinking. And she was fishing. Can never forget the fishing."

"So she doesn’t know? You didn’t tell her?"

And that wasn’t anything close to the real question; Tristan was fishing too. "Luke didn’t tell her, no."

"And he’s not going to."

"I don’t know. I don’t know, Tristan."

"Rory, Luke won’t want to hurt you. Just don’t give him a reason to. Break up with Jess, and—"

"No."

It stopped things like a slap. Tristan looked shocked, for the first time in as long as Rory could remember, and she was right behind him. There was a second when the word hung in the air, when she thought she could take it back, and she wanted to.

"What?"

"No. I’m not going to break up with Jess. I can’t do this, Tristan." He gathered breath, but she couldn’t let him speak, she couldn’t listen. "You can’t ask me to do this."

And she knew that she was being unfair, that she was assigning blame where none existed and refusing to accept responsibility, and it was all hers, all hers, but she wouldn’t be able to do this if she thought that. And she had to do this. If she could just get through this everything would be fine, things would be back to normal, and in a few minutes she’d be in her house with her mother, she’d be safe, and none of this would be happening to her.

"I can’t—" Emotions spilled across his face, blending together until she couldn’t isolate a single one; but he was under control in a second. "You’re telling me not to ask you to choose me, because you’re not going to. Is that what it is?"

It took two tries before her voice would work. "Yes."

He laughed, and it hurt to hear, or maybe she just needed a reason for the pain. "And what were you planning to do about me?"

"We’re friends, Tristan. We should stay friends."

"We’re friends. And what are you and Jess?"

"He’s my boyfriend."

"Right. And you’re his girlfriend. Did you forget that, Rory? Or does Jess just allow you the odd little diversion here and there?"

"Don’t do this." She couldn’t deal with this; she didn’t know how she had ever thought she could handle Tristan — handle him, like she could just brush him off, like he was nothing, this was nothing. He had to stop. She needed him to stop.

"And you know, I could have sworn you made your choice when you fucked me."

And she hadn’t—hadn’t been expecting that, and that had been a mistake, should have known better, because it slammed into her, made her body tense with pain or hope, same difference, made her heart ache in her chest. She thought she’d cry, and she thought she’d choke, but she was speaking anyway, in a slow tumble. "That was a mistake."

"Where have I heard that before?" He started to pace, short angry steps to the road and back, and she could hear metal clink when he whipped around. He pulled up, staring at her house. "Your mother’s watching us."

Distant interest in his voice, and it was a few seconds before she could convince herself to care about anything but that and when she turned to look there was nobody there. She faced away from the house, not sure how much Lorelai could see, not sure how much she’d be able to read anyway, but she didn’t want her mother to know this about her.

He followed her, and she could feel his body against hers, a spreading line of warmth that she didn’t move away from. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "I don’t think you understand this, Rory. We had sex. You can’t wish it undone, and regretting it doesn’t make it any less of a betrayal. You can’t make this any less real, and it’s not going to go away."

Tristan did, though, air that shouldn’t have felt cool breezing against her skin. Halfway to his car, he turned back to smile at her, and it was far too bright. "But you will understand. You can only lie to yourself for so long."

She watched him leave, and she wasn’t lying, wasn’t, because if she was lying then all this would be for nothing and it would matter that she was watching his lights flash as he rounded the corner, watching streetlights reflect on windows that she couldn’t see him through. It would matter that she wanted him back to hurt her some more so that he’d be with her, that tears were starting to leak from her eyes, that there were too many things that she couldn’t think about anymore. She wouldn’t let it matter. She wouldn’t let that happen.

She dashed the wetness on her cheeks away, slowly making her way up to the door. She still had to face her mother, and she couldn’t afford to let herself lose control like this.

*

Lorelai was waiting when she got in. She fell off the couch in her rush to get to Rory, face all aglow.

"What? What happened?"

Rory hesitated, turning back to make sure the door was closed properly, buying time. She walked past her mother, sprawling out on the couch.

"Nothing’s happening."

"That’s not even a good evasion, Rory. Tell me!"

"Tristan—he wanted me to break up with Jess."

"Yes, yes, I know all this, give me the good stuff now."

"Nothing good is happening. I’m not breaking up with Jess."

There was a pause while Lorelai picked her jaw up off the floor. "Well. I can’t say that isn’t a surprise. Um, why? Why not?"

"He’s my boyfriend, Mom."

"I did know this. I thought you planned on changing it."

"Well, I’m not. Jess is my boyfriend; Tristan isn’t. End of story."

"Okay. I just want to know what happened in the second act."

"I decided that I was going to stay with Jess."

"Why?"

"You’ve always hated him."

Lorelai squinted, considering. "That was once true. Now I think he’s a nice kid, and as such, am largely indifferent to him. But I thought we had decided that you were going to break up with him?"

"I didn’t know we’d decided anything."

"Hadn’t we? I feel sure—"

"You had expressed an opinion. I have no obligation to agree with it."

"Yes you do. It’s in the daughter contract."

"I’ll be sure to tell Grandma that."

"You dare… Well, fine." Lorelai flopped down beside Rory, the wind taken out of her sails. "But, Rory, what happened? What’s happening with Tristan?"

"Look, it didn’t work out. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s over. I’m not going to have anything more to do with him."

"Why not?"

"Because I have a boyfriend, and that’s not going to change, so this will have to."

"While that makes sense, I know you’re hiding something from me."

"I don’t want to talk about it."

"Yeah, I got that. Spill."

"No. It just turned out badly, all right?"

Rory shoved herself off the couch, and looked down at her mother. She looked distressed, and older than she had five minutes ago, her face tight with anxiety.

"I’m going to bed. None of this really matters, so don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll all be fine."

Lorelai’s expression didn’t lighten, but the gaze on Rory’s back as she walked away was far less of a reproach than she deserved, so she turned back and kissed her mother on the cheek before she left. She knew it wasn’t anything like enough, but it was all that she could do.

*

Lorelai had expected Jess to get dumped, and her surprise and complete lack of understanding of what had actually happened made her probing far easier to avoid than Rory had expected. She was very careful not to intrude, trying to figure out what she was missing without making it worse, and backing off whenever she thought something would hurt.

It made Rory squirm to see her mother so wary around her, but she couldn’t think of any way to fix it; it was the best of a bad set of choices. It was taking its toll too, though. Her relationship with her mother wasn’t usually strained, and this really wasn’t the time for the added pressure.

Tristan called twice. Lorelai answered both times, and didn’t force Rory on when she saw the horror the prospect caused. She only got Lorelai’s end of the conversation, and that was mostly made up of grunts and apologies, while Lorelai tried not to stare at her, but the calls still made her uncomfortable. She wondered if they talked while she wasn’t there, and whose side Lorelai would take anyway.

She saw Jess three times, and it was the oddest thing; it could have been an out-of-body-experience, almost, like she was pulling her own strings to make herself move. She thought it might have reminded her of sex, if she had been feeling anything. But Jess didn’t notice, and things were as close to normal as they could be with Luke not-looking at them all the time and her mother watching every step, and she—was as close to normal as she could get.

It was hard to bear, though, and she felt ready to crack. She knew Lorelai was waiting for it, and it would be such a relief. Such a relief not to be on her own anymore.

Friday dinner was awkward. Her grandmother caught the undercurrent of tension and was obviously curious; her grandfather smiled beatifically at them all and concentrated on his salmon.

Afterwards, while Lorelai was making noise about having to get up early in the morning, her grandmother pulled her aside.

"Rory. We never see each other once we step away from this table. We should do something this weekend. We should go out and enjoy ourselves. Set Sunday aside."

And it was indicative of Rory’s state of mind that it didn’t sound like a bad idea.

*

It seemed like less of a good idea when her grandmother was trying to buy her a handbag. But Emily was able to take a hint, and Rory thought she might actually get some use out of the sundress they settled on.

They had lunch on a deck that stretched over the ocean, looking at boats decorated with colourful streamers that served no practical purpose whatsoever, unless you thought making the world pretty was practical. It was the nicest time she’d had in a while.

Emily started to look shifty while they were waiting for dessert. Rory knew what was coming, but she couldn’t say she wanted it to go away. She wanted to talk to someone. She wanted someone to take this away from her, to tell her what to do and make everything easy again. Her grandmother would do that. Her grandmother liked telling people what to do. She’d probably like it if someone listened for once, and Rory actually might. She could make this go away.

"Is Lorelai all right, dear?"

"Mom’s fine. I mean, she’s—nothing bad has happened to her."

"She seemed a little worried the other night. Does she have anything to be worried about?"

"I think— Things have been difficult between us lately."

"Why? What’s wrong Rory?"

"Nothing’s wrong. She just doesn’t like my boyfriend."

Was that—incredulity. Her grandmother looked incredulous. This couldn’t be good.

"Lorelai doesn’t like your young man?"

"Well, she likes him. She just likes the other one better."

"The other one. Isn’t Jess your mother’s boyfriend’s cousin?"

"Nephew."

"Close enough. And she doesn’t approve of him?"

Emily looked absolutely thrilled. Rory wondered if this was ammunition. "Oh, she approves. She thinks he’s a lovely young man."

"Tell me about this other one."

"Tristan."

"What a nice name. How did you meet?"

"We go to school together. We’re friends. Were friends."

"And now you have feelings for this young man?"

"Feelings. Yeah."

Rory stole what she hoped was a covert look at her grandmother. She didn’t look too judgmental, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be. The moment stretched, and she knew she was staring, but this was—she could lose her grandmother here. The smile would fade and the lines around her eyes would deepen and she’d pull away without moving a muscle, and Rory wouldn’t be able to do anything but watch it happen. But the desire to speak was almost a physical urge and she couldn’t keep this hidden forever, couldn’t, and to stop now would be as good as a lie and she didn’t want to do that anymore. It made things too hard, it made them harder than she knew how to handle.

"We, um—I was still going out with Jess, and I kissed him." Breathe. "And then, a few nights ago, we had sex."

Emily’s eyebrows rose, and her mouth parted. A moment passed while Rory waited for the explosion, the disappointment, and then the mouth shut. The eyes dropped.

