I never liked Dean. I liked Tristan. So heres how the show went after the Bon Voyage finale...according to me anyway.

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership or rights to any of the Gilmore Girls characters.

Chapter 1.

Slamming the door to the door of her Jeep, Rory sighed as she saw her husband sauntering out of the garage. She knew what was coming. Another talk about why the Ferrari was so much better than a Jeep. Nothing new. It's part of the reason why she loved him. Smiling, she walked towards him as he crossed his arms and shook his head at 'Old Blue'. Again.

"You know, you can go a lot faster in my car." Rory just kissed him on the cheek and replied with, "I know Tristan. But you cant make it fly and still land it without a dent." Tristan smiled down at her, slipping an arm around her waist as they walked towards the front door.

Tristan and Rory DuGrey had been married for three years in two days. Rory was still hearing the laughter of her mother when she announced their engagement. She was a little shocked herself, it was not a match that she had ever seen herself wanting, or waiting for. In fact if someone had told her this was where she was going to end up 13 years ago, she would have either laughed so hard she cried, or ignored them and kept on focusing her attention on whatever book she had been reading at the time. Either way, it would have made a tremendous joke. As they passed through the door, Tristan announced he was going to take a shower, and would be down in a few minutes. He gave her a chaste kiss and bounded up the stairs.

"Oh by the way…you're welcome to join me." He was resting his arms on the edge of the top of the stair railing, smirking down at her. Rory rolled her eyes and went to hang up her coat to the sound of his laughter. 13 years and nothing had changed, other than the fact that he no longer wore the Chilton crest on his chest. Kicking off her shoes in any direction they cared to land, knowing she would probably get yelled at for it later, she settled down on the couch and clicked on the T.V. Oprah was on, talking about abusive relationships again. Curling her legs up, and resting her chin on her knees, she sighed. She felt for the weeping woman on the television, talking about her alcoholic husband. Unknowingly, a tear rolled down her cheek in sync with the battered soul who was clutching Oprah's hand, as Rory was transported back in time two years.

It was another low point in her life. After graduating Yale, breaking things off with Logan, and going on the Barak Obama bus, she was lonely, and confused. The Job had been marvelous. She had absolutely no complaints about that. It was after the job was over when the trouble began. Once again, Rory was left without a job, despite her many references, credentials and experience. Lorelei was finally married to Luke, and Lane's boys were growing up into little rock and roll monsters. Rory found herself living in an apartment even less glamorous than the one she had once shared with Paris, who was now terrifying doctors, nurses, patients and interns alike in her medical studies. For this reason, Rory was taking vitamin C pills every day. Anything to avoid getting sick. So, alone in a crappy apartment, with no steady job, no boyfriend, and no exciting travels, Rory began to get restless. One night, she decided to get out of her little breeding ground of sorrow, and decided to hit the bar, and called up a few of her old Yalie friends. They agreed on a time and place, and Rory finally had some stimulation in her life. She practically skipped out the door to hop into the same jeep from her childhood; her mother had given it to her as a graduation gift. (she of course had it painted blue in honor of her beloved daughters Alma Mater.) Lorelei had said that the car the Grandparents had given her was nice enough, but it didn't have the history the Jeep contained. Not to mention it was a stick shift. Rory always loved the challenge of a stick shift.

So when she entered the bar, Rory wasn't surprised to not see her friends there quite yet. After all, she had all but run like a bat out of hell in prospect of leaving the apartment to get here. She settled at a table and waited. As she drifted off into thought, nibbling on a pretzel, she felt a hand rest on her shoulder, and heard a familiar voice. "What? No cheeseburger? Now that's not the Rory Gilmore I used to know." Inhaling sharply, she whirled her head around to find the smiling face of Dean looking down at her. "Dean!" she exclaimed, jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck. He laughed warmly and hugged her back. "I cant believe you're here! Its been ages since I saw you last!" Dean nodded in agreement and gestured towards the chair. "Is this seat taken?" "No, no! Sit down, please!" the pair settled down into the chairs and began to catch up, ordering some drinks. Rory had managed a few, short casual conversations with Dean after the party at her Grandparent's house the last time they broke up. Most of the time it was through email, the whole, 'Hey, what's up, how's life', sort of thing, and had passed him in the streets a few times. But this was the first time in well over four years where she was actually able to have a conversation. In the time that had passed, Dean had become taller, if that was possible. His eyes were darker, with that light that you gain with painful experiences in life. His chin boasted a shadow of stubble that seemed to accent his strong jaw line, which gave him an almost dangerous look about him. He was dressed in jeans and a semi-casual shirt and he had cut his shaggy hair into a more sophisticated, working man, short styled do. Needless to say, by the time the buzz of the drinks kicked in, Dean was looking pretty damn good to Rory.

