Title: The Wake-Up Call
Author: Nate
Pairing: Paris/Rory, more of a friendship story than a romance. 3rd person POV.
Spoilers: About mid-season three, but no specific spoilers alluded to except for the acceptance letters. No male love interests in this one.
Rating: PG-13 (profanity, medical scares, verbal parental abuse)
Disclaimer: Dang it, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't own Gilmore Girls? Amy-Sherman Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, Hofflund-Polone and Warner Bros. Television have it! Thankfully they don't own that dumb Tucker Max movie Matt Whatsizname stars in. Really dude, smart move, going from playing a douche on TV to...playing a douche in a film. I guess it's right in your wheelhouse.
Archiving: For now this is exclusive to the Posse Princess community, but eventually it will go to my personal LJ ff•net, and RalSt. Anyone else ask first.
Summary: Paris learns Rory will be there for her, whether she likes it or not.
Author's Notes: So I sent music to Danielle for her birthday in a card I mailed to her two days before. Little did I know that it would end up being an impromptu get-well card also, and my poor beta and best friend ended up in the hospital with appendicitis. On her birthday. Which in a word, just sucks. It would be like getting to meet Liza and then when you see her, crashing into a streetpole and ending up in the hospital without actually meeting your acting idol. So as I talked to her and through the last week, this idea came into my head after Emma created the community, and I decided to run with it.

Danielle, you inspire me everyday, and I hope that this 'second birthday' gives you all your heart desires. It gave you a new iPhone and I really hope that you enjoy playing with your new not memory-leaking toy :).

This story is also dedicated to Chelle. Please feel better soon, dear. You deserve happiness and all of your friends, and your writing also amazes me so much.

She remembered the pain throughout the day. Ambling the halls, grabbing her books from the locker, still making conversation and verbally bantering with Rory as if she was just fine.

Paris knew she wasn't OK. Not even close. Her gut felt like Lance Burton stabbed a sword through it. She barely ate lunch, eating a chicken sandwich in small bites. Paris knew she would be called a failure by Sharon if she didn't get to 3:20pm. The woman would never answer her phone; one time when she was fourteen and feeling heavy cramps, she called home.

"Mommy?" she pleaded into the microphone. "I'm sick, please pick me up."

Silence on the other end. The firm woman on the other end of the line never accepted Paris call her anything but 'Mother'. Sharon found it undignified to be even called a mother, since her 'alarmist gyno' had claimed it was the only opportunity she would ever to have a child. She had Paris, but only after her husband begged and pleaded with her to keep her.

"Mommy? Please, I'm really hurting! I think I need to see my--"

"Suck it up, dear. You have two hours. Nanny will pick you up and take you there. I don't want to hear anything else about you being sick, because it shows weakness." She heard the line click. Humiliated, had to tell the nurse on duty in the health room that she needed to lay down in the dark cinder-blocked room for the rest of the day. Closing her legs together she felt tired and hateful of herself and her body for misbehaving.

Her mother never asked her if she recovered from her illness. Harold had to sign the permission for her to have birth control in order to keep more control of her period. The woman barely paid attention to her, but unfortunately for Paris, the custody arrangements went Sharon's way. If not for Francisca and the rest of the Gellar Manor staff, the blonde would have been completely ignored.

Now it was seventh period. Her vision was blurry and she rocked back and forth in her seat, hoping the eight Tums she took through the day would finally take effect. She could barely read her textbook at all, both through tears and her eyes almost tightened shut. Just 90 more minutes, she thought. I can go home. I'll just leave the paper in Rory's hands and go home. Rest. Hope I'm better by 8:15 tomorrow...

The pain stung harder. She bit her lip hard to keep control of herself. More rocking in her desk. She felt a tapping on her shoulder. Rory handed her a note.

Are you OK? It read. Paris turned around when the teacher faced the blackboard to make a point.

"Just...fine." Her voice was strained. "Don't worry about me."

"Paris, your face is...it looks like it's in pain," she whispered, with full concern for her president. "You should go to the health room."

She was harsh, hiding it behind her pain. "Butt out, Gilmore! I'm...I'm...I..."

Her voice picked up volume, and the instructor turned to face her.

