Pairing: R/T, of course
Rating: PG-13 at the
most
Spoilers: May reference
anything and everything from Season 1
Disclaimer: The
characters referenced here are the property of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy
Parker Drank Here Productions, and Warner Brother Television. No copyright infringement is intended. The characters are being used solely for
entertainment purposes, and no profit is being made from them.
Unbreakable Heart
by Grace
Part 1: The
Anniversary of Our Discontent
Rory
sat quietly under a sprawling tree, munching on an apple, focused intently on
the worn copy of Pride and Prejudice
in her hand. She didn't hear the soft
tread of footsteps rustling the lush grass; didn't notice the lengthy shadow as
it inched closer.
Ten
feet away, Tristan halted his approach, hardly daring to breathe. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful sitting
there, a cascade of dark hair concealing her face from his gaze. It took all of his willpower not to close
the distance between them, to brush back that hair so he could see her gorgeous
blue eyes. He knew that if he gave in
to that urge, her afternoon would be spoiled.
After all, she had said she hated him.
Tristan
cringed as he felt the familiar twinge of pain that memory always caused. Despite her harsh words, he couldn't seem to
find a way to stop caring for her. Just
as they had always done, countless girls threw themselves at his feet, charmed
by his looks, his money, and his power.
Once upon a time, he had believed he could use those girls to make Rory
jealous. Now, it just wasn't worth the
effort. Rory didn't care who he
dated. She didn't even care about him.
Glancing
at his watch, he realized Rory's bus would be arriving in a few minutes. Since starting work on The Franklin, she often had to wait for the five o'clock bus. How pathetic was it that he knew her entire
routine? Allowing himself the dangerous
luxury of a quiet sigh, he turned and walked away.
Rory
closed her book when she heard his sigh.
Tristan. She had felt his presence several minutes
earlier, just as she had felt it every day that he stood watching her in
silence. It was as though she had some
strange sort of radar where he was concerned.
She could feel his eyes on her, and sometimes she even believed she
could sense his feelings and hear his thoughts. The phenomenon made her a bit sad. She had long ago figured out the motivation behind his
behavior. For whatever reason, he still
wanted to date her. Perhaps it was
because she was the only conquest who hadn't succumbed to his charms. She refused to admit that it might be
because he truly cared for her. That
simply wasn't Tristan's style.
Exhaling
a sigh of her own, Rory slowly got to her feet. There were days when she missed the tentative friendship they had
begun to build. But friendship was all
she could offer him, and he would always want more.
Lost in
her reverie, Rory didn't notice Dean's approach. When he said, "Hi, beautiful," she practically jumped out of her
skin.
"Dean! Hi!
I didn't hear you coming." So why can I sense Tristan anywhere within a
half-mile radius? her subconscious wondered.
"Yeah,
I kind of got that impression," Dean joked.
"Are you all ready for our big date?"
Rory
nodded. She and Dean were celebrating
yet another anniversary, which was why he was picking her up at Chilton. They were going to some fancy restaurant in
Hartford, and Rory had even been excused from Friday-night dinner at her
grandparents' in honor of the occasion.
Secretly, she wasn't really looking forward to the evening, since Dean
was constantly finding new "anniversaries" for them to celebrate. She couldn't even remember tonight's reason,
although she had a sneaking suspicion it was for something along the lines of
"the first time they admitted watching the TV show Two of a Kind."
Ignoring
her inner frustration, Rory just replied, "I can hardly wait."
Hand in
hand, they walked out to the parking lot.
Rory immediately noted that Tristan's was one of the few cars left. Quickly, she glanced behind her, but saw no
sign of him.
* * *
The
restaurant was fairly empty when they arrived, since it was only 5:30. Rory was extremely grateful of this fact, as
she had skipped lunch to study for a physics test. Within a matter of minutes, she and Dean were seated in a quiet,
secluded booth. There were candles and
fresh flowers on the table, and the lighting was romantically dim. Rory would have been much more comfortable
at Luke's, but Dean insisted that tonight be "special."
They
were just finishing up their appetizer when Rory noticed a family being seated
at the booth behind Dean. Returning her
attention to her boyfriend, their inane conversation about which color M&M
tastes the best was almost immediately interrupted by raised voices coming from
the other table.
"It's
simply not good enough, and you know it!
How many times have we told you how important it is to uphold the family
name? Anything less than the best is
unacceptable!"
Dean
snorted. "Man, some people…"
Before
Rory could reply, another voice spoke up, and she froze. "I'm doing the best I can!"
She
knew that voice. Tristan. What was going on?
There
was a third voice now, a woman's, smooth and cultured. "It has become increasingly obvious that your best isn't very good. How on earth do you expect to get into Yale
with grades like these?"
Tristan's
voice took on an angry edge. "I guess I
just figured you'd buy my way in, like you do everything else."
The
older man, who Rory assumed to be Tristan's father, spoke again. "That will be quite enough, young man! You will
find a way to bring your grades up by the end of the term, or you will face the
consequences."
