Author: Nes
Spoilers: Completely spoiled.
Vague Summary: Paris has an epiphany and she comes out of the Trory closet, using her powers for good.
Notes: There is show dialogue written by Amy Sherman-Palladino interspersed with my own. All dialogue used was taken from the transcripts available at gilmore-girls.net, God bless the transcribers for they shall inherit the earth.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Not mine! Well, Josh is and so is the secuity camera.
Part One
He just looked so sad.
His eyes were so -blue, of course, but blue before it's about to rain and not blue...when the rainbows are out and the birds are singing...
She shakes her head to clear it, she thinks about this too much.
She watches him shift uncomfortably on the piano bench, his long fingers rolling tunelessly over the instrument keys.
Suddenly his back stiffens and he lifts his hands from the piano. He looks up and the blue's a little brighter with hope, but still sad.
The reason why appears. She slides in next to him, somehow not tripping and not falling and not wrinkling her dress or embarrassing herself at all. She does it unconsciously, naturally and he can tell.
His spine relaxes as she begins to speak, small hands moving in easy gestures. He's too busy being fascinated by her to be uncomfortable or sad.
His eyes have gone soft and their bodies have shifted, closing space. They lean in. It's like their mouths have been molded, made for this. Kissing. Coaxing. It goes on forever.
Forever ends quickly.
She pulls away. There are tracks of tears streaming down her porcelain face. You can tell he wants to kiss them away, but his eyes are still mazed with want, with love before he registers that she's fled.
His eyes are still blue. But it's worse. The pain is obvious, as if it is raining now. He just looks so sad.
But then he raises one hand to his lips -it's the hand that had been at the small of her back. He touches his mouth. He smiles.
***
It's the kiss that finally gets to her.
It's the anvil that falls on her head, realigns her thinking.
They looked good together.
And so because Paris was the kind of girl who dealt with reality -who made facts her friend, she made a decision that changed her life.
"Give me the tape, Madeline."
"What?" The brunette was still lounging on the couch, munching on popcorn.
"Going to destroy all evidence so you can live in the land of denial," Louise said cattily. She, too, was eating popcorn. "But I thought we could have a big showing, you know? This tape could be really useful."
Madeline nods.
Paris walked to the VCR, "Do you have any other copies?"
Madeline shakes her head, "Kara hasn't run to the market for tapes yet. I was going to do it tomorrow."
"Good," Paris said as she yanked the cassette out of the player and broke it over knee. Then she proceeded to pull the tape out in streamers.
It felt good. Cathartic even.
"Why'd you do that?" Louise said.
"I'm leaving," Paris answered.
When she got into the Porsche, she began to drive aimlessly and in silence. She liked to drive but she hasn't learned how to work the stereo controls yet. The car was new. She used to drive one of her dad's old Mercedes, but her mom threw that out with everything else.
Paris sighed mournfully; she really missed Spot. It was Spot because of the coffee stain in the backseat from when she was learning how to drive and she had braked too hard at a cross and her dad's cup had gone flying-
So, the kiss.
***
Madeline had been especially hyper this morning when she invited Louise and Paris over. "A surprise," she'd sang.
Madeline had made a big deal of it. The cook had made popcorn (garlic, no butter, no salt).
The picture on the big screen was a little grainy. Black and white.
"It's from the security cameras," Madeline explained as she fast-forwarded the tape.
"Oh, god," Paris said. "Don't tell me you invited us here for amateur porn night."
"No, no. It's good."
And then there was Tristan. At the piano, looking sad.
Her heart wobbled. Funny how she knew what shade of blue his eyes were even with the film being black and white.
And then there was Rory. Looking sad, but also beautiful in a way Paris never would.
***
"Damn," Paris cursed. More to break the silence than to indicate anger or frustration.
Because she wasn't. Either. She felt...something new.
Acceptance, relief. Whatever. It felt good.
Her mother's instinctive reaction would have jealousy, resent.
But Paris didn't resent Rory. The grades and threat to her top standing, she was still pissed about but competition was good. Paris fed off competition; it helped her keep an edge.
Tristan was another matter. Was never hers. Was never going to be hers.
There'd been hope at first when his interest at Rory peaked past the usual New Girl stage. Paris had thought, we're not so different. Driven, smart, not slutty. Maybe Tristan's trying out a new kind of girl. Maybe I'll be next.
She knew, now, that wasn't going to happen. Not when Tristan had finally found a chink in Rory's armor.
But Rory ran away-
The idiot.
