TITLE: Fallen Angel
AUTHOR: Pilla Jeffrey
EMAIL: mah219@yahoo.com
CATEGORY: Angst, Drama
PAIRING: one sided R/D, mild R/T and R/J
SPOILERS: Minor ones for both seasons
SEASON / SEQUEL: 2
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNINGS: mild language
SUMMARY: Dean reflects on his relationship with Rory after he sees her kiss Jess.
STATUS: Completed
ARCHIVE: Fanfiction.net, anywhere else, ask.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Gilmore Girls. All original characters and ideas are mine, though, so don't archive without my permission!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have long been a fan of Dean and Rory's relationship, but the way the writers were destroying his character made me wish Rory to greener pastures. But at the same time, I felt really sorry for Dean. This story is the culmination of my thoughts of mainly season two through Dean's eyes, trying to make sense his motives. Enjoy and hint, hint Review! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember a long time ago, when I was maybe three or four, my grandma visited us. I remember walking in the large and unfamiliar airport, scared at the bustling people and odd machinery. Then Nana came. She was a little more than sixty, with long silvery-blonde hair and these warm chocolate eyes. Suddenly the airport wasn't scary. With this strong, caring woman holding my hand, I was safe. She loved me and I loved this woman back.
Fast forward to two weeks later. I was giggling down the stairs to the basement to tell Nana breakfast was almost ready. I slowed down my excited run at the bottom of the stairs, seeing Nana staring blankly at the ceiling and not moving on the couch. What's wrong? my three-year-old self wondered. Maybe she's sleeping. "Nana!" I whispered, shaking her. "Wake up!"
But she didn't. She laid there, unresponsive, her passionate eyes glassy. I touched her hand to pull her up for breakfast. It was ice-cold. I shivered. "Mommy!" I cried while trying to hug the warmth back into Nana. "Nana won't wake up!"
My mom sprinted to her mother's side, spatula still in hand, and checked Nana's pulse. She covered her mouth and started crying. I was confused. Why wasn't mommy waking Nana up?
My mother cradled me in her arms. "Dean, sweetheart, Nana is in a better place."
"You mean like Disneyland? Then why is she still here?" My naïve younger self begged my mother to explain this complicated matter.
"Dean, Nana is dead."
The bluntness cut like a knife. I lost this awesome presence in my life in an instant. She was strong, brave, fun, carefree-the perfect grandmother ever. And in one second, she was gone. Goodbye, nice time, never coming back. And I can say, quite assuredly, I was scarred for life.
Until she came along with her long, gorgeous brown hair and captivating eyes and mile-a-minute mouth. And I knew I was in love the moment I met-or, well, bumped-into her. There was this instant connection, this attraction, this love that, suddenly, not meaning to get cheesy here or anything, made me believe in angels. And somewhere, deep in my mind, this was the angel of Nana.
Okay, Rory wasn't some sixty-year-old in a knitted shawl, but she made me feel safe in this weird town like Nana did in that airport. Loved. But that was what she made me feel, not what was actually there.
In all honesty, I knew she was attracted to Tristan. I knew she was attracted to Jess. But I wanted to be safe. I wanted her to hold me and never let go. And for a while, she did. She confessed her undying love for me and put her life on hold countless times just to satisfy me. And I was one real son of a bitch for putting her through all that.
I loved her and I destroyed her. I wanted to be with her forever and in that way became super-controlling-boyfriend. I didn't want to lose another woman I loved, so I put her in a locked room. A beautiful room with a satin sheeted bed and rose petals and every known book in the world, but locked just the same. And the vibrant beauty that she was, Rory wanted out. And then I threw a chain around her neck and leashed her to the bedpost.
I wanted our lives to be perfect. Our relationship was a constant soap opera and I thought finally we'd reached the end of the dramatic hurricane. Of course, stupid me, it was the eye.
The way she kissed him, I knew she didn't love me. She might say it, she might think she means it, but in her heart, she's just lying. Rory never wants to hurt anyone and she thinks of herself last. So she convinced herself that she loved me, and sat on the rose-covered bed obediently. She ignored Jess' temptations until she realized that she was in love. Actually in love. Not in some forced scenario I'd created in my twisted mind.
And my beautiful Rory, my savior of mercy and love, has gone to a better place. A place where she is loved. A place where she is free. A place where she doesn't have to deal with me. And if that makes her happy. . . . well, I couldn't stand one more fallen angel on my hands.