"You and Tristan, you mean."

"Yes. Tristan. I wouldn’t have done that with Jess."

A sigh, tension in every particle of stillness, but Emily was looking at her again. "You don’t like him as much?"

Rory paused. "I must not. If I’d—do things with Tristan that I wouldn’t with Jess—that must say something, huh?"

New concept, unbelievable that she’d overlooked it, and she wanted out of this, out of it all. Her grandmother ordered more wine, and finished what was left of her glass in a swallow.

"You’ve known Tristan for a while?"

"Longer than I’ve known Jess."

"Well, that’s not so bad." Panic was beginning to set in, for both of them, but Emily quickly had it under control. "You’re friends; there must be something you like about him. Just break up with Jess, and everything will be fine."

Rory’s glass banged on the table. She hadn’t known it was in her hand. "No. You don’t understand. I had sex with him. With Tristan. He’s not even my boyfriend."

She could see her grandmother search for composure, for a pleasant lie, and she thought she should feel guilty that she was forcing her problems on somebody else, but she didn’t.

"Not all sex has to be in a loving relationship, Rory. I mean, it’s certainly an ideal, but it’s not a sin not to live up to it."

"I cheated on my boyfriend. I love Jess. Jess."

"Then why did you have sex with Tristan?"

She didn’t have an answer to that. Not one she could live with acknowledging.

"You shouldn’t cheat on people, Rory. You shouldn’t betray them. This is serious, make no mistake about it. But you can fix it. Just break up with Jess."

Laughable, that her grandmother was echoing everybody else. "No. Jess is my boyfriend. This is the way it is. I have betrayed him, and I have to fix that. And I can fix it by not doing it again."

A frown, for the first time since this had begun. It made Rory feel giddy, light-headed with relief, and she had no idea why.

"Well, that’s one way of looking at it, I suppose. I think it’s short-sighted, but I suppose it makes sense." She paused. "Your mother’s sort of sense. I don’t really understand that."

"It’s important."

"All right." Another pause, and Rory watched Emily’s face lighten by degrees as she forced herself towards levity. "You’re not a virgin, and you’re not pregnant—you’re not pregnant, are you?" Total horror in her eyes, in the painful rawness of her voice, and Rory was so glad to be able to shake her head. "Wonderful. We should celebrate. Ice cream for dessert. And more wine." More wine came. "And Lorelai disapproves? That’s—" Hypocritical. It hovered in the air between them, and Emily didn’t need to speak it. "—new and different."

"She doesn’t know. But she likes Tristan better."

"Who is this boy?"

"Tristan DuGrey."

"Oh, Rory. I really think that your mother has the right idea—"

"I have to choose Jess."

"But his mother is absolutely delightful."

"I’m not getting married, Grandma."

"Give it a few years."

And Rory sort of couldn’t believe she’d told her grandmother this much, but it seemed to be working out okay. No fireworks, and if her load wasn’t any lighter, her mind was. It was a start.

"You know you can come to me for help, Rory, whatever happens. You did the right thing by telling me this." She reached across the table and patted Rory on the hand. "We’ll make sure it works out for you."

This managed to be comforting, and Rory smiled, slightly shocky and increasingly punchy. The buzz didn’t wear off until they were in Saks, and she realised she’d agreed to purchase court shoes.

*

Rory got a few days off early in the week, because one of the girls who worked because she had important things to pay for, like food, needed the extra money.

She’d been irritated by the boredom, but she found herself at a loss without the distraction. Lane was busy with her mother, Henry, and the insane testing of intentions; Jess worked and made her feel bad; and Rory really needed another friend.

So she probably should have been glad when Tristan dropped by Tuesday morning, but somehow it didn’t work out that way.

He sauntered into the kitchen while she was trying to figure out if the Pop-Tart was edible. She didn’t look up until she’d shoved it into the toaster, and he was leaning casually against the counter beside her and was it supposed to be this hard? She wished he’d have the decency to stay away and not threaten her resolution. Not that her resolution was threatened. She glanced at the toaster. Still toasting.

"Hi."

A smile, and she responded to it before she meant to. "Hi."

"You’ve been hard to get hold of."

She had to speak before he asked if it was purposeful, because that train of questions couldn’t stop anywhere good. "Have you been lying in wait?"

"No." Another smile, but this one wasn’t directed at her. "Your mom told me you’d be here."

Something to talk to Lorelai about. Or not. She really didn’t want to know what Tristan had been saying.

"Why are you here? I thought we’d agreed that we weren’t going to—"

"I thought we’d agreed to be friends. Wasn’t that what you suggested?"

It took her a couple of seconds to remember, because she had never actually imagined that he’d take her up on the offer. "Well, yes." And she couldn’t back out, no matter how much she wanted to; but why was anything connected with Tristan always so much more difficult than she thought it would be?

"Well, in the spirit of friendship, I thought I’d stop by."

"It’s good to see you, Tristan."

His gaze sharpened on her; he could unquestionably detect the lie. "I’m glad. I’d like to work this out. It would be a pity to lose each other over some—" Barely a hesitation, but a dozen unpleasant words that could fill the gap were cluttering her head before he spoke again. "—something relatively unimportant."

And that shouldn’t have brought her heart stuttering to a stop, because that was good, that was what she wanted. Tristan had to move on, to move past this, and it was wonderful that he was willing to, wonderful that he valued her more as a person—that she was more important for herself than for the possibility of sex. That was what he was saying.

"Right. You’re right."

"What else would I be?" A pause, like he was waiting for a reply, but she didn’t have anything to say. "Well. I have to go. Things to do, people to not see. But we should get together."

"We should. We—" Shouldn’t leave it so long next time, it hadn’t been a week, keep it vague and—

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

"My place. Lane and Henry will be there."

"Uh, I’m not—"

Her mouth was open, but nothing was coming out. Tristan didn’t look anything but amused.

"I know you don’t have plans. Henry’s picking Lane up at eleven thirty. I’ll tell him to stop by here too, okay?"

"Fine." There had to be some way out of it, but she couldn’t— And she’d have to do it eventually, anyway. She’d just have to deal with it. She was sure she could come up with a way of doing that once she didn’t have to look at Tristan.

"Great. I’ll see you then."

She was rooted to the spot until she heard the front door close behind him, and when her mind was in working order again, she could only wonder how on earth she’d survived that, and why he had let her.

*

Lane was in the front, but somehow managed to hang over the back of the seat with the belt on. Rory didn’t know if it was more safe or less than not having it on at all.

"Isn’t Jess coming?"

"No, he’s working."

"Oh." She sounded surprised, like Rory and Jess were joined at the hip, like it should hurt to be apart. "Well I hope you’ll have fun."

Lane was distracted, and with reason. She was seventeen and, God willing, moving out soon, but still her mother was talking about installing motion sensors. It was almost enough to distract Rory when they were climbing out of the car; almost enough to turn her mind from things that she’d thought here before, things that had led to choices that she didn’t want to remember, and nothing had changed. She could almost imagine the clock had been turned back and she got to choose again, and she knew she didn’t want to hurt Jess, but how would she do that?

They didn’t have to wait for Tristan to answer, but when he did it was more of the same, except this time it shocked the breath out of her. Phone to his ear, swimming trunks down to his knees, chest bare, and she rubbed her hands together, trying to remove the feel of his skin.

He led the way towards the pool, speaking cheerily into the phone; Rory trudged after him, trying to ignore the way Henry and Lane had paired off already. He hung up as she stepped into the sunlight, and he was calling to Crystal before she had noticed her presence.

She thought she should have been less shocked than she was. Moving forward on legs turned to jelly, she swallowed against incipient nausea, trying to concentrate on her breathing. That was supposed to help, but when she did, her lungs seized up and it was all she could do to remain aware.

Crystal was smiling, and the other night she had seemed — not nice, exactly, but not a bitch, which was unusual for Tristan. Not somebody Rory would have minded a month ago. She had nothing to complain about here. Nothing. And she had wanted this. She really had, and that seemed an impossibility.

"You remember Crystal, right? And you know everybody." Casual malice, so obvious that she didn’t, and Tristan’s voice was so warm.

"Henry." Triumphant. Proud smile thrown at Tristan, and she couldn’t have forgotten Henry with the party in his honour and his name on everybody’s lips. He had driven her home, and he looked pleased to see her, not just in the polite way that people usually reserved for girls that hung off Tristan’s arm.

"Good to see you again. Having fun?"

He bore down on Crystal’s lounger, his friendliness demanding the whole of her attention, and she gave it, an unhappy glance darted at the two whose names hadn’t been offered up.

Lane went on the attack. "So, Tristan. Picking out jewellery?"

"Not for her. I’m thinking I need to start wearing more silver, though."

"Window-shopping or buying?"

"Seeing how it looks on. Happy with the party?"

An obvious change of subject, but Lane had her answer and was satisfied, and it wasn’t something that Rory wanted to hear about. Maybe there wasn’t anything to hear, maybe—it had been only days ago that Tristan had been more than sure of her and she had no idea what was happening. No idea what she was doing, let alone what Tristan was thinking.

Lane had hijacked Tristan, thrilled to have somebody new to rave to, and Rory stood alone for a moment before wandering over to Henry and Crystal. Better Crystal than Tristan. Crystal would be easy; Crystal would only hurt Rory by accident.

"Hi. Rory. Tristan’s talked a lot about you."

She doubted it, and maybe she’d been wrong about Crystal hurting less, because she was being welcomed, like Crystal belonged and Rory didn’t. It had been a long time since she’d felt uncomfortable in Tristan’s house. Crystal was looking at her expectantly, maybe waiting for her to respond in kind, but Tristan hadn’t talked about her and Rory wasn’t saying anything.

"I’m glad to get the chance to meet you."

"You too." As if they hadn’t met before and Crystal couldn’t have cared less. But she cared now, something like eagerness in her smile, and she wanted to get to know Tristan’s friends. That couldn’t happen. This couldn’t be happening; it wasn’t fair.

Henry was talking, temporarily relieving Rory of the need to lie, and she couldn’t stop herself from staring. Crystal looked so at home here, so confident, so different from the last time Rory had seen her. It took too much effort not to wonder what had changed, and didn’t that mean she was wondering anyway?

