Authors: April and Hilda (Diddlee)

Summary: Prequel to Fallen So Deeply.

Author's Note: This fan fiction is the result of another collaboration between myself and the wonderfully talented Hilda. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: Don't own them.

Rory shielded her eyes from the fluorescent lights, knowing that any minute they would bring on the inevitable headache. Squeaking wheels whizzed by her ears as attendants pushed the gurneys back and forth through the hallways. She was positive they were doing it out of spite, keeping her from her well deserved nap. She flipped to her side, wiggling her petite body as she tried to find a comfortable position. The hard plastic chairs indented her side, leaving their marks of pain on her flesh.

She let out a groan as she heard her name over the P.A. system. She was needed again. A mild swear word escaped her mouth, failing to startle her as it once would have. This job would lead anyone to cursing. She swung her legs down, letting her feet touch the ground. Since she had started her internship at the hospital, the nurses expected her to be their beck and call girl. Never mind the fact that she was barely a glorified candy striper, her paycheck being the only separation from that status. She braced her hands on the chairs and slowly rose to her feet.

She silently mumbled the reasons for taking this job, attempting to reassure herself as she always did moments before she was certain she would resign. A few more weeks and she'd be finished. She was the only undergraduate student at Harvard to be admitted to the prestigious internship program. And she knew that would be the highlight of her med school application. Even if it meant sacrificing her social life. She had barely seen Tristan the past few weeks, and she dreaded the phone call that afternoon to let him know she'd be working a double shift. He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, playing the part of the supportive boyfriend he had learned so well.

She made her way to the reception desk, taking the chart that was practically thrown in her face. She took the chart without hesitation, noting the way the nurses sat around chatting while she ran herself ragged. She crossed the hall to the small examination room, prepared to take down the symptoms of her next patient. It was a boring job, but it was the only way she was allowed to interact with the patients.

Swinging open the door, she plastered her fake smile on her face, and greeted the little boy and his mother. He was holding his left arm protectively, his eyes shimmering with the tears he refused to shed. She pulled a stool across to the bed, taking a seat facing the brave little boy. She proceeded to take down the information from his mother, standing to leave when she was through. She informed them that a nurse would be there shortly, and turned on her heels to leave.

She halted when she heard her name, turning to see what they needed. Her eyes focused on the object in the boy's hand, noting the grin on his cherub face She reached out her hand, taking the rose from his outstretched grasp. The mother shook her head when she began to thank them, offering only a smile at Rory's confused look, pleading for an explanation.

Twisting the rose in her hand, her eyes fell on the little white card, attached to the stem with a white satin ribbon. On the card was a single word, the black, crisp print contrasting with the white background.

Mary

A smile touched her lips as she read the word. A word that had come to mean so much to her. Of all the words in her vocabulary, that one word had brought forth more emotions than she ever knew possible. Annoyance. Laughter. Adoration. Most importantly, she remembered the feeling she had the first time she heard that word on his lips. He had been a terror to her senses, pulling her mind in directions she didn't want to travel. She refused to acknowledge the effect he had on her or the control he had over her thoughts. It wasn't until much later that she finally admitted the power he had during their first encounter, first to herself, and then to him.

She held the rose under her nose, inhaling the wonderful scent as she entered into the lounge. Spinning the combination on the lock, she carefully place the blossom in her locker, careful not to catch the stem as she closed the door.

As exhausted as she was, the smile never left her face. She approached the nurses stand, where once again she was greeted with a clipboard and a pen. She let out a soft sigh, her perfect moment ruined by reality. She glanced at her watch as she proