Facing the Impossible
Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls; if I did Tristan would at least have dated Rory once.
Please: Reviews are so loved that they're greeted with squeals of pleasure and a warm fuzzy feeling inside…Conclusion: Please review!
A/N: This is meant to be sad, or at least a little melancholy, so you've been warned. (Please tell me in your review what it made you feel; I'm interested.) While I wrote it I certainly felt melancholy. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
A boy with blue eyes that could once have been described as bright and quirky but were now dull and dead lay in a pristine hospital bed, his blond hair almost entirely shaved off, a little fuzz being the only thing that remained of it. He was staring up at the ceiling with an expression that betrayed nothing; he was practically dead until you looked at the monitors he was attached to, which were calm and beeping periodically to show that Tristan DuGrey was still alive.
A short-haired, dark-haired-brunette nurse – about 23 – who could not be described as pretty entered the room, wearing green scrubs. She checked the monitors briefly, quickly scribbled something on a clipboard she was holding, and then turned to the practically-dead boy on the hospital bed. "So, your name is Tristan DuGrey, you're 23, your family lives in Hartford and you sustained a serious leg injury as a soldier."
Tristan didn't nod, but the nurse knew her information was correct and didn't need his affirmative. "I'm afraid, young man, that you can no longer be a soldier. You know that though, right? With an injury like yours, you may never walk again, let alone march in a line and shoot people." The nurse clearly disapproved of wars and soldiers. "Now, I'm also duty-bound to inform you that Scott Jowls died last night. I think he was your comrade and your good friend…?"
Tristan didn't nod, but his expression seemed even blanker, more despairing, than before. He lay motionless on the bed, not a single finger stirring. The nurse suddenly looked very pitying and moved over to sit on the edge of his bed. "Look. You had a leg injury. We amputated your whole left leg and you'll probably never walk again unless you master the prosthetic. You can no longer be a soldier, which was all you ever considered being, I presume. Your best friend and comrade, Scott, died last night and there's a hollow place inside you. And yet. You have a future, Tristan DuGrey. Losing a leg, a comrade and a job hasn't stopped you from being able to marry a girl you fall in love with, have children, and pick another profession. Stop brooding. Get on your feet, master the prosthetic, marry, and have some kids. I have a feeling that you'll be fine if you do, Tristan DuGrey." The nurse smiled at him kindly and for the first time in a few days, Tristan moved his head to look at her, his blue eyes lighting up just a little. Suddenly, something clicked inside the nurse.
"Tristan DuGrey…Tristan…" she muttered to herself, as though trying to recall something. Suddenly her whole face lit up, she jumped up from her sitting position on the bed, and cried, "Tristan, it's you! You're Tristan! Remember me? Madeline? Friend of Louise and Paris?"
Tristan stared at her blankly for a moment, trying to recall a past that he had long since tucked away. "Madeline…" he murmured. And then his face lit up too and he sat up, leaning against the white hospital-pillows as Madeline sat back down on the bed beside him, grinning like the slightly stupid 16 year old she used to be. "Do you still contact Louise? And Paris? Do you know where they live, what they do, how they are?" He wasn't particularly interested in the three girls' lives, but he was feeling better already and wanted to talk.
"Oh, yes. Louise…she never went to college and she worked as a waitress for a while in a cocktail restaurant instead. Now she lives in Hollywood and works as an actress!" Madeline exclaimed excitedly, nearly jumping up and down on the bed. "She's engaged to some famous actor and I've visited her house several times! Oh, it's wonderful Tristan. She has the most gorgeous house…" Madeline seemed lost in thought.
"So you two are still good friends and Louise is doing very well," Tristan clarified, smiling at Madeline. She nodded vigorously and Tristan winced as the bed bounced and his leg – no, his stump, he reminded himself sadly – throbbed with pain. "And Paris?" he asked her, mostly to stop the bouncing. He no longer felt like talking, more like sinking into deep sleep and forgetting that he was missing a leg.
"Oh, well Paris is about to graduate from Yale. She wants to be a Harvard teacher, write psychiatry-ish books, and when she has kids she plans on quitting the Harvard job and becoming a therapist, which is stupid, I keep telling her."