Henry was looking at her a little oddly, and Rory forced herself to smile and play nicely. She had no reason not to.

*

It was difficult pretending that she thought Crystal’s advent was a good thing, but she didn’t really have a choice; the girl displayed the worst taste, stubbornly refusing to disappear. She wouldn’t even leave Rory alone, tagging along whenever Lane and Henry dragged her to see Tristan. She’d started calling, too, and trying to get Rory to do things without him. There’d been two meetings already; Rory was running out of excuses. It was important, apparently, that they be friends.

It would have been a lot easier fobbing her off if there’d actually been a reason to dislike her. Crystal had no real interest in her, it was true; she was just trying to find some sort of foothold in Tristan’s life. There was nothing wrong with that. And that was incredibly annoying.

The phone rang and Rory abandoned the TV for it. Halfway there, she froze; if it was Crystal, she didn’t want to answer. She heard her mother pick up, and seconds later her head was poking through the door and the phone was flying through the air.

"It’s for you."

"Hello?"

"Rory!"

"Lane. How are you?"

"Good. Except that I hate shopping for clothes. Make-up’s worse."

"What? You went shopping without me?"

"Oh, no. That’s what we’ll be doing tomorrow."

"Oh. Why?"

"This future doctor my mom knows is going into New York. Since he’s big, strapping, and engaged, I’m allowed to accompany him."

"Cool. And he’s shopping for foundation why?"

"He’s visiting his girlfriend. We can do whatever we want as long as it doesn’t involve them, or homeless people we meet on the subway."

"I didn’t even think you really wore make-up."

"Did you miss the part about New York?"

"Got it. Air pollution, crowds—"

"People who do not know my mother and thus are not afraid of her. I can buy whatever I want, and she’ll never know! And Crystal’s coming."

"What?"

"Well I told her, and she wanted to, and I couldn’t say no. You don’t mind, do you?"

"No. Why would I mind?"

"I don’t know. I just had the impression you didn’t like her very much."

"I like her. It’s just—"

"She’s not as shallow as you’d think. You should give her a chance. Even if she is going to be spending all afternoon trying out eyeshadow on me. Probably pink. And glittery. You will be required to talk me down off whatever ledge I’m on after five hours in one department store."

It was just the world, hating her. "Can do."

*

The future-doctor who was supposed to be looking after Lane was chatting on his cell-phone, halfway down the carriage. Lane was almost jittering with excitement, staring out the grimy window at grimy train stations. Crystal looked tense for some reason, her thin hands clenched around the bag on her lap.

"So I think we should go to the record stores first. So we’ll be sure to have enough time. Then we can go wherever you wanted, Crystal. Do you want to go anywhere, Rory?"

"Uh, no. Well if we have time. I was just here with Jess a few weeks ago."

"Jess?"

"My boyfriend."

"Oh, I didn’t know you had one. What’s he like?"

"Well, I like him. He used to live here."

That made Crystal take an interest. "Cool. I want to move here. I’m trying to go to college here."

Rory hadn’t imagined that she would want to go to college. She’d assumed that marriage was Crystal’s ultimate goal. "What do you want to study?"

"Uh, I’m not sure. I have to talk to the guidance counsellor." She smiled nervously at Rory. "You probably have everything completely together, huh?"

"Mostly. But I still have to work really hard."

"Right. I knew there was something I was supposed to do. But I want to be an interior designer."

Lane kept asking Crystal about college, drawing the girl out, gradually easing whatever fears she had. The conversation was tedious. Rory knew these things about Lane, and she didn’t want to know them about Crystal.

"What about you?"

Crystal was waiting for Rory’s answer, but she had no idea what the question was.

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing for college?"

"Oh. I’m going to study English. And I think I want to go to Harvard."

Crystal’s eyes widened. "Wow. Tristan said you were smart, but I thought he meant in the usual way."

"Well, I’m not sure anymore. I’m thinking about Yale."

"Because that’s so much easier to get into. What’s the difference?"

"Yale’s nearer. I could see my mom a lot more, and we’re really close, you know? And my grandfather wants me to go there."

Lane chipped in. "And Jess. Jess is going to Yale."

"Yeah." And how horrific would that be if Jess found out about Tristan? Changing her college of choice for a boy and then having to deal with the aftermath of a revelation like that.

"Oh, I see. You must really—"

"Hey." The future-doctor was buzzing with impatience. "We’re here."

People everywhere, always. Rory had been here so often with Jess that it held no terrors for her, but it wasn’t excitement that Lane was jittering with anymore. Grabbing her arm, Rory hurtled after Lung, barely managing to keep up.

He dumped them outside the station, arranging to meet back there at six. He threw Lane a few warnings about lonely places and talking to strangers and getting hit by cabs, but he didn’t seem worried. Rory thought he was reassured by Crystal, checking her nail polish for flaws and looking supremely confident.

After he left, Crystal pointed to a nearby store. "Banana Republic. Can we?"

*

Lane dropped a handful of CDs on the counter. "Hey, I don’t want this one, but I thought you might want to get it for Jess."

Rory didn’t recognise the name. "Does he like them?"

Lane blinked. "Loves them. And he wants this."

Rory hesitated. She’d picked one up for herself, and wasn’t sure if she could afford a second. After a moment, she returned her own.

Crystal and Lane were waiting at the door. Crystal had been bored out of her mind for the past hour, but she hadn’t complained.

"Can I put this in your bag?" Lane held the carrier bag open obligingly, and then they looked to Crystal.

"This way."

She turned left, moving quickly, weaving between clumps of people. It was difficult to stay three abreast, and Rory found it necessary to devote most of her attention to not getting mowed down, but the silences still seemed awkward. Crystal was just issuing curt directions and Lane wasn’t saying a thing, though Rory couldn’t tell whether it was from fear, distraction, or boredom.

"Here." Crystal ducked into a department store. Rory had thought there were two of these in Hartford. Maybe they were smaller.

The make-up counters were right at the door, so Rory and Lane didn’t have far to look.

"You should have your faces done."

"Oh, I don’t know. My mother taught me where lipstick goes a long time ago."

"But you’ll look really pretty. You too, Lane."

"I’d have to take it off before I went home."

"We have hours yet."

"Right. Come on, it’ll be fun." Lane grabbed Rory’s arm, dragging her towards a woman who was smiling widely and fixedly at nothing. "If we do this, she won’t be able to test stuff on us, and we won’t have to go out in public looking like drag queens."

That made sense, so Rory didn’t protest as loudly as she’d been planning to. Lane went first. It took a long time for her to be done, as she vetoed most of the woman’s choices. Rory had just gotten into the chair when Crystal wandered over.

"Do you think Tristan would like this?"

Rory’s head turned automatically, but the make-up lady grabbed her chin and dragged her back.

"Stay still."

"Yeah, Rory. If you move once the foundation’s on, you’ll end up looking like a clown."

"It’s not on." And she didn’t want to be told how to behave by Tristan’s new girlfriend, thanks ever so much for offering. Her eyes slid sideways of their own accord. "What did you get?"

"Oh. I can’t decide. Which do you think he’d like?"

Three tubs of eyeshadow, one light pink, one shimmery purple, one dark brown.

Lane frowned. "Would he care? Get them all. They’re different enough."

"Not the pink. That shade wouldn’t go with your hair." Crystal looked a little wistful. Her bedroom walls were probably pink; a lot of her clothes were. "The brown’s good, though."

"Really?"

Her face brightened too much, and Rory wondered how bitchy she’d been. Lane didn’t get that reaction when she said something nice.

"Really."

"What about green? Hold on." Crystal disappeared for a few seconds, returning minus the pink, plus two greens.

"Oh, I like this one." Lane took the darker, rubbing it on the back of her hand and looking like she regretted not being able to test it on her face.

"Yeah, that’d suit you. Both of you."

"Stop looking at them. I’m doing your eyes now."

Rory’s gaze swung around guiltily, as if she’d been caught giving less than complete attention to class. The lady was looking at her eyes, not into them; it was a little disconcerting, like she was being examined and couldn’t return the scrutiny.

Rory heard plastic clink, saw Lane’s hair out of the corner of her eye. She’d moved to the lipsticks. "So why the concern about Tristan? More than usual, I mean."

"Big night out tomorrow. You should come."

"Two days in a row? My luck’s not that good."

"Not even with Henry?"

"My luck with Henry? That’s fine. But his presence wouldn’t do a thing to change my mother’s mind."

"I thought she liked him."

"Loves him. That’s why she’s so hard on him. It is a dangerous time, when a boy changes to a man. He could lose her love in a millisecond."

Crystal laughed. "Your mom’s weird."

"I suppose. Does yours like Tristan?"

"Even more than I do."

"Bigger than a bread-bin? As wide as the ocean?"

"Not yet."

"Soon?"

"Maybe." Rory could hear the smile in her voice. "His parents are coming home next week."

"And?" Lane was amused. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I want to meet them." A little defensive, but not because of Lane. "Just to see…."

"See what?"

"What they’re like." Rory couldn’t look at them; she couldn’t turn away. She wanted to move, do something, run. The make-up lady’s eyebrows were wisps, and she had to stay still. "What they think of me."

"What do you think they’ll think of you?"

"I don’t know. I have no idea what they’re like. My mom says they’re nice, but she’d say that anyway."

"Do you think it matters?"

"If they’re nice?"

"If they like you."

Rory’s lips were being lined. Almost done, and then she could go.

"I think so. I think it’ll matter to Tristan. I mean, I think it shouldn’t, if he really likes me, but I think it will." A pause. "Fuck. I need a manicure. Do we have time?"

"Do you still want to look at clothes? Depends how long that takes."

"We’ll leave soon, then. Don’t you think it matters?"

"If his parents like you?"

"Yeah. Doesn’t it matter to you? Don’t you want Henry’s parents to like you? What about yours?"

"Well it’s important. Because we’re so young, they still look big. But I don’t think my mother would ever like anyone I picked. Even if they measured up to all her standards. She wants to choose for me. So I don’t think it matters that much, no. As long as they don’t hate you."

