Disclaimer: Yes, I own them. There, I said it. Uh…sadly, I don't. They all belong to Amy Sherman Palladino and so on.
Part: 1?
Pairing: Tristan/Rory/Logan
Rating: Very strong R. You are forewarned.
Spoilers: Everything up to the S4 finale then it is pretty much AU from there, with elements of S5 incorporated as I deem fit. Keep in mind, this is way back when so poetic license gives me the freedom to rewrite the Rory/Logan history if I want, so there.
Dedication: To my Sus, as always. It's about time someone names a restaurant after her.
Author's Note: A new one from me? Yeah, I've heard it all before. I was assured and reassured that this wouldn't get pulled for its content so I posted. Really, I don't know what this is going to end up as, pairing-wise. As of now, it's a triangle fic as the name suggests. So please, don't review saying that you'd prefer R/T over R/L or vice-versa. Oh and yes, I am alive and I plan on finishing most of my other fics.

Part One

'Tis in my memory lock'd
And only you shall keep the key of it.
- Shakespeare

Susan's was one of her favorite restaurants in New Haven, located close the off-campus apartment she shared with her boyfriend of almost two (tumultuous, on and off) years, the food was delectable and the coffee was as good as Luke's. Although she'd never tell him that. It had become another Gilmore staple; her mother had even given it a seal of approval. This particular spring afternoon, she sat indoors, near a window so she could observe passersby as she finished off her first cup. Periodically, she flipped through the latest issue of Cosmopolitan that Stephanie had somehow managed to get her interested in, and waited for Logan Huntzburger to join her for lunch.

Their relationship was hardly what anyone would call smooth; they had "very high highs and very low lows" her mother had often pointed out, but it was one that worked for them and one that they both held on to, kept going back to for reasons Rory hadn't quite understood herself.

She figured one of them was love.

She glanced at the time on her cell phone lying next to her coffee cup and officially deemed Logan late. She'd let it slip this time, she decided with a small smile. After all, she had kept him waiting an entire hour last weekend when they had plans for dinner. She focused her attention back to a rather interesting article on sex tips and was in the process of lifting her cup to her mouth when a voice stopped her, cold.

"Hello Rory."

Instantly, her eyes widened from the shock of those two seemingly simple words as she registered the voice without having to look up. Instinctively, she gripped the table and wondered briefly (wishful thinking, really) if she was hearing things.

Finally, she lifted her gaze and looked upon him, those blue eyes gleaming with knowledge and amusement.

Floodgates. Memories poured through, a splendid montage of the past. She had read somewhere about sense memory and she hadn't quite experienced it before but now the sensations, wonderful and thrillingly reckless, pulsed with vivid clarity. Taste, touch, smell – each more intoxicating and heady, painful and harsh and all too real.

But she had no time to dwell on the images running through her mind in rapid succession; he was standing right there, a half smile on his face and his gaze fixed on her unwaveringly. She recovered quickly and managed a somewhat strained, "Tristan, hello."

Without waiting for an invitation, he took a seat right across from her and ordered a drink from the waiter who was hovering nearby. "It's been what, three years?"

"Yeah, I guess," she replied hesitantly. Taking her cues from his unaffected behavior, she decided that she too could remain civil and calm. She smiled a little, titled her head to the side. "How've you been?"

He thanked the waiter who came with his iced tea and answered her question, "Can't complain. I was visiting a friend here but I have to get back to Princeton soon. How's senior year at Yale?"

He was smiling warmly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he did and it was so natural that Rory found herself relaxing a bit. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and lifted a shoulder. "Same old. Busy, hectic…still liking it."

Old acquaintances, catching up, this she could do.

Tristan leaned back in his chair and studied her face with the same intensity he had long ago. She blushed and avoided his gaze. He chuckled, low and throaty, before commenting, "You look good, Gilmore."

"Thank you," she replied softly as the color spread over her face. "So do you."

"I always do," he stated and it was her turn to chuckle. Things with him never changed: he could make her feel oddly comfortable even as he could confuse her with one look. "So this is really interesting. A very 'of all the gin joints in all the world' moment, wouldn't you say?"

"Pretty much."

"Last time I saw you, you were walking away so fast I wasn't sure if I would ever see you again," he confessed, his expression unreadable but his eyes boring into hers and forcing her to stare back. "Are you still with Dean?"