She was surprised when she laughed. She didn't laugh often. But it was just so funny. Little Miss Perfect - Queen of Stars Hollow was smart, almost as smart as Paris but she didn't see. She didn't see at all.
And it made it easier for Paris to like the girl. She wasn't perfect, she was Clueless.
The laughing thing got easier. People in the lane beside her moved further away from the maniacally laughing wild girl.
When the hell did she acquire a sense of humor?
She laughed for the duration of her drive, at ease with herself for the first time.
Part Two
Monday at school was good.
She'd had her interview with Josh, the current student editor of The Franklin. He'd commented on her good mood, her laugh. "You want to be the editor, you have to have a sense of humor."
He'd smiled and Paris knew, she had a sense about these things, that in was in the bag. She had the job.
As if to affirm, her locker had opened easily on the first try. She twirled the dial again experimentally before grabbing her books.
"Wow, they raise the wage for French Soda monitors?" Rory asked.
"And how," she smiled. "Where's Tristan?"
Rory looked around wildly. "Why would I know where Tristan is?"
'Ah, so Rory was still a card-carrying member of Oblivious-R-Us. And, also a charter member of Denial Land.'
"Just wondering why he and Summer aren't sucking face in front of our lockers."
"Oh." Rory looked down. "Well, they broke up. At the party. After you left."
Paris knew that. Madeline and Louise had told her. She brushed it off, "Interesting."
"Sure it is. Call the Post." Rory closed her locker and fell into step with Paris. "So did you do the homework for gov?"
Dumb question, Paris thought. She refrained from saying, 'Feeling a little disoriented from smooching in other people's houses? Keeping you off your game?' She was rather proud of her restraint.
"Yes." Paris opened her binder to reveal a crisp, double-spaced and typed report.
"You have a personal watermark?" Rory said.
"It's just the family crest, no big deal." Paris shrugged.
"That's...kinda neat." Rory smiled as they walked into class together, eliciting looks from Madeline and Louise.
They sat beside each other so Paris had a prime seat when Tristan walked into class.
She was surprised that she didn't feel any palpitations. She'd thought letting go of her crush would be more difficult, more prolonged.
Tristan was a different story. His crush was prevalent as ever. He cast Rory a longing look before switching his face to indolence and taking his seat two rows behind. Rory never even noticed. In fact, Rory sat stock still, looking the other way as if the mole on Mr. Galt's nose wasn't something they'd all seen before.
Class began and so did the marathon note-taking. She felt holes in the back of her head. Well, on the right side. She paused in her writing to turn around. Yes, Tristan was staring at Rory.
How come she'd never noticed this?
Why didn't Rory?
Oh, that's right. Because Rory's an idiot.
"Miss Gellar?"
"I'm sorry. Will you repeat the question?"
"Find your group, Miss Gellar. They'll fill you in."
Rory looked at her quizzically. "We're in group three. Come on."
Rory sat down while Paris grabbed her books. Two seats were left in the circle. Paris saw Tristan speaking to the teacher and then making a beeline for their group. One seat next to Madeline, the other next to Rory.
Paris smiled evilly.
She slid into the seat next to Madeline, leaving the spot open for Tristan.
"Can I trade with you, John?" Rory said to the boy on the other side of Paris.
"Too late for musical chairs, Rory," Paris said. "We have to maximize our work time not play party games."
Rory blanched at the word party.
When Tristan arrived, Rory looked away. "Can I trade seats with you, John?"
"Did you not hear what I just told Rory," Paris said. "No preferential treatment. You two are stuck together."
Paris ran the rest of the hour efficiently while playing the amused observer of Rory and Tristan's Polka of Avoidance. Tristan would look at Rory, and then look away. Rory would look at Tristan and then look away. You could set it to music.
She couldn't resist, "So in addition to the different political branches, we'll also need a King and Queen. Rory, Tristan, what about you?
The look on his face was priceless. He almost dropped his pen. "Us?"
"Oh," Rory did drop her pencil.
Tristan noticed because he noticed everything even remotely connected to Rory. "No."
"Yes, no," Rory affirmed.
Oh, that's kind of sweet, Paris thought. He doesn't want to pressure her. Too bad. "Why?"
Tristan groped for an answer, "Because..."
"I just don't want to be queen," Rory inserted.
"Me either." Paris looked at his curiously. "King -I don't want to be king."
"What about you?" Rory pointed at Paris. "You be queen."
'What about me,' Paris thought. 'Tristan doesn't look at like I'm the Aida to his Ramades. Wait, they both died. Oh, well, you two won't get off that easy.'
