I'd Do Anything Chapter 11 "Memories and Remembrance"

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Note: Do you even remember this fic? It's been a whole year since I updated the last time. And reading back, I realized that this is a completely messy crap. So, I'm trying to assemble it together and do some clean up. I hope you didn't turn back at the earlier chapters. Anyway, this chapter is sort of a flashback. And this is unbeta-ed and I haven't written anything in a long time. So do please cut me some slack.

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"Tristan, you have got to EAT!" Alicia tried to reason with her son patiently. She had been trying to make him eat for the last hour and so far no success had been attained. The patience she had was wearing very thin. Furious, she counted 1 to 10 inwardly before letting out a sweet sugary voice. "Tristan, honey. You're sick."

"Look, mom, I'm fine, good, wonderful. It's just a cold, okay?" Tristan DuGrey croaked exasperatedly from under thick layers of blanket. "Please, I'm not hungry."

"Just a cold?" She exploded. "You're running high. Your temperature is 103, for god's sake. You should've been in a hospital."

Tristan didn't say a word. He had little energy to debate with her stubborn mother in condition like this. And if he were to argue with her, it probably wouldn't end until either he ate or his mother stomped out of the room in a huff. And frankly, he would choose the latter because as much as he loved his mum, he just wasn't hungry. But alas, he was not strong enough to strike back with barbed words or snappy comeback. If only anyone in the house would just leave him alone for more than five minutes. For now, he only wanted to go to slumber, not stuffing his stomach with more unthinkable food.

"Tristan, please." The sound of Alicia DuGrey snapped him out of his reverie. He turned to see his mother eyeing him with what could be said as puppy-something eyes, quietly begging him to open his mouth and let whatever food she had on the tray pass through his esophagus. Seeing that look, he gave up. That look always got her everywhere, everything, every way. No other men in the family could resist either their mother or wife. Grudgingly, he lifted up his jaw and let a spoon invaded his mouth.

Potato soup. Figured.

If there was any food he hated, it was potatoes. Anything involved potatoes. French fries, potato soup, mashed potato. All kinds of potatoes cuisine. The only potatoes he could bear was potato chips which weren't real potatoes. In his mind, real potatoes should not be allowed as food. Especially not as primary food in any household. He'd rather eat some disgusting sushi for all he cared.

Tristan was too busy enduring the taste of the soup that he didn't hear a knock followed by a creak of his bedroom door. And when suddenly a brunette head protruded, he heard Alicia greeted the intruder somewhat warmly.

"Rory, hi. Come on in." Rory Gilmore came in to a full view. He hadn't seen her in days since she had gone on a little vacation with her grandparents. And with resignation he noted that she looked so fresh today, compared to himself who hadn't bathed in two days due to his persistent, stupid flu."

"Hey Alicia." She turned to look over to Tristan. "So, this is the sick boy. What happened to you?" He really didn't feel like answering any of her damn questions. Thankfully, Alicia did him a favor and jumped right up.

"He caught a cold. Somehow. I still have no idea how." Then, they both looked expectantly at him as if trying to search for any information.

He just caught a cold, okay? So what? Everyday, probably millions of people in the world caught colds. Why did it suddenly become interesting just because it happened to him? Grumpily, he turned to the other side feeling more annoyed especially that of all the food in the food world, his mother had to go and make him eat his least favorite food. He stared at his bookcase. Even with his back towards them, he could practically hear Rory glancing at Alicia questioningly and his no nonsense mother so "kindly" remarked out loud.

"He's becoming so grouchy, I couldn't stand it. Perhaps you want to tire yourself out with him? Please do so." She stood up and handed Rory the bowl of potato soup. "Try to get him to finish this." Rory smiled and nodded without saying anything. She followed Alicia's movement until it disappeared behind closed door. Turning to her new task, she sighed.

For Rory, this task wasn't as simple as it should. Tristan was known to be as hard as diamond stone. Most of the time, he would at least try to cooperate. But in some special cases, it's impossible to change what he viewed, wanted or said. More over when he was in a bad mood, not only he was hard to lobby, he also wasn't exactly reluctant to put whoever made his mood heavier in their place. And once, Rory was the receiving end.

"Tristan, come on. We have to get back to school soon. If you don't get better, we wouldn't have much time to hang out together. Come on, eat." She put the bowl back on the tray and tried to get him to look at her. He relented as he turned and stared at her unflinchingly. When Rory dipped the spoon and fed him with it, he closed his mouth tightly. "Open you mouth." He shook his head.

"Nah uh."

"What should I do to make you eat?" She desperately said. However, at the sneaky glint in his eyes, she immediately knew she had asked the most wrong question.

"Well…" He purposefully dragged it. "A kiss wouldn't be so bad." He tried to channel on the husky voice, only with a sore throat it came out croaky. Nevertheless, Rory couldn't resist rolling her eyes. An activity she seemed to be doing a lot when in his presence. Even in sick and in health, the mind of Tristan DuGrey was never far from the gutter.

"No." Firmly said.

"Then, you'd better get that tray out of the room." Not less firmly as well.

Cocky bastard.

"Fine. But then you have to lick clean of this bowl."

"I'd rather lick you clean." She had walked right in to that one. If only he wasn't sick right now, he'd have landed himself a whack on the head.

"I'll take that as a yes." Rory remarked sweetly as she fixed him a glare.

