A.N. – So, I almost did not make it for this month but, yaaay, I did! By the by, hope everyone had a wonderful Valentine's Day! (Mine was seriously boring and lonely). So without further ado…dum dum duuum!

I am sooo sorry that there are no review responses, but I'm rushing to post this before this month expires in 20 min and I figured you guys would want a chapter instead of responses~ But I love you all who reviewed (and those of you who read silently, too)!

/Hold my hand, oh baby. It's a long way down to the bottom of the river.

It's a long way down, a long way down/

– Bottom of the River, Vocal Rush

Chapter 10 – Bottom of the River

"Is there a reason we haven't had sex yet?" Rory asked as Tristan and her walked up to the doorway of her Grandparent's house.

"Where the heck did that come from?!" he choked out. His eyes were wide in surprise, but there was unease set in his shoulders. Rory knew her comment was left field but the thought had been eating at her for a few days.

Tristan had shown up as usual, and he had brought her to the brink of such pleasure that she was sure her mother could hear her through Tristan's muffling kiss. Her body had been branded his and yet…he stopped. His body had been pressed down on hers, his need for her rubbing against her noble virtue…and yet he never tried. He never let himself get too lost in the moment with her.

She was perpetually in a moment, created by him, but alone.

Rory had asked Louise her thoughts on the matter, but Louise simply replied, "Ask him," as though it was that easy. But it wasn't easy, not for Rory. Rory who had always been so…frigid. Chaste was a word to describe Rory with Dean, and that had been an upgrade. The things she did with Tristan…it was otherworldly for her.

It's such a great leap that Rory herself forgets sometimes that she's still new at playing at being an adult—or better yet, at playing at being a teenager which is so much harder.

"Mary," Tristan breaks her silence. They're in front of the door but haven't rung the bell. He wanted this, whatever this was, to be settled before they braved the forces of family censure together.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "It's just, we're always doing stuff, but we never seem to get there."

"Is that a problem?" Tristan looked at her warily.

"No!" Rory laid her hand on his coat sleeve suddenly. "No, it's not a problem…I just don't understand why…"

The moment where Tristan had to decide whether to push them forward or keep them stagnant approached so suddenly that it almost slapped him in the face.

"I—" he paused. He didn't want to be a jerk, but he didn't want to lie.

"I'm sorry!" Rory said suddenly, doubting herself and the conversation. "I know this is so weird. Forget I said anything."

Tristan smiled softly; her reaction baffled him the way only a woman can and it strained his heartbeat in an unfamiliar manner. Mine.

"Don't be sorry," he invaded her personal space. "The truth is that I'm a guy, Mare. I fuck around more than I should and I'm never as sorry as I should be…but…you're my Mary, you know. I care." He finished uncomfortably.

Rory remembered that men didn't like to talk about their feelings, but she didn't understand his answer. She also knew that she couldn't explicitly tell him she didn't understand.

"Okaay," she opted for a typical default answer instead.

Tristan ran his hand through his hair in similar understanding—he didn't really understand himself either. "Look, I just don't want to be a dick, okay?"

"How would you be a d-jerk?" Rory re-phrased while blushing profusely. She felt something foreign within her chest—shame, affection. She wasn't too sure, but it was disconcerting and made her squirm under Tristan's gaze.

"C'mon, Mare," Tristan smirked, but there was a hard edge to his eyes. "Even I'm not that clueless to not know that if I pushed you to go there, I'd be a dick. Heck, I think that the fact that I've made you feel unwanted by not pushing still ends up making me a dick—"

"I don't feel unwanted!" Rory interrupted with sudden anger. "I don't ever feel unwanted when it comes to you. I've never felt more wanted and sexy," she blushed, "so I don't even know where you would get that."

"You are sexy," Tristan smiled, and it was beautiful. Rory went to step away but Tristan just wrapped his arms around her and refused to let her budge.

"Look at me, Mary," he whispered. It was as though if he spoke louder the wind would steel his words. He was terrified. "I want you. Don't ever doubt it, because I've never not wanted you since the day I met you and dubbed you 'Mary'. But I won't be that guy. I kissed you at Madeline's party. I came into your room. I've escalated us at night. I won't be that guy who you can blame for pushing you over the edge. I can't be that guy, and I won't let you be that girl—that girl who pleads deniability because of naivety until it was too late to stop or care. We're not those people."

