Title: Fixed Determinence

Chapter 2: Yesterdays

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Yesterdays

Rory was lounging on her bed reading To Kill a Mockingbird on Saturday afternoon. She was just finishing chapter seven when she heard someone cursing from the kitchen. She placed her bookmark between the pages to mark her stopping point and got up to investigate. She walked down the short hallway that led to the living room and knelt down on the couch so that she was able to peer through the window that looked into the kitchen.

"Are you making macaroni and cheese?" Rory asked her roommate.

"No, I just saw that Bill Nye episode where he talked about starch and wanted to try it for myself," Paris Geller said sarcastically. "I am trying to make mac and cheese."

"Why?" Rory asked.

"Because I really love the stuff and it's truly unfair that I only get to have it when you're hung over. And considering you haven't had a messy relationship that leads you to drink excessively in quite a while I took it upon myself to make some," Paris answered matter of factly.

"I'd be offended by your justification if it weren't true," Rory said. "Why don't you just make it from a box? It would be much faster and easier, hence the name instant."

"You'd like me to take the easy way out, wouldn't you? You make the suggestion as though I don't know how to melt cheese. I went to Yale you know, I think I can handle it," Paris stated hotly.

"Have it your way Geller. How has your week been? You got home pretty late every night this week."

"Things are getting crazy. It's only a midterm election year, but the party is already planning fund raising events for later this year. I don't know when I'll ever get a break. When I'm not schmoozing and networking I'm researching court cases for the firm. This internship will be the death of me. Mark my words."

"I'm sure it'll get better eventually. Summer will be here before you know it," Rory reasoned.

"I'm glad you can be so calm in my time of frenzy," Paris said dryly.

"It's a gift."

"What about you? How was your week?"

"Lousy. I rear ended someone on Wednesday, so I've been taking the bus to work, I couldn't find the right angle for my last article, and yesterday I was given a lame assignment. I have to go to a concert next week Friday and write a review. A review that will probably wind up on page 10. Next to the gossip column."

"Don't complain to me about your less than satisfying job, Rory. If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times that you should seek employment elsewhere. But do you ever take my advice? No. You stay where you're comfortable and unchallenged. You stay where that man who has the audacity to call himself an editor can keep an eye on you."

"Thanks for the lecture, but you can save it. There's nothing out there for me; I'm perfectly happy where I am."

Paris said nothing to this, opting instead to roll her eyes and scoff.

"So, do you have any plans for the night?" Rory said, fishing for a topic change.

"Yes. I happen to have a date with Antonio Banderas."

"Evita?"

"No. The Mask of Zorro."

"Ah, have fun with that."

"What about you? Are you doing anything, or will you be joining us?"

"Us?"

"Me and Antonio. Don't you pay attention? You have the memory of a fish."

"I can't join you, I'm going out tonight," Rory answered casually.

"Oh really? With whom?"

"No one of consequence. Go back to your cheesily delicious meal now."

Rory got up off of the couch and went back to her room. She hadn't told Paris about the dinner with Tristan because she didn't want to make a big deal out of it. She especially didn't want Paris to interrogate her if it turned out that it wasn't even a date.

She sat down on her bed upon returning to her room and thought about starting chapter eight, but changed her mind and decided to find something to wear to dinner. She opened her closet and stared at the clothes hanging within. What does one wear on a non-date? Heck if she knew. She proceeded to try on a number of outfits. She was unpleasantly surprised to find that several of her outfits no longer fit her in all of the right places. She really started to worry when she looked at the clock sitting on her night stand and saw that it was 6:30. She put on a light blue skirt that flowed in the wind prettily and a white blouse that didn't show too much skin. She went into the bathroom next door to apply her make up. Afterwards she went back into her room to grab her purse and a jacket. She was checking herself in the mirror when she once again heard a commotion in the front room. She glanced at the clock again and her eyes widened when she read 6:58 glowing in red.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Tristan had been staring at the door for five minutes. He read the numbers on the piece of paper Rory had written her address on and checked the numbers on the door for the fourth time. 201. There was nothing complicated about these three numbers. He was just trying to calm himself before he knocked.

"Just do it, you idiot," he said quietly to himself and took the plunge. He knocked three times and waited nervously. Then, it happened: the door swung open.

"DuGrey? What the hell are you doing here?" asked the woman in front of him.