"Maybe."

"When are you meeting them?"

"Done. I’m done."

The make-up lady looked at Rory askance, but she dropped the lip-brush she was wielding and grabbed a mirror. "You like?"

She did. The lipstick was very nice. But they had to leave. "Yeah, thanks."

"Here’s what I used." A minute while they waited for their ingredient lists, and another for their change.

"I’m getting this." Lane held up the green eyeshadow.

Crystal grinned, pleased that Lane shared her taste. "Me too. I’m getting all three. And this lipstick. And we should look over there. Oh, and there’s perfume. What colour are you getting your nails done, Rory?"

*

Luke slammed Rory’s coffee down on the table, the liquid slopping over the edge of the mug.

"You got a minute?"

Lorelai’s eyebrows were brushing her hairline. Rory hopped up. Give it a second and everybody else would be staring too. "Sure."

Luke turned and walked away, completely ignoring her. She followed him until he rounded on her at the top of the stairs.

"You have to tell him."

This was one of those things she’d been hoping would go away. "Why do I have to tell him?"

"Because—"

"I mean, it’s not like it’s happened again. It’s not like it was a serious thing, or, or a long-standing arrangement, or anything. It was just once. It was a mistake."

"You have to tell him. You’re lying to him and, what do I know, maybe you’re lying to yourself. I don’t care. It’s driving me insane. Tell him."

Luke thudded back down the stairs, leaving Rory standing there with nothing to say and no one to say it to.

*

Tristan’s mouth was curving into a slow smile. Rory scowled at him over the rim of her glass, but her heart wasn’t in it. "It’s more than two weeks."

"Fine, sixteen days. That sounds too long, though."

"It is too long."

"That eager to get back?"

"Yes." And everybody had been talking about it lately and Tristan had always shrugged off the questions. "What are you going to do afterwards? Next year."

"I’ll apply to a couple, see what I get."

"Which ones?" The sun shone strongly through the kitchen window, giving Rory a reason to squint, to shield her eyes. She could see the pool from here; Henry and Lane looked happy through their sweat. Crystal was smiling at them, sparks flying from her hair as it moved. She was carefully ignoring Jess, who looked mildly amused by the whole thing.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Harvard, Yale. And some back-ups." A can hissed open behind her.

"Maybe I’ll go to Brown. Get a drinking degree." He came up beside her, grinning out the window, and tilting his head at her. "Disapprove?"

"No." The grin widened. "Okay, yes."

"What about you? Still Harvard?"

"I think so."

"Come on. We should take these outside."

"Yeah—"

He was already walking through the door, and he was sharing Crystal’s lounger by the time she got outside.

*

Crystal was leaning forward so far that Rory thought she’d fall into the mirror. If you broke the glass, could people come back? She felt guilty for the thought, but the guilt just irritated her, because she sort of felt that she’d been suckered into becoming semi-friends with Crystal. She hadn’t wanted to know the girl at all. Still didn’t.

They were at Tristan’s, getting ready to go out. His parents had returned from Europe today. Not that you’d be able to tell if Crystal would stop droning on about it.

"So I think it went okay. His mom was really nice." Crystal’s lips were stretched wide so she could line them, but her eyes were smiling too.

"She is." Lane was sitting on the edge of the tub, ready ten minutes ago.

"I wasn’t expecting her to be so—"

"Normal?" Lane grinned at Rory. "I was expecting Tristan to be the devil-child. That would make Margot who?"

Crystal dropped the pencil and reached for the stick. "It was such a relief. I thought it was going to be okay, after last time, but—"

"I thought you hadn’t met them?"

Two pairs of eyes swung around to Rory. Crystal looked slightly surprised, Lane calculating. She was going to figure it out. Pressure started to build in Rory’s chest. She should tell her, she should tell her before she found out, so she’d be less angry. Not that she’d be angry—

"I hadn’t. I just meant that the last time we dated, Tristan wouldn’t even let me meet them, and we were going out longer than we have been this time. It’s going really well, huh?"

Thoroughly pleased, Crystal stepped back to survey the length of her body. Rory slowly stepped up to take her place at the mirror. She hadn’t known that they’d dated before. That probably meant that Tristan hadn’t taken her seriously at all — Rory couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a girlfriend seriously — but it still made her feel excluded.

Mascara done and dry, and they were still looking at her. Lips.

"His dad’s scary though, right? With the pen. It’s not just me?" Crystal sounded paranoid.

"No, but just because you’re thinking the pen costs a thousand dollars or something. He’s not actually scary. He just accessorises well."

Damn. She’d left her eyeshadow at home.

"You can borrow mine if you want. You liked the brown, right?"

Rory was reluctant to take anything from Crystal, but there was no polite way to refuse.

"Thanks." It was lovely, smokiness built in and sheened with gold.

"Here."

"Keep it for the night. Give it back to Tristan."

Crystal was edging forward to peer at her blusher. They had to drag her out of the bathroom.

*

Jess was having fun this time. The clientele hadn’t changed and Rory wouldn’t have thought the music was to his taste, but he was enjoying himself. It was nice.

Henry and Lane were arguing over at the bar. That was less nice. It might have been why Jess was having fun.

"What’s wrong with them?" Crystal was gawking over, hardly trying to hide it.

Jess was far more interested than she would have expected. He’d never cared much about Lane one way or the other, so she’d thought the fight would roll right off his back. "Nothing’s wrong with them. Many things are wrong with Lane, many may be wrong with Henry, but together Lane is too distracted to do more to glower in my general direction. Hey, like Lorelai."

"My mother does not glower in your general direction."

"Okay."

"She does not."

"I agreed with you."

"Anyway, yours doesn’t even talk to me."

"She talked to you."

"She told me not to touch her cat. That’s not talking."

"Molly’s a scratcher. Liz was being nice. Bites, too. She almost took out Wilkins’ left nostril once."

"She did not. Did she?"

"Do you think they’ll be much longer?" Petulant, mostly because she’d been left out of the conversation. "I kind of wanted to go into the main room now. It’s too quiet here."

Tristan leaned forward, hand on her back. "I think we should leave them alone. We could go on ahead, though."

"We’ll come too." Jess turned to Rory. "Done?"

She wasn’t, but Jess was already up, so she downed the rest of her soda and followed him. She caught Lane’s eye as they left, waving. Lane turned away.

"Do you think she’ll be all right?"

Tristan’s laugh drifted back. Her hand tightened on Jess’ arm. "She’ll be fine, Rory. Henry’d give her a ride home if she’d just dumped him for his father."

Jess brightened. "Now that might even pass for interesting. Does he have any brothers?" Rory glared, and he dropped it, but he was still grinning.

They hung around the back of the room for a while, grabbing a couple of seats when an unwary group got up to dance.

Jess leaned in. "Liz is talking about moving to the suburbs."

"Really. Is that the first step towards Stars Hollow?"

"I think that’s intended."

"That’s wonderful."

"I won’t have anywhere to stay. I’ll have to crash on couches. Floors, even."

"Still."

"It’s not going to magically make her less fucked up."

"But she’s trying."

"I think so."

"Good?"

"Good."

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him smile like that. Distracted, she barely noticed as he leaned in to kiss her. Her eyes drifted shut at the first touch of his lips against hers. It was familiar, and pleasant, and even as she was relaxing into it she was looking over his shoulder.

Crystal was draped over Tristan’s shoulder, face rubbing his cheek, nuzzling down into his neck. Tristan was looking back at Rory, lips curling. She couldn’t watch him while she was kissing Jess. He turned away first, pulling Crystal’s face up and catching her mouth with his.

Rory closed her eyes. She had to concentrate. Jess. Jess kissing her; Jess making her feel good. It almost looked like Tristan was trying to eat Crystal, thumb under her chin, stretching her out so he could touch her. His hand on her hip was holding her in place, but she squirmed out of his grasp, sliding forward, throwing a leg over his. Pressing herself into him, and Rory couldn’t see him anymore.

Jess’ tongue was sliding over hers, and she was leaning forward for more, kissing back. She knew this, liked it. Tristan had disappeared, and she blinked, distracted, shifting around until she could see him again. Jess followed her, his hands rubbing along her thighs. She moved into his touch. Tristan and Crystal had fallen into the corner of the long seat. Crystal was curled up in his lap; his hands were on her back, under her shirt. Drifting down, skimming below the waist of her trousers. And his eyes were open, burning into Rory’s.

Gone again, and she wanted them back, wanted to see all that need. He pulled Crystal further into him, his hands moving from her back, and Rory couldn’t see them anymore, couldn’t see what he was doing to her. Jess’ skin was warm under her palms; his fingers were hard on her legs, maybe leaving bruises, and she remembered what it was like to have hands slide along her bare thighs, pull them apart. Jess wasn’t doing that, wasn’t doing it right. Dissatisfied, she pulled herself closer, hoping he’d take the hint and give her a little more.

He did, fingers on her skin, stroking carefully higher, knees between hers. Crystal was straddling Tristan’s lap, almost lying on him, bodies flush. Rory couldn’t see him. She wanted to see him, she wanted him.

She pulled away from Jess, looking up at him, and this was wrong.

"Hey." Rory’s head swung to the side. Lane. Pissed off Lane. "We’re leaving. You coming, or staying with them?"

"Coming." She stood. "We should go with them."

Jess looked disappointed. "Already?"

"We’re leaving too." Tristan’s voice behind her, and she turned to him. Too close, almost touching, and she could see how dark his eyes were, how swollen his lips. Too close, and she’d never been able to keep away from him.

He pushed past her, hands on Crystal’s shoulders, roaming over her body as they were swallowed up by the crowd, and soon, Rory would be alone with Jess.

She took a deep breath, working up her courage. Or chickening out. She couldn’t tell anymore. "Can you drop me off at my grandparents’?"

*

Rory was uncomfortably aware of Henry’s car idling in the driveway behind her. Jess had been a little suspicious of her sudden desire to see her grandparents, Lane much more so, and she could feel the concentration levelled her way. The back of her neck prickled.

The door swung wide, and Rory waved quickly at the car, falling inside the house eagerly.