"Miss Gellar," she intoned firmly. "Do we have a problem?"

Paris shifted in her seat in order to keep the pain away. "No problem at all, Dr. Albrecht."

"Let's see that there is not." She turned back around and went back to her lecture, leaving Rory to watch Paris carefully. She knew that Paris never shifted in her seat so much, nor did she dart her head around the room.

Forty-five minutes later Paris's pain was even worse. She got up from the desk very slowly and everyone beat her to the door. Rory stayed behind and offered her hand.

"Paris, you need to go to the health room," she urged. "You look pale--"

"I'm fine!" Her tone was deep and loathing. "Stay out of this, Gilmore. I'm going to go home and lay down and everything will be fine."

"But, Paris!" She was pushed away lightly by the smaller girl, and Paris darted out into the corridor towards her locker. She was going slower than usual so Rory easily caught up to her. Staggering in pain she held her hand against her stomach rubbing it through the blazer, hoping to soothe it. She grabbed at Paris's arm again as she cringed in pain.

"You need to go."

"I don't!"

"Stop being stubborn for once! I'm not going to leave you until you seek medical attention."

Worn out by her VP's persistence, Paris tried to push her away as coldly as she could. "Fuck you, Gilmore. I'm going to be fine, so back the hell off!" She reached her locker at that moment, dropping her bag down and lifting the combination lock up to unlock it. Her eyes had no focus however and she spun the dial in the opposite direction. Heavily sweating she began to feel a deeper lurch in her stomach. Rory stated near her despite her attitude, staying behind her.

The pain became too much. Rory saw Paris's hands shaking and her posture quickly slumping. She's not gonna make it, she thought, realizing that there was no way she could possibly get to seventh period.

She didn't understand why the girl was so stubborn to keep her attendance record, but this was not the time for her to worry about it. If she was about to convulse as the pain became unbearable, she had to be there.

Rapidly thinking, she took action, dropping her backpack to the ground, not caring if anyone stole it. She turned around towards the nearest student.

"I need that trash can from the end of the locker, now!" she shouted as she wrapped her arms around Paris to keep her in control. She had given up on unlocking her locker but was still obstinate that she was fine, but in full anguish she couldn't really do much but await the inevitable. The student opened the metal door and yanked the wastebasket out as Paris grasped for dear life against the locker. Her stomach rumbled deeply and she began to feel tears come to her eyes.

Just in time, the student handed the basket to Rory, who held Paris shaking in her arms as she placed the wastebasket near her mouth.

"Go get Ms. James, the Headmaster, anybody..."

Her words were stopped abruptly as her rival felt the final thrust in her stomach. Screaming in agony, she could no longer keep her illness confined.

"Paris, come on, I'm here...I'm here for you," Rory declared desperately as Paris emptied her stomach, anguished and in pain as she vomited in the hall. She was humiliated, in pain, but could no longer deny that Rory was there for her.

Dry heaving, she felt Rory reach into her blazer pocket and grab her cell phone to make the calls and place it in the pocket of her blouse, all the while keeping her steady and standing. But she began to feel weak, the pain overwhelming her and tears cascading down her face. Trying to speak was painful, but she persisted.

"R-r-rory?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I hurt," she said simply, choking back a sob. "I feel like I'm...I wanna die...owww!"

"You're going to be fine, Par," she promised. "We're gonna get you to the..."

She was about to say 'the health room'. But as Paris's eyes rolled upward, she knew that even the nurses of Chilton wouldn't be able to help in this situation. The smaller woman's muscles loosened in her grip, and all she could do was try the best she could to guide her to the floor as she fainted in as slow a manner as she could. Hyperventilating and running on pure adrenaline as she took off her sweater and balled it up against Paris's head to give her a pillow, Rory looked up at Madeline and Louise, looking down at her in shock.

"What's going on?" Louise asked. Rory immediately handed the phone her way.

"Call her father. I know he's in Dallas but tell him to get home. I know he will. Everyone you know, call. Nanny first, then Mr. Gellar."

"What about her mother?" Madeline wondered as Rory kept her fingers on Paris's wrist to make sure her pulse was still steady.

