The scene seemed to play itself out in slow motion. Tristan could see everything, but his
hearing seemed to be limited to only his breathing. He could see his friends smirking up at
him, cheering him on silently. Tristan had no idea was was going on. Rory's little hand was
gripping his tightly as she pulled him up the stairs.

Rory, for her part, was feeling rather giddy. She was surprised at the good time she was
having. Who'd ever guess that she'd have fun at a Chilton party? Certainly not herself.
Rory was quite happy with herself. After a few drinks, which she thought did not have an
effect on her, she had gotten the confidence to talk to Tristan.

The pair ascended the final steps to the second floor. Rory gave Tristan's hand a tug and
he stepped up beside her. Tristan saw her mouth open to speak, but she shut it again, and
once again grabbed his hand. She pulled him a few more steps, into an empty room.
Tristan noticed they were in a bedroom, but Rory was oblivious to the surroundings. All
she knew was that it was quieter than downstairs, and she could finally talk to him.

"Tristan." Rory weaved back and forth a bit. Tristan grabbed her other hand to steady her.

"Yeah." His voice was soft and steady.

"I need to talk to you."

"Ok." Tristan smirked slightly at the innocent smile on Rory's angelic face. "What do you
have to tell me?"

"Tristan... I want to apologize."

"You do?" Tristan was perplexed.

"Yes."

"For what?"

"I want to apologize..."

"We've already established that Rory." Rory pouted when Tristan interrupted her.

"Shut up and let me finish." Rory looked like she was about to throw a temper tantrum.

"Sorry."

"Hey! That's my line... let me just get this out."

"Ok." Tristan said with a smirk. Rory pouted a bit more, her bottom lip edging further
south.

"I wanted to say that I was sorry for the way I treated you on Friday. I didn't mean the
things I said. Yes, I admit, that you can be a jerk, but you're still human... I think... and
you did not deserve to be treated like that. So... I'm sorry."

Rory hung her head and waited for Tristan to answer. At this moment she noticed that her
and Tristan's hands were intertwined, and that they were in very close proximity to one
another. She was struck by how natural the position felt. Rory lifted her head and caught
Tristan's eyes. 

Something in her caught fire that very instant. Rory was not sure what it was, but she
liked this new found feeling. As she stared deeply into the sapphire blue of Tristan's eyes
she felt suddenly calm and comfortable. As if she had been doing this all her life.

Tristan, on his part, found it rather difficult to breath. Here he was, Rory's hands in his...
and she wasn't pulling away. In fact it looked to him like she wanted more. Tristan was
over come with emotion. Rory was the girl of his dreams, and now she was standing in
front of him, opening herself to him.

The room seemed very hot all of the sudden. Rory had no idea what was about to happen,
but it felt so right. She pulled her hand away from Tristan's only to let it come to rest on
his chest. Rory felt his heart jump at the contact. She could feel his solid chest underneath
the thin blue shirt and it radiated heat towards her.

Tristan closed his eyes and revealed in the sensation of Rory's touch. It was gentle and
soft, yet strong and curious. He felt his breathing become shallow and irregular. He knew
that this was wrong, Rory was drunk, but he was having a difficult time trying to tell
himself to back off.

"R...R..Rory." Tristan's voice caught in his throat when Rory's finger found it's way into
his shirt, pulling him closer yet.

"Tristan... open your eyes." Rory looked up at him expectantly. Tristan took a deep breath
and slowly opened his eyes. Rory was smiling at him. Her eyes darting from his lips, to his
eyes, back down to his lips. Tristan knew what she was asking, he wanted to feel the same
thing.

"This is so wrong." Tristan shook his head slightly.

"What is?" Rory asked while inching her head closer to his.

"This." Tristan said in one breath before swooping his head down and capturing her lips
with his.

***

The sensation that ripped through Tristan’s body was unlike anything he had ever felt
before. The thought of kissing Rory in a state like this was so wrong, yet the action felt so
completely right. 

Her lips moved against his in a perfect dance of motion. She was asking, no begging, for
him to deepen the kiss. Tristan wanted to go forward so badly, but was afraid of what
might happen if he let all of his inhibition go. Rory’s hands were swarming all over his
back, pulling him closer to her. His hands, however remained stationary, one on her lower
back, the other, cradling her head. Tristan was losing control of his senses and any
moment longer would be the point of no return.

He pulled himself away from her and attempted to back away a few steps, but Rory held
him close. Her eyes bore into his. Tristan couldn’t pull himself away from her anymore.
The bottom half of her swollen pink lips quivered with desire.

“Rory I....” Tristan’s resolve was fading fast.

