Title: The Fourth Floor

Rating: PG-13( I usually make my ratings high)

Author: Me!(Jamsel)

Pairing: Not telling (sticks out tongue) but cough. Tristan. Cough. Is hot.cough.

Feedback: It's my fuel for life, God forbid you don't give me any!

Summary: Tucked away in the lush Harvard campus, Three enemies (A Rory, A rebel and a certain city in France, who all once shared the same blue uniform) from the past meet again to share their years at College. Engulfed with Romance, fighting, competition and chivalry two create ties that bind, a friendship so strong that knows what might happen. (Not your traditional future fic see AN for explanation)

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own Gilmore Girls, they're the property of the WB and all of those other guys. Uh..some of the verbal zingers in here I borrowed from this e-mail forward.

Circulation: So far only FF.net but if ya want it, take it, post it wherever ya want, just let me know that you are doing so or I will get really mad and I will be forced to boycott said Website or club.

AN: Ahem…Please enjoy this fic, It's my first future thing, I'm a Trory convert **not that I'm hinting anything** Please R/R and enjoy. PS The formatting for this story is pretty different, I've filled it mostly with conversations, most of it is just left to the imagination, not to much description, lets just say its not traditional.

The Fourth Floor

Part One

I thought I lost you somewhere but you were never really there at all. -Goo Goo Dolls

Rory lugged two bags up the stairs, while her mom, and Luke followed carrying a chair and a plant. "Oh man, what floor are you on," Lorelai whined, panting.

"Fourth," Rory replied, opening the door to the landing.

"I think I need a Stairmaster," She commented, gazing at the plant.

"Look for Room 402," Rory's voice echoed in the long wooden hallway. Finally, the reached it and Rory pushed the door open, revealing a medium sized room with a bed, desk, and night table. The window was open revealing a beautiful campus, full of students milling around, carrying bags. "It's weird that there's no one else up here." Rory stuck her head out into the small hallway. Glancing around she turned around in disbelief. "There's only three rooms up here."

"I guess we're in the attic or something," Lorelai commented looking around the room. "It's a nice room, you have high ceilings." Rory nodded smiling.

"I'm glad I got stuck up here, though. It'll be quieter for studying."

"And partying," Lorelai giggled.

"Harvard students don't party, they just hold loud study groups." Rory glanced out into the hallway. Luke carried up the rest of her stuff. "Thanks Luke, I don't think I could've survived another trip." He smiled and stuck out his hand.

"Good Luck."

"Thanks, Luke."

"I'll see you in the car, Lorelai." He turned and headed down the steps.

"I'm going to miss you, kid." Lorelai ruffled her hair.

"I love you Mom."

"I love you too. Good Luck, call me tonight ok."

"Bye." Rory, walked with her to the top of the stairs and hugged her good-bye. She turned when her Mother was out of sight and sat down on her bed, leaving the door open so she could meet her other floor-mates when they arrived. She began to unpack but a few minutes later she heard the door open. Sticking her head out into the hallway her jaw dropped.

"Tristan?"

"Mary?"

*******Flashback***********

Life was never easy, he made quite a few bad choices that had eventually blown up in his face. One thing he missed, eternally were her eyes. The haunting sweetness, indecision and mystery that captivated him every single time he glanced his way. Those eyes haunted him, through good and bad, like a storm cloud. Creating this perfect girl, perfect in every way, the only fault that she possessed was her hatred towards him. Hate wasn't a strong word especially when it came to her. From the first moment he laid eyes on her, he wanted her. At first she was just another conquest, another girl to brag about in the locker room. He was attracted to her innocence. Eventually the verbal sparring matches created something even deeper than he could've ever speculated, respect. She was intelligent, talented and beautiful. From that moment on, he felt something deeper when it came to her. He tried to ignore it, to fill his life with the wealth, the girls, sports, trying to forget. He didn't have a chance, he never would have a chance. Eventually he moved into a relationship that he thought would fulfill his need for a girl that he could relate to, a girl that he could consider his friend before his girlfriend. A girl that he could talk to. The illusion was shattered at the party. She wasn't the girl he was looking for, she told him. He found the girl he was looking for reading a book. At the party and she was surprisingly comforting. She cared, they could have an intelligent conversation. She would've been a great friend, if not girlfriend. If not for that jerk of a boyfriend, they never would've shared that kiss. The greatest moment of his life, was that night on the piano bench, until, that is, she burst into tears and ran. Away, with his heart in his hand, she never gave it back.

The next while was torture. The dreaded talk, she telling him that she didn't like him, it didn't mean anything. For some reason he didn't give up there. The tickets, he still had them, along with his other memories. He recalled a conversation he'd shared with his grandfather about her.

"What does she like?" His grandfather had asked him.

"Music, books." He'd replied dejectedly.

"You need to do something for her, something she wouldn't expect you to do." The old man had advised.

"I could get some concert tickets."

"That's a start, but you'd have to make the evening special. Take her out for dinner, a walk, something. Think boy."

"I guess we could have a picnic or something. In Pickets Park, before."

His grandfather had smiled, approvingly and had fallen asleep.

He'd planned the entire evening, checked out the park, and bought the food. He'd even bought candles, and tickets. She'd said no. How could she have said no. He still didn't understand why, all he'd seen was the subsequent make-out session she'd shared with that jerk. After, his life had fallen apart, his parents divorced and his father had married his twenty five-year-old secretary named Bunny. His stepmother was eight years older than he was. He gave up on her, after the entire Romeo and Juliet fiasco, Military school- a memory he'd tried to forget, he turned his life around there. Military school had actually helped him get into Harvard, where he was now.

****End of Flashback****

"What are you doing here?" She demanded, a neutral unreadable look in her eyes.

"Well, I was looking to get an education, Harvard isn't exactly party central."

"You can't be here, you're evil."

"Yes, I am an agent of Satan but my duties are largely ceremonial."

"Gee, I thought we took a wrong turn," she rolled her eyes, turning and walking into her room, yelling "This isn't Harvard it's hell with fluorescent lighting." Falling onto her bed, she heard him scuffle past, dragging his stuff. She plugged in her stereo and stuck her PJ Harvey CD in the slot cranking the volume and staring out the window counting the ways that her life now sucked. Suddenly the door burst open and a familiar voice was shouting orders. "Come on, hurry up, we don't have all day." Rory stuck her head out the door again and winced. It was Paris.

"What are you doing here," she demanded. Sending a few people down the hall with her things, into the third room.

"I'm living here." Rory retorted, massaging her temple. 'This can't be happening.' She thought to herself.

"Just stay out of my way," Paris commanded and slammed the door behind her.

Great. Just Great.