"Hi. Where’s my grandmother? I need to speak to her. It’s urgent."

"I’m afraid she has visitors. I can take you to them—" Rory’s widening eyes must have been enough of an answer. Ellen — Helen? — pulled a door open and gestured inside. "If you’d like to wait I’ll tell her you’re here."

"Thanks."

It was a relief to be on her own again. Rory liked this room. There was a mirror here that she was getting in the will. And she liked the carpet, thick enough that she could pace soundlessly.

It was twenty minutes before she heard voices calling out goodbyes. Another ten before her grandmother finally entered.

"Rory. What is the matter? It’s very late and I had to tell your grandfather quite a lot of lies to prevent him from rushing in here and demanding an explanation."

"Nothing’s wrong. Nothing serious. And I know it’s late and I’m sorry but I had to talk to you. Do you remember that boy that I told you about?"

"The DuGrey boy. Sit down, Rory. Try to relax."

The nearest chair was a hardback, embroidered with flowers, or maybe vines, and she found herself wondering why she hadn’t stuck a post-it on it. "Yes. Tristan. You see, we went out tonight and—"

"You went out with him?"

"Not like that. Jess was there."

"You went out with your boyfriend and the boy who isn’t your boyfriend, but with whom you had sexual relations."

Well, phrased like that, it sounded ridiculous. Sounded even more ridiculous coming from her grandmother’s mouth. Not nearly as awful as it would sound coming from her mother’s. "It’s complicated. Tristan’s my friend. And I couldn’t make him not be my friend, because he wouldn’t let me. And I can’t, because he’s friends with all the rest of my friends, you remember Lane?"

"No."

"Well you should."

"You should introduce us, then."

"Sorry. But Lane is almost my only friend. There are other people that I’m friends with, but they’re just not that important. So I didn’t know what to do."

"You’re not making sense."

"With Tristan. Because he’s Lane’s boyfriend’s best friend."

"Oh. That is difficult."

"And so we’re just together all the time. Even before anything happened."

"Just make it clear to the boy that the incident will not be repeated and get back to whatever it is you do."

"I don’t think he wants that to happen."

"It doesn’t matter what he wants. He’s not going to be vindictive, is he? Would he tell Jess?"

"No." This shouldn’t be hard. Rory knew what her grandmother thought; it was why she had come to her. That didn’t seem to make a difference. "You think I should choose Tristan."

"I don’t know," Emily said. "I want you to choose him, but you don’t have to."

And that was so alluring, not having to do something. She really didn’t want to admit to this, even if it was exactly what her grandmother wanted to hear. "I don’t want things to go back to normal either."

An eyebrow arched. "You don’t."

"It was just— I was out with him tonight, and there was this other girl."

"Of course there was."

"I wanted her to go away, I want her to, and I can’t expect him to do that."

"Without offering something in return."

"Right."

"Well I suggest you offer it."

It was really that simple. Rory was just having trouble accepting it. "But I’ll have to tell Jess."

"No you won’t. There’s no point hurting the boy. Just tell him it’s over, give it a week or two, and move on."

"To Tristan."

"Yes. If you haven’t changed your mind again by then."

"I’m not that fickle."

"History suggests otherwise."

"Grandma!"

"It’s the truth. Now, what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can’t just break up with Jess. You’ll have to come to some kind of agreement with Tristan first."

"Talk to him. About whatever this is, and—agree. Okay. I can do that. Is that a good idea?"

"Of course it is. You have a relationship; you shouldn’t walk away from it without sufficient reason. Make sure you both have the same ideas about where this is going. I don’t want to say that you should ascertain his intentions, but, well."

"Take it as a given?"

"Thank you." They stared at each other for a moment. Emily blinked. "What are you waiting for?"

Rory blinked back. "Waiting for?"

"You’ve had my opinion. Now act on it."

"Right now?" She was scrambling to her feet as she spoke.

"What better time?"

"I don’t know, maybe this isn’t such a—"

"This is just why you have to do it immediately. If I give you time, you’ll talk yourself out of it. Then we’ll be right back where we started. I expect to be kept informed."

"Not a problem."

"I don’t think I know this boy. I’ll have to call on his grandmother. Oh, I can’t, she’s in — on a rest cure. And his parents are on vacation. Hmm."

Rory didn’t correct her. Five minutes later she was starting her grandfather’s car.

*

Terror. Sheer terror. She'd never driven a car this expensive. She had no comprehension of the amount of money it must have cost. Maybe more than everything her mother owned. Certainly more than everything she owned. Breathing out, she slid carefully into Tristan's driveway. Thank God the roads had been almost deserted.

It wasn't until she had knocked on the door that she realised she'd been panicking about the wrong thing. The maid was completely disinterested in everything but her paycheque, but what if Tristan's mother answered? Jesus, what if his father answered?

Tristan answered. It wasn't a relief. He looked rumpled, touchable, and she had to remind herself that there were issues to be dealt with first.

"Hi."

He looked surprised to see her. "Hey."

They were just standing there. It wasn't helping her panic. "I want to talk to you."

He frowned. "Come in."

"Thanks." Now they were watching each other in the hall. She didn't want to do this by the door. "Can we go somewhere else?"

An uncertain glance around before he headed towards the TV room, homing pigeon-like. The pool sparkled aquamarine outside, and reflected ripples danced on the walls. They sat opposite each other. He didn't turn on the light.

"It's late." Rory wished people would stop saying that. It wasn't midnight yet. "Is something wrong?"

His eyes were all shine and shadow. She wanted to see them properly, so she could gauge his reaction.

"No. I just thought we should talk about what's been going on. It's been awkward lately, huh?"

"Has it?"

"Yes." She still wasn't sure if he'd been trying to make it so. And she had no idea how to broach this subject. She'd never had to before. "I've been thinking about what you said."

"Which pearl of wisdom exactly?"

"You said I couldn’t pretend that it hadn't happened. That we hadn't — happened."

"Ah."

Impossible to tell what that meant, and this could go spectacularly badly. She could still back out. "You were right."

"What does that mean?"

Straight to the point that she'd wanted to postpone. She could do this. This was a good idea. "I think I made a mistake."

"By having sex with me. Yes, I gathered you thought that."

"No. I think I made a mistake afterwards. I just couldn't accept it. I still can't believe I did that to Jess."

Tristan turned away from her, looking past the glaring lights into the darkness. "Did what to Jess? You can fix it. It doesn't have to mean anything, Rory."

Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lips, leaning forward. It wasn't enough, and she slid to the edge of her seat. "It did mean something. It does, Tristan."

His head didn't move, but his eyes slid towards her, remote and indecipherable. Her fingers laced together, clenching nervously.

"You said I should just have broken up with Jess, and you were right. I was just scared. I've never done anything like that before. I can't believe I did that to him."

"You have to believe it. You started it."

"I know. I just didn't—when I saw you with her and you said—" She felt an echo of that pain, and her hands twisted. "I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend."

He turned back to her, face lit blue, and she almost wished he'd stayed in the shadows. Completely expressionless, like stone, and her breath sighed out at the memory of his warmth.

"Can we— I made a mistake. I know. I know I shouldn't have done any of that, to anyone. And I'm sorry, but I can't change any of it, and I know it's all wrong. Can't we just—"

She had nothing left to say, no words to ask for this, and she moved to him, rising from her chair, carefully placing her hands on his knees. He didn't respond, but he didn't pull away, so she kept going. His breath was hot and fast on her lips, her heart in her mouth, and his eyes were fluttering closed. Her mouth was open when she brushed it across his lips, and she felt his head tilt, his forehead suddenly a solid weight against her own.

She knew he'd let her kiss him, knew he was about to take the decision out of her hands, and there was a choked gasp from the doorway. The light snapped on. She wondered hazily if Margot would mind, and pulled away before she found out at top volume.

It wasn't Margot. Crystal's eyes were blazing, darting between Rory and Tristan. Blame divided evenly between them, and the guilt came in a rush. Rory hadn't even considered Crystal. She hadn't cared at all, and still didn't, but she regretted that. The anger came in a rush too, right behind the jealousy, and Crystal had no right to be here. None.

Rory could see Crystal's mouth move in soundless fury; there was really no appropriate response to this situation. Her eyes locked on Rory's, her face twisted, and she'd found something to latch on to.

"You're wearing my make-up. I can't believe you were going to fuck my boyfriend wearing my make-up."

Replies sped through Rory's mind — she hadn't been about to fuck him, he wasn't Crystal's boyfriend, she hadn't asked for Crystal's stupid friendship let alone her make-up — but they all lodged in her throat. "I'm sorry."

Crystal looked away abruptly, and when she looked at Tristan, the anger was gone, leaving only the pain it had hidden. "I can't believe you'd do this to me."

She spun around, blundering into the doorframe on her way out.

"Crystal." Tristan was slipping out from under Rory, hurrying after his girlfriend. "Crystal!"

When he was gone, Rory stared at her hands, considering her options. She could run after Tristan and Crystal. She could lie down on the floor and die. Neither appealed. Instead, she pulled herself into Tristan's vacated seat, and curled up around herself, waiting for him to return.

*

By the time Tristan came back, Rory had started to wish he wouldn't. She'd had far too much time to imagine what he was doing out there with Crystal, what he was saying to her, and she didn't want confirmation. If he was going to say things that would hurt, she'd really prefer to run and hide and pretend none of this had happened. He might let her this time. She thought she should turn the television on, or the radio, or just conjure up some dignity and leave, but she didn't move.

He came back alone. That was something. He looked upset, avoiding her eyes and wandering around behind her. It was worse waiting for him while he was with her; she couldn't take it for long.

"What did she say?"

The footsteps paused, and then he circled round to look at her. "She was upset." Mild, but still accusatory. Rory wanted to wince, she wanted to be as angry with Tristan as she had been with Crystal, but she couldn't manage it.

And where was Crystal anyway? Waiting for him, like Rory had? Lying on his bed, waiting for him to ditch the ex and come to her?

"Why was she upset?" The real question. "What did you say to her? Did you explain?"

"Explain what?"

"That's what I'd like to know." There was something to explain; he had to know that.