Paris deflected, "I'm going to be head of Parliament. I can't be queen."
"Be both."
Paris could see the desperation in her eyes. This was fun. "I can't be both."
"Why not? It's our government."
Paris saw Tristan flinch. It would hurt for your crush to be fighting so hard.
"It's not done that way," Paris said.
"It can be though, let's vote."
Paris knew that if she let them vote, Tristan -poor, misguided Tristan- would vote the way Rory wanted.
They were both idiots.
"Rory," she said warningly
"Henry VIII started a new church when the old one wouldn't allow divorce."
"He also cut off his wife's head. Is he still your role model?"
"I'm just saying we have the opportunity to make any kind of government we want here.
"Why won't you be queen?" Paris dared her to say it was because of Tristan. The lady doth protest too much, Paris thought.
"I'll be queen," Madeline interrupted.
Paris elbowed her surreptitiously.
"There. Make Madeline queen."
"Fine, you're queen. Tristan's king." Like it matters, Paris thought. Rory did like Tristan. Paris could tell now.
***
Paris caught up with Rory in the hallway, "Question?"
"Okay."
"What's up with you and Tristan?"
"What do you mean?"
Paris knew better than to expect a straight answer. "You just seem weird around each other."
Rory shook her head, "Nope, no weirder than usual."
Paris pressed on, "I disagree."
"You usually do."
"I think it's strange that you don't wanna be queen."
"You know not all girls want to be queen, Paris. Even Barbie ended up being a stewardess." Paris decided to let Rory go with that weak attempt at evasion. They spoke for awhile before Paris left for her car.
"Hey, Paris," Joshua called out to her.
"Hi," she waited.
"Just between you and me, you're the best candidate."
"Really, thanks."
"I'll enjoy being your lackey."
"My lackey? What are you talking about?"
"You didn't expect me to quit the staff, did you?" He laughed. "I'm only a junior, I'll still be here next year."
"Then why-"
"You can only be editor once. My glory days are coming to a close. Yours are well-nigh."
Paris saw something out of the corner of her eye. Tristan. Rory. Speaking. Interesting.
"Still pining for DuGrey?"
"What? No." She continued to watch them interact awkwardly, pushing a notebook between themselves. She wished she could hear what they were saying.
She vaguely noticed Joshua's hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, I'll see you later," Paris said.
Part Three
Paris woke up in high spirits. Her mom was out on a date/vacation so she had the house to herself. Well, herself, Jamaica the maid, Madrid the driver, and Oslo the cook. (Her mother's love of place-names as first-names extended to the hired help.) But the aroma of Oslo's special poached eggs and blueberry-jam crepes wafted up to her room and Paris generously decided that she liked the staff today.
Plus, she had an assignment due that she thought could be very successful. She had the top three sophomores in her group after all. She grinned, nothing satisfied like academic success.
She'd read the manual last night so when she got into the car, she popped in her brain music sampler cd and took the top down.
Louise and Madeline were already there sniping. Typical, she thought.
"Hey, Paris," Madeline greeted her. "Louise hates you."
Nothing could get to her today. "You'll thank me when you get into Sarah Lawrence."
Rory came in and Paris ignored Madeline's retort.
'She brought clown donuts? And coffee,' Paris thought. 'Well, none for me because- she brought me decaf with soy milk. Rory makes it entirely too difficult to dislike her.'
"Thanks," Paris said. 'I would never do that. I don't know what kind of coffee Rory likes. I don't even know what kind of coffee Louise likes and I've been hanging out with Louise since kindergarten.'
"Ladies," Tristan strode in and the extra bounce in his step did not elude Paris. "Paris, can I talk to you for a sec?"
Intrigued, Paris followed him into the hallway.
Tristan leaned against the row of lockers, one foot set flat against a door. His eyes closed momentarily. When they fluttered open, he looked her in the eyes and let the customary lazy smile overtake his features. "So, Paris, what are you doing tonight."
"Studying," she narrowed her eyes.
"How about you put off studying for a couple of hours and come out with me for a little fun," he leaned in but it wasn't the way he'd leaned into Rory.
"No."
Tristan almost fell over. She could hear him mutter under his breath, "Two for two."
Talk about a test of being over somebody, Paris thought.
"What about we do something as friends?"
"How come everyone just wants to be friends with me," he blurted out.
"Hardly," Paris said. She gave him an encouraging smile.
"But you have to go out with me."