“Please Tristan.” Rory nudged Tristan’s cheek with her own.

“Rory.. this is...” Rory nuzzled her lips against Tristan’s ear and kissed along his jaw line.

“Please.” That one simple request made his knees go weak. Rory’s eyes made contact with
his for a brief moment before his lips once again descended upon hers. There was no
holding back this time. Tristan had tasted her once and had become addicted.

The sweetness of the kiss had now morphed into fiery passion and reckless abandonment.
His need ran deeply. Never in his life had he felt as alive as he did now. The same feeling
held true for Rory as well. Even as intoxicated as she was on alcohol, she felt some part of
her empty heart become full. She was becoming dangerously drunk on the passion and
emotion that Tristan was filling her with.

Rory’s body had a mind of its own as her feet slowly carried her, and Tristan, closer to the
bed that was in the room. Tristan gave no sign that he was going to pull away from Rory
now. Rory’s hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they slowly drifted down to the
top of Tristan’s belt. Her fingers worked quickly as she pulled Tristan’s shirt away from
the hem of his pants.

Tristan inhaled sharply when he felt the chilled air hit his skin, and felt his muscles twitch
when Rory’s fingers caressed his bare skin. Rory’s lips smiled slightly as she leaned into
kiss Tristan again, but she met empty air. Her brief sense of panic disappeared when she
felt Tristan’s warm lips upon her collarbone.

Rory moaned softly at the sensations traveling through her body. The sound just urged
Tristan to move on. His kisses danced slowly, almost agonizingly so, up her neck. Tristan
smirked as he looked Rory straight in the eye. She pouted at the delay between kisses.
Tristan laughed quietly at the expression on her face. Rory glared at him before wrapping
his shirt in her fists and pulling his lips to hers.

Each time their lips met a new passion ensued. Not one part of their bodies was not
touching the other person. They were as close as they could physically be without actually
being inside the other person. Rory’s hand began to feveriously undo the buttons on
Tristan’s shirt. When the last button was done, Rory found that her knees had backed up
against the edge of the bed.

Tristan had no idea where the were in the room. In an attempt to get closer to Rory he, he
surged forward and actually found that she ended up falling backwards onto the bed. He
crumpled right down on top of her. Rory saw his off balance position as an opening, she
pushed the collar of his shirt off his shoulders and slowly pulled it down his arms until he
was free of the garment.

Rory slowly backed herself up so that she was lying completely on the bed. Tristan merely
crawled over her before settling his weight on top of her. Their lips met yet again. Rory’s
hands dug into Tristan’s air, sending tingles down his spine. Tristan’s hands wandered
slowly up and down Rory’s sides before settling on her hips.

Tristan’s lips moved once again along Rory’s collar bone. Her back arched towards his
body at the contact. The movement caused Tristan to moan into her neck. Rory’s hands
hand some how found their way to Tristan’s belt. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle. 

Tristan kissed his way back up her neck, and settled on her mouth again. He brought one
hand down to help her with his belt. His hand came in contact with his he began to
expertly show her what to do but he suddenly pulled away.

The trance Tristan was in had been broken. He looked down at the beautiful girl before
him and turned away in shame. What the hell had they almost done? Tristan scrambled off
the bed and began to pace the room.

“Tristan? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this Rory.”

***

Rory looked up at Tristan’s pacing form from her spot on the bed. A sense of perplexion
upon her face. Things had seemed to be going so well, and now, now she had no idea
what to think. Was she no pretty enough? Was she lacking in her romantic ability? Did she
disgust him? The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

“Why Tristan?” He turned to face Rory. Her tone was much harsher now than it was when
she first asked him what was wrong.

“Please Rory, don’t...”

“Oh I see. Was I not good enough for you? Do I not meet your standards? Am I more
ugly than those other bimbos you’ve been with? I should have known, you have standards
and I don’t live up to them. Well good-bye Tristan.” 

Rory scrambled off the bed and quickly made her way to the door. Her intoxicated state
made that move much harder than it should have been. She weaved slightly as her feet
carried her towards the exit. She thought she had finally made it to her destination when
her hand fell upon the door knob. She turned the handle and jerked the door open, but it
was slammed shut just as quickly. Her eyes drifted up the door and fell upon Tristan’s
hand holding it closed.

“First I’m not good enough for you, and now you’re not letting me leave?”

“Rory stop.”

“Stop what? I understand completely now. You only date the beautiful girls, the ones
destined to become trophy wives. I’m not up to those standards. Just let me leave.” Rory
said as she tried to open the door again, but was still held back by Tristan.

“Rory for the love of God please stop this.” Tristan pleaded as he stared down at her.