He threw himself into the chair across from her, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "Don't you decide what this is, Rory? Haven't you been making that decision all along?"

And she would have liked to continue doing so. "I can't make you do anything you don't want to."

"Oh, you have. You're not even going to try now?"

"No. I want you to want—" Me. Too humiliating to say.

"Want what?"

"Tristan—" Was he trying to annoy her? It was working. She couldn't afford that. "What did you say to Crystal?"

"I apologised."

Her heart sank. He'd apologised for her, for whatever they were. Maybe asked forgiveness, maybe gotten it. "Oh."

"Why did you come here, Rory?"

There was no way to back out, and maybe she could still convince him. She had to make the attempt. "I told you. I want to try again."

"To try what again?"

"Us." She'd thought that was self-explanatory.

"There never was any us."

"Oh." That only hurt because it was true. Tristan was very skilled at wielding painful truths.

"Well, then I wanted to change that."

"And what, exactly, would this involve?"

She hadn't thought she'd need to explain that, either. "Well, you. And me." She motioned vaguely with her hands. "Together."

"And it wouldn't involve Crystal."

"No."

"What about Jess?"

"Nope."

"What would you do about him?"

"I'd—" Wouldn't tell him, she couldn't tell him. "I'd break up with him. And then I'd be with you. And that would be the end of it. There's nothing he could do."

"Would you tell him what happened?"

She'd been hoping that wouldn't come up. "No."

"No."

"It would just hurt him. It wouldn't matter and it would just make him feel bad, and make me feel bad, and there's no point."

"It would make me feel better."

Was that a yes? "That's a reason. I suppose if you wanted, I could. But I'd really prefer not. But I would."

"If I made you."

"Are you going to?"

He shook his head, but she didn't think it was an answer. "Why are we still doing this?"

"Doing what?" She wasn’t doing anything that she could help. She'd tried not to. She had tried.

"This is incredibly stupid. We can't keep doing this, Rory. We have to choose now. We can't keep ending up back here."

"I've chosen, Tristan." Now it was his turn, and she wished she'd made him go first.

"How do I know you won't change your mind the next time you see Jess? Or your mother. She doesn't know, does she?"

"No. I didn't want to tell her." Still didn't, didn't want Tristan to make her.

"But you would."

"I told my grandmother." He looked surprised, and she rushed on. "I thought it would be easier. I needed to tell somebody, and I care more about what my mother thinks about me—" Now she was apologising for him. Wonderful.

"What did she say?"

"She likes you. She doesn't know you, but she likes you anyway." Less nervous now, Rory still didn't want to expose her vulnerability. She had to. "She talked me into coming here tonight."

"You had to be talked into it."

"Yes. Well, no. I was scared. I wasn't sure how you'd react."

"How I'd react." An odd smile quirked Tristan's lips, and he ran a hand through his hair, looking up at her ruefully. "I think I'm taking this pretty well, don't you?"

"That depends. What did you say to Crystal?"

"I told you. I apologised, said I hadn't meant to hurt her, and sent her home. She went. So." He straightened, serious again, but she couldn't seem to pull herself back on track, dizzy with relief. "This Jess-dumping—"

"It wouldn't be a dumping—"

"How would it happen? You'd just waltz up, tell him to go fuck himself, and be on your merry way?"

"No!" She should have been outraged, but she could feel herself grinning. Asking for details was as good as acceptance. If she didn't screw it up in the next thirty seconds. "There have been problems, so he wouldn't suspect that—well, that there was a you. I'd probably want a few days. Just to work things down." She glanced at him, unsure if he'd care for that. It wouldn't matter if he didn't. She'd work around it. She felt glowy, wondered if she looked it.

"And then?"

"I'd tell him it wasn't working. And a few weeks later—"

"A few weeks?"

"If we jump right in I think he might catch on. He's not stupid."

"Weeks."

Rory didn't want to wait weeks. She didn't want to wait at all, especially when he was so close, when she could reach out and touch him, have him in her arms. She ached for that, had been missing it forever.

"Not many. One or two, maybe. That's weeks."

"And then we'd what, start dating?"

"Yes. That would work, don't you think? We could still see each other. We just shouldn't tell anybody at first." She could see him now, couldn't stop looking; and they could have each other now, if Tristan was willing.

"I don't trust you."

"What?" Rory came crashing back down to earth, completely shocked.

Tristan was shaking his head again, more in disbelief than in denial. "I don't know that you'll do this. I believed you before, and look how that turned out."

"But this would be different." That wasn't desperation in her voice. "That's the whole point. I know now, I know the mistakes I made, and I wouldn't do it again—"

"I know you think that. I know you mean it, Rory. I just don't know if you'll do it."

"I will."

"You're still not dealing with it. You are still pretending, trying to keep it a secret, and you can do that. But I don't know that it will work."

"It—" Might.

"I'm willing to try." She exhaled, slumping down in her chair. This was exhausting. How did her mother deal with all the drama all the time? Rory wanted off the roller-coaster. "A few days. If it gets to a week, it's off. If it's off, I'll patch things up with Crystal." He frowned at her. "I'm not mooning over you while you try to decide if you want me."

"I wouldn't expect you to. A week."

"Less than a week. The sooner the better."

"Got it."

She could see the attraction if the drama always had payoffs like this. She hesitated, and then moved over to sit beside Tristan. He drew back.

"We'll see how things go. Hopefully it'll work out like we've planned." He stood. "I think you should go."

He knew that she was disappointed; she didn't bother arguing. They walked to the door in silence. She watched him all the way, while he stared straight ahead, and she turned back once she was on the porch.

"I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe we could meet up."

For a moment there was nothing, and then he smiled. "Do."

She left the porch satisfied. She was giddy before she got to the car.

*

Lorelai was fidgeting. Luke was busy at the other side of the diner, and she had nobody to harass. She glanced around again, and then pouted at Rory.

"Do something!"

"Do what?"

"I don't know. Entertain me."

"With what, the ketchup?"

"Ketchup is funny. All ketchupy and gloopy and — red."

"I can't wait until school starts again."

"So you'll hear real words?"

"That too. I want to get back to work."

"I don't know where you get these things."

"It just feels like I'm killing time."

"That's the point. You have time to kill."

"To waste. It's boring now."

Lorelai gasped. "Do not speak ill of the holiday. The holiday is holy."

"I feel like I'm just waiting for things to happen. I want them to happen now. I want to make them happen."

"Oh, you have so much to learn. I still have so much knowledge to impart. I feel wise."

"I'm sitting around doing nothing."

"I wish I had a camera. Not that it would do any good, because a picture wouldn't capture the hilarity of your words. Huh. I thought I'd taught you to avoid work as much as possible. You know, with the take-out always."

"Fires scare me."

"And you haven't been doing nothing. You've been doing whatever it is you do with Jess, ready to tell me?"

"No."

"Darn. And you've made a lot of money, and seen Lane a lot, and you're friends with Tristan again. How is that nothing?"

Luke was looking over, plates of food cooling in his hands. Rory would have loved to think he was staring at her mother.

*

When Lorelai burst into the house, Rory was holed up in her bedroom, ignoring Jess' calls. The scream was ear-splitting.

"Rory!"

"What?"

"Where are you?"

Rory hurried to meet her, and wished she hadn't when she was immediately made the recipient of a wild-eyed glare.

"I cannot believe you."

"What did I do?"

"I can't believe you'd do this to me."

"Mom?" Rory hadn't done anything to her.

"I can't believe you had sex with Tristan!"

Oh. That. "Well, I—"

"I can't believe you had sex and didn't tell me! I can't believe I had to hear it—"

"He had no right to tell you!" Jess, maybe. Lorelai, no. "It's one thing if he wants to look after Jess, but he has no right to interfere—"

"Luke?" His name didn't usually sound like that. "Luke knew?"

"Yes, Luke knew. You didn't know Luke knew?"

"No! Luke didn't tell me. My mother told me! I had to hear it from my mother, Rory. Luke knew too?"

"Not on purpose! I didn't tell him. He just found out."

Lorelai threw herself onto the couch, arms crossing angrily across her chest. Her hair was windblown, her clothes dishevelled; she'd obviously dropped whatever she'd been doing and come running.

"You didn't have to leave in the middle of the day."

"She just came into the Inn and started talking about this, about you, Rory, and I didn't have the faintest idea about any of it." Briefly animated, she quickly faded back to sullenness. "I just don't know why I had to hear about this from her. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me with this?"

"Mom, I did. I didn't not trust you. I just didn't want to tell you because— I didn't want you to know."

"What?"

"I didn't want you to know that I'd do that. That I had."

"What did you think I'd do?"

"Nothing. It wasn't that I thought you'd react badly, I just thought you'd be upset."

"Upset. Well, you've managed that now." Lorelai determinedly ignored Rory, as she ignored the water in her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

A minute ticked by. Rory watched her mother; Lorelai picked at the hem of her skirt. There was nothing more Rory could do, but that didn't make it easier, make her regret it any less.

"Don't do it again."

"I won't."

"I mean it, Rory. I can't learn about something like this from my mother, that can't happen. Why on earth you told her I don't know, but I can't deal with it. She was so—" A short pause, while Lorelai fought down her feelings about the Emily one-upmanship. "So. What happened?"

"What—"

"With Tristan. I know you had sex with Tristan. I'm assuming — well, I'm hoping — there's a little more to it than that."

"Not—really. I wanted to have sex; I had sex. I didn't mean to, though. Well, I sort of did, but I didn't mean to hurt Jess."

"You still did."

"No, I didn't. Because he doesn't know."

"He'll have to know. Rory, unless you really, really regret it, and I don't think you do, you have to tell him. You can't stay with him just because you feel guilty."

"Uh, I know. I'm breaking up with him."

"You're what? Why does—I know nothing. Nothing. And it's all your fault."

"Sorry. I decided earlier this week. I have four days left."

"With Jess?"

"Yes. I'm trying to hint at it, but I don't know if it's working. Is it?"

"I don’t think so. I thought you were cheating on him with your textbooks, not Tristan."

Rory tensed. She'd been pushing that to the back of her mind, and hadn't wanted to be reminded of it. Lorelai caught the negative vibrations, shifting uneasily.

