Pairing: Rory/Tristan

Rating: PG-13 for some swearing.

Spoilers: Anything that has aired in the U.S./Canada thus far. I'm sort of putting my selective memory to good use. Season 1 happened just as it did on T.V. but I'm picking and choosing the things that happened. For example Jess is there, but Tristan never got into trouble and banished to that crappy show. Oops. I mean "military school," of course. The fact that they're both in North Carolina is sheer coincidence.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. They are the property of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, Warner Brothers and others who have far more money than a high-school senior with a part-time job at Wal-Mart (me) does. No infringement is intended.

Authors Notes: This is a response to a challenge found at (the dearly missed) Trory Addiction. The summary for the challenge reads as follows:

Summary: Tristan and Rory have become best friends over time and are basically inseparable until winter of their senior year, when an everyday problem tears (or has torn, this should probably be after the fact) them apart to the point where they can't even speak to one another without fighting. At one time Rory knew Tristan liked her but she's pretty sure he doesn't anymore. What happens when Rory finally admits she loves him, and did while they were best friends to Tristan himself?

There's a few conditions, but I'm not going to write them even though most of you know what they are. Suspense, hello?

All right. So this is my second longer GG fic. I'm a little nervous about this one, because this challenge has been a hot topic among the FF Trories and I hope I don't disappoint anyone, considering that I sort of hijacked it from another author.. Feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated. On with the story.

This is a revised version of the original first chapter. Nothing major is changed, so you don't have to reread it. It's a little more grammatical (thanks in large part to the great and powerful Roxy, and I so need to quit it with The Wizard of Oz references, huh?) with a few additions here and there, basically just adjusted and (hopefully) improved. Enough babble from me.

Everything Changes

Part One: The Beginning Is The End

June - Senior Year

He had watched her. All night, from the instant she had arrived at Chilton, his eyes had been drawn in her direction. He willed himself to stop; he tried to concentrate on anything but her. Some masochistic part of him couldn't help it. He saw her dance, saw her talk and saw her smile. His car had been behind hers as they drove to Madeline's for the post-graduation party that was set to go on until dawn, free of proud parents. And now he slipped through the glass doors onto the patio. He slid them shut, wincing at the whisper they made as they closed.

Her shoes lay carelessly abandoned on a chair near the door. She paced barefoot in the darkness, lit only when she passed through a beam of light made by the lanterns circling the pool. Her head was tilted upwards towards the stars; her hair, which had been painstakingly pinned up earlier, now hung messily on her bare shoulders.

The pounding music from indoors was muted to a barely recognizable murmur. Tristan continued to watch, unnoticed. He crept closer to her on silent feet.

The girl he had chased, only to be shut down at every attempt. The girl for whom he had put his pride on the line for when he had asked for her friendship. The girl he had spent the last six months trying to convince himself he loathed.

"What are you doing out here, Tristan?" Rory asked in a low voice, her back still to him.

Startled, Tristan could not respond for a moment. He cleared his throat. "I came out here to congratulate you," he murmured finally.

"Congratulate me?" Rory asked softly.

"Yes. On the job you did as President. Everyone was saying that you're one of the best Chilton's ever had."

"Then why didn't you say that when you first came out, instead of standing there, watching me?"

Tristan began a weak denial, "I wasn't--."

"You were," Rory stated without a trace of anger or accusation in her tone.

Tristan knew he had been caught. "How did you know?" he asked.

Rory smiled wistfully. "I always have."

Tristan furrowed his brow and waited for her to explain her cryptic remark but she said nothing. The silence grew heavy but Rory still stood there, the serenity he had observed in her a minute ago still in place.

Tristan shifted his weight uncomfortably. He and Rory hadn't shared many silent moments. In the beginning they had shot witty remarks at each other, his filled with thinly veiled innuendos, hers with righteous indignation. During their year and a half-long friendship, they had argued constantly, albeit teasingly, over everything from music to the proper way to eat tacos. During these last six months, whenever they had been forced to communicate they had done so almost unwillingly. They had either coldly discussed student council issues like strangers or viscously taunted each other, intentionally causing harm. Silence was new.

"This is new," Tristan blurted in an attempt to break the stillness.

"Hmm?" Rory replied vaguely.

"You know-- us-- being civil."

"Oh." Rory's shoulders stiffened.

The tension that Tristan always felt around her recently leaked into the air. He shook his head, angry with himself, at her and their mutual stubbornness. He braced himself and waited for her to let the first insult fly.

She turned toward him and they finally came face to face. She held her head up and stared him straight in the eye, and he saw a fierce determination shining in the blue depths. "We need to talk," she said firmly.

