Disclaimer: Rory's job takes her to North Carolina, and her first assignment is to interview one injured soldier. She walks into that army base expecting to get her first story, but that's not all she gets, right? This is a Trory! :)

Tristan arrived at her doorstep later that night. Just like last night, he stood there for a moment, not really knowing what to say to her. He couldn't get it, why she wasn't mad at him. Or madder, in this case. He remembered Justin telling him to grow a pair, sighed and rang the bell. It was make it or break it, right?

Rory opened the door wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. Maybe it was for the better, because if she was wearing that ratty tee-shirt again, or worst, that dress, he would really lose his composure. He was sure of it.

"Can I come in?" Tristan asked politely. He hated to apologize, but he hated even more treating her so badly. And then, losing all his self-control and ravishing her. He had to apologize, and if she were stupid enough to accept his apologies, he would be a happy man.

Rory said nothing, just stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. She closed the door, and crossed her arms over her chest. He took one look at her wrists, and saw the marks there, too. He made the mistake of closing his eyes, trying to regain a little bit of dignity, and was washed with the memories from this morning. He saw himself taking her arms prisoner, above her head, and pressing down on her, holding her in place against the wall with his body. How in God's name they made it to the bed, he didn't know.

His eyes snapped open with the memory, and he gulped. He hoped that she wouldn't notice nor his distress, nor his arousal. But of course she saw both of it. She was a witty reporter, after all. She narrowed her eyes, and waited for him to start talking, grateful that she was wearing clothes this time. She didn't need a repeat of this morning. Well, actually, she did, if she was honest with herself, she really did. She remembered vividly how her body felt this morning.

"I don't know what to say to you other then I'm sorry." Tristan repeated what he already said on the phone, trying to ignore the desire he saw in her eyes too.

"Well, I'm asking you again. Sorry that you got jealous or sorry you slept with me?" Rory asked, thinking that she already knew the answer, and knowing too that she wasn't about to let him walk away again. Not this time.

"I'm not the jealous type." He said, in lieu of an actual answer.

"You could have fooled me."

"I'm not. It just... You make me crazy. I... I can't believe that you here, in North Carolina, within reach. I dreamed about getting to see you again, about taking you out, dating you. But I never dreamed about hurting you, I never wanted to hurt you. And I did." He confessed.

"It's okay." Rory said, taking a step closer, in an attempt to comfort him. After all, she didn't think that there was much to forgive. It wasn't like she didn't like it.

"It shouldn't be..." Tristan continued, thinking that he didn't deserve her, never deserved her.

"Tristan." Rory said softly, uncrossing her arms, as she took his hands in hers. "I get it. You were jealous, and you lost control. It's okay, you didn't hurt me."

She followed his eyes, as he lowered his gaze to her wrists, and saw the marks there. Then, she remembered the other marks and love bites and corrected herself.

"Well, you did. But you didn't really hurt me. Figuratively speaking." She continued, blushing slightly. "It was kind of hot."

Tristan released a breath he didn't know he was holding, and pulled her closer. She's right, it was hot, he thought. But then every little thing she said or did, on purpose or otherwise, since she walked into that base turned him on.

"You like it rough, don't you, Mary?" He asked her, groaning, not really expecting an answer. He rested his head against hers, and continued.

"Do you know what you do to me, just by looking at me like that? With those big, blue, not-so-innocent eyes?" He said, and kissed her. He couldn't help but kiss her. She drives him crazy. And she was so perfectly innocent, that she didn't even get it, what she did to him.

She kissed him back, just as fiercely, battling for control, until she couldn't breath. And then she answered, teasing him.

"Yeah. I guess I do. Like it rough, I mean."

Tristan lost it, for the second time in the same day. He lost control, totally and completely. He didn't even know how they got to her bed, again, and he prayed that he didn't just tossed her there, but he was so crazy with need he wasn't thinking. He ravished her again.

A couple of hours later, still tangled in bed, he said:

"I can't keep doing this like that. I just... I have to know what we are doing here. Are we together? For real together? Because if we aren't..."

Rory didn't let he finish. She didn't need to.

"We are." She said, smiling.

"We are?" Tristan asked again. He needed to be sure.

"I'm not running away crying now, am I?" Rory smirked, turning his words back on him.

"It seems that you're not..." He smiled. "I think you need a new nickname. I don't think I can call you Mary anymore. Not after today." It was his time to smirk.

"Shut up, Tristan." She replied, not really annoyed.

"Yes, Ma'am."