Also, every other chapter will be in this point of view. The story will alternate between Tristin telling Rory how they got together and the actual story of how they got together.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Gilmore Girls belongs to AS-P. The title/idea for this story is from "For You I Will (Confidence)" by Teddy Geiger
Rating: eh… K+ to T
You always want what you can't have.
Chapter 1: Do I Seem Familiar
Blue eyes. That's what she remembers. That's all she can remember.
They both sigh. They are on opposite sides of the room. He is studying a book. She is studying him. Trying to remember anything.
He notices her. He does nothing. This is her fight. He cannot help her.
He remembers the phone call from Lorelai. It seems like it was yesterday. It was almost three months ago.
She was in an accident, Tristin. She doesn't remember anything. Please, just come here and see if you can help.
"We dated."
Her voice breaks him from his thoughts. He looks up from his book and nods.
"Yeah."
He notices her squirm. She looks away from him. He wants to know what she is thinking. He wants to know she will be okay.
"You're a… musician."
He nods. "Yeah."
"I don't date musicians."
"I broke through. It took us awhile to get started."
"When did I see you last? I mean, besides yesterday and everyday before that."
He cringes at her question. He knew she would ask this. He just didn't want to tell her. Didn't want to tell her how they'd fought. How he'd been a jerk to her.
"I was going on tour in three days. I wanted you to come with me."
"Did I want to go with you?"
He shrugs. "I think you may have. But you had a lacrosse camp to go to. I was being selfish."
"How?" she asks.
He sets the book down and stands. He ponders briefly whether or not he should end the conversation. Instead, he makes his way over to her side of the room and sits next to her.
"I told you that if you weren't with me, I would break up with you. You couldn't come with me, and I broke up with you. But I was regretting it the minute the tour started."
She studies him. "Did you love me?"
He nods. He wants to tell her he still loves her. But he knows that it will cause her too much pain to hear those words from someone she does not remember.
"Your mother called me the next night. She said you were on your way out to see me when you had your accident."
She looks at him. "Why would I do that?"
"Because it's what you and I do. We break up and get back together all the time. We say things we don't mean, and then we take them back. I was actually going to go and see you that night. Then I got the phone call."
She nods. "Where are you supposed to be now?"
He scratches the back of his neck. "Phoenix."
"Why aren't you there?" she asks.
"Because I want to be here with you."
"I thought musicians didn't have girlfriends," she mumbles.
"I didn't," he responds. "But you got through to me, too."
"We… helped each other."
He smirks at her. "I guess you could say that."
"Did I love you?"
He pauses at this question. He didn't even think about this. He is unprepared for questions like these.
"I like to think you did."
She smiles and leans against him. "How did we meet?"
He looks into her eyes. They are still the same color blue as they were the night they met. When things weren't making sense.
"At one of my concerts."
"So I was a groupie?"
He shakes his head. "No. You were there because Lane wanted to go."
"So Lane was a groupie."
He smiles. "I guess."
"But she's not anymore," Rory says. "Because she's dating that Dave guy now."
He nods. "Yeah. They got together shortly before we did."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"As opposed to what we've been doing for the past five minutes?"
She smiles and blushes. "I mean, a serious question."
"There's no guarantee of an answer."
"That's fine."
"Ask away, then, Mary."
She tucks her hair behind her ear. "Will you tell me our story? Maybe if I hear it, I'll start to remember."
He smiles and leans back on the couch. "Sure."
She leans into him and rests her head on his chest. His heart beat leaves her comforted.
"I was doing a concert in Hartford," he explains. "You and Lane somehow got sound check passes. Dinner and all that jazz."
"Do you sing jazz?" she jokes.
He chuckles. "Not quite. Heard of Howie Day?"
She nods. "Yeah. He's really good."
"I'm sort of like him," he responds.
She nods again. "Okay, carry on with your story."
"Our story," he corrects.
She grins. "Our story."
"It had been raining," he says. "You were soaked, and you were gorgeous…"