“Stop what?” Rory continued to yank on the door but was getting nowhere.

“Stop acting like you’re not worthy.”

“Apparently I’m not.” Rory growled.

“You are.” Tristan placed his hand under her chin and made her look into his eyes.

“Then why did you pull away?” Tristan could see the beginning of tears in her eyes.

“Because you’re too special for this to happen like this.” Tristan searched her eyes for any
sign that she understood him.

“I don’t believe you Tristan.”

“You might not believe me, but if we went through with what was going to happen, you
would have regretted it in the morning.”

“Says you.” Rory slouched onto the bed, instinctively hugging Tristan’s shirt which had
been laying on the bed.

“Rory. Don’t do this. You are in no state to make rational decisions.”

“I am perfectly capable of deciding what to do in my life.” At this point she fell off the
bed. Tristan stared down at her rumbled form and kicked himself for even thinking that
Rory may have felt something during their moment of passion.

“That’s it. I’m taking you home.” Tristan crossed to Rory in two quick strides and helped
her up from the floor.

“I can drive myself thank you.” Rory jerked her arm away from Tristan. He quickly
grabbed it again.

“Rory you just fell off a bed. What makes you think you can drive?” There was silence as
Rory pouted in defeat. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Tristan slide his arm around Rory’s waist as the
walked out into the hall and down the stairs. Tristan could feel the stares of his friends
boring into his shirtless body, but he chose to ignore their presence and deal with the
taunting later. Rory was more important right now.

Tristan guided Rory out the back door. She had her head down. Her nose buried in his
shirt, seeming to be using it as a life raft. Rory slowly walked to her car. Tristan tagging
along. When they got their Rory tried to get into the drivers seat, but Tristan made her
scoot over to the passenger side, taking the keys from her as well.

Rory leaned against the window, enjoying the calm feeling the cold glass gave her. She
could feel the beginnings of a major headache. Tristan sighed as he started the engine and
headed down the driveway for Stars Hollow. It had been a long night, and daybreak was
still hours away.

***

The drive to Stars Hollow passed slowly and silently, as if moving in slow motion. Rory
struggled to keep her eyes open as the effects of the alcohol began to overcome her
senses. Tristan would glance her way every few seconds to make sure that she was all
right, fearing that she would become sick at any moment.

If someone were to tell Tristan a few hours ago that Rory Gilmore would become drunk
and then proceed to throw herself at him, he would tell them they were crazy. Those kind
of antics did not apply to Rory. She was too controlled, too in tune to her feelings to do
something like that. But then again, she had just done what he had never thought possible.

After what happened tonight, Tristan feared that the school project they had to work on
together might be in jeopardy. He glanced her way yet again. Rory’s face was much paler
than normal, and Tristan could see a sheen of sweat upon her brow. He knew all to well
the hangover she would experience tomorrow.

Tristan sighed as he returned his attention to the road. No sense in causing an accident.
What he really wanted to know is why Rory let loose like she did? Not only was it not like
her, but he feared he may have caused her actions. If that was the truth then he vowed to
never make those moves again. Sure she may have been all over him, but Rory was, is, too
special for him to take advantage of like that.

Tristan took the Stars Hollow exit, and proceeded to drive into town. He only hoped that
he could remember the way to her house. Tristan chuckled silently as he remembered the
only other time he had driven out here. At the beginning of the year he heard Rory
comment that she had always wanted to read a book by Bob Woodward about the Clinton
Administration’s economic policy, but had been unable to locate a copy. Tristan scoured
all the bookstores in Hartford before finally coming up with a copy. 

He had then used his “contacts” and gotten directions to Rory’s house. He had left the
book in her mailbox, without a hint of who it was from. She probably thought it was from
that bagboy boyfriend of hers. At least she was happy, for the very next day, he saw her
toting it around with her, reading it at every free moment she had. His friends still asked
him why he was smiling so much that day. He doubted that he would ever tell them. 

There were few people in the world who know who the real Tristan was. He rarely let
anyone inside. Ever since his mother had died when he was seven he refused to let anyone
into his heart, excluding his father. They were best friends. Unlike his peers Tristan had a
loving relationship with his surviving parent. That was another thing that few of his friends
knew, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Then Rory had walked into his life. She breathed a new scent into the stuffy educational
institution that was Chilton. Tristan’s heart screamed to let her in, but his mind told him
otherwise. His conflicting emotions worked there way out in the verbal sparring matches
that had become the highlight of his day. When he was away from her, his heart took over
his sense. But, when they were together it was his mind that was in control.. 