"Paris?" Tristan frowned in confusion and looked down at the paper in his hands again. He had read it correctly; he was at the right apartment. So what in the world was Paris Geller doing here? Then his heart fell to the pit of stomach as comprehension donned on him. Rory had clearly set him up. He looked around wildly as if she might be off in a corner laughing at his falling for her joke.

"What in God's name are you looking for?" Paris asked, now slightly concerned for the man.

"I should have known," he said, ignoring her question completely. "She agreed to this way too easily. How could I have been so stupid?"

"Are you lost? I'd really like to help you out, which way did you come in?" Paris said in mock concern.

"Maybe you're a victim of the prank too!" Tristan said madly, once again ignoring Paris' questions.

"Tristan, shut up! I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not sure that you do either. Who are you looking for?"

"Rory Gilmore," he answered. "We're supposed to have a date tonight."

As soon as the sentence was out of his mouth, the brunette in question walked into the room. Relief washed over him. She strode up to the two of them and smiled.

"Are you ready to go?" Rory asked Tristan, paying no attention to an extremely put out and befuddled Paris.

"Yeah. Wait, you live with Paris? But—," Rory cut him off before he could finish.

"I'll tell you all about it later. Are those for me?" she asked him, pointing to a bouquet in his hand.

"What? Oh, yeah. Here," he said as he handed her the bouquet of assorted flowers. "I didn't know what kind you liked, so I got a variety."

"Thank you, they're beautiful. Paris, could you put these in some water for me? I'd really appreciate it. I'll be back later; you don't need to wait up for me," she said before turning her attention back to Tristan.

"Shall we?" Tristan asked.

"We shall. Bye Paris, enjoy your movie."

"Yeah, bye Paris," Tristan added.

Tristan and Rory closed the door behind them without noticing the look of udder bewilderment on Paris's face. She unceremoniously dropped the flowers on the kitchen table and went on a feverish search for the phone.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTT

"I am so sorry about that," Rory apologized when she and Tristan were both seated in his newly purchased car.

"It's okay. I think I played it cool," Tristan said, trying to sound convincing.

"Really? Because what I walked in on did not look cool," Rory teased.

"Well I had a good reason! I thought you gave me Paris's address instead of your own as a practical joke. I fully thought that you hoodwinked me to get out of our date."

"Now why would I do such a thing?" Rory said innocently, strangely pleased that this was in fact a date. All of that worry for nothing.

"If you thought that I'm the same person I was back in high school, then I wouldn't have blamed you. But I can honestly tell you that that scoundrel no longer exists. It's been a long time since I last ravished a girl up against a bunch of lockers to make a different girl jealous."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. There was not a single locker in sight the last time I ravished a girl."

"That's good, I'd hate for her hair to get stuck between the lockers."

"How considerate of you. Enough small talk, you owe me an explanation. Why do you share an apartment with Paris Geller of all people? The match seems as likely as Headmaster Charleston and your mom."

"Ew, don't say that! I just had a mental image. Now I'm going to have nightmares. But to answer your question, Paris and I went to college together."

"She got into Harvard after all?"

"No, she did not. But she did get accepted to Yale, as did I. And she, like me, decided to reside in a New Haven dorm. The same dorm room, actually. Now we share an apartment," Rory explained as though this were the most natural thing in the world. Tristan, on the other hand was still reeling.

"You and Paris? Dwelling in the same apartment? In the same state for that matter. I guess stranger things have happened," he reasoned.

"Yeah, like us going on a date," Rory supplied.

"Exactly. This is a day for all sorts of odd findings and happenings."

"This is true. So where are going for this date anyway?"

"Just a restaurant over on Elm, nothing fancy, McLean's. Have you ever been there?"

"No. I've been past there though. It looks quant. That's why I like it here in Manchester; it's not as big as Hartford. It almost reminds me of Stars Hollow. You just can't beat small town charm."

"You can take the girl out of the small town, but you can't take the small town out of the girl," Tristan said as he turned down Elm Street.

"That's right," she said as Tristan parallel parked on the downtown street.

"Impressive," Rory commented his parking skills.

"I passed the parallel parking section of my driver's test with flying colors, thank you very much," Tristan said proudly. He got out of the car and walked around to help her out of the passenger side. He led her to the door and opened it for her. When Rory got a good look at the restaurant she saw that it indeed was not fancy. This made her feel immensely relieved. It wasn't that she would have hated going to some high class fancy schmancy eatery. This was just more her element. It was when Tristan walked up behind her that she noticed the odd behavior of the other customers around them.