In the course of the conversation, Rory learned that after that party, Dean had tried to patch things up with Lindsey. They had gotten back together for a while, but things just weren't meant to be. They were now friends, and Lindsey had recently remarried. Dean however, well, had never found the right girl, apparently. Clara was in her third year at a state university, studying veterinary medicine. She wanted to work with horses. Dean was now running his own construction company, though it was still small, and ironically enough, still 'laying the groundwork', as Dean put it. Again, with the help of a few drinks in her system, Rory found that particular saying to be extremely hilarious.

Sometime during their chat, the two kept getting closer and closer together, without ever really recalling moving closer. Their feet met under the table and began the classic game of footsie, and their hands and fingers entwined. Rory looked at Dean, who stared intensely into her eyes. Blushing, she looked away quickly. 'What is going on!?' she thought to herself. "I'm over him…I have been…for a long time…haven't I?' Suddenly, she felt two fingers under her chin, pushing her face back toward him, and his soft voice brushing over her senses like velvet. "Look at me Rory. Please." How could she deny him? He was her first love, you don't get over that. It's true that you can fall into a deeper and truer love, but you never get really over your first love. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his, and found his face very, very near to her own. Dean brought his hand up to cup her cheek, and Rory found herself leaning into his touch. "It's always been you Rory…it's always been you." Rory didn't have to ask what he meant. She knew. As she opened her mouth to say something, anything, Dean closed the space between them, and covered her lips with his. Closing her eyes, Rory let him kiss her, and kissed him back. This was what she needed. It felt good to be in his company again, to be holding his hand, and feeling him kiss her. Just feeling something real for a change. The kiss rapidly began increasing in intensity, and she pulled back, dragging air into her lungs and trying to sound out words. "Dean…" she started but was cut off by another kiss, even more passionate than the first had become. After a great while, he backed away, and still holding her hand, got up from the table. "Come on Rory. Lets get out of here."

"But Dean…Where are we going?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere. Rory, don't you get it? These things aren't coincidence. Everything happens for a reason."

Dropping her hand, he back up a few steps and held out his hand.

"See this? This is your reason. This is the reason. And I am asking you to take it."

Rory licked her lips, which she found to be suddenly dry, and tried to swallow so she could get a sound past her scratchy, seemingly useless throat.

"Come on, Rory…Come on."

Closing her eyes Rory gave into the sensations that had been overwhelming her since she had once again looked into his brown eyes. Reaching out her hand slowly, she once again placed her hand in his, and he sighed in relief, crushing her to him. Together once more, hand in hand, they walked out of the bar, into a future unknown.

Rory was jolted out of her memory sequence when she felt a kiss drop to the top of her head. Smiling, and quickly swiping at her tears once more, she reached her arms up and felt Tristan interlink their fingers from his spot standing behind the sofa where she sat. "Hello Husband. You all squeaky clean now?" she head him chuckle and lean down to kiss her neck in the spot he knew would send shivers down her spine, and then whispered hotly in her ear.

"I don't know, wife…you tell me. Do I seem clean to you?" putting a clear emphasis on the innuendo by nipping her earlobe softly. Rory smiled wickedly, and adjusted her position so she was now kneeling on the couch, with her knees facing the back and looking up at the blue eyes of her spouse. Reaching up to run her fingers through the sides of his hair, and linking them in the back of his head, she slowly brought him down for another kiss.

"No, you most certainly do not…perhaps I should have taken you up on your invitation to share your shower…you seem in need of some…supervision." With the last word, she brought her mouth to his and sighed as his hand came up to cup her cheek, simultaneously angling her head to allow for a more thorough exploration of her mouth with his tongue. His other arm snaked around her back, attempting to bring her closer, ignoring the barrier of the couch's back. Suddenly, a loud gurgle filled the room, causing the couple to still. Tristan felt Rory start to smile against his lips, then felt her quivering with suppressed giggles. Groaning, he dropped his forehead to her shoulder, and then reached down to scoop her up off the couch, spinning her around bridal style and then began walking towards the kitchen. "You care to explain to me how your hunger has a knack of interfering with mine?" Setting her down on a stool, he kissed her quickly on the lips again before going to open the fridge.

"Hmmm….Looks like we haven't cooked in a while. Here's your options. Chinese, older chinese, something I think may have been a taco at one point, and a tomato."

Rory scrunched up her face in disgust. "A tomato? How on earth did something that vile worm its way into our refrigerator?"

Tristan shook his head and shut the door to the appliance, and leaned against it. "Well, you see, some of us are actually human and actually require actual nutrients to enter our bodies. It keeps us alive and pretty."

Rory just waved her hand impatiently. "Unnecessary. So who's turn is it to cook tonight. Me or you?" "Yours, I believe." She nodded. "Any preferences?" Tristan thought about this for a second and asked, "If I say yes, will you listen?" Rory smiled lovingly and answered, "Probably not." Tristan laughed and walked over to she sat on the stool, kissing her forehead. "Just don't kill me ok? I have to go make some calls for work. Call me down if your planning on getting all naughty on me and wearing nothing but an apron while you're making dinner, deal?" Rory laughed as he made his way towards the stairs, not quite sure what she found to be funnier. The fact that he actually saw her wearing nothing but an apron, or the fact that he saw her cooking…he was such a silly boy. Picking the phone up off the counter, she dialed a speed number and waited for the other line to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Mom. I need a country."