He treated her like crap and he knew, he wanted to fix that, but for some reason, he didn’t
know how. Whenever Rory was around he reverted back to kindergarten psychology.
Attack the one you love. Then tonight had happened. She was vulnerable, and the only
idea running through his head was to keep her safe.

But his emotions went on overdrive when they were back in the bedroom. Luckily, he saw
what was going on, and stopped. She may have been disappointed then, but as soon as her
brain was functioning normally again, she would have regretted any actions that may have
transpired had they not stopped.

Tristan pulled into her driveway. He turned to look at her. Rory had fallen asleep. Her
head was against the window, and her breathes were deep and rhythmic. Even under the
influence of alcohol, she looked like an angel. Tristan undid his seat and walked to the
other side of the car. He carefully opened the door, catching Rory in his arms as she slid
out of the vehicle. 

He kicked the door shut and proceeded to carry Rory into the house, he just prayed that
the door was open. It was, he should have known. Rory lived in a small town, everyone
knew everyone else, why were locks necessary. Once inside he let his eyes adjust to the
darkness. He had no idea where her room was so he laid her down on the first piece of
furniture that looked mildly comfortable, the sofa. He draped her with a blanket, and
gently kissed her forehead.

It was then he noticed that his shirt was still in her clutches. He tried to slid it out of her
hands, but she merely gripped it tighter to her, and seemed to pout in her sleep. Tristan
gave up the idea of going home with a shirt on. With one last look at Rory, he walked out
of the house and into the night. He pulled the cell phone from his pants pocket, and called
home.

“Dad? Hey... yeah I know it’s late, but listen, can you come pick me up?... No, I’m not at
Madeline’s, I’m in Stars Hollow. Yeah, that little town. I’ll explain everything on the ride
home. Ok. Yeah.... love you too.”

Tristan cut the connection and stared off into the starry night. He would never begin to
understand why things worked the way they do, and in some ways, he didn’t want to
know. 

***

Patrick DuGray turned onto the empty street, and saw his son sitting on the curb. His
knees were pulled up to his chest, and his arms with crossed on top of them, making a
resting place for his chin. Tristan appeared to be shirtless. That idea was confirmed when
his son spotted him and stood up. Patrick slowed the car to a stop right in front of his son.
Tristan climbed in and closed the door with a large sigh.

“Son, I know you’re the big man on campus and all, but I think parading around shirtless
in a small town might actually hurt your reputation.” The elder DuGray’s attempt to cheer
up his son was only met by a stare of discontempt. Tristan slouched deeply in the seat and
crossed his arms over his chest, turning his attention to the world that was passing by out
his window.

***

When the DuGray’s arrived home they were still in the period of silent understanding that
had occurred in the car. Tristan walked into the marble foyer first, as his dad closed the
large oak door. Patrick looked at his son’s downcast posture, his head was bowed down,
entranced with the floor. He knew his son well enough to know that he would talk when
he was ready.

He placed a comforting hand on Tristan’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, letting him
know he was there. Tristan closed his eyes at the touch and held in a sigh. He felt his
father’s hand slip off his shoulder, leaving a shadow of its warmth. The soft pads of
Patrick’s steps slowly faded away as he left the room. The door to the study let out a soft
whine as it opened. Tristan couldn’t stand the lonely feeling anymore.

“I’m so scared.” The words rushed out of Tristan’s mouth in a hush followed by restrained
sobs.

Patrick turned on his heel and headed back to his son as quickly as his feet would carry
him. His strong arms enveloped his son in a hug and pulled him comfortingly to his chest.
Tristan gave in, and whimpered into his father’s shoulder, finding solace in the soothing
words his father was speaking.

***

The front door to the Gilmore house quietly opened. Lorelai slipped in and headed to
check on Rory. The youth’s bedroom door was wide open, but Rory was nowhere to be
found. She was not reading in the moonlight, and she was definitely not asleep in her bed.
Lorelai began to become frantic.

She rushed into the living room and rushed around looking for the telephone. Maybe Rory
was at Luke’s, or went to the bookstore. She just had to be somewhere. Lorelai became
more and more tense and scared as the seconds past. She threw pillows, and chucked
magazines across the room in search of the receiver. She moved the blanket on the couch,
and found the phone underneath a leg. She dropped the leg and began to dial.

*Wait.... a leg.*

Lorelai stopped her dialing and let out a sigh of relief when she finally noticed that Rory
was fast asleep on the couch. Lorelai dropped the phone on the table and leaned over to
place a kiss on Rory’s forehead. No sense in worrying when she was in the house the
entire time. 

