Author's Ramblings: I just wanted to clear a few things up. The flashbacks in the previous chapters and the ones still to come aren't in any chronological order. They just occur because something in the present sets off a memory. It might be a little confusing but the timeline isn't really important. If it is, I'll mention it in the fic.

Oh and I'm going away all of this week so don't expect an update on any of my fics until the weekend or sometime early next week.

Chapter 13: Lost

"Pregnant?" Tristan stuttered somewhat as the magnitude of what she had just told him hit him full-fledge. His face had gone completely white and she was sure that she couldn't have shocked him more if she had slapped him across the face and punched him in the gut at the same time.

Maybe she should have been glad that he didn't ask if he was the father. Then again, he probably assumed that she had no sex life if it wasn't with him.

"Yes." She smoothed her hands over her stomach and nodded, not knowing how she formed the words through all the tension in the room.

"How?" he asked and then caught himself and amended, "I mean, we used protection."

Rory stared at her hands; her face was hot, signaling tears. She took a few steadying breaths before she lifted her gaze back to his face. "We didn't use anything that night before you left for New York again. That night in your hotel room." They had been a little too drunk to remember to use a condom. "I was on the pill but..."

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair, the color returning slowly to his face. It was his turn to look away and stare at her bedroom door. He pursed his lips and she could tell he was struggling for words. "Did you plan on telling me? Ever?"

Anger pushed through all the other emotions inside her. "I just told you, Tristan."

"When you're already three months pregnant, Rory," he shot back. "And Paris had to force you to do it."

"Well I'm sorry," she answered through gritted teeth. She turned away from him and finished dragging the suitcase to her bedroom. He followed but she yelled to him over her shoulder anyway. "This isn't the kind of thing you tell someone over the telephone, Tristan! You left after that night. As per usual."

He took the suitcase away from her and shoved it further into the room, grabbing her lightly by the shoulders and turning her to face him fully. "You could have called, Rory. I would have come back."

"And done what, Tristan?" she asked, angry tears streaking down her cheeks. She laughed at him bitterly. "Held my hand while I waited for the test results? Hugged me when the stick turned pink? Told me everything was going to be okay? Is that what you would have done, Tristan?"

She saw his expression soften a bit and the hurt flicker in his eyes but she was so angry and tired she was beyond caring. He loosened his grip on her arms and looked at her steely. "Yes, I would have done all of that."

Those words, and the conviction and certainty behind them, threw her off more than any kiss from him ever had. Her anger almost wavered as she whispered; "I don't need you to be knight in shining armor, Tristan."

He let go of her completely and stepped away, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "Then what do you want me to be, Rory? God knows I've tried everything."

I want you to love me; she wanted to tell him. I want to hear you say those words. But she didn't say that out loud. She wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hands and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know."

She saw the muscle in his jaw twitch slightly; it often did when he was angry and trying to control it. She held her breath, not wanting to fight again. Her back was aching, her temples were throbbing and she was pretty sure the yelling could not be good for the baby. She placed a hand on her stomach and saw Tristan's gaze land there as well.

For a minute, they both just stood their, breathing heavily and neither of them knowing what to say or do. Then, Tristan nodded very slowly and headed out her bedroom door, leaving her alone, once again.

"Hey guys," Rory called out from the second last step in the basement, giving the other Gilmores time to compose themselves so that there would be no awkwardness when she came into view. She trusted her mother not to say anything about the pregnancy to Emily but she also didn't want to force Lorelai to lie to her own mother.

"Hey sweetie," Lorelai greeted looking relieved as she came over to hug her. "Paris and Jess went back, huh?"

"Yeah, I couldn't ask them to leave their life on hold for me. They have a wedding to prepare for and I could tell Paris was getting fidgety because it was throwing her off schedule," she joked, knowing Paris and Jess would postpone the wedding if Rory asked them to. "So what are the two of you doing down here?"

"Spring cleaning," Lorelai teased Emily who shot her a look.

Rory smiled softly, glad that some of her family's problems were in the past, completely dealt with and not affecting the present. The drama between her mother and grandparents was not Rory's favorite childhood and adolescent memory but time had a way of healing things that previously seemed completely broken.

"Here you go dear," Emily said as she lifted the box of baby stuff and handed it to Rory, who glanced at her mother. "This was your mothers when she was a baby. I want you to have it now, when you start a family of your own."

"Mom," Lorelai interjected, putting a hand on Rory's shoulder for support. "Do you really have to give it to her now?"

"What's wrong with now, Lorelai?"

"Nothing," Rory answered quickly, sending her mother an 'it's okay' look. "It's perfect, Grandma. I'm really touched."

Emily pressed a kiss to Rory's forehead and then started to rummage through the rest of the boxes and Lorelai pulled her daughter to the side. "Babe, what are you doing?"

"I overheard what you guys were talking about," she whispered, looking over her mother's shoulder at Emily. "I don't want to explain anything now, Mom. But I do plan on telling her about what happened before I return to Boston."

Lorelai folded her arms over her chest. "I know it's not my decision, honey, but are you sure that that's wise?"

Rory nodded as she set the box down beside her feet and then reached up to pull her hair into a ponytail with one hand while she dug around for her barrette in her pocket with the other. When she found it, she snapped it close around her hair and rolled up her sleeves, getting ready to help with the cleaning. "I don't want her to find out years later, Mom. It's better now."

As they turned to Emily again, they found her on the floor holding up a white wedding dress in her hands. Tears were running down her cheeks and Rory winced inwardly as she saw her grandmother's body shake with sobs.

Lorelai immediately ran to her mother and crouched down beside her, softly touching her shoulder. Emily wordlessly turned to her daughter and continued to cry. Rory could hear the concern and pain in her mother's voice as softly whispered, "Mom?"