"She better damned well come," Rory growled darkly. "If not for her Paris would've been in the hospital by now." She looked down at the girl and released the button on her tie and the top button of her blouse, hoping to keep her comfortable and breathing. Ms. Peters came to the scene at that moment and began to clear all the onlookers away.

"Get to class, now!" She came to Paris's side, across from Rory, who was thankful to know that the Gulf War veteran and her faculty advisor was fully trained in medical triage. "She looks very pale. How long do you think she's been holding this back?"

"Hours," Rory said. "She has Sharon Gellar for a mother, doesn't she?"

"Times like these are why I hate the emphasis on perfect attendance." Rory could only look on as the trained servicewoman took over the situation, and she bit her knuckles while praying that her best friend would survive.

Whatever it is, she thought, I have to be there for her. She knew a long couple weeks were ahead.

10:45am, St. Alphonse Regional Medical Center, next day

Paris had never felt this way before. She had been awoken a few minutes earlier as her vitals were checked, surprised to see herself in a hospital room, upon a bed and wearing a medical gown with various tubes, wires and monitors upon her person. Her personal doctor had spent the night at the hospital and Dr. Merton was prepared to give the intense girl the details of what had gone on over the last few hours.

"Appendicitis?" Paris was shocked. "And what else?"

"Hypertension," the woman told her sternly. "You're technically still a kid, Paris. But you've been 'working' an 8am-9pm schedule lately, along with two hours of homework. It only exacerbated the pain you felt, putting off going to the health room. If your friend hadn't acted when she did you could've died. Your cardio system was just that close to a full cardiac arrest, Paris."

"But I eat healthy," she rationalized, her voice ragged from the intubation and her being tired from the medications to ease the pain. "You told me I have the health of Teddy Roosevelt once.""

"I did...when he was seventeen," she disclaimed wearily. "Thankfully I won't have to put you on anything to treat your heart because it was only magnified by your pain. But your thirteen-hour days end now."

"But...you can't do that."

"I have." She nodded coldly. "You almost died. Let me remind you of that. It came to light that your mother refuses to let you have any medical appointments within school hours and will not pick you up when you are sick. That is unacceptable. It is dangerous. Paris, it is not a badge of shame to miss school. I remember when Sharon made you go to a pox party when you were three. I laid her ass out on the table for doing so."

"But...doctor...I need school. I need...to learn."

"You need to be sane." She set her hand on Paris's. "The headmaster has sent along a form of emancipation for you to sign, at his urging. That gives you the power to choose to leave school if you want, not Sharon. He was shocked by how you held back being sick for hours. If you would have went to the hospital after first period when your friend noticed you weren't yourself, you might have been home by now."

"So...I have to stay?" Paris was in fear, feeling hurt that she caused all of this panic because of her stubbornness to accede her mother's wishes. "What...what about...homework?"

"Everything is on pause on my orders. Charleston agrees. Ms. Peters also agrees. I'm sorry that I had to do this, but your friend Rory was incredibly worried, and she was right. I know this is a critical time and acceptance letters are coming in the next week or so, but you will be able to make up the work. Just not right now."

"The...the paper?"

"It's in good hands." Just then, Rory walked into the room, still in her uniform from the day before, wearing the shirt untucked and wrinkled, and her hair in disarray. She held a bouquet of peach roses she bought from the hospital gift shop. "Ms. Peters and I will co-edit the next two weeks, but we agreed she'll do the editing this week. That way you don't think I'm usurping you."

"Rory." She blinked her eyes, trying to focus them back to normal. "Why are you here?" She noticed the girl's rumpled demeanor. "Did you...sleep here?"

Rory nodded. "They let me in after the surgery. I fell asleep in the chair next to you. Not the usual procedure but I've been a wreck since you went down." She placed the flowers on a table off to the side and stood above her friend. "You gave us all quite a scare, young lady."

"I'm sorry...owww!" She felt a bit of pain as she adjusted. "Was...was it really that...bad?"

"Paris, you had to get emergency surgery. It was incredibly touch and go until the results came back that your appendix was near rupture. If you would've sucked up seventh hour I wouldn't be here right now." She frowned, bending down to bedside. "Then you had the heart problems and it just got worse. The air evaporated from the room. They...they...oh my God."