The words felt heavy onto Rory's shoulders and she felt the caress of Tristan's breath on her face. He was being honest, brutally so. Frustration begged Rory to crumble. Confusion curled it's wings around her—it was a shroud of blissful ignorance. She knew that the moment she did understand, she would never be the same again. Too many hurdles. Too much. Not enough time.

"So, what does that mean?" Rory whispered back. She was scared to know, but in too deep to not ask.

"It means…that if you want me, you're gonna have to come get me." There was a finality to the statement that made Rory feel like she were on the precipice of an awakening.

Could she take him? Did she have that ability in her? The ability to take without restraint, without fear…but she was always so afraid of life, of living. Living was a tentative discovery for Rory, while it was an automatic and integral part of Tristan; he didn't know how to live without living.

Tristan turned toward the front door then; he wouldn't coddle her. Not with this, so that later he could be blamed for cajoling her into taking what she wanted. He wouldn't be accused of being a different type of monster—the worst kind: A man who convinces others to want what he wants.

The ringing of the bell snapped Rory out of her hesitation and she threw her arms up around him. It was an awkward position but she didn't care. She couldn't let the door open without her having explained that she wanted. She wanted so bad. Tristan wrapped his arms automatically around her waist. His eyes bore into hers like God; like love; they were tender and his hands were soft—the heat permeating through her coat.

"I—" Rory started but Tristan interrupted her. Words were inadequate. They were past the need to profess everything.

"Show me," he said roughly, overcome with all types of emotions he would never admit to. His hands tightened around her, and she whimpered. She wanted and needed and the door opened to show a ruffled Emily Gilmore rebuking the maid.

"For God's sake La Fleur! How difficult is it to open a door? Poor Rory and Tristan must be freezi—" Emily cut herself off as she took in the sight of Rory slowly untangling herself from Tristan. The need to scream and moan and cry was curling within Rory so tightly that she feared moving too quickly, lest it snap.

And if this overwhelming feeling snapped right then and there…there weren't words for the destruction and pleasure it would reap.

"Hey, Grandma" Rory smiled slowly. She breathed slowly. She walked forward to hug Emily slowly. Everything was done with caution so as to not let her emotions for Tristan loose.

Tristan saw her sudden nature and acted slightly faster to make up for her lack. He charmed and laughed throughout the pre-dinner drinks. Tristan's parents couldn't make it because of a prior engagement—they had tried to cancel but the people wouldn't take no for an answer, and it helped that they were in bonds. Janlan Dugrey was there and reminded Rory a bit of Santa Claus without the long beard. Janlan had a warm manner to him that told anyone that he must have been a killer with the women when he was young. But he was also direct which spoke volumes and told Rory just why he and Richard Gilmore got along so well.

There was only one hiccup in the whole evening where Tristan tensed. His body coiled so sharply and suddenly that he had to lean his forearms on his knees to hide his reaction. Rory covered his behavior by pretending to jostle him forward—they were so in tune to each other.

Together.

Emily had wanted to know how long they'd been seeing each other and how they met; Richard cared only for his academics, and Janlan only wanted to reminisce on days of him and his deceased wife (Emily and Richard had already sung Rory's praises beforehand). But through it all Tristan fielded the question and inquiries towards him to give Rory space and time to get situated.

Rory only needed a few moments, but he continued to field most questions anyway. He was being thoughtful and Rory liked him deeply for it—the kind that creates stars in one's eyes.

It was this feeling that sparked defensiveness on Tristan's behalf, and pulled a frown onto Rory's lips when there was a lull in the conversation and Lorelai decided it was her turn to interrogate Tristan—she was ruthless.

"So, Tristan," Lorelai spat his name. "I know your GPA, how long you've been seeing Rory and all the places you would like to study, but I don't know what you plan to study or how you actually feel about my daughter."

Silence. But all eyes were on Tristan. Rory knew that Tristan was grasping at all the patience he had to not tell Lorelai that it was none of her business. She was grateful on some level for his attempt.

"I'm not quite sure what I want to study yet," he started tersely, "and as far as my feelings for Rory, she knows how I feel."

It was a polite "fuck off" but a "fuck off" nonetheless. Lorelai heard the comment for what it really was and went on complete battle mode. She disliked him. She disliked him for the same reason Rory adored him: he wasn't Dean; he wouldn't let her lead him in a conversation he didn't want and he wasn't an open book and he wasn't shy or pliable.