"I miss him," her grandmother cried and held onto her daughter, unable to stop the tears. Rory felt her own cheeks grow hot as she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat and be strong for her family.

"Oh mom," Lorelai said, her voice breaking as she held her mother tightly to her. Rory quickly crossed the room and put her arms around them. "It's going to be okay."

"He was my life…my whole life," Emily muttered in between sobs.

Three generation of Gilmore women, stayed like that for a long time, mourning the loss of a man they all loved more than anything. Together.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Hello darling," Arabella DuGrey greeted her son as she glided into his old bedroom. She reached him at his desk and kissed both his cheeks. "You're looking thin, Tristan. Have you been eating?"

"When I'm hungry." Tristan rolled his eyes good-naturedly and gave her a kiss as well. "You're looking beautiful, as usual."

"You're such a charmer."

That was true, but Tristan was being honest as well. Even at her age, Arabella had maintained her slim figure and healthy color. When he was younger, Tristan remembered being fascinated with they way his mother carried herself. She was, back then, the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen. That was before the blinders had come off and he realized – at a very young age – that his parents were more fucked up than he was.

"So how are you?"

Arabella sighed dramatically. "You know me, if I'm not busy, I'm miserable. Fortunately for everyone, I've been keeping busy."

He didn't want to think what was occupying her time so he decided to change the subject. "Are you planning to take that trip to Europe, soon?"

"Oh I was, but your father cancelled it," she replied vaguely. "You wouldn't happen to know why he's so keen on my staying here, now would you Tristan?"

Tristan cleared his throat and avoided her gaze. "Of course not."

Arabella leaned against the desk and folded her arms. "It wouldn't have anything to do with why you're back home, would it?"

"Mother, I said I didn't know."

"I will find out sooner or later, darling." She smiled sweetly at him and rested her hand on his arm. "It's nice to have you around the house again. You always manage to make things more…interesting around here."

He grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

After his mother left, Tristan loosened his tie and stared longingly at his bed. He hadn't gotten much sleep in the last week and his childhood bed was beckoning him. He rubbed the back of his neck, weighing the decision to take a nap. The paperwork would have to wait. He quickly stripped down to his boxers and slid under the cotton covers, staring at the ceiling above him.

But sleep eluded him. Probably because his mind was in overdrive.

He turned to his side closed his eyes shut for a few minutes, before finally giving up on sleep. He got out of bed and headed towards his walk in closet, so he could change into something more comfortable and take a walk around the neighborhood. Tristan was about to leave the room when he remembered his wallet and had to rummage through his dresser looking for it.

That's when he saw it and the memories came flooding back.

Resting on a pile of his socks was a small, navy blue velvet box. His fingers grazed over the lid and he closed his eyes, trying to forget what had happened when he had handed it to Rory almost four months ago.

"Tristan." She was sitting on the couch when he came back to her apartment, her legs curled under her and her eyes read and puffy. He winced, knowing that he was the cause of those tears. "What are you doing here?"

"You figured I left, didn't you?" he asked as he closed the apartment door behind him. "Well, I wish you had a little more faith in me, but I don't blame you."

"I don't want to fight anymore." She sighed as he crossed the length of the living room and sat down on the couch beside her. She turned to him, eyes imploring him to understand.

And he did.

He didn't want to fight, only wanted to do the right thing. He reached into his coat pocket and handed her the velvet box. "Here."

She merely stared at the box, looking frightened. "What are you doing, Tristan?"

"The right thing," he answered and put the box in her hand. "Open it, Ror." After a minute of contemplation, she opened the velvet box and stared at the exquisite, pear shaped, diamond ring that winked in the sunlight inside. He smiled at her and reached for her hand. "It's a family heirloom. It was my great-great-grandmother's and it got passed down to my father, to be given to the woman he was to marry. My mother gave it to me a few years ago."

"It's beautiful," she whispered softly, glancing up at him.

"I want you to have it, Rory. I want you to marry me."

She opened her mouth to answer and the closed it again. When she tried again, it wasn't what he expected to hear. "Why?"

"Why?" he asked incredulously, running a hand through his hair as disappointment shot through him. She was pregnant with his child and she wanted to know why he wanted to marry her? He figured that it was obvious: a sign from a higher being that it was meant to be this way. Didn't all women dream of getting married one day? Having a family? "Because we're having a baby, Rory."

She swallowed audibly and handed the box back to him. "I can't marry you, Tristan."

Tristan had previously assumed that given everything that he and Rory had been through, nothing she could ever do would hurt him more than she already had countless times in the past.

He had been wrong.

Not accepting his proposal, so calmly handing him the box back and uttering those five words would have been just as painful if she had plunged a knife into his heart and twisted it around. In fact, even that would not compare.

I guess it doesn't matter now, he thought cynically as he recalled the events following his impromptu proposal and her callous rejection of it. I was never enough for her.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Hey Mom." Rory found Lorelai at Richard's grave that same afternoon. "I guess we both had the same idea."

She slung her arm around Rory's shoulder and smiled. "It's funny, I never thought to visit my father that often when he was alive. Maybe it's easier now that he can't answer back. God, that's morbid."

"Maybe," Rory sighed and stared down at the tombstone. "Or maybe it's your way of holding on."

Lorelai kissed Rory's forehead and took in a deep breath. "After what happened this morning, I needed to get away from that house. I didn't realize how long it was since I had been out of there. Go figure, huh?"

"It'll get better for her," Rory assured her. "It'll take some time, but it'll get better."

"And what about you? I know you, daughter dearest. You must've gone through all that baby stuff she gave you," Lorelai chided softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'll admit - it brought back a lot of memories." Rory looked down at her hands and sighed.

"Remembering is the easy part," her mother stated wryly. "Forgetting's the bitch."