Fear tickled at the back of Tristan's mind. He marveled at how ridiculous that was. Him? Afraid of Rory Gilmore? It was laughable. But the flippant remark that the jaded Tristan would have uttered at the lameness of that line stuck in his throat. He considered her words and the tone in which she had spoken them. Though they had had many conversations, some dripping with resentment and disdain, some that held less warmth than two strangers would have had talking about weather patterns, they hadn't actually "talked" in a very long time. It was of this fact that the other Tristan, the self-deprecating vulnerable one that had once been Rory's close friend, was afraid. Since that stupid fight, they had put miles and miles of distance between them. He was afraid of what would happen if he crossed it. But if Rory was brave enough to see what happened, then he was too.

Tristan ran a hand through his already tousled hair and nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "Let's talk."

March - Senior Year

-She's poisonously pretty / And the unsuspecting fool falls prey / As the dim detective's led astray--

Rory pulled into the Chilton student parking lot singing along to the CD that was blaring from her stereo. She headed to her stall, the best one, right at the front. The spot was one of the perks that came along with being senior class president.

Rory's thoughts were interrupted when she caught a flash of black out of the corner of her eye. Tires squealed, someone slammed on their brakes. Rory was jolted sideways, the seat belt dug painfully into her neck, the disc skipped. She heard the crunch of metal being crumpled. Rory looked out her window and saw that a black BMW had collided with the rear end of her car. Rory felt anger boiling inside of her. Wasn't it just like these spoiled little rich kids to ignore basic driving principles? Look before you turn. If there's an object/person in your way, DON'T TURN! Someone was going to pay for this.

Rory turned off the ignition, yanked open the car door and got out. She straightened her full shoulders and narrowed her eyes menacingly. The small crowd that had gathered noticed her _expression and fell silent, ready for a show.

She stood by the BMW, her fury mounting. She didn't recognize the car and the windows were tinted, so she was only able to make out the outlines of two people in the front seat.

The passenger door opened and a blonde girl slid out. She was in the requisite Chilton uniform and it took Rory a second to put a name to the face. It was Jennie Corcoran, sophomore, captain of the JV cheerleading squad, a girl who thought Sweet Valley High was great literature. Rory's nostrils flared slightly. "That's just swell," she muttered to herself. Jennie giggled and patted down her overly dyed curls. She straightened her skirt and glanced up at Rory. The giggles died in her throat and her eyes flitted about nervously.

Rory felt a pang of guilt and softened her _expression. Jennie was only the passenger and insipidity wasn't enough to hang a person on. Rory managed an insincere smile. The girl returned it brightly and leaned back into the car for her backpack. With a tiny wave that could have been construed as apologetic, that is if Rory had any faith that Jennie could spell "apologetic", she turned toward the building.

Rory turned her attention towards the crowd. The arrogant prick of a driver had yet to honor her with the pleasure of yelling at him, and she was beyond pissed. In a forceful, even tone, she addressed the entire group, "Don't you have classes to prepare for?" After a few glares from Rory, and a few quiet, disgruntled protests, the crowd turned away. They knew the tone. It was remarkably reminiscent of the one they heard when their credit cards got taken away.

Once the parking lot was deserted except for Rory, the car door opened. One expensive, perfectly polished leather shoe hit the ground and Rory saw the bottom half of an immaculately pressed gray pant leg. A hand, holding a cigarette, appeared on top of the open door and the driver pulled himself out of the car, revealing the loosely knotted tie and messy blonde head of Tristan DuGrey. Leaning on the roof, Tristan DuGrey smirked lazily. "Morning, Mary."

Rory's already red face flushed anew. She felt her teeth grinding together and she stepped back slightly so she was no longer forced to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. She waited for him to speak. Apologize for hitting her car or something. But he simply stood there, taking long drags on his cigarette and watching her frostily.

Rory forced her fists to unclench and her body to relax. If he wanted to act like that, then she would to. "New car?" she started off innocently.

"It is," Tristan answered cautiously.

"What," she asked snidely, "instead of learning how to use the gas pumps like the rest of us, you decided to buy a new car?"

"It was a present from my father," he told her, his tone clipped.

"Oh," Rory's lip curled in distaste and her words dripped venom, "let me guess, while on a 'business trip,'" she made finger quotes to mock the words, "with the latest nubile secretary, he had a momentary guilt trip and sent wittle Twistan a brand new toy?" Rory watched his eyes. His _expression kept its cold indifference, but in his eyes she could see the stab of pain as her words hit their mark. She immediately felt guilty, but she refused to let it show.

"Something like that," Tristan replied nonchalantly. He flicked his cigarette butt away and slammed his car door shut. "So," he gestured to their cars, "looks like we had a little fender bender."

Rory let out a short laugh. "No, Tristan, 'we' did not have anything. You ran into my car because you don't know how to drive. Did Daddy buy your license along with your acceptance to Chilton?"

"No. That probably would have been easier. Turns out the woman who gave me the road test had a thing for younger guys."