She wanted to say it was none of his business, she had every right to, but three years ago she had pulled him into her drama and she found righteous indignation giving way to a truthful answer. "No, it didn't work out."

The slight nod of his head and silence were as glaring as a triumphant 'I told you so'. Needlessly, she found herself getting worked up while he hadn't even uttered a word. No one seemed to get to her as easily as Tristan did, it seemed.

He looked away, finally, and stared into his glass of iced tea. "That other guy…Jess?"

"He's in Philadelphia. We keep in touch but no, I'm not with him either," she answered wearily and anticipating his next question quickly added, "And yes, I do have a boyfriend."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I didn't ask. But, I knew it."

Regardless of the rocky past they shared, she found herself smiling. "And you? A string of broken hearts in your wake, I assume?"

"Naturally. But that's not completely fair," he returned with a smile of his own, "My heart's been trampled over once or twice, too."

He looked right at her when he said it but she didn't have time to process it, as she spotted Logan rushing up to the table, looking apologetic. She smiled at him brightly and waved slightly, causing Tristan to look over his shoulder as the other blonde appeared.

"Ace, I'm sorry," Logan said as he came to stand beside her and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Honor called, she was ranting and cursing and it wasn't pretty."

Rory laughed, very much aware that Tristan was watching them. "It's okay. I was entertained."

Logan turned to her table companion as he sat down in the chair next to Rory and recognition immediately dawned in his eyes, "Tristan DuGrey?"

"Paper Boy," Tristan acknowledged as he held out his hand. "I thought I smelled a printing press. We missed you in Fiji this year."

Rory shook her head in surprise. "I take it you two know each other."

Logan put his arm around the back of Rory's chair and smiled, "High society at its best. DuGrey here is an honorary LDB member of sorts. He tapped into a few secrets. Much like you did, my dear. And you two know each other…"

"Chilton," Tristan quickly supplied. Logan nodded as Rory tried to gauge his reaction. It looked like she wouldn't have to go through another Jess debacle with this one since Logan seemed to be very unthreatened by the other boy. "I must be out of society-gossip loop if I didn't know you were dating Paper Boy over here, Gilmore. Surprising."

"Why? Because blonde rich boys aren't my type?" Rory asked, raising an eyebrow and her voice sounded slightly sardonic even to her own ears.

Both men grinned at this and Tristan answered, "Because pretty brunettes aren't Logan's."

"He doesn't have a type."

Logan laughed. "Amen. Let me tell you, I wouldn't believe it myself. But Ace can be pretty persuading when she has a bottle of champagne in her hands."

This time, Tristan looked straight at Rory, the intensity back in his gaze as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You don't say."

If Logan had noticed the sudden undercurrent of tension, he didn't acknowledge it and simply opened the menu in front of him, gesturing towards the waiter as he did so. "I'm starved. Shall we order?"

Tristan pushed his chair away from the table. "I should go."

Rory was relieved. A part of her wanted him to stay – which shocked her, but a bigger part knew that if he did, trouble would follow and she wasn't ready for that just yet.

Unfortunately, her boyfriend had other plans. "No. Stay. Memory lane awaits us."

He looked at her, waiting for her approval and she nodded slowly, "Yes, please stay."

"If you insist."

Logan ordered for her out of habit and Tristan watched her over the top of his menu. Rory looked away, trying to concentrate on what her boyfriend was saying. But still, memories came back, unbidden.

- & -

"Would you stop staring at me?"

"Because it makes you uncomfortable?"

"Because it is unbearably rude," she replied sharply, glancing over at him as they sat side by side on beach, legs stretched out in front of them. The moon hung low, making a silvery path on the rippled water below. There was a slight breeze that blew through her hair, causing it to fall over her eyes.

Before she could reach up and pull it back, his fingers wrapped around a few wayward strands and pulled lightly, teasing, "I'm just enjoying the view."

"Then look straight ahead," she answered and turned her head away, trying not to shiver at his words or his closeness.

They were miles away from home, from their pasts, and she was still getting used to the fact that despite the havoc he caused to her body she felt completely at ease with him nearby, as they vacationed in Europe together. It was fate, he had announced during their first chance encounter and it scared her that she was beginning to think he was right.

"Nah," he answered, shifting closer as he tucked her hair behind her ear and the traced the lobe with his thumb and forefinger. "Your ears are shaped very perfectly. They look nice."