"What?" Paris was scared. "Dr. Merton, what happened?"

"I don't know that you want to know, Paris."

"But...I do." She knew she probably wouldn't want to know, but her curiosity won out.

"You had a lot of stress held back," she said soothingly. "It probably contributed to your immune system weakening and the infection, and before they did the surgery...your heartbeat was weakening." A pause. "You had to be defibrillated before they could go any further."

"You're kidding." Her face paled and she laid back in the bed. "Oh my God, I was not at that step."

Rory took Paris's hand. "I got off the ambulance with you and was immediately steered to the waiting room. I heard just enough to know you weren't exactly in tip-top shape." The small-town girl was fraught with worry, and her face reflected the stress she had been through worrying for her friend. "We almost did lose you. Thankfully the surgeons and staff here saved you before things went downhill."

"And...and where...is Daddy?" Paris fretted about the status of her most-loved parent.

"Got here as soon as he can, about ten last night just as you came out of surgery. He stayed a couple hours but had to get home; he brought his luggage with him. He'll be back later today and he says he's glad his Sweet Pea is OK."

"That's him." She took a deep breath. "He says...DFW is horrible...to get out of."

"He chartered a jet from Love Field," Rory explained. "I talked to him while we loaded you on the ambulance after he got the message from Louise. Made hell in the boardroom when the idiot CEO he was seeing objected to him rushing out and said to him, 'You want this deal? Then you'll push it aside to let me see my daughter!'"

"So he came right...away?" Rory nodded. "Poor guy."

"He thought Rory handled everything perfectly. She called your Nanny, she picked up your laptop so you can play here while you recover, and the family knows."

"But that leaves...Sharon." The name was said in a rushed and quiet tone. "She...she came by...right?"

"Sharon?" Dr. Merton grimaced.

"Yes, my mother."

"Rory?" Dr. Merton looked towards the brunette, who felt afraid to reveal. But she knew the question would not go away. A pause, and then a sigh.

"Your mother...and I use that term very loosely..." A beat as Rory clenched her right fist tightly. "She's in Barbados, right?"

Paris nodded. "I...wish she wasn't."

"When I called her, she picked up the phone." It took Rory all she had to keep her bile for the woman held back. "Paris, please, tell me. Does she really call you..." the girl frowned. "...a little bitch?"

The blonde was in shock, her breath catching as she realized hiding the problems she had with her mother would end up being her downfall leading to her being bedridden.

"Rory..." she struggled for breath. "I'm...I'm so sorry."

Rory was still tired, but remembered every word of the conversation. "That's how she greeted me, thinking it was you. I told her I didn't exactly find that friendly so then I told her right away you were in the hospital." Three minutes later, the kindest girl Stars Hollow ever had known had relayed to Paris how the obstinate woman had told her she would not cut her break short and that Paris could suffer on her own because it 'builds her character.'

"You know what I said in response?" The slightly older girl hated to be so blunt, but she felt so much care for her friend that she had to say it. "Would you rather her coffin be built?"

Paris couldn't believe it Rory. Rory had stood up to her mother and came out of it unscathed. "So, I assume she hasn't come?"

"I'm afraid not," Rory responded sadly. "I begged her to end her vacation, but she didn't want to leave. She called me every name in the book and I chewed her out for how she treats you. Soon I gave up and hung up the phone. I guess she's pissed that I got you actual medical care and you're being forced to miss school."

Paris was proud of her friend for standing up for her. Her eyes filled with tears, she smiled at the other girl. "You really didn't have to suddenly coordinate anything or drop your plans. I...I'm sorry I put you through this, Rory. I just didn't want...to make you feel as if...I was a burden."

"You never have," Rory said, and then looked towards Dr. Merton. "Can we have a moment, doctor?"

"Of course. I'll check back in three hours, in the meantime keep yourself settled, Paris. I will be making sure you relax." Walking out of the room, she closed the door slowly to not startle her patient, leaving Rory and Paris alone to talk in the room.

"So I really did black out," Paris asked, frowning. "My body couldn't take one more push at all."