~Finis~
AUTHOR: Pilla Jeffrey
EMAIL: mah219@yahoo.com
CATEGORY: Angst, Drama
PAIRING: one sided R/D, mild R/T and R/J
SPOILERS: Minor ones for both seasons
SEASON / SEQUEL: 2
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNINGS: mild language
SUMMARY: Dean reflects on his relationship with Rory after he sees her kiss Jess.
STATUS: Completed
ARCHIVE: Fanfiction.net, anywhere else, ask.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Gilmore Girls. All original characters and ideas are mine, though, so don't archive without my permission!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have long been a fan of Dean and Rory's relationship, but the way the writers were destroying his character made me wish Rory to greener pastures. But at the same time, I felt really sorry for Dean. This story is the culmination of my thoughts of mainly season two through Dean's eyes, trying to make sense his motives. Enjoy and hint, hint Review! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember a long time ago, when I was maybe three or four, my grandma visited us. I remember walking in the large and unfamiliar airport, scared at the bustling people and odd machinery. Then Nana came. She was a little more than sixty, with long silvery-blonde hair and these warm chocolate eyes. Suddenly the airport wasn't scary. With this strong, caring woman holding my hand, I was safe. She loved me and I loved this woman back.
Fast forward to two weeks later. I was giggling down the stairs to the basement to tell Nana breakfast was almost ready. I slowed down my excited run at the bottom of the stairs, seeing Nana staring blankly at the ceiling and not moving on the couch. What's wrong? my three-year-old self wondered. Maybe she's sleeping. "Nana!" I whispered, shaking her. "Wake up!"
But she didn't. She laid there, unresponsive, her passionate eyes glassy. I touched her hand to pull her up for breakfast. It was ice-cold. I shivered. "Mommy!" I cried while trying to hug the warmth back into Nana. "Nana won't wake up!"
My mom sprinted to her mother's side, spatula still in hand, and checked Nana's pulse. She covered her mouth and started crying. I was confused. Why wasn't mommy waking Nana up?
My mother cradled me in her arms. "Dean, sweetheart, Nana is in a better place."
"You mean like Disneyland? Then why is she still here?" My naïve younger self begged my mother to explain this complicated matter.
"Dean, Nana is dead."
The bluntness cut like a knife. I lost this awesome presence in my life in an instant. She was strong, brave, fun, carefree-the perfect grandmother ever. And in one second, she was gone. Goodbye, nice time, never coming back. And I can say, quite assuredly, I was scarred for life.
Until she came along with her long, gorgeous brown hair and captivating eyes and mile-a-minute mouth. And I knew I was in love the moment I met-or, well, bumped-into her. There was this instant connection, this attraction, this love that, suddenly, not meaning to get cheesy here or anything, made me believe in angels. And somewhere, deep in my mind, this was the angel of Nana.
Okay, Rory wasn't some sixty-year-old in a knitted shawl, but she made me feel safe in this weird town like Nana did in that airport. Loved. But that was what she made me feel, not what was actually there.
In all honesty, I knew she was attracted to Tristan. I knew she was attracted to Jess. But I wanted to be safe. I wanted her to hold me and never let go. And for a while, she did. She confessed her undying love for me and put her life on hold countless times just to satisfy me. And I was one real son of a bitch for putting her through all that.
I loved her and I destroyed her. I wanted to be with her forever and in that way became super-controlling-boyfriend. I didn't want to lose another woman I loved, so I put her in a locked room. A beautiful room with a satin sheeted bed and rose petals and every known book in the world, but locked just the same. And the vibrant beauty that she was, Rory wanted out. And then I threw a chain around her neck and leashed her to the bedpost.
I wanted our lives to be perfect. Our relationship was a constant soap opera and I thought finally we'd reached the end of the dramatic hurricane. Of course, stupid me, it was the eye.
The way she kissed him, I knew she didn't love me. She might say it, she might think she means it, but in her heart, she's just lying. Rory never wants to hurt anyone and she thinks of herself last. So she convinced herself that she loved me, and sat on the rose-covered bed obediently. She ignored Jess' temptations until she realized that she was in love. Actually in love. Not in some forced scenario I'd created in my twisted mind.
And my beautiful Rory, my savior of mercy and love, has gone to a better place. A place where she is loved. A place where she is free. A place where she doesn't have to deal with me. And if that makes her happy. . . . well, I couldn't stand one more fallen angel on my hands.
~Finis~