"Anyway, I'm breaking up with him in the next few days. So he won't have to know."

"I think you should tell him anyway."

"Why?"

"It would give him a bad impression of you, but I think it would be better than starting again with a lie. You'll be friends with him, but what happens if he finds out later? Honesty is the best policy here."

Rory shook her head. "No. No way. I can't tell him that I've betrayed him like that. What he'd think of me, and how much it would hurt him, and why would I— No. It would be a bad idea."

"You don't need a skeleton in your closet. If you've decided that you don't want Jess anymore then you can clear everything up right now, and work on things from there."

"I can't. There's no point trying to convince me, because I can't."

"Fine."

Rory shot an annoyed glance at her mother. "I mean it."

"Do you hear me arguing?"

"I don't have to hear you to know you're doing it."

"So what happened after you had sex?"

"You're not going to ask how it happened?"

"Why bother? We're moving on now."

"Well, I thought I should stay with Jess."

"Ooh, bad idea."

"So it seems."

"And what did you say to Tristan?"

"That I wanted to be friends."

"Double bad idea."

"Yeah. Worse, because before that, I'd been telling him I was going to break up with Jess."

"You know, I told myself I wasn't going to be judgy at all, but I just have to get this straight: Not only did you betray Jess by messing around with Tristan, you betrayed Tristan by messing around with Jess."

"I didn't betray Tristan."

"Yeah you did. How do you let these things happen? Not that I can talk. But don't even think about blaming it on me."

Rory slid down until her head was on her mother's lap. "Rambling."

"Yeah. True though."

"Maybe."

"Definitely. And Tristan's still friends with you?"

"Yeah." Lorelai's fingers were stroking through Rory's hair; Rory was getting sleepy. "We're getting back together. Or, together. No back."

"Okay, how did that happen? You have the most incredible luck."

Rory hadn't thought about it like that. She yawned. "People are nice to me."

"Try not to screw it up this time."

"I'll do that."

*

The fourth day passed, the fifth. Rory had had some vague notion that time would make this easier, but she still had no idea what she was going to do. She had a sneaking suspicion that she'd dump Jess right before the deadline, as out of the blue as if she'd done it in the first hour.

She was surprisingly relieved that she was no longer concealing anything from her mother. She'd known it was a weight, but she hadn't been aware of just how heavy it was. On the downside, she was going to avoid her grandmother until doomsday. Scheduled for Friday night, as usual.

Even on the sixth day, that seemed aeons away as they lingered over coffee in Hartford. Well, everybody else lingered; Rory was on her third cup.

She'd wanted to spend time with Tristan, hadn't wanted to wait, but it was stranger than it had ever been, and they'd always had their moments. She could feel the potential waiting to explode; she sometimes felt like they were sitting on a bomb, but she just wanted to speed up the clock.

And her mother was right: It was wonderful to have time to kill when you had something so enjoyable to not do. It was only excitement that was spurring Rory on. Things could be even more enjoyable, and patience had never been one of her primary virtues.

She got distracted watching Tristan stir sugar into his coffee. He obviously had no intention of drinking it; he didn't take sugar. Rory was mildly offended that he hadn't offered it to her, even if she hadn't yet made a start on her own. Mostly, though, she was pleased to look at him when he was so involved with something. Usually, he'd be staring right back, eyebrow raised, challenging her. It was nice just to be able to look.

She didn't look away until he reached for a second packet, and she thought she might have looked a little too long. Tristan wasn't asking questions with his eyes, but Henry was, his knowing smile growing as she blushed. Thank God Lane was at the counter. Although if Henry had figured it out, she must have too. That was a conversation for Day Eight.

Lane returned with an espresso, which didn't prolong their stay. Everybody was waiting for her to finish, and she soon gave in, rising, and snagging Tristan's chocolate as well as her own.

With nothing to do, they ended up trailing back to Stars Hollow. It was a shorter trip than usual, but even in the middle of a weekday afternoon it surprised Rory how many cars there were in the world. She supposed it shouldn't have: their group had two. Lane went with Henry, Rory with Tristan. They both seemed to think it an equitable division of the spoils.

Tristan drove much faster than Henry, but it didn't set off any alarm bells. Rory was reluctant to get out of the car when they pulled up at the Diner; she'd been perfectly content buckled into her little bubble. The transition from comfort to Tristan and Jess sharing airspace would be particularly unwelcome. But she crawled onto the pavement anyway, leading Tristan inside too slowly.

Luke caught her eye as they claimed a window table, shifting uncomfortably. She probably shouldn’t have brought Tristan here, but she hadn't wanted to explain it to Lane. She suddenly realised that she hadn't told Luke that she was going to break up with Jess; she'd been too involved in attempting to implement the decision. Maybe Lorelai had told him; if not, Rory would remember to do it later. Before she left. She didn't want him losing patience, and Jess learning the whole truth at the last minute.

Lane and Henry could have been anywhere, but Rory decided to order them coffee anyway.

She'd drink it all with delight if they took too long. As part of her entirely inefficient build-up to breaking up with him, she went to Luke instead of Jess. Two pairs of eyes tracked her path across the room. When she'd accepted a scowl and a tray, she carefully made her way back to the table, glancing from the floor, to the cups, to Tristan. The cups got most of her attention. The cups were treacherous, just waiting for an excuse to jump off the tray and plummet to their doom, taking their precious contents with them, and it felt horrible looking at Tristan while she knew Jess was looking at her.

As she distributed the coffee, the door swung open, and footsteps stopped abruptly behind her.

"Hey, I got you—" Crystal. Rory choked, floundered helplessly. She had no idea what to do, what Crystal was doing here, she was supposed to be gone, this was supposed to be over.

"Tristan—"

He was frozen, staring at Crystal. Her eyes were flickering between Tristan and Rory, burning and frantic. "Where is he?" Her head swung around, settling on Luke.

"Who?"

"Your boyfriend."

"My—no. Tristan, no." His eyes slid to her, but he didn't move. Crystal glanced around again, hesitating over Jess. She didn't know, she wasn't sure. "Crystal, don't. Do something, Tristan. Make her stop."

His cup shook in his grasp, hot liquid spilling over the sides, and he carefully put it down, flattening his hands on the tabletop. He didn't look at her.

"Tristan—" He wasn't going to do anything, he wasn't going to help her, and she couldn't even make herself argue with him. She didn’t even feel like she was looking at him, not really, and she couldn't tear her eyes away even when she felt Crystal brush past her. She knew she'd been wrong, she knew she'd betrayed him, but she couldn't believe he'd do this to her.

He looked up then, past her, and she turned to watch, needing to know, not able to stop herself, needing to see the words hit. Hoping, somehow, that they wouldn't. Knowing the hope was unfounded, but not able to let it go.

Jess was watching Crystal approach, already tense, but Rory could see him mentally pulling inside himself, knew he was doing it, and none of this was fair.

She stopped directly in front of him, and he nodded briefly. Storms of nothing while Crystal spoke, his face unchanged, worse than pain, and could he have guessed? A short question, another, and suddenly he was looking at Rory, and she realised that she'd never seen him angry. Never.

He was coming towards her, and everybody was looking, Luke and Tristan and all the customers. Crystal sweeping by, throwing a triumphant smile at Rory on her way to the door; Lane trying to get somebody's attention, clueless but thoroughly alarmed; and Jess' hand was fisting around her arm and Tristan was staring and not doing anything at all.

Rory wanted to protest, as he dragged her through the endless tables of gaping spectators, wanted to get away, tell him he was hurting her, tell him she didn't want to do this, but somehow, she didn't think any of that was a good idea.

*

Jess flung her away as soon as they were alone, and somehow he hurt her more as he let her go. The room was too small for him to move much, but that just made serious damage more likely. Rory crept back until she felt the wall, needing the support.

"You're fucking Tristan."

There was no real way to deny that, but she had to try, try to make him understand. "No, Jess, it wasn't like that. You don't know—"

"You're right, I don't. All I know is what DuGrey's girlfriend just told me. So tell me it's not true, Rory. Tell me you didn't have sex with him." A bare hesitation before he swept on; he'd been hoping, even though he knew. "But you can't. So tell me how it was, Rory. Tell me all about it. How I just don't understand, wasn't listening, don't know you as well as he does. Tell me how that makes it better."

"It doesn't. Jess, I'm not saying that it's excusable—"

He turned to face her, frighteningly genial. Carefully sat down. "What are you saying?" Hands spread wide, expansive, encouraging. "I'm listening."

There was nothing that she could say. "I'm sorry."

"Well, yes, I imagine you are. Sorry for what, exactly?"

"For hurting you. I shouldn't have done—"

But Jess was looking down, and the friendliness had vanished. She didn't want to see his pain, even though she'd caused it.

"That's what I thought. You know, Rory, I really would like to hear your reasons. Just for future reference."

"Jess, please."

"I think I deserve to know what I did wrong, don't you? This is nothing if not a learning experience. So tell me, what exactly happened? You weren't happy, so you started looking for something better. I wasn't paying enough attention, so you jumped at the chance when DuGrey did. You couldn't bring yourself to have sex with me, so you turned to somebody you were actually friends with to help you with that. I couldn't read your mind, so you couldn't talk to me."

The fury seemed part of him. "You couldn't talk to me, so you went and fucked DuGrey instead. Really, I'd like to know. Fair trade?"

"No, it wasn't about you—" Worst thing to say, so it was entirely natural to hear it coming from her mouth.

"Of course not. What I'd really like to know is why you didn't tell me. Before you did it would have been good, but even after. I don't know what the hell you thought you were doing. Maybe you just weren't thinking about me at all."

"Jess, stop. Please. I know, and I'm sorry, just please calm down. I'm sorry. We can be friends, I'll—"

His hand was clamped around her other arm now; he was sneering down at her as he pushed her across the room. "You won't do anything. Do you think I give a fuck that you're sorry? You're the one who doesn’t understand." And he was calm now, reaching past her to open the door. It didn’t hit the wall this time. He wasn't angry anymore, not even hurt, just sad. "You don't get to do that. You can't fix it."