"Whatever." Rory was quickly losing her temper and she dug her nails into her palms. "Here's what's going to happen. I am going to call a tow truck. They are going to take my car back to Stars Hollow, where a mechanic will fix it. Then I am going to send the bill to you, parts, labor and whatever the hell else it'll take to return my car to the shape it was in when I left my house this morning. You, or more accurately your father, are going to pay the bill because you couldn't bother to look before turning. 'Kay?"

"You're usually not here until later," Tristan attempted to defend himself.

"Oh," Rory began sarcastically, "well then it's perfectly fine that you mutilated my car."

"Aw," Tristan wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, "you could just ask farmer Dean to open up another Cracker Jack box and get you a new one."

Rory counted to ten in her head and resisted the urge to smack him over the head. "Tristan," she snapped, "I am so sick of your shit. You hit my car, for Christ's sake."

"So? I thought Miss Independent Rory didn't like it when other people spent money on her."

"Do you really want to rehash that again?"

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Fine. Send me the bill."

"Great. Have a nice day."

"You too." Rory turned to leave. "Oh, and Rory?" he called out cheerfully, and she stopped but didn't turn. She heard him get back into his car. "See you at the staff meeting!"

Rory resisted the urge to stomp her feet, or to swear like a sailor, or throw her calculus textbook through his window. She took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and walked up to the front doors to start her day at Chilton.


June - Junior Year

Tristan sat at the Gilmore's kitchen table; notes and textbooks, pens and highlighters were scattered around him. Outside the sun was setting, and inside Rory paced the six steps across her kitchen, "I don't know!" she wailed. "How can I not know? Our final is tomorrow!"

Mildly amused at her hysteria, Tristan watched her pace. She was about two seconds away from pulling out her hair. "Rory," he started in his best soothing tone, "you do so know. You had this down an hour ago. We have to move onto ecology. Now when does crossing over occur?"

"Metaphase one?" she asked tentatively.

He raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Are you asking me or are you telling me?"

Rory mimicked his _expression. "Are you my friend or my self-help guru?"

"Rory, don't be difficult."

"Fine," she rolled her eyes, "I'm telling you."

"Then I'm your friend."

"Tristan!"

"Fine, fine. You're right."

Rory's eyes lit up. "Really?" Tristan nodded and Rory threw her arms up in the air, "I
rule!"

Lorelai walked into the kitchen sorting envelopes. "The world? Not yet. Bide your time, my child."

"Today biology, tomorrow the world."

"So really it's a well thought out, multi-step plan?"

"Pretty much," Rory agreed.

Tristan listened to them patiently. He had been a friend of Rory's for nearly a year, and the way she and her mother talked no longer seemed strange to him. He glanced at the clock and was surprised to see how late it was.

Lorelai followed his gaze to the monkey-shaped clock on the wall. "Have you two eaten?"

Rory checked the time as well. "I didn't realize how late it was," she admitted.

"Well, unless you want cup-a-soup and peanut butter, we should go out. Al's?"

Tristan grimaced. "I don't think I've recovered from the last time."

Lorelai giggled. "We probably should have warned you that 'pancake' meant 'various cultural cuisine, rarely identifiable by the layman', huh?"

"It would have been nice."

"But we're not nice," Rory reminded him.

"That's true," Lorelai agreed. "Then we go to Luke's?"

Rory glanced at Tristan, and he nodded agreeably. Then she turned to her mother. "Luke's it is. We wouldn't want do deprive you of your coffee or your daily flirt."

"My what?" Lorelai repeated.

"Don't act so innocent. You're like Scarlett O'Hara on acid."

"Rory!" Lorelai exclaimed. "How dare you say that!"

"You.re like one of those birds with the big, pointless feathers--"

"A peacock," Tristan supplied.

"Yes! One of those, and you're all, 'Look at my feathers!' Classic pre-mating isolation
mechanism."

"Okay," Tristan interjected. "No more bio for you." But he was ignored.

"You used to be such a sweet girl," Lorelai told her daughter.

"I still am," Rory said loftily.

"No," Lorelai turned towards Tristan and narrowed her eyes, "you've been corrupted."

Tristan held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I have no part in this."

"Come on. Mom, let's go."

Lorelai turned away from Rory slightly and held her nose in the air. "Tristan, tell my daughter that I am not speaking to her until she retracts her erroneous statements."

"I'll get Jess to put extra cheese on your fries," Rory wheedled.

Lorelai's eyes widened. "How much extra?"

"I'll tell him we don't even want to see the fries."

"You've got yourself a deal, missy."

Rory shook her head. "You're so easy."

"It's sad, isn't it?" Lorelai agreed. "Clog my arteries, and I'll follow you to Texas."

"What's wrong with Texas?"

"I did the big hair thing in the eighties," said Lorelai, as if that explained it all.