Unaffected by the oddity of compliment, she responded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he answered huskily, his lips were now very close to her face. He bent his head and they grazed over the shell of her ear. When she didn't push him away, he continued to kiss a trail down the side of her face, her jaw line, and her neck and then up again to give attention to the sensitive skin behind her ear. "Tastes good too."

"Grandma's probably looking for us," she stated softly, eyes closed absorbing the sensations his ministrations were causing. Unaware, she moved closer to him, their bodies touching. Instinctively, her hand rested on his thigh, fingers lightly tracing patterns on his slacks. "We should get going."

One of his hands traveled up her ribcage to close firmly around her right breast, over the flimsy material of her dress. She half-sighed, half-moaned as his lips trailed across her cheek and the scent of his cologne mingled with the salty air and caused her mind to go heady with desire. "Mm, in a minute."

She turned her head and her lips caught his in a kiss, forgetting where they were. He pushed her back onto the sand, covered her body with his as their lips teased and tasted. The kiss escalated, her hands traced his broad back and shoulders while his ran up and down her sides. Mouths still fused, he took both her hands in his and lifted them above her head and she arched against him, legs parting as he settled more comfortably against her. The ache in her belly was long and liquid as he pulled away from her. She didn't protest when he let her hands go and he pulled the straps of her dress with it, exposing her lace-covered breasts to his hungry gaze. The gentle summer breeze shivered over her skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Tristan bent his head, his tongue burning a path of fire on her sensitive skin while his teeth grazed lightly over the lace. He reached up between their bodies and undid the clasp of her bra between her breasts with a quick skilled flick of his fingers. Eyes closed, her fingers threaded into his hair, she pulled him closer and gasped when his mouth closed over a hardened nipple.

His mouth worked lovingly on her breasts as both hands traced her sides, over her stomach and then over her thighs, stopping when they reached the hem of her dress. Slowly he pulled the material up, his fingers tantalizingly grazing her outer thighs. Surely and confidently, he pushed the dress over her hips and let his hand cup her over the damp cotton material between her legs. The ache in her belly traveled lower, thick and needy and she sighed, murmuring a naughty request into the night. Emboldened and fervent, his knuckles brushed roughly over her clit, her hips bucked against his hand and her own tangled in his hair. Her breathing was labored and clogged in her lungs. She was drowning in the pleasure of his touch, of his mouth now fastened on her neck, on her pulse that was pounding away like a runaway train. Moaning his name softly, she trailed her fingers in the sand beside her as he pulled her panties away.

His lips trailed up again and he loomed over her, eyes dark and lustful. She stared back at him, unabashed, lips parted as his thumb and forefinger alternated between pinching and rubbing against her most sensitive nub. His free hand came up to cup her breast, his thumb grazing harshly over her nipple and watched, as she trashed under him, wantonly.

"Fuck," she moaned as his fingers slipped inside her folds, tormenting her by bringing her so close to the edge. The heat inside her was building at a furious pace but bastard that he was he deliberately kept her release at bay. "Fuck Tristan."

He laughed huskily, "I said, in a minute."

Her eyes flew open and she glared at him, bucking her hips against his hands and biting her lower lip in frustration. "Now."

He caught her lower lip between his teeth and murmured against her lips. "Not without me, Gilmore."

Blindly, she reached for his belt. Unthinking, she helped him out of his clothes in a wild, frenzied attempt to feel him under her fingertips, to trace his muscles with her palms. They worked to get into a comfortable position; her legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked together behind him her dress around her torso, his shirt hanging off his arms. He leaned down to kiss her again as he thrust into her, one quick motion that had her gasping against his mouth, clinging to him as the edge of her vision was blurred almost to black. She let him set the pace, fast and a little rough, riding him as the first waves of pleasure crested over her.

She didn't think of Dean or of Dean and Lindsay or of the look of utter disappointment on her mother's face that was etched in her mind's eye since she had left home. She didn't think of Stars Hollow or Yale. She forgot she was in Europe, about her grandmother and the fact that they were on a public beach.

She only thought of him. Felt only his hands and lips on hers and the tiny grains of sand against her skin. She breathed in the scent of him and the salty ocean air. Lost in feelings and the needs of her body, driven by the desire to forget, she cradled her face in the crook of his neck, smiling triumphantly when he called out her name as he came.

