c l u e l e s s

adjective;

totally uninformed about what is going on;

not having even a clue from which to infer what is occurring

All in all, Rory didn't think that the Shakespeare play went as badly as it could have. It was probably for the best that Tristan couldn't be Romeo- knowing him he probably would have kissed her until she was forced to shove him off her. The boy was shameless.

Still, she vaguely wondered how long her cocky classmate would be sent away for.

The thought was soon forgotten as Dean walked up to her, jokingly asking if Paris had actually kissed her.

Tristan DuGrey did not enter her mind again for some time.

xXx

Paris was having an anxiety attack.

Since this was Paris, this was in all likelihood not the first time this had happened.

Paris was with Rory, and since this was Rory, Paris found herself being half-dragged to the nearby hospital to get checked out. Rory thought something was seriously wrong and Paris was having a hard enough time breathing, much less speaking. The brunette had interpreted Paris's glares as the normal template her face took.

Of course Rory, being the waif-like person she was, had discovered that trying to physically force Paris Gellar into doing anything wasn't an easy task. The two had struggled for a moment until Paris lost all patience and shoved the other girl off. In trying to prevent Paris from running away, Rory had grabbed her fingers… that didn't make the blonde girl stop, which resulted in Paris's finger getting broken.

Well, at least this managed to get Paris to the hospital.

The two had been on a coffee run. It was a Saturday and Rory wasn't exactly thrilled at being in Hartford, but apparently the teachers of Chilton really hated her. She had been assigned another group project. Guess who was in her group again?

Anyways, they had just wrapped up their first meeting and both wanted coffee. The two were arguing about the project and Paris was ranting about the imbeciles working with them, when Rory let slip that their teacher had told her that this project was probably more important than the final. And then she foolishly joked about the fact that if their last project was any indication, Paris really would screw herself over for Harvard.

The next thing she knew, Paris had dropped her coffee and was gasping for air, her vision going blurry.

Paris had yelled at Rory for being so stupid as to make her go to a hospital for something as routine as an anxiety attack. Her voice increased in volume as she waved her arm around and moved on to screeching about her finger. Rory tried to apologize for doing what she thought was helping, and Paris snorted something about doing it on purpose before storming out.

Rory was wandering the halls, trying to find her way out of the hospital, when she saw to her astonishment Tristan DuGrey kicking at a vending machine, adorned in a hospital gown.

"What, you managed to fake sick well enough to get out of military school and into here?" Rory exclaimed.

Tristan whipped his head up in surprise. An easy smirk fell upon his face as he nodded his assent. "You yourself noticed my God-like abilities."

"Seriously, how'd you manage to get back here?"

"I am a man of many talents."

"I see the school made you shave off your hair." Rory commented, glancing at the top of his head. "Gotta say, the soldier-school look? Doesn't work so well on you."

"So what are you doing here?"

"Paris had an anxiety attack…and her finger's kind of broken."

"Paris is here?" He frowned.

"No, she stormed off after ranting at me. So, when are you getting sent back to school? Or do you think your parents will just give up and let you back to Chilton?"

"I doubt that's happening." He smiled. Looking away, he added, "I should go. You know, having the nurses seeing me up and walking probably won't do well for my too-deathly-sick-for-school routine. But I had to get my chips." He shook the bag that had just plopped out of the machine he had been kicking.

"Right. I'll see you next year? They wouldn't keep you away for senior year, right?"

"What, are you gonna miss me?"

"God no," Rory snorted with a grin.

"Love you too." Tristan rolled his eyes and turned to walk away.

"Tristan…" Rory called hesitantly. He looked back. "You're- you're not actually sick, right?"

"Good-bye, Mary." The blond waved a hand carelessly back as he continued walking.

He was Tristan. He didn't get sick. Rory shook her head. There was no amount of illness that could cripple the level of big-headed jack ass-ery that encompassed him.

She left the hospital after finally finding the exit, her mind already back on how agonizing the Chilton project would be.

xXx

you don't have a clue do you? you don't have a clue do you?

xXx

Then the whispers started.

A phrase here and there, hushed and conspiratorial. Often spoken with breathy concern, always spoken with excitement at such a prime piece of gossip.

Rory usually paid rumors no mind, so it took longer for her to hear, to find out.

She eventually realized that following the chorus of 'did you hear?'s, one name kept popping up.

Tristan DuGrey.

Figuring that it was more to do with his continuation of pranking at military school, she tried not to listen.

Of course, it was Paris who brought it up to her at last.

"So, have you visited him yet? I'm sure he's been working the sick angle as far to his advantage as he can." Paris asked her one day.

"Excuse me?"

"Tristan." At Rory's blank look, Paris exhaled impatiently and rolled her eyes. "My God, I knew you were a bit vacant but I didn't think it was possible for anyone with ears to not know what's going on. People have been talking about it for the past two weeks."

"Excuse me if I don't exactly care about what hi-jinks Bible Boy's gotten himself into at military school."

Paris snorted. "You really haven't been keeping up. Gilmore, word around the school is he never went to military school. He's sick at the hospital."

"I saw him there when I went with you a few weeks ago- he was just playing hooky to get out of school for a bit, that's all." Rory answered, annoyed at Paris's condescension.

"No he's not. Sarah Connelly's mom is a nurse at Hartford Hospital. Connelly was waiting for her to get off work when she saw his name on a shift list. She asked her mom about it and he's been there ever since the day of the play."

"…What's wrong with him?"

"No one knows. It's confidential. Sarah's mom is actually on the verge of getting fired for even telling that much. Apparently Tristan's dad is really strict on keeping it all quiet."

"Well, it's not serious… is it?"

"Probably not- Sarah's been sneaking up to the hospital more to see her "mom" and she says he's walking around. They have to keep him for awhile, but people around here think he's just getting a nose job or something." Paris smirked. "The whole sick thing's likely a cover, so he doesn't totally lose credibility when he comes back. I mean, if he told people he was off to get his nose done he'd be laughed at but if he comes back and it looks good, the idiot girls here will swoon too much to really care how he got that way."

Class started and Paris turned back around, satisfied with the look of bewilderment on Rory's features.

AN: I hope this didn't take too long; thank you all for the interest you've exuded in the story. Next chapter: lots of trory interaction. The more that people review, the faster I'm inclined to write ;)