Tristan nodded. Harvard…Harvard…somehow that reminded him of something. Of someone. Someone he'd tucked away in his memory long ago and tried to forget, but who'd always lingered there on the edges of his mind like a word on the tip of your tongue. Harvard…Harvard…who was it that had something to do with Harvard?
Suddenly it hit him: the memories of Mary, of Rory, of Rory Gilmore, came rushing back to him and he winced as though a huge pain had enveloped him. His fierce feelings for Rory were still there, and, being just unearthed, were extreme. He loved her to the point of insanity and if he didn't see her face soon he would die. "And, Madeline, do you know what happened to Rory? To Rory Gilmore?"
Madeline was suddenly as subdued as he was. "Oh. You still like her." It was stated as a fact. "Well, she went to Yale with Paris and she'll graduate at the same time as Paris. She has this boyfriend, Logan, and from what Paris says I think he's going to 'pop the question' soon." Madeline said it quietly, knowing that it would undoubtedly hurt him. Tristan nodded distractedly.
There was no time to ask more on the topic of his beloved Rory, as a blond, older doctor entered the room looking disgruntled and weary. When he glimpsed Madeline sitting on the edge of his patient's bed and the troubled expression on Tristan's face, he assumed the worst and harshly told Madeline to leave. She looked at Tristan apologetically then left the room.
"So, Mr. DuGrey, you're on the road to recovery. You can be out of here tomorrow. We'll give you a wheelchair and then you can come here regularly to train for the prosthetic, if you want one." Tristan nodded that yes, he did want a prosthetic, and then lapsed into thought as the doctor left, leaving him a few more pills on the bedside table. He could no longer be a soldier. It was the only job he'd ever thought he could have. But then again, the miracle of meeting Madeline had happened, and so maybe he could pursue some other profession. And then there was his best friend and fellow soldier, Scott. Tristan couldn't believe the only person he'd ever confided in, felt comfortable around and considered his only, his best friend, was dead. It was overwhelming. But if he could have Rory, the pain would be dulled. And then there was Rory, of course. There was always Rory and there always would be Rory. He needed to see her face. He would.
(…)
Tristan stood facing one of the buildings that belonged to Yale, concealed behind a row of bushes and leaning against a tree on the edge of the sidewalk. He had his prosthetic leg on, the one he'd mastered after weeks of training and hard work. He could now walk with it and stand with it, and he was pleased with himself. It was almost as though he'd never lost the leg. And, with long blue jeans on, nobody could tell he was wearing a prosthetic.
Tristan watched with interest as a girl with lustrous brown hair faced a boy with blond hair and blue eyes like his own, but softer, more baby-ish features. It was her. She was different, after seven years, and yet it was her. There stood Rory, facing who he presumed to be her boyfriend, the one that was supposed to 'pop the question soon'. She was wearing that funny, flat graduation hat and robes. Tristan knew that, even if this boyfriend of hers asked her to marry him and she said yes, he couldn't interfere.
They faced each other for some time, Rory and her boyfriend, and seemed to be talking. While they talked Tristan had the wistful thought that perhaps Rory only liked this boy because he looked a little like him and, unconsciously, Rory missed Tristan as much as he pined for her. But that wasn't very likely. Tristan watched with growing interest as Rory said something he couldn't hear, and then her boyfriend walked away. Had he asked her to marry him? Had she…said no?
Rory walked slowly in his direction, shaking slightly. He watched with growing amazement as she approached the tree he was leaning on, planning on crossing the street. Now was his chance. Slowly, Tristan moved away from the side of the tree and faced her. Rory looked up briefly, face streaked with tears, to see who it was that was blocking her from walking across the road. When she saw Tristan she mumbled, "Move please," clearly not seeing who he was. But when Tristan didn't move, she looked closer, and, gasping, could only stare at him in shock.
"Tristan? Tristan DuGrey?" she asked incredulously, moving a little closer to see if she was right. Tristan nodded to her, taking in every detail. Her hair, her eyes, her face, her body. She was crying. So she had refused that boy. He should be happy that she wouldn't be marrying someone else, but he wasn't. Because she wasn't happy. Because she was crying. He hated it when Rory cried. It tore him apart.
But her shock was so great that the tears had stopped flowing. "It's really you?" she mumbled, looking him over closely for changes the same way he'd looked at her. When her gaze rested on his left leg and the slightly strange way that the pants seemed to be almost empty, she looked at him with expectation on her face.
