Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Paris Gellar was never late for class, and especially for the newspaper meetings. Ever. Rory Gilmore couldn't fathom what could be keeping her. Suddenly, Paris appeared in the doorway of the classroom, ashen. Rory crossed the room to meet her, and Paris had a meltdown. She wrapped her arms tightly around Rory and began to sob into Rory's blazer.
"What's wrong?" Rory asked, hoping she could get a solid answer between sobs.
"It's Tristin!" was all Paris could manage. She held up a slip of paper, and Rory could see that it was a newspaper assignment sheet filled out with specifics. It looked as if it had been through a war or two. It was crumpled, streaked, and a bit torn. Rory studied the sheet more closely, and as the blurred words came into focus, she could see that the title of the piece was "Chilton's Own Injured In Stunt."
She felt her head growing lighter as she read on. The paper specified that Tristin Dugray had been hanging out with some friends the previous night and had been struck by a truck he'd been playing chicken with. The driver had panicked, and taken off into the night. Tristin hadn't been missed this morning, Rory realized, because he'd been suspended the day before for three days, making today his first day of suspension.
Rory regained her composure, calmed Paris down, assigned the story about Tristin to one of the staff, and collected her coat and Paris's. "Where are we going?" Paris demanded. "We need to be here!"
"They've got it under control." Rory referred to the staff of the Franklin. "We're going to see Tristin."
When they reached the hospital, a lone figure stood in the ICU waiting room. "Jonathan!" Paris cried, running to him. They embraced, and introductions were made. "Rory, this is Jonathan Dugray, Tristin's older brother." Paris said. "Jonathan, this is Rory Gilmore, from Chilton."
"A pleasure to meet you." Rory shook Jonathan's hand briefly.
"The pleasure is all mine." Jonathan looked slightly ill.
"How is he?" Paris asked.
"Not well. I can't even be in there with him--they say if you can't pull yourself together it's not good to see the patient. Something about giving off negative vibes."
"So who's in there?"
"No one." Jonathan admitted.
"Well, I can't see him, since I'm a basket case, so you have to, Rory."
"How will they let me in?" Rory asked. "I'm not related to him."
"Just say your his girlfriend." Jonathan suggested. Paris looked venemous for a passing moment, and Jonathan knew he'd touched a sore spot.
"Okay. I'm his girlfriend." Rory agreed.
"I'll get you in." Jonathan decided.
They approached the nurses desk, and signed Rory through to Tristin's room. "Say what you like, honey." the nurse advised. "He can hear you." Rory nodded. She sat in the chair near his bed.
"Hi, Tristin." she said quietly. "You scared me today, Tristin.
"You honestly scared the living daylights out of me, Tristin, and out of your brother and Paris, too. Why would you do something so stupid?" Of course, Tristin made no response. Rory began to cry, realizing now as she sat by his bedside, that she loved him. She loved him--why was that so hard to admit?
"I love you, Tristin." she whispered. "I love you so much, and I don't know why that's so hard for me to believe. You annoy the heck out of Dean, and you're arrogant, and a snob, and a jerk, but I love you."
Suddenly, a machine that had been beeping steadily grew erratic and then turned into one long beep. Nurses and doctors came running, and the room was crowded with staff. Rory stood out of the way, and prayed to God that He would spare Tristin.
They turned off the machines and left to inform Tristin's family of his death. Rory sat by his bedside and wept, clutching Tristin's hand. "You can't die!" she cried. "Think of what it would do to Paris! And your brother! And...me." she finished in tears. Then, she heard a beeping sound--his heart monitor was beeping again! She called for a nurse, and by the time a nurse came with a doctor, Tristin was stirring.
"What happened?" he asked groggily. Rory responded by kissing him on the lips.