"Tristan, why are they all staring at us?" she whispered.

"They're not staring at us; they're staring at you. They know me here. They just want to see who I brought . . . you know, to see if you're good enough for me."

"Good enough?" Rory whispered frantically. She had not signed on for this.

"Don't worry, they'll forget we're here after a while, just come sit over here," he led her to a table for two next to a wall where the on lookers couldn't gawk at them.

"You are so going to pay for this," Rory said. "If you think your small town has a quirky populace you just wait! You have nothing on Stars Hollow. The people there are complete kooks! They will eat you alive."

"I look forward to it," Tristan replied, amused. Clearly she thought this evening would go well enough that they would see each other again, and in her home town, no less. He wasn't going to complain about that. Just then their waitress walked over.

"Good evening, Tristan," she said affectionately. "Who's this? You never bring guests around here."

"Rose, I'd like you to meet Rory. She's an old acquaintance from high school. She was nice enough to agree to have dinner with me tonight," Tristan explained to the middle aged woman in front of him.

"Hello Rory. Sorry about all of the attention you got back there. We just like to watch out for your young gentleman friend."

"That's probably a good idea. He always did need someone to keep him in line back in the day," she said playfully.

"Oh, he's perfectly tame, we just don't like to see him alone all of the time," Rose explained.

"Tristan, alone? I don't believe that for a second, he was always quite the player," Rory said.

"Sorry to interrupt you talking about me as though I'm not here, but how about some menus?" Tristan asked.

"Sure, sure. Here you go. I'll be back to get your orders in a few minutes."

"Thanks Rose," Rory said as the waitress walked away. "She seems nice."

"Most people around here are. That's why I decided to reside here. It's pleasant," Tristan said. "So where do we begin? From Act Five of Romeo and Juliet or what I like to call the College Years?"

"I'd hate for you not to know how the play ended. Paris didn't dress up as Romeo for nothing you know."

"Paris took my part? So the real reason you two live together comes out at last! You're involved," Tristan leered.

"Oh shush. She didn't even kiss me for real until three years after that."

"Care to elaborate? Because there's a permanent image in my head now."

"You know how it goes, spring break in Florida, a run in with Madeline and Louise. But that's not until later. We're not starting with the College Years."

"Alright, I suppose I can wait. Continue."

"After you left things were better between me and Paris. I guess she thought you were one less thing I could take away from her, which is completely ridiculous."

"Not really. I would have had you if I wasn't such an ass and if you weren't hung up on the stock boy. She would have been jealous and would have given you hell. It's probably best that I got sent away when I did. But enough about me, go on."

"Okay. Oh, that reminds me, I did get a different boyfriend senior year. But it's probably better that it didn't work out since we're step cousins now."
"No more Stock Boy. That's good to hear."

"Well, not exactly. He comes up again later," Rory said.

"He's like a cold I can't get rid of," Tristan groaned. Just then Rose returned to take their orders. After they told her what they wanted Rory finished talking about events that occurred during senior year.

"Why did you decide to go to Yale instead of Harvard?" Tristan inquired.
"I made a pro and con list. Yale had way more pros in the end. Plus it was closer to home. I'm only slightly embarrassed to say that my mom stayed with me my first night in the dorm."

"That's really sad Rory," Tristan said in a patronizing tone.

"Hey, we're really close! And she's my mommy. I'm tired of talking. You take a turn and talk about military school."

"Fair enough. I guess we should start with the safe," Tristan said thoughtfully.

"Not so fast bucko. Start with your behavior at the beginning of junior year," Rory cut in. By this time their food had come and they were digging into their burgers and fries.

"Ah, the source of my entire transformation. My mom left," he said simply.
"What do you mean left? Certainly not left, I mean, she's your mother," Rory said, suddenly very sympathetic for the blonde in front of her.

"To be more specific, she left my dad. But she left me and my brother in the process. She was a trophy wife, plain and simple. My dad didn't take much notice of how she occupied her time. She was just supposed to be there when he needed her to organize events or go to social gatherings. He never saw her as his equal partner in life and she was sick of it. So she left," he said with practiced indifference.

"Tristan, I'm so sorry. I had no idea that you were going through that when we were seventeen," Rory said compassionately. She reached across the table to put her hand over his.