When he collapsed on top of her and her vision and breathing returned to almost normal, she didn't feel embarrassed or ashamed. She clobbered the voice that would surely signal alarms and fears in her system. Instead, she laughed indulgently and pulled Tristan's head up for a kiss.

When he broke away and smirked down at her she merely tightened her grip on his bare shoulders and grinned, "Let's do that again."

- & -

"..And Ace here just jumped, like that," Logan regaled Tristan with the story of Rory's first LDB event. "It was awesome. And very surprising, didn't know she had it in her."

Tristan smiled in admiration, glancing at Rory who was rolling her eyes. "Good going there, Gilmore. I'm going to have to see the pictures to believe it."

Rory smiled, remembering to remain friendly, "I'll send you the pictures."

He looked at her, his expression unreadable and she wished that he wouldn't be so obvious. Logan may have missed it at first but she knew he had keen, well-honed radar when it came to detecting other guys who were interested in her. And even if Logan had been preoccupied with catching up with Tristan, the furtive glances between them and nervousness Rory could feel she was exuding were enough to raise the suspicions of any trusting boyfriend.

Rory didn't know if she should be relieved that Logan was obviously not threatened or scared that she felt like there was something between her and Tristan that warranted alarm bells in her boyfriend's mind.

Her guilt-ridden thoughts were interrupted by Logan's cell phone and he looked at caller ID and rolled his eyes. "It's Honor again. Surely tragedy has struck. Excuse me guys, I'm going to take this outside: it could get ugly."

Once he was gone, Tristan lifted the cup of coffee in front of him to his lips and watched her over the rim. His eyes always studied her with part amusement, part intrigue and it was a mixture that always made her uncomfortable. Like he always knew what she was thinking before she even opened her mouth.

Self-consciously, Rory tucked her hair behind her ear. "What?"

He grinned and lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. "Nothing."

"Don't do that," she snapped irritably. "If you want to say something, say it. You know I despise guessing what you're working up in that warped brain of yours."

He chuckled and took another sip of coffee. "I knew the civility couldn't last too long."

A corner of her mouth curled. "We've never been civil, Tristan."

He put the cup back on the table and pinned her with an intense gaze. "No, never civil. That is for certain. At least that's how I like to remember it."

"Tristan," she said softly, looking down at the tablecloth. "That was a long time ago."

"And yet I remember it with perfect clarity," he replied nonchalantly. "And from the way you keep looking at me and then looking at Logan so guiltily, I'm pretty sure you remember it like it was yesterday too."

She leaned forward, eyes flashing with warning. "Tristan, this isn't the time or place to be discussing this. Logan will be back any minute."

"Alright," he replied, his jaw set determinedly. "Tonight. Meet me for dinner."

"What?" she asked incredulously. "No, Tristan, I can't go out on date with you! I have a boyfriend. What is wrong with you?"

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "It's only a date if you want it to be, Gilmore. Adriana's, Downtown. Seven o'clock. We'll talk then."

Fuming at his arrogance, she glared at him as he stood up and took out his wallet. "You're so sure I'm going to show up, aren't you? You haven't changed at all, Tristan DuGrey."

"And neither have you," he returned and came around the table to stand next to her chair. He leaned down and brought his face closer to hers. "So I suppose we're right where we started off, don't you?"

" Logan," she reminded him, knowing it was useless. She looked over his shoulder to see if her boyfriend had returned. "You're his friend."

"I am," he agreed with a slight nod of his head. "And this would be much easier if I wasn't."

She shook her head and shifted in her seat, trying to keep her distance. "That's so you. Making everything more complicated than it has to be."

He merely grinned at that and moved in closer. His hand came up to take hers, and lifted it to his lips brushing them lightly over her knuckles. "It really was good seeing you again, Rory. I'll be waiting. Tell Huntzburger the lunch was on me."

Before she could say anything, he was gone. Taking a deep breath, she stared at the table in front of her and tried not to think about just how complicated her life would become if Tristan stepped – more like pushed himself – back into the picture. It had taken her awhile to get to this place and upset was the last thing she needed. She looked at the seat Tristan had vacated and thought of how easily her memory betrayed her and drudged up their past.

She thought of the feel of his lips on her knuckles.

Logan Huntzburger may have been the first person to make her jump off a tower in an evening gown but he wasn't the first to make her feel alive.

To be continued…