"Guam?"

"Ambitious, but lets try something with a little safer food prospects shall we?"

"Ooook, then…Italy?"

"Perfect!"

"Get caught selling drugs again, did we? Looking for a culinary competent hideaway?"

"Nope. Just making dinner"

"That's my girl. I have never been prouder."

"Love you too. Bye Mom!"

"Talk to you later, Hun."

Clicking off the phone, she reached for the phone book and opened to the restaurants section. Finding a name that seemed to satisfy her, apparently offering 'fine Italian cuisine', she dialed the number and placed the order. Settling back on the couch with a book, she vaguely thought about going upstairs to bother Tristan, but her rational side voted against it. He was working after all. She opened her paperback instead and started reading, but her thoughts went in a different direction, leaving her just staring at the page lost once again in her past.

"Rory, are you home?" Dean's tired voice filtered through the thin walls of their apartment, seeking affirmation. "Bedroom…" Rory answered with a distracted tone. She was lying on her back on the bed, working on a story that had a rapidly approaching deadline. She heard him enter the room and throw his jacket onto a chair. "Hey you," she said, not looking up. "How was your day?" Dean sighed and flopped down on the bed beside her. "Lets not talk about it." "That bad, huh?" "Yeah." "Hmmm…." They sat in near silence for a while, if it were not for the clicking of the keys as Rory hit them. Suddenly, Dean pushed himself off of the bed. "I need a drink…"

At this, Rory did look up, concern in her eyes that was wasted upon him, as he was walking out the door with his back to her. Almost every night now he had come home and made himself a drink. A very strong drink. She had tried to bring up her concern one time, but it only made Dean angry, he had started yelling at her, telling her she didn't understand the demands of running your own business, and he was just so sick of being responsible all the time, and that he needed something to help him unwind with. He found her later sitting in their bedroom, fiddling with her wedding ring, silent. He had gotten down on his knees in front of her, took her hand and kissed her ring finger, and apologized, explaining he was just under a lot of pressure. And of course she forgave him.

They had gotten married 6 months after their encounter in the bar. They eloped actually. Neither one had the money, or the time, for a big fancy wedding like their families would want to put on. So they ran away together one night. Together they found an apartment, and were living happy as clams for a while. Until the stress of everyday life came creeping into their everlasting honeymoon dreamland. Suddenly, things became harder, and Dean started acting different. Not only with the drinking, but he wasn't as talkative, his eyes didn't seem to hold the same glow they once had. Rory started to worry. She had imagined married life different than this…

The doorbell brought her out of her thoughts and back into the present. Putting her book, which she hadn't even been reading, aside, she went and opened the door. Paying the delivery boy and taking the food, she shut the door with her foot, smiling to herself. "Eight…" she murmured under her breath, unable to stop the habit of rating the delivery people, something her mom had developed in the early days of Yale. Dropping the food on the table, she grabbed plates and silver wear and set the table. Once she had everything arranged, she climbed the stairs and knocked softly on the door to Tristan's office. "Oh Tristan, your wonderful, talented wife has prepared an authentic Italian meal for you." She cracked the door open and peeked inside. He wasn't at his desk, and she furrowed her brow. "Tristan?" she called again, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Suddenly, she felt something grab her from behind, and she screamed at the unexpected contact. She heard him chuckle into her ear. "Screaming for me already? Aren't we just a little eager?" she groaned in frustration and elbowed him in the stomach, knowing it wouldn't have much of an effect, but he let her go anyway, getting the hint. Rory started to walk out the door, not bothering to look back at him. "You suck. Come eat."

A few hours later, Tristan was laying on the couch watching TV while Rory was proofreading one of her articles for the New York Times in the overstuffed armchair. She smiled when she heard him give a light groan and saw him put a hand over his stomach. "Shit, Ror, that really was the worst Italian food I have ever eaten in my life…where did you get it from again?" Rory's smiled widened as she announced "Fat Joes. I didn't think it was that bad. I really liked the Ziti…I think it was ziti…besides. The delivery boy was an eight." Tristan rolled his eyes. "Ok, number one, what the hell is wrong with you that you think a place with a name like 'Fat Joes' could produce anything remotely close to Italian food, and Two, don't you think it's a little inappropriate to be rating delivery boys now that you are 26, and not to mention married?" Rory seemed to contemplate this for a second. "ummm….number one, Al's Pancake World had the best Chinese food I've ever tasted, and two, no." Tristan just smiled and shook his head. "You are insane." Rory smiled back at him. "And you love me." He shifted his eyes to her. "Yes. I do." Feeling her chest spread with warmth like it always did in moments like these, she went back to proofreading, reveling in the comfortable silence of their companionship.

Reviews would be lovely, my dears, of any shape and size!