"Why?" 'Hmm,' she thought. 'Panic, High color. Show of emotion. Must have something to do with Rory.'
"Because then she'll think I didn't try hard enough."
There was no need to say who she was.
"Wait. You mean Rory told you to ask me out." Paris couldn't help it. She laughed.
Tristan looked at her confusedly. She laughed even harder.
She knew she should be offended, that it could be construed as Rory offering Paris castoffs. But the whole scenario was absurd. Once upon a time, Paris loved Tristan. Tristan loved Rory. But now Paris didn't love Tristan, and Rory did love Tristan -or at least liked him enough to get sweaty palms, Paris had seen the stains on her lit notes. The point was, now Rory and Tristan liked each other but Tristan was asking out Paris because Rory asked him to. And of course Tristan was going to do whatever Rory said because Tristan liked her, and he wanted to Rory to think he was sweet.
They were both idiots.
They deserved each other.
When she had regained her composure, she looked at Tristan. He was equal parts insulted-ego and kicked-puppy.
"Why on earth did Rory suggest that you ask me out?"
"Because she wants me to date someone of substance."
"She called a halt to the slut brigade?" Paris was too fascinated to be tactful.
"Full stop. A girl who's smart, driven, and has ambition." He was obviously quoting.
"While I'm flattered that the two of you think I rank, did it ever occur to you that Rory also fulfills all those requirements?" She pressed.
She pressed too hard and his expression gew pained. "It occurred to one of us."
"I won't ask which," Paris said. "But does the offer for tonight still stand? As friends, I mean?"
He shrugged. "I've never really had a girl friend." He paused. "A friend who is a girl."
"I'd be honored to be your first."
He smirked.
"Shut up or I'll make Rory queen and tell her you love her."
Tristan gaped.
Paris hesitated. "I should tell you something if we're going to be friends. I know about the kiss."
"What kiss?"
"Madeline's security camera taped every second of heavy breathing."
"So Madeline-"
"And Louise knows, too."
"How comes it's not all over school?"
"I have my ways."
"Well, thanks, you are a good friend." He stuck his hands in his pockets, looked at his shoes, then at Paris again. "So can we talk about Rory? Because you're the only one who knows-"
"That you like her. A lot," Paris emphasized. "Only because it's distracting you two and we need to get an A on this project."
"It's distracting her, too?"
"Later, loverboy," Paris said. "We've already lost two minutes of scheduled work time."
"Taskmaster," he teased without any overt sensuality. Paris appreciated it, she turned to walk into the classroom. "So seven tonight?"
"I'll pick you up."
"Modern woman." He hesitated. "Uh, Paris?"
"Time is GPA points, Tristan."
"Do you have the tape?"
"It's safe, I broke it. There will be no dubs of you and Rory on the piano bench circulating the Chilton black market."
He stuck his hands back in his pocket, disappointed. "Oh. I kind of just wanted a copy. A keepsake."
"You're sick, Tristan." She gave him one last look before going into the classroom.
***
"So how'd your date with Tristan go?" Rory was waiting by the lockers.
"Fun. I wore a fabulous little top."
"Seriously?"
"The date was fun but no on the top."
"So when's the next date?"
"You tell me Rory? You have our wedding planned, too?"
"What are you talking about," she blushed.
"Never mind," Paris said. "We've decided to just be friends."
Joshua came up to Paris then and said, "Can you be at the Newspaper office after school?"
"Sure," Paris answered easily.
Joshua smiled, "I'll see you then."
Rory whistled. "So do you need one?"
"One what?"
"A fabulous little top?"
"Why would I?"
"Because that guy-"
"Business. He's a junior."
Rory looked like she was about to argue, then stopped. "So we're almost done with this government project. Do you want to go shopping with me?"
"Point A to Point Z in about five seconds. What are you talking about?"
"Well, me and my mom."
"I remember Lorelei."
"We're going to be in Hartford Saturday at the Sun Plaza. To shop. Do you want to come? Since we're sort of friends and now and my mom's good at the fabulous little top thing. Not that you couldn't do it with Madeline and Louise but we're sort of friends now and-"
"Okay," Paris surprised herself.
"Hey, Tristan," Rory says over my shoulder. Paris guessed Tristan was right, asking her out had put him back in Rory's good graces.
"Hello, my two favorite ladies." He smirks and puts an arm around each of them, "Shall we go to class?"
Rory shrugged him off and exchanged a look with Paris.
"We shall," Paris said and they walked off
Rory looked over her shoulder at Tristan, "Well, are you coming?"
***
To be Continued