Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls and the characters and places associated with Gilmore Girls are not mine. Also, the song "Four" is not mine.

Quote References: "Four" is by Lit and can be found on the album A Place in the Sun. It was written by Jay and Jeremy Popoff

A/N: Thanks for reviewing. I know that the Gilmore Girls section has grown A LOT (and let me tell you, I was pretty surprised to see how many stories there are now since I haven't written in a while.) So thanks you guys for checking mine out. It means a lot :)

Chapter Two: Back to You

It's just another thing she can't get

She doesn't think we're gonna make it

But when I'm home we're sleeping naked

And we pretend that we're in love

Yah

She likes to think that we're in love

-Lit

There was a knock on the door. Tristan stirred.

Another knock. "Tristan, Shelly, are you two still in bed at this hour? The fundraiser starts in less than two hours. You two have to start getting ready."

Tristan groggily opened his eyes. He was staring directly at the clock. 5:14 blinked at him menacingly. He tried to move, and pain shot up his left arm. He turned his head to find the source and noticed Shelly laying on top of it. She always insisted on cuddling, the result of which always ended up with Tristan's arm fast asleep.

"Tristan? Are you in there? You have to get up!"

"I know," he said irritably. He was never a morning person. Or an I-just-woke-up kind of person anyway. Gently, he pulled his arm out from underneath Shelly's sleeping form. She could sleep through anything. His arm tingled as the blood rushed back through his veins. He flexed his arm a couple of times to assist the blood flow and looked back at the clock. 5:16. He didn't need an hour and forty five minutes to get dressed. Even though it was a suit and tie event, he could get ready in less than fifteen. It wasn't like he wasn't used to putting on his suit. He had often joked with his friends that they might as well be living in the north pole because they were dressed like penguins most of the time.

He sat up and scannedthe floor for his boxers. Not seeing them, he pulled back the sheet a little. As he suspected, Shelly was wearing them.

Getting up, he went into the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and locked it. He wanted a bit of privacy before hob-nobbing with people all night tonight. That included Shelly. Sometimes Tristan just needed his private space.

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Tristan walked into the banquet hall and immediately felt a wave of heat come over him. The hall was crowded; he estimated there were at least three hundred people already in the small room. He longed to loosen his tie; sweat already prickled under his layers of clothing.

"This is wonderful," his mother cooed. "I see that at least half of the DAR members are here. I had no idea that Laura Pratt would be in town."

Tristan scanned the room as well. He definitely recognized the faces of many of the people seated at the tables. He was once again amazed that his mother was rattling off their names as she spotted each "neighbor." Tristan couldn't name five of them.

"Let's find our table," Shelly said, tugging on Tristan's sleeve. "I'm dying of thirst."

The Dugreys and Shelly walked through the room, scanning the empty tables for their name cards. They found their table at the edge of the room next to the tall windows that in daylight overlooked the garden. As it was, the night had already settled in, dark and moonless.

Tristan pulled out Shelly's chair to help her get seated before settling into his own. He immediately reached for the wine bottle sitting on ice to the side of the table. He knew it would be a long night, and the only way to get through it was with a little alcohol in his system. He poured a glass for himself without offering any to the rest of his table. One sip was enough for Tristan who set it back down on the table. Though it had been sitting on ice, it was still too warm for his liking.

"What's that face for?" Shelly asked.

"Wine's warm," he replied.

Shelly nodded and leaned on the table. "This sucks," she said softly so that only Tristan could hear her.

He sighed. "Totally."

"I mean it has to be at least a hundred degrees in this fucking room."

Tristan nodded, but he was distracted. He was looking at the huge windows near their table. Because it was dark out, the windows acted like giant mirrors, reflecting everything that was happening in the room. Tristan began to scan the reflected crowd. Ever since he was little Tristan loved to try to pick out the ugliest outfits people had on. It had always been a way for him to get through the boredom of these events.

He spotted a woman wearing a bright green dress that made her look like a watermelon. He followed her reflection as she crossed the room towards the windows. She took a seat at the table behind him, and Tristan watched their reflections while the people greeted the newcomer, their voices indistinguishable in the noisy hall.

Tristan scanned the faces of the people at the table, watching for their reaction to the bright green dress. He could only see half of their faces, the people whose backs were turned to him still could not be seen. The table was full of women, the Watermelon woman, a woman in dark blue, a woman in black, one in a decent shade of green, and a young woman in a striking shade of pink.

Tristan's heart skipped a beat, and his breath caught. This beautiful girl was familiar; she had been the subject of Tristan's dreams years ago. His heart was beating rapidly now. He had never expected to see her again anywhere, let alone here in London in a room full of debutants. She was gorgeous, even more beautiful than he remembered her.

Taking his eyes off of the window, Tristan reached for his wine glass. The warm wine slid down his throat with ease, and he took comfort in the feeling. It wasn't her, he told himself. She is in Connecticut. She would never be here, with these people. The people that she hates. He took another sip. That can't be her. It isn't her. It's just a brunette that looks like her. Tristan finished up the last sip of wine as his heartbeat returned to it's natural pace.

He had himself convinced that she wasn't Rory Gilmore. Tristan even risked a glance back to the windows to confirm his feelings. But she was gone. The seat was empty.

"Are you okay?" Shelly asked him. "You look kind of…weird."

Tristan looked to the girl sitting to his left. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

She nodded and he Tristan walked away, leaving Shelly and the empty chair behind.

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Rory splashed her face with cold water, savoring the relief the water possessed. She was smoldering in her pink satin gown, the layers of fabric suffocating her. The bathroom was cool and quiet, an escape from the noisy banquet hall, and her grandmother. Rory couldn't handle anymore of the women's idle gossip. Since Mrs. Humphrey in the lime green dress had been in Paris for three months, Emily Gilmore and the other women were catching her up on all of the gossip.

She tipped the washroom attendant, and with one deep breath, walked out of the bathroom and back into the loud hall. Rory threw a look over her shoulder to make sure her train didn't catch when the door closed. She didn't see the man until she had already bumped into him.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"No I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." She drew her eyes from the man's chest to meet his eyes. She found a pair of deep blue ones, wide with surprise, staring back at her.

"I-uh…"

"Hi Mary," he breathed, the familiar name slipping fondly from his lips.

Her face that had been soft with surprise and recognition pinched slightly as her beautiful eyes narrowed. "I see your memory hasn't improved in the past three years."

Tristan, taken aback by her harsh tone, spat back an automatic response.

"You're counting. Have you missed me that much?"

"Hardly," she snorted. "What are you even doing here anyway?"

Tristan spread his arms. "These are my people. The real question is what are you doing here? Is Sleepy Hollow getting too Redneck for you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it is out in the sticks. I thought that maybe you wanted to come see what civilized people looked like."

"Then I obviously got on the wrong bus. I haven't seen any in here." She walked away.

"Nice seeing you!" Tristan called after her sarcastically. But the truth was, it was nice to see her. It was nicer than anything Tristan had seen in years.