"Yeah,
like my life could really be any worse," he commented snidely.
"All
right, you may leave now," said his mother.
"Wait in the car while your father and I enjoy a pleasant meal."
Without
another word, Tristan slid out of the booth and stalked towards the door.
Rory
quickly stood up, ignoring the fact that Dean was trying to start a
conversation. "Excuse me, I…need to use
the ladies' room." Without even a
glance back, she rushed off after Tristan.
He was
halfway across the parking lot by the time she exited the restaurant. "Tristan!" she yelled.
He
stopped and turned, astonished to see her standing there. "Rory?
What are you doing here?"
She
didn't reply until she had lessened the distance between them. Even so, her words came tumbling out in an
incoherent stream. "Dean…anniversary
of…something…booth…overheard…parents …"
Tristan
reached out and took her by the shoulders, struggling not to recoil from the
unexpected current running between them.
"Okay, slow down. Breathe."
She
paused for a moment, her eyes brimming with concern.
He
slowly removed his hands from her shoulders, and said, "Alright, let's try that
again. What are you doing here?"
Rory
felt as though her eyes were magnetically drawn to Tristan's. Mesmerized for a moment by his blue depths,
she hesitated before replying. Finally,
in a soft voice, she spoke. "Dean and I
are here for…some anniversary, and we were at the next table. We couldn't help but overhear, and I…I just
wanted to make sure you were okay."
Embarrassed
that she had witnessed his interaction with his parents, he scowled. "Why would you even care?"
Rory's
eyes pleaded with him. "Tristan, what they
said to you…it was inexcusable. I know
we're not exactly friends…"
He cut
her off. "The way I remember it, you
hate me."
"I
don't hate you," she whispered.
"Excuse
me?"
"I
don't hate you," she said a little louder.
Tristan's
face was somber. "Then why did you say
you did?"
"Dean
didn't understand that we were just friends."
"Ah,
yes, the famous boyfriend. Does he know
you're out here with me?"
She
blushed and cast her eyes towards the ground.
"No, he thinks I'm in the bathroom."
He
turned to leave. "Well, then, maybe
that's where you should be now."
Impulsively,
she reached out and caught his wrist.
"Please, wait. I'm sorry. If you ever need to talk, I'd listen."
"Thanks. Now go inside—I don't want to ruin your
anniversary."
As he watched,
she reluctantly walked back into the restaurant. Once she was out of sight, Tristan's shoulders slumped, and he
looked visibly dejected. Of all the
nights, of all the restaurants, of all the Chilton students… Were the Fates conspiring against him? He had seen Rory with her mother, witnessed
firsthand the love and affection that they shared. She, least of anyone, would understand what it was like to be a
part of his family. Practically since
birth, it had been made abundantly clear to him that he would never be good
enough. When he had gotten home that
evening, his parents had greeted him with the news that he was currently
getting a "C" in English. Before he
even had a chance to respond, his parents had hauled him out to the car and
headed for the restaurant. Public
humiliation was nothing new, but having Rory as part of the public certainly
wasn't normal.
Resignedly,
Tristan made his way to his parents' Lexus, and entered his leather-upholstered
prison.
* * *
When
Rory returned to the table, Dean gazed at her in concern. "Hey, what took so long? I was starting to get worried."
Trying
to remain calm, she replied, "Oh, I just ran into someone I knew." Noticing that their entrées had arrived
during her absence, she quickly added, "Wow, the food looks really good."
Catching
her subtle change in subject, Dean allowed the matter to drop.
The
remainder of dinner passed in relative quiet.
Dean asked Rory a few questions about Chilton, but she never seemed to
get into the conversation. She only
picked at her food, despite the fact that they were at a four-star
restaurant. But the true revelation
came when the waiter asked them if they wanted coffee and dessert, and Rory
turned it down.
A
worried frown creased Dean's face.
"Rory, what's wrong? I've never
seen you refuse coffee before."
She
looked at him listlessly. "I'm just not
feeling too well. I think I'd like to
go home."
Dean
tried to hide his disappointment that their romantic evening was being cut
short. "Okay," he said slowly. "If that's what you want…"
She
nodded, and averted her gaze once more.
She continued to sit in silence while Dean signaled the waiter and paid
the check. Her mind was consumed with
thoughts of Tristan: the hurt in his voice when he reminded her of the harsh
words she had spoken, the pain that filled his normally sparkling blue eyes,
the utter defeat with which he told her to return to Dean.
Admittedly,
they hadn't had much interaction since she and Dean reconciled. If anything, Tristan had been avoiding her,
with the exception of his surreptitious observation of her. Still, she had only seen such despair mar
his handsome features once before—the day she said she hated him.
Much as
she didn't want to admit it, she knew her conscience wouldn't allow her to rest
until she found a way to help Tristan.
His parents had said something about his grades, so maybe she could
offer to tutor him. She wasn't sure if
his pride would allow him to accept her assistance, but she had to do something.