"I'm surprised you held out for so long," Rory said with heavy doubt. "I know you think you have to be the Supergirl of the Class of 2003, that your legacy is defined by Harvard and the deep roots that are set here in Hartford." Rory looked at Paris, serious and composed. "But I also need my friend. I don't need her to deny herself medical care because she's a stubborn bitch because of her mother. I almost lost you yesterday; I don't want to have you get to that point ever again."

"For what it's worth," Paris took in a deep breath, hoping to get out a full sentence before her sore throat strangled her emotions. "I'm glad you were there, that you finally made me saw reason. Even if it took me fainting from the pain." As she paused, Rory was witness to the usually firm woman shedding tears. "Thank you for making me go, kicking and screaming."

"Always, Paris." Rory smiled at the blonde, and reaching over, brushed a small kiss across Paris's moist forehead to comfort her. "I'm always here for you."

"Even if it's 4am and I need to rant about the incompetentcies of the PATRIOT Act?"

The brunette laughed lightly. "Let's not go that far. Midnight will work. 4am, the birds are still preparing my clothes for the morning. Not exactly cheery to political debate."

"I can try though." Paris shook her head and coughed a bit, hoping soon that the numbness in her throat subsided so her word speed would be back to 180. "Where are Madeline and Louise, by the way?"

"They'll come today. Didn't want to be here to annoy you. By the way, a pig flew past the statehouse dome this morning."

"Thank God for small miracles." Paris shifted up in the bed. "Um...just for my curiosity, after they did the scan and traced the problem, um...how do I...bring this up? I know you're..." Wrinkling her nose she tried to round around the topic without actually saying what was on her mind. "I know you think of me...as naturally curious...a scientist, if you will--"

The small-town girl rolled her eyes, smirking. "Par?"

"Yeah?"

"It's preserved in a specimen jar. I made it clear you wanted it for your own whatever purposes."

"Are you sure?"

"I asked. They'll have it for you when you check out."

"I knew there was a reason I loved you enough to get you into the VP slot, Gilmore."

"What can I say? You are truly, perfectly predictable. And amazing."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Intubation will get me the first chair for the debate against Miss Hall's." She winked, full of mischief at the expense of her good friend as Paris rolled her eyes.

"You save my life once and suddenly you get a God complex," Paris cracked as she trailed her fingers towards the small incision that her appendix had been removed through near her belly button, through her gown.

"Paris?"

"Mm-hmm?" She was startled by Rory's firm tone of voice.

"Don't you dare. No picking," she warned. "Don't want you here a second time based on your curiosity."

"Don't you have to be at Chilton?" Paris wondered, rolling her eyes.

"Not for the next couple days; I'm gonna help you out at home. Francisca told me a good friend would make you feel comfortable all over again, and she kind of wants to make sure you relax."

Paris was surprised; she expected Rory to use the two weeks she had off in order to bump up her GPA. She was agape and surprised at how kind the girl was to her, no matter what she put her through.

Also, she had faced up to the wrath of Sharon. She couldn't wait until the cursed woman set foot anew on Connecticut soil; Rory would kick her ass for sure.

Settling back into the hospital bed, she pointed to Rory for the remote.

"Suppose we could relax guessing by the retail value of a Broyhill sofa and examining game theory in the odds of hitting the dollar on the Big Wheel?"

"I love the way you think, Ms. Student Body President." As Rod Roddy called for that day's contestants to "come on down!", Paris still felt in a bit of pain and knew this would definitely be her wake-up call to calm herself before she regretted it.

It was also a second chance to realize what a good thing she had in Rory Gilmore being her best friend.

"Rory?"

"Mm-hmm?"

She stretched over and reached her arms over the taller girl to bring her into a light hug, then kissed her on the nose softly. "Thanks for being there for me."

Blushing, she turned around and tried to show that the girl was getting to her in more than a friendly manner. But I'm not telling her that. I have to reduce her stress.

"As long as you're there for me," the younger Gilmore insisted.

Paris smiled as Rory helped her with her pillow. I can't let her go, she thought, feeling butterflies in her stomach that were numbing the pain she felt within her body.

"To the ends of the earth," she promised, and the two girls sat in a small hospital room, bonding over a game show and incredibly awful kosher Jell-O, and a deepening friendship that showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

THE END.