Strangely enough, the second that Rory saw the war raging in Lorelai's eyes was the most comfortable she was all night. It was contrary to the girl she'd always been: stressed and anxious about most situations that were out of her comfort zone…but that was just it, wasn't it? This was something she didn't have to worry or stress over because Tristan excelled at battles.

"Rory knows what she wants to study in college. She's known since she was ten years old," Lorelai hit him hard with the message everyone heard: You're not good enough for her.

Little did she know it was a very real insecurity for Tristan. But he wouldn't let her see. He wouldn't break. Not now. Not ever.

"I'm sure you'll agree that ten years old isn't the age to make life altering decisions," Tristan smirked mockingly. Bring it on.

He had to keep the little voices that were telling him that Lorelai was right, back. He covered them with shadows in his mind, and focused on the verbal battle he was facing.

"She's not ten anymore and she's never once faltered. She wants to go to Harvard" Lorelai pushed.

Everyone watched the verbal ping pong, but Janlan's eyes no longer had a spark; they had a hard edge that reminded Rory of Tristan…they were exactly Tristan's eyes.

"Yea, well, Harvard is a great school but so are Princeton and Yale and Columbia, and countless others. Harvard is a great goal to set but it can't be the end-all be-all. Things change sometimes."

"Too right you are, Tristan. Yale is my alma marta" Richard interjected smoothly.

"Princeton, mine" Janlan countered. There was a healthy ribbing about which was better, but all the while Lorelai could barely breathe.

Things change. No. They couldn't. Not her Rory. It had always been all or nothing for Rory, but as Lorelai watched Rory silently interact with Tristan, she knew.

Things were changing and she hated it. Lorelai went to speak but Rory decided it was high time to end Lorelai's crusade on Tristan—never let it be said that Rory didn't know how to defend what was hers. Mine.

"Tristan might not know what he wants to do, but whatever it is, he's gonna be great" Rory stepped in firmly. She honestly believed it.

"No one with eyes doubts it," Janlan said. Lorelai wanted to call him old and senile, but paused. She realized that she was acting childish and irrational. She was verbally attacking a sixteen year olds character and he was confidently and efficiently deflecting her.

For a moment Lorelai could see what Rory sees when she looks at Tristan: a boy who was strong enough, bold enough, and proud enough to change the world one day.

But Rory…change…can't.

Yes. She could, Lorelai decided. She wasn't the child here.

"Maybe you will change the world one day," Lorelai silently apologized to Tristan. She expected a "whatever" for her effort. She expected an eye roll—anything juvenile for her to latch on to.

Tristan simply nodded his head in recognition of her sentiment and moved the conversation swiftly onto another topic. He could care about starting drama with Rory's mother, especially knowing how she feels about her; Rory may hate her somewhat like all teenagers despise their parents, but she still loved her and would choose Lorelai over him. If that were to happen, Rory would forever resent Lorelai, but she would do it.

Lorelai, unknowing to all that went on in Tristan's head, grudgingly respected him – but Rory? Rory was so damn proud that her face lit up like the northern lights.

They were like the northern lights. But that night, Tristan didn't climb into her bedroom. Tristan had made himself clear: if she wanted—but she did want! She just had to prove it, now.

Two months passed with Rory pondering the "how" and Tristan not visiting during the night.

English class with Mr. Medina was usually her favorite class of the day, but not today. Her heart was pounding and her legs were jittery and her stomach kept rolling and rolling.

"What's wrong?" Louise whispered next to her.

"I need to," gulp, "seduce Tristan," Rory whispered back, cheeks red.

Louise's eyes bulged the size of meatballs. Her smirk was absent and in its place stood a mirthful smile that Rory would have appreciated had she not been the reason for it.

"I'm serious," Rory hissed. Louise simply lifted her hand a bit in surrender.

"You need tips?"

"Yes" Rory wanted to scream it. She wanted all the help she could get, she was so nervous.

"Later" Louise mouth as Mr. Medina glared at the two of them. But later never came. When the bell rang and Louise and Rory stepped out of the room, Paris and Madeline were waiting for them.

"Gilmore, you're tenser than usual" Paris attacked.