Taking a deep breath, she handed him the bowl. Slowly, she bent over him and brushed her lips across his left cheek. Once, and twice. She could smell his boyish odor mixed with sweat. Not all too smelly but she thought nevertheless that a bath was definitely next in her task. As she pulled away, he bombarded her.

"What was that? Was that qualified as a kiss? No I don't think so." Rory had never seen Tristan wearing a grin so big it stretched his face. "Kiss me on the mouth."

"What?" He had a look on his face that told her he wasn't going to repeat it. And she was welcomed to gape all she wanted but he wouldn't reiterate what he said. Instead, with eyebrow crooked up, he waited expectantly for her.

He was so going to pay for being a throbbing pain in the ass.

If earlier she took a deep breath than this next breath was bottomless for it was too deep. She had a sudden notion that if she was going to kiss Tristan DuGrey, then she was to make the best of it. As her lips landed on his, she decided to play with his roguish self. Instead of light peck she knew he anticipated, she tugged and chewed on his bottom lip before kindly smoothing it with flicks of her tongue and she repeated this action twice. Before he could allow her tongue an access to his inner mouth, she quickly withdrew. Wearing a smug look, she left a somewhat wordless Tristan, his lips still parted in a discomfited fashion. Rory watched as he tried to form a sentence.

"You are so mean." In a little voice.

She couldn't help bursting out laughing.

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Tristan sleepily opened his eyes at the sound of water hitting the earth. Glancing outside at the fresh rain, he tried to bring himself to crane his neck and look at his bedside clock. Only there was no clock. There was no bedside table as well. In fact, what he lied on didn't look much like a bed. More of a couch. Oh well, it was a couch. He looked around and recognized his surrounding as the Gilmore surrounding. It was Gilmore ambience because in his house there wouldn't be a pink closet, a monkey lamp, or a two-thousand pages dictionary wrapped neatly in blue paper cover.

He fished out his jacket to find his cell phone and read 5:45 on the screen. He jumped back on the couch and pulled up his blanket, once again going back to sleep. Just as he closed his eyes, a thud sound caught his ears followed by a soft cursing voice that he could immediately identify as Rory's. Sitting up, he saw her busied herself buttoning her jacket over her pajamas and put on her slippers. Like a thief, she slowly took step by step with utmost care. He pretended to sleep as she looked around the living room. Probably trying to spot her guest. Who was none other than Tristan. Seeing he looked like sleeping, she turned to the door, slid outside, and closed it almost soundlessly.

Curious, he got off the couch and peeked outside from the window. If he thought she was going somewhere, he was sorely mistaken. There she was, in the middle of the rain, doing something that could best be distinguished as dancing. For a moment, he stood on his feet, dumbfounded. And the next, he was grabbing his jacket, ready to put some sense into Rory's head. However, as he glimpsed at her again, he could see a smile so free plastered on her lit up face. She flung out her arms carelessly as if flying like a bird. Then she twisted around, spinning, with arms stretched up above her head like a ballerina. Then she simply looked up to the sky, her eyes screwed shut.

Tristan became so entranced he forgot to move quickly to save her from suffering hypothermia.

He stepped outside and yelled to her. "Rory, what the hell are you doing?" She looked at him and waved her hand, motioning for him to join her in there.

"Tristan, play with me." She grinned. He glared. "Aww, don't be such a prude. Come here."

"Rory, get your ass in here before you get sick." Rory simply shook her head and continued moving around. "Rory. Get. Here. Now." Now, she just plainly ignored him. Indignant, he walked up to where she was, intending to drag her back inside the house. He was soaked to the skin before he even reached her.

Rory threw Tristan another grin as she saw him joining her. She drew his hands and coaxed him to dance. He refused and took her hand and walked back to the house. She quickly sprang herself away from his grasp and went back to the middle of the lawn. As she turned around she caught a glimmer of worry in his eyes. Seeing it, Rory inwardly thanked him for existing. Although he always succeeded in picking on her nerves, she was grateful he was there to make her feel. Feel anger, insanity, worry, care, aggravation, happiness, cheer, embarrassment, every emotion he resuscitated from within her. And to take care of her even if he didn't knew it.

"I promise I'll go back in a minute. Can we just stay here for a while, please?" She said, pleading.

Finally relaxed, he joined her once again and let her hoisted his hands as he snaked his palm up her waist and pulled her close. She coiled her arms around his neck and smiled up to him earnestly. At that moment, a warm sensation jolted up and down in his stomach and his chest gave a sharp tug. Somehow, he felt his cheeks heated up when it was impossible since they were wet and freezing from the rain. That instant, all he wanted to do was whisper in her ear that she was so beautiful he had never seen anything like it. And so he did.

"You're so beautiful."

"I really love playing in the rain. Do you know why?" She didn't let him answer her, though. "It's like I'm being washed off all my mistakes to the bare." She was silent. "Even for a crack, I want that feeling." She told him. "I need that feeling to be able to carry on." He nodded against her hair, comprehending.

He lifted up her head and connected his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes as she tightened her grip on him and burrowed her face in the crook of his neck. No more explanation needed to make him understand. Everybody wanted to feel that way, guiltless, free of all issues. Even for a split second. All the problems weighed our shoulders came lifted off, leaving our hearts carefree and loose.

They stayed attached together for a while.

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