From
his position in the driver's seat, Dean glanced over at his girlfriend. It was obvious that she was upset about
something, and it bothered him—a lot—that she didn't want to talk to him about
it. He wondered, briefly, if he had
done something to upset her, but he quickly discarded that thought. She had been fine when he kissed her
good-bye at the bus stop that morning, but ever since he picked her up from
Chilton, she seemed distracted. It was
becoming increasingly apparent that something had happened at school. A disturbing thought crossed his mind. There had only ever been two people at
Chilton who were capable of driving Rory to complete and utter distraction:
Paris and…Tristan. Please let it be Paris, he wished fervently.
Trying
to sound nonchalant, he asked Rory, "So how have things been going with Paris?"
Startled
out of her reverie by the question, her articulate reply consisted of, "Huh?"
"Paris. The paper.
Have you guys been getting along okay?"
"Oh. Actually, yeah. She finally decided that I wasn't a threat to her, and she's
actually been pretty complimentary of my articles."
Dean
felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. If Paris wasn't the problem, then it had to be Tristan. Unable to ask the question that would
confirm his worst fear, he instead stared straight ahead and continued the
drive back to Stars Hollow.
Wrapped
up in her own musings, Rory didn't even notice his sudden silence. Instead, she waged an internal debate about
how to offer Tristan her help without having him reject her.
When
the pair arrived at the Gilmore house, Rory gave Dean an absentminded peck on
the cheek before quickly extricating herself from the car. She bounded up the stairs without inviting
him in or even saying goodbye. With a
heavy heart, Dean pulled away from the house and headed home.
* * *
That
night in Hartford, Tristan lay sleepless in his bed, staring at the
ceiling. After finishing their
dinner—which took a remarkably long two hours—his parents had joined him in the
car and continued their yelling and ultimatums. They informed him that he would be getting an English tutor. He was told that he would be allowed to
choose his own tutor, but if his grades didn't dramatically and rapidly
improve, they would pick a new one for him.
A
tutor. He could only begin to imagine
the humiliation he would suffer once the Chilton crowd heard this. He honestly didn't know whom he could
ask. There were a few obvious choices, like
Paris, but Tristan knew they would never let him live it down.
He knew
who he wanted to ask, of
course—Rory. Who better to pore over
Shakespeare's sonnets with? But asking
Rory was just as bad as asking Paris, possibly worse, since he actually cared
what she thought of him. Even if she
didn't hate him, as she had insisted, she certainly wouldn't want to waste her
free time helping him. And even if, by some miracle, she did agree to work with him, there was no
way Bag Boy Boyfriend would allow it.
He
rolled over restlessly and closed his eyes, knowing that sleep deprivation wouldn't
improve his performance on the pile of homework he needed to finish that
weekend. The effort proved fruitless,
however, as images of Rory danced behind his closed lids, much as they did
every night as he struggled for sleep.
He could see her so clearly, standing in the restaurant parking lot,
looking up at him with eyes filled with genuine concern. He opened his eyes in resignation. Thoughts of Rory had once again commandeered
his brain.
Why
couldn't the girl make up her mind?
First she doesn't want anything to do with him. Then they kiss, only she runs away
crying. Next they sort of get to be
friends. After that she gets all pissed
because he buys her concert tickets, and tells him she hates him. And now
she wants him to believe she actually cares about his well being? Whatever.
And women say guys are confusing…
Thinking
back on the way he had spoken to her earlier that night, he grimaced. She had reached out to him in compassion, if
not friendship, and he had shunned her.
What if he had just wasted his last chance to break down the wall that
had been built up between them?
Grunting
in frustration, Tristan hoisted himself out of bed and crossed the room,
yanking open a dresser drawer. With
short, angry movements, he stripped off his clothes and pulled on a pair of
swim trunks. He padded silently
downstairs; knowing there would be hell to pay if he woke his parents.
The
October air was crisp and cold against his skin, but he walked slowly, hoping
the numbness would also penetrate his heart and mind. The water of the pool glistened in the moonlight, and the sharp
scent of chlorine assaulted his nostrils as he drew closer.
He
bounced lightly on the end of the springboard before executing a perfect
dive. As the heated water enveloped him,
Tristan at last felt a sense of peace.
He had always loved to swim.
Some of his favorite childhood memories were of the summers he spent at
his grandparents' home on the French Riviera.
It was his grandfather who had taught him to swim, to sail, and to
appreciate the nourishing and life-giving properties of the water. When high school began, he had wanted to
join the swimming and diving teams, but his parents had adamantly refused that
he pursue such non-academic interests.
He
surfaced from his dive, the water cascading off of him. He swam idly to the side of the pool,
catching one hand on the ledge. He
tilted his head back, the full moon looking enormous in the night sky. As was his habit, he immediately picked out
the North Star and made a wish.
"Starlight,
star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the
wish I wish tonight." Tristan took a
deep breath before continuing. "I wish
for Rory to understand how much I care for her, and for her to learn to care
for me."
Pushing
off from the wall, he began swimming laps.
* * *