"It's not your fault. I didn't really make it public. Just look at what Paris went through with her parents. I didn't want that to happen to me, so I acted out. I figured that if I was being deviant then people wouldn't notice what was going on at home. Plus it really ticked my dad off, which was a bonus for me. I was really angry then. I didn't know who to hate more: my mom for leaving us, or my dad for driving her to it. Proximity to my dad meant that he got the blunt end of the sword. After I sifted through the safe he didn't know what to do with me any more. So he shipped me off to North Carolina, it was his simple solution."

"That's an awful thing for parents to do. Both of them. Your dad had no right to send you away just because he screwed up his marriage; and what kind of mother leaves her children?" Rory said in a defensive tone.

"A neglected wife, that's who," Tristan answered bitterly.

"So that's why you got sent away. And here I thought you were just some juvenile delinquent," Rory tried to joke.

"In a nut shell, yes. I spent the whole trip down to North Carolina brooding and feeling sorry for myself. But then I had an epiphany of sorts. I realized that I was going to a place where no one knew me. I could be anyone I wanted to be. I got to be hundreds of miles away from my dad as well. And when I got there an odd thing happened."

"What was that?" she asked him.

"I had a clean slate. No one cared who my family was or what my last name was. I made a few good friends and actually applied myself in school. The single best part of being in North Carolina was the distance from Hartford. I graduated a semester early and went to Indiana University."

"Oh my. That's so far from here. I can't even imagine being that far away from my family," Rory said in awe.

"That's the difference between your family and mine. I'm sorry; I've cut into your college stories. You wouldn't mind waiting a few minutes for me to pay and then we could go for a walk and continue?"

"Oh, no, go ahead," Rory said as Tristan got up to pay for their food. Rory left the tip and met Tristan at the front of the restaurant.

"Hey, I paid the tip," she informed him.

"You didn't have to, but thanks. Are you ready to go then?"

"Yes. Lead the way. I know you're dying to hear about my post high school shenanigans."

"Well when you put it like that," Tristan said as he steered them out the door.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Two and a half hours later a street lamp was flickering over a children's playground. It was empty apart from two figures who were each sitting on a swing. Tristan and Rory had arrived there earlier after having abandoned their walk. They each found a swing and were swaying from side to side absentmindedly as they conversed. They had long forgotten their previous discussion of days gone by and instead jumped from topic to topic without any concern about how they got from one to the other. It was discovered that Tristan lived within ten minutes of Rory and had happened to be using a different route because of a detour the day that Rory rear ended his car.

At half past eleven it was Tristan who said he would turn into a pumpkin if he didn't get home soon. They walked three blocks back to his car and Tristan drove through the city streets back to Rory's apartment. It was when they were walking up the stairs of her apartment complex that Tristan broached the subject of meeting again.

"Are you doing anything next Friday night?" he asked her.

"Friday, let me think. Oh man, I have a dull concert to go to in Hartford. I have to write a review for the paper. I really don't want to go; I hate getting assigned these sorts of things," Rory said, disappointed.

"What kind of concert?" Tristan inquired.

"Classical probably, I kind of stopped listening during the meeting that I got the assignment. The details are a bit sketchy."

"Classical music not your style, huh?"

"Not really. Luckily I reviewed the fine arts in college. I was pretty brutal too. I almost feel sorry for the poor chump; he won't know what hit him. Or her. I should probably start paying attention when my editor talks," Rory contemplated to herself.

"It might help you in the future."

"What are you doing Friday?"

"I actually have to work late that night, but I was wondering if you would want to get together for coffee or something," he explained.

"Why don't I call you when the concert is over? Where do you work?" she asked as they arrived at her door.

"I teach a few history classes at the University of Hartford," he answered nonchalantly.

"You teach at a university?" Rory asked in skepticism. "Aren't you too—,"

"Attractive?" he supplied before she could finish. He took a step closer to her and leaned in closer to make up for their height difference.

"I was going to say young," she said, not moving back. She was moving to close the distance between them when the apartment door of 201 swung open for the second time this evening to reveal Paris.

"I thought I heard voices," Paris said as though she hadn't noticed what she had interrupted.

"Are you sure they weren't in your head?" Rory asked, sounding scandalized.

"Of course not," she said, completely unfazed. The three of them stood around the doorway awkwardly, Rory and Tristan looking perturbed this time around.

"I should go," he said to Rory.

"Yeah, I don't want to have to make pumpkin pie out of you," she said, trying to lighten the mood that Paris had spoiled. Tristan gave her a kiss on the cheek and walked back down the hall. Rory watched him go before letting Paris drag her inside their apartment for the cross-examination.