"I'm not tense. This is me, not being tense" Rory tried to move around her.

"Rory's always tense," Madeline commented airily. If it had been anyone else, Rory would have been offended. But, instead, she smiled lightly at Madeline. There was something familiar about Madeline's behavior that put Rory at ease—she was always the same no matter what. Not even the incident (as they were referring to it) could change Madeline.

"Psh, if she gets any tenser, she'd have no neck. Probably the product of dating a criminal. Careful Gilmore, I'm not sure you'd take well to being someone's bitch in jail next to your—" Paris took another shot, this one closer to home.

"Yea, but she'd still have Tristan, so guess that's one up on you, huh, Paris?" Louise stepped in, smirking. She lived for these battles, but underneath it—Finn was Tristan's best friend, and if Tristan ended up in jail Louise knew that Finn would too. She didn't like the word "jail" thrown around so carelessly.

"Are you coming to my party, Rory?" Madeline sidled up next to Rory. They linked arms and Rory smiled at how familiar they were all becoming. The days of tentative friendship was over—they were friends now, for sure. It reminded her that she hadn't seen or spoken to Lane in a while. Guilt crept into her bones and she determined that she would see Lane this weekend.

"Rory?" Madeline pushed for attention.

"Umm, I'm not sure yet. When is it?" Rory hadn't even known Madeline was throwing a party. "And isn't it a little too soon for you to throw a party?"

"It's a recovery party," Paris said derisively. "Next thing you know, we'll have to start calling her Lindsey Lohan."

"Not if the guys have anything to say about it," Louise said, uncharacteristically serious. Madeline was her best friend, after all.

Madeline hummed her agreement, but Rory felt slightly uncomfortable.

"I don't want any of them getting into trouble," Rory said as they finished putting their stuff in their lockers and walking to the cafeteria.

"Well, if they're smart they won't." Louise shrugged. Paris wasn't so nonchalant.

"They're already being stupid! My cousin works as the District Attorney for the Hartford Police Department and he told me there's been talk."

"What kind of talk?" Rory asked. Her nerves were screaming in protest. Relax. Tristan's smart. Don't worry. But she did worry.

"He wouldn't say, just that there was talk concerning some guys from Hartford. They're being reckless!" Paris practically shouted and all the girls shushed her just as fast.

"This isn't good," Rory worried out loud.

"We need to trust them," Madeline said innocently. She was right, but Rory had a horrible feeling in her stomach.

"Trust them? They're going to end up in a jail cell with a man named Willy, if we don't put a stop to this cowboy nonsense" Paris whipped doubts and doubts into Rory's head like ice cream—it melted and bled out into the rest of her.

"No," Louise looked into each of their eyes. "Madeline is right. We need to trust that they know what they're doing. They're not our little brothers, they're our men and they won't appreciate us getting in the middle of whatever they have going. We just need to trust their judgment until then."

Trust…trust…trust…Rory wanted to address so much but, time was running low.

"Wait," Rory smiled curiously, focusing on something worth smiling about. "Our men? Who's Paris dating?"

"None of your business!" Paris said sharply before anyone else could comment.

They laughed, and it was a picture perfect snapshot of worries pushed to the background.

But the end of the day of classes came and with it all the uncertainties and fears that Rory had tried to push to the back of her mind. As she was putting her things away, she noted how absent Tristan had been all day. As the question of his presence came to her, strong arms wrapped around Rory from behind, warming her very bones.

"Hey, you" Tristan whispered huskily in her ear.

"Hey, back" Rory quipped. "Where have you been all day?"

"In and out of class." Tristan let Rory turn around in his arms. He loved the way her hair swayed against his skin. "Had to take care of some stuff."

"Don't play cloak and dagger with me buddy," she frowned and poked him in the chest. Tristan laughed and tried to nip at her outstretched finger.

"Are you going to Madeline's party this weekend?" Tristan deflected…unsuccessfully.

"Don't know yet. Are you going to answer my question?"

"Which question was that?" he flashed his infuriatingly handsome smile. He was magnificent and Rory had to ground herself from being lost to his charm.

"Tristan…" she warned. He sighed, and that pit in Rory's stomach became bigger. "What? What is it?"

"Stop freaking out, Mare. What's with the questions suddenly?"

She tried to assure him that she had always had questions but he wasn't biting.