"I lost my leg," he told her gravely, and, with the sound of his voice, she suddenly seemed to come out of her reverie and realized that it really was him. "Rory…do you want to go…somewhere…to talk?" he offered, thinking of the long talk he wanted to have with her. She nodded, still somewhat in a daze. "How about…who am I kidding? I don't know this place at all. Do you know anywhere we could go to have some coffee and talk?" Tristan inquired. Rory's trance was broken for good.
She looked at him full in the face. "God you've changed, Tristan. I can't believe it's you, here, now, right after I…right after I…" her lip quivered and she looked as though she would burst into tears again any second. "After I rejected Logan's proposal," she finished determinedly, then broke into wretched sobs. Somehow, it seemed right; Tristan enfolded her in his arms and waited until her violent sobs subsided. "I could have just thrown a whole potential future away, Tristan," she mumbled, wiping her face on her arm.
"I know. I know absolutely how you feel. So...Cafés?" Rory nodded and steered him to a small yet nice-looking little café across the street. They sat down at a wooden table for two, facing each other. "So, Rory, do you want to tell me…everything?" Tristan asked gently, reaching a hand across the table to grasp hers. She didn't seem to mind and so he let it stay there.
Rory nodded and launched into an explanation of her break-up with Dean, how she'd broken up his marriage, how she'd dated Jess, who turned out to be such a disappointment, and then how she and the rich Logan Huntzberger had fallen for each other and how he'd misjudged her by thinking that she would marry him at such a tender time in her life, and, finally, how fiercely she wanted to be a journalist. Tristan listened intently. When she was done pouring her heart out, he felt as though perhaps Scott's loss and the hollow place inside him because of it could yet be filled. And so he told her everything. How he'd gone to Military School, and then joined the army because it seemed like the only option. How he'd befriended the wonderful Scott Jowls and then how he'd found himself and Scott in a hospital, his leg amputated and Scott dead. How he'd met Madeline, how he'd gotten a prosthetic, and then how he'd come to see her.
"I felt as though I would die if I didn't see your face, Rory. I haven't seen you for 7 years and I can bet that you never spared me a thought. It's perfectly fine. I thought of you constantly for a whole year, and then decided that the only way to go on living without you was to tuck the memories I had of you away somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind to unearth some other time in the future. So I did, and then, when Madeline came, she unearthed them for me. I felt as though, once I saw your face again, I could do anything. Did you know that I've always wanted to be a lawyer? I know it sounds stupid, but it was just a strange dream of mine. And now that I can't be a soldier…I think it might be possible. After seeing you, anything is possible."
Across from him, Rory's gaze was unfaltering and her thoughts seemed to be moving around in her head at a considerable pace. Tristan waited while she rearranged them. Finally, Rory seemed to be back in the real world. "Tristan…I don't know what to say. You're the first one that I've told all that to. The first one I…well, I never thought that I would say so much, reveal my whole personal life and all my thoughts to…to Tristan DuGrey, that annoying boy from high-school. But I did. And now, anything seems possible. I can be a journalist. I can still have a good life, even without Logan. I still have a future. Thank you."
Tristan and Rory stared at each other intently for a while longer. Abruptly, Tristan looked away from Rory and focused his gaze on his surroundings as though looking for the strength to ask what needed to be asked. When he looked back at Rory there was determination in his blue eyes. "Rory…will you marry me?" he asked her softly, gently, trying to make it sound as though, if she said no, it would be alright.
"Two proposals in one day," Rory pointed out, a smile pulling the corners of her mouth up just the slightest bit. She looked away too, took in their surroundings without really seeing them. When she looked back at Tristan she knew she had the strength to answer what had to be answered. "I will," she murmured, almost indistinctly. "Tristan DuGrey, I will marry you."
Tristan blinked. Why not? Miracles had been happening lately, and so why should the miracle of miracles not occur? Though it went unspoken, he and Rory both knew what hung in the air: I don't know you perfectly well yet, but we have all the time in the world to get to know each other. We won't get married right away or announce our engagement until the right moment. First we'll kick-start our dream careers, together, helping each other every step of the way and learning more about each other, and then we'll get married. It was meant to happen all along. We'll face the impossible together again and again, and along the way we'll fall in love.