Looking down at the small plastic stick, Rory frowned and cast a wary look towards the door. It couldn't be, it just couldn't.

Everything was coming along so well, or at least she had thought. That was, before Tristan stormed out that morning, completely engulfed in a blind rage. Why, oh why did she have to do it. It was simple. All she had to do was take her pill. Once a day, same time every day. Tristan had never asked her for anything, much less needy than Dean, Logan, and Jess put together. He had, however, asked her to go on the pill.

You see, Tristan's father passed away the year before and he was left to run the family business. No, not business, empire. It sure had taken it's toll and they were all suffering. Tristan was home a lot less, coming in at all hours of the night, crawling into bed with Rory and then leaving the next morning at seven am. Without fail, he was always out of the apartment by seven. He could get in at four and he'd still leave by seven.

The point is that Rory left for work at eight-thirty which meant that she wasn't even awake when he left for work.

She'd had a hunch for about a week. Her period was late, had been late for a while. It had been a week before she had noticed. Things at the Times had been hectic, moments were not easily spared and she couldn't even comprehend what an hour off would do to her schedual. After work yesterday Rory ran to the supermarket and picked up a pregnancy test, making sure to grab one that expressed a positive in the form of a pink strip. That night she'd waited and waited for Tristan to get home. Eventually she couldn't fight sleep any longer and only took a moment to set the alarm for six am before she crawled under the covers and dozed off.

The next morning, when the alarm sounded and roused her, Rory became anxious. It wasn't even the fact that she could possibly be having her world change around her in one moment, it was that Tristan was sitting up already, dressed in his work clothes which were heavily creased and he looked discheveled. Oh no. As she met his eyes, she knew. She just knew that he knew. But the problem was that she didn't know if there was even anything for her to know that he knew that she had already known.

A glance in his eyes had her wanting to shrivel up. Ten months. Ten months is how long they had been together, only two months when his father died, only six months when she got her job at the New York Times, and only seven months when they moved in together. They had spoken of having children, only two times had they discussed it. Only twice had Rory ever seen him that angry, frightened, and confused. Tristan had told her of his distaste for children and of how he would never have them.

He looked just as angry as he had been on those two occasions before, only now he had an opened beer in his hand and two empties on his bedside table. "Hey" she greeted timidly. He continued to stare at her, seemingly unseeing of her anxiousness. "You okay?" She prodded and sat up.

He took another swig and looked back down at her, his eyes in a dull blaze. "No." Was all that left his mouth.

Seeing as she already knew that he wasn't oblivious, Rory jumped straight to the point. "You know." She stated simply.

"I know." He said and followed another swig with a frown. "Or at least I know that you think you know." His creased brown flattened out after a minute and he took another swig of dark, expensive beer.

Rory followed his lips as he spoke and then made her own lips timidly move around the words forming in her head as she went along, "We could find out." It was a prob from her more journalistic side. Hopefully she'd get more from him than one word answers and words spoken in circles.

Another swig finished off his beer and he cracked open another on the edge of his bedside table. A long pull from the long necked bottle seemed to calm him a bit, or at least bring him to the truth. "I don't want to know." He muttered, spitting it out calmly like it left a foul taste in his mouth. It completely shocked Rory. She knew his dislike of kids but she had thought that he'd change his mind for her, for them. For their baby. Lis lips met in a purse and only released when he spoke again, "I don't want it." He took a gulp of beer and spoke once more before leaving the bed. "Get rid of it or keep it. I don't care, just don't come to me about it because I'm out. We have no future if u keep that baby."

His feet could be heard pounding down the hallway towards the loungeroom where all of their freshly laundered clothes waited to be folded and pressed. After a moments pause Rory rose from the bed and tore off down the narrowly enclosed pathway towards her boyfriend. She burst into the seating area where Tristan was changing his shirt speedily, seeming to want out of the house quickly. She stumbled slightly and kicked his dirty shirt off of her foot as she went. "You don't want this Tristan. This isn't you."

He must have mistaken Rory's words in his drunken state as he continued to crookedly button his shirt becuase he answered her incredudously with a simple, "Exactly."

"No, you misunderstood Tristan. What I meant is that you do want this baby. You want this baby and you want me." Rory took a deep breath and blinked away her impending tears. "Tristan, you aren't like this. You were so different in high school. You were so caring." Rory took in another breath and her brown furrowed as if something dawned on her. "You were so different eight months ago."

A bitter laugh left his lips as he pulled a clean pair of black slacks on and stepped into his black shoes. He turned towards her, his eyes still blazing and teeth clenched. He was seething. "And you know what Rory, I wouldn't have wanted it eight months ago, or eveneight years ago. I. Do. Not. Want. Kids!" He had stepped toward Rory as he spoke and although she knew he'd never hurt her, she was still scared. A step back from him made her reasess the situation. Maybe he would hurt her. He was so drunk that he had put his shoes on the wrong feet and she would have laughed at him, had she not almost been in tears. He continued to seethe. "You find out and either get rid of it or get your crap out."

He left quickly and Rory crumpled to the floor, hoping to god that she wasn't pregnant.

Now Rory sat in the bathroom, plastic test in her hands and pink strip reflecting in her eyes. After only a seconds thought, Rory rose and walked into their bedroom. She pulled a huge suitcase from under the bed and started to pack her bags because she chose it. She chose her baby over him because it was defenseless while he could defend himself. She'd always known that she'd choose it.