"I heard that cops are talking about you guys" Rory said timidly. She wanted him to deny it. She wanted a boyish, sheepish, smile to cut through her anxiety. Instead, what she saw was Janlan's hard glint and serious mouth.

"Talking about what?" his voice was steady like his heartbeat beneath her palm.

"Yea, I don't know what 'talking' means either," Rory started to fret. Tristan just sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot, lately. His silence spoke volumes.

"What's going on, Tristan?" Her voice quivered a bit. She was scared for him. The realization that something could happen to him, it was too real. Like Madeline in the hospital was too eye opening. She wouldn't play naïve, though she wanted to so badly.

"Look," he began, "Yea, there are some stuff going on, but nothing permanent has been decided—just a lot of talk. I don't want you to worry about any of this."

"No," Rory said tersely. She was furious and she didn't even know it. "No, you don't get to do that. I'm not Louise. I don't want to be in the dark. We're in this. I'm with you, and it's not okay for you to deal with whatever is going on by yourself. I don't want to not worry. I want to know."

"Hey, hey," Tristan pulled her into a tight hug. He wanted to be closer—so much closer. He wanted to shake her into not caring, just in case he wasn't as smart as he and everyone else thought he was. "I'm sorry. I'm a jerk" he tried to apologize, but the more he tried to soothe her, the more Rory seemed to genuinely cry. She had no idea this torrent had been inside of her, waiting to come out.

"C'mon, Mare, what is this? You're not the crying type are you? 'Cuz weird coffee fetishes, I can deal with, but not crying. I draw the line," Tristan teased until Rory let out a tearful laugh.

"Idiot."

"So, now that we've moved away from the brink of a Virginia Woolf ending, want to tell me what that was about?" He smiled boyishly, but there was genuine concern in his eyes. "That wasn't about me, was it?" he asked timidly. It was uncharacteristic of him, but then again, he was only a boy.

He was so out of his element, but wanted to learn her. He could learn, he just needed time. Time: the only thing that he never seems to have enough of.

"It…was about us," Rory said and she could see the invisible strings of anxiety curl around the both of them.

"What about us?" he was closing off, but they were finally talking about it, and Rory couldn't go back. He didn't want her to stop, though the 'unknown' of this conversation was putting him on edge—he didn't think he could handle another conversation about his feelings so many times in the span of one school year.

"We—" she cut off, and harrumphed in frustration. She wished…

"Hey, no pressure. It's just us, Mary," Tristan soothed her. He was like Poseidon with the sea.

It was just them, Rory realized. They were complicated and exciting and them. They didn't need to fit in a tiny box, she reminded herself. It was okay.

"I want to seduce you, but I don't know how" Rory said bravely as she looked at his collar bone. His shoulder. Anything but his eyes.

But Tristan's sudden laughter raked his body and by default, hers. They were connected.

"It's not funny!" Rory pouted, but started to giggle too. She recognized how crazy it all was. She wished being a teenager was easier..and yet, for moments like this, she didn't wish at all.

Tristan had never kissed a woman laughing, but it felt good to do it now, with Rory. With Rory, everything felt good. It was uniquely them.

"Mary, Mary," he just repeated her name again and again with a smile. She consumed him and worried him and made him feel everything.

"Tristan," Rory teased.

"Mary, I'm a guy," he began as solemnly as he could.

"I'd worry if you weren't" Rory joked.

"I'd be worried if you weren't worried," he smartly replied, and they chuckled at the familiarity of their banter. Everything had felt so intense, and heavy, and serious lately that it felt so good to simply get back to the basics—the them without that added preservatives.

"You don't need to try to seduce me, Mary" Tristan shrugged.

"I don't?" Rory questioned, confused. She thought that was what he wanted.

"No. Just come to me." He said softly.

"Just come to you?"

"Yea, Mary. Just come to me, for once."

And Rory understood. She understood, and it was a heady feeling that made her dizzy and light all at the same time.

"We're gonna be okay, aren't we?" She asked, as she let all the emotions she was feeling crash into her like the speed of light.

"Yea, Mare. Yea, we so fucking are," Tristan chuckled throatily with the truth on his lips.

They were going to be okay, and that? That was all that mattered.

~TBC~

A.N. Liked it? Hated it? Thought it was too rushed? I am really nervous about this chapter, so please let me know how you think it went!