Lorelai smiled lovingly at her daughter as she pulled away. She was about to turn and
headed for bed when she noticed a shirt clutched tightly in Rory’s hands. She leaned down
and felt the soft fabric. She noticed that the shirt definitely wasn’t Rory’s, and she had a
sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t Dean’s either. Just where had Rory been that night?

***

Tristan shifted his position in bed for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. He
was having the hardest time sleeping, in fact sleep was eluding him. Tristan shifted once
again and tried to get comfortable, but nothing worked. His eyes darted to his alarm clock
and saw the neon numbers reading “5:30.” It would be useless to try and get anymore
sleep.

Tristan rarely slept in past 7 a.m. The last time he had was when pneumonia had taken
over his body and never left the bed. To Tristan the mornings were suppose to be the most
productive time of the day. School didn’t start till 8:30 and since he lived only 10 minutes
away, he would often save his homework for the morning when his house was peacefully
quiet. He thought best in the morning.

No amount of thinking would fix his current problem. Tristan swung his legs over the side
of the bed and leaned against his knees, his hands massage his pounding head. 

“Not one drop of alcohol, and I still feel like I’ve got the worse hangover on the planet.”

He slowly stood up, stretching his aching muscles as he did so. They screamed for the
energy that the lack of sleep had left them without. The thick carpet muted his steps as his
slowly padded over to his bathroom. Normally Tristan would jump right out of bed and
decide on some form of exercise, be it running or swimming, but today was not a normal
day at all.

The soft light of the bathroom bathed him in a warm glow, but he felt chilled inside.
Perhaps a hot shower would restore the warmth to his body, but he doubted it. Tristan
turned the hot water on full blast and let the room fill with steam before stripping of his
pajama pants and climbing in.

The pulsating water streams worked their way into his tired muscles. They beat at his skin
and left red stains in their track, but no amount of physical massage would relief him of the
pain he felt. This pain ran so deep it wounded his heart. It left him cold and lonely. And he
felt unloved.

Love.

He laughed at that thought. Who could ever love him.... besides his father? In his world of
empty promises and superficial exteriors, did love even exist? He could not remember
what true love looked like. His view of the emotion was skewed and altered by the empty
souls of the life the led. Yet he longed to be truly loved with ever fiber of his being. He
longed for the warmth he hoped it would bring to his cold soul. He longed for the whole it
would patch in his empty heart. He just longed for it. To feel it’s power and healing touch.
He wanted it so badly it scared him.

He left the shower feeling more drained than empowered. Did this empty feeling ever go
away? There were times when he thought it was gone, only to find that he was hiding it
from himself. 

He knew he could always count on his father to comfort him, but sometimes his
encouraging words and tender hugs were not enough. He felt selfish in asking for more,
but what alternative was there. This lonely feeling that consumed him? He hoped not.
There had to be more to live, and he had to find. He had to find it soon before he drowned
in this sea of despair.

***

Rory awoke with a start, and sat up quickly, before moaning loudly and laying back down.
Her head was pounding and she felt nauseous. A sudden jerk in her stomach sent her
stumbling towards the bathroom. Paying her respects to the porcelain throne was not how
she envisioned spending her Sunday.

When she finally felt strong enough to stand, and when she was sure there was nothing left
in her stomach, she wearily made her way to the kitchen. The wall was a great tool to use
for balance. Sitting on the counter was a cup of coffee that looked suspiciously cold. A
note was stuck underneath it.

She tested the liquid with her finger before deciding it needed a trip to the microwave. As
the mug made it’s revolutions in its happy, heated, heaven, she read the note left by her
mother.

“Hey they sleepy head. I’m a Luke’s. I tried to wake you, but I think you were in a state
of sleep that could rival sleeping beauty. I couldn’t find your true love to awake you with
a kiss.... so this note had to do. I’ll be back soon, or join me... whatever. Love you.
Mom.”

The microwave sounded its finish, and Rory downed the coffee before it even had a
chance to cool. Bad idea. Her stomach was not in agreement with her decision and sent
her barreling towards the bathroom once again. After her trip she decided to just take it
easy and spend the day vegging out in front of the television. She figured she had some
sort of 24 hour stomach virus.

Rory grabbed the blanket that had fallen to the floor and slowly lowered herself to the
cushion. No sense in causing any more journey’s to the bathroom. She paid enough
homage to the toilet god today. She was about to close her eyes when another piece of
cloth caught her eye.

She lifted it closer to her eyes. A pleasant aroma clung to it, and she inhaled deeply. That
was when she began to remember her actions of the day before. She remembered her
aggravation, and then the message on her machine. Rory remembered Madeline’s face,
and then her feelings of freedom. She remembered the first drink. Then her memory went
blank.