Suddenly his hand was gone, and Rory was scrambling to regain her balance, was halfway down the stairs, grabbing for the banister to break her fall. She hit the wall hard. When she looked back up, Jess was gone. She hadn't heard the door close.

She sat there for a minute, fingers scraping across the worn carpet, and began sliding down the stairs, one step at a time. She couldn't stay there, but she didn't want to reach the end.

When she did, Tristan was waiting. She ignored him, ignored Luke's stare, Lane's hesitant offer of assistance. She didn't know if people were watching, didn't want to know, and she was so glad when she was outside.

Tristan had followed. Couldn't leave her alone. Never had, wouldn't when she'd wanted him to, and that had caused so much trouble. She'd wanted him to leave her alone, she'd asked, and if he had none of this would have happened.

"What?" He stepped back, startled. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to talk to you."

She didn't want to talk to him, but she really didn't want to cause more of a scene. "Come on."

The alley at the side of the diner was uncomfortably familiar, too close to her current life to hold such bad memories.

"What, Tristan?"

"What did he say?"

"I have to tell you? Come on, what do you want?"

"I don't want anything. I just wanted to see how you were."

"Why? You have what you wanted, you're developing a conscience now?"

"What?"

"This is all your fault."

"Seriously."

"Yes, seriously."

"You really believe that?"

"Yes!" She didn't, but she wanted to, and maybe she could. "You started this, you pushed and pushed and you made me do this. And even afterwards it just wasn't enough, and you dragged Crystal in and you wouldn't let me go, and look what you did to her, too."

"You're angry with me because of Crystal."

"No. Stop— Yes. You didn't even try to stop her. How could you do that to me? We'd agreed— You didn't think I'd do it. You thought you'd do it yourself, just like everybody else. You can't make that choice for me. I was going to do it. I was. And you took that away from me, and you lied, and you betrayed— There's nothing you can say that— That's as bad as anything I've done. Worse."

"It's not."

"It is. You never listen to me. You didn't listen to me when I told you I had a boyfriend and you didn't listen to me when I told you I didn't want to have sex with you—"

"You never—"

"—and that was your fault, don't even think about saying that I started that, because maybe I did, but only because you made me. You pushed me into this, from the very start, you twisted everything so that I had to— You never gave me a choice. I was happy. I just wanted to be your friend. I was your friend, and I was happy with that. You made this happen."

"I wasn't happy."

"And that gives you the right to ruin my life?"

He laughed. "I didn't ruin your life, Rory. Jesus, stop deluding yourself. You made the choices. You have no right to blame me for them."

"You didn't leave me with any choices."

"Yes, I did. If you think you made the wrong ones that's—"

"Of course I made the wrong ones. But I didn't want to. I wanted to do the right thing, and you wouldn't let me. I chose Jess. I chose Jess at the beginning, and ever since you've been forcing me into positions—"

"And that's wrong? If you had really chosen Jess we wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have seen anything wrong with what I was doing, and you—"

"It doesn't matter that I wanted you. It matters that I was Jess' girlfriend, he was my choice, and you couldn't let me have that."

"If I could take the choice away from you it obviously didn't mean anything, did it?"

Rory hit Tristan on her way out of the alley, but she was knocked more off-balance by it than he was.

*

Lorelai was munching on popcorn. Rory wouldn’t have minded, but pieces kept dropping into her hair. She'd tried Lane's shoulder, but it didn't make nearly as comfortable a cushion.

Lorelai pointed at the screen. The popcorn fell on Rory's face this time. "Those aliens are a total Buffy reject. So pathetic."

"I don't think it matters." Lane shook her bag of popcorn. Nothing. "It's not really about the effects. Or the aliens."

"But still. They aren't scary at all. The stupid radio static was spookier."

"I think they are."

Lorelai pulled back so she could look down at Rory. "You sound so depressed. Stop that. It's depressing me."

"I'm depressed, too. Once school starts tomorrow I'm never going to see Henry again."

"Well that's the same reason that Rory's depressed, but you're not wallowing in it."

"That's not why I'm depressed. I'm not depressed."

"No, you're upset because you haven't seen Tristan in forever, and whose fault is that?"

"Not mine."

"Oh, never. God forbid."

"He started it."

"No more kissing boys. You're not old enough."

"He did. And I haven't seen Jess either."

"But he's been avoiding you. You'd have a reason to be depressed about that, if you were."

"Whose side are you on? And why haven't you made him stop?"

"These hands only work miracles in massage."

"No they don't."

"They could. If I learned."

Lane reached over and grabbed a handful of Lorelai's popcorn. "Why haven't you made him stop, Rory?"

"What?"

"You haven't even tried to fix things."

"I have."

"Taking no for an answer doesn't count. But you've been all wrapped up in your moping over Tristan. You haven't spared a thought for Jess."

"That's not true." Not really.

"No, Lane's right. When I say that Jess has been avoiding you, I mean that he's still telling me that he doesn’t want to see you. Because I ask. You don't."

"I don't want him to say no again."

"Well, he will. So you'll have to hear it. Seriously, you can't even deny him the pleasure of rejecting you. What kind of ex-girlfriend are you?"

"Mom."

"It will be okay." Lorelai's hand found Rory's cheek, and Rory didn't even mind the butter. "It will."

"Maybe."

"It will. We'll make it be." Somehow, it didn't matter that Lorelai couldn't make it anything. Rory was still comforted. "So wait, why did they come to Earth, with all the oceans?"

*

The first day of school was surprisingly exciting. It was the last year; things were going to change soon, and her actions now would determine those changes. Rory was glad that Chilton was so academically oriented, because a lot of other students looked excited too, and that put her at ease with her happiness, even if nobody was looking.

She met Tristan on the way into English. They caused a pile-up as they stood in the doorway, and then Paris shoved between them to get into the classroom and Tristan was gone.

Rory was distracted all day, thinking about those seconds.

She didn’t see him again until Wednesday. Spanish was spent staring at the back of his head. It didn't take her long at all to decide that something had to be done about this. It was going to affect her grades.

She didn't work up the courage to approach him for a week. He'd seemed entirely unconscious of her regard, but she was convinced that he was purposely ignoring her. He was still angry, or worse, he wasn't. Maybe he wasn't anything anymore. Not staring, not angry, not interested. The thought hurt, but she couldn't help thinking about it, and she couldn't stop looking. Rory told herself that it was her teachers' disappointment with her performance that prompted her to action.

The past week wasn't all that clear, but she must have been even more aware of him than she'd known, because when she decided to speak to him privately, she discovered that she knew when all his free periods were and where he'd be during them. She was getting scarily obsessive. This had to stop. It was a reason.

Tristan was completely engrossed in his history text when she joined him in the library. She thought she'd managed the approaching him bit very well, but there was something stuck in her throat now. You weren't supposed to speak in here anyway.

He looked up once he'd finished the paragraph, going from enquiring to wary far too quickly.

"I wanted to talk to you." Too low, but at least her voice didn't crack.

"You did."

"Can we go somewhere else?"

A pause that felt long, and if he rejected her did that make her an ex? Then he was shoving his book into his bag and standing and he was always ahead of her.

They ended up on a bench in the courtyard. It was prettiest in spring, when the air was filled with lilac and the sky with apple and cherry. The bench was still shielded with leaves, but all the blossoms had fallen.

"So I'm sorry." She smiled nervously. "I've said that a lot. To you. But I mean it."

"I know."

"Do you care?"

"It's always nice to get an apology. Makes you feel charitable when you accept it."

"Is that the only reason you would?"

"No. I know you mean it."

"Good." This was as far as she could reasonably expect to get. "And all that stuff I said the other day — I didn’t mean it. Mostly. I think you have to take some responsibility."

"You do."

Not encouraging. "But I have to take more." A little more.

"You do." Agreement, this time.

"And I'm sorry that I didn't get the chance to do what we talked about, to tell Jess. I would have." She knew this; she was sorry about the fallout, but she wasn't sorry that it was over. "I wish you knew that."

"Did you want something?"

He was just trying to fluster her. If she let him, she'd have to do this again. "To talk to you. Let me. Although I wouldn’t mind if you did a bit." It would take the pressure off.

"Then talk." His voice was strained, patience gone. "Get to the point. Have one."

"Fine." Synopsis. She could do this. "I'm sorry about what happened, and we'd come to this agreement that I was going to keep, and would you?" Or maybe she couldn’t.

"Would I what? Exactly."

"Just—" This was incredibly frustrating. Rory knew what she wanted, but had no idea how to get it. "We were going to try. I want to. That hasn't changed." Has it for you? Couldn't bring herself to ask, and his reply would tell her anyway.

"I'm never going to know what you would have done."

"I know."

"No, you don't." She wanted to argue with that, but he was right. A bird took flight from the tree above, and the branches shivered. Tristan's voice recalled Rory's attention. "I could try. Nothing more."

Impossibly easy, impossible relief, and could you throw up from that? She was going to. She fought the urge to put her head between her knees. It passed, and then there was just excitement.

"What happens now? What do we do?" He sounded slightly uncertain, and she didn't know how to change that.

"I don’t know. I—"

She shook her head from side to side, trying to think of something to say. The sun was shining through the leaves, dappling Tristan's face. She could look at him now. Turned towards her, he was squinting against the light, and that made it even more acceptable. Rory studied the softness and vulnerability of his mouth, the underlying tenseness that was almost abhorrent. She watched it turn down at the corners, watched little lines crease his forehead as he frowned. And he was too beautiful for breath, but she stared at him until the ache in her chest became painful and she forced herself to inhale. The sudden knowledge of how young he was, they both were, how easy to wound, was far more shocking than it had any right to be; all she knew was that she didn't want that look on his face to be because of her. She wanted a chance, the chance to look after him, and keep him safe, even from herself.

And she didn't know what would happen; they were still angry, and hurt, and she thought that maybe they'd take it out on each other and they'd end up hating each other like they never had, like they should never have to when he could make her feel like this right now. And as she watched the kiss approach, felt its inevitability, and then the first gentle pressure of lips, and warm breath pushed into her mouth, she realised that she was the one who'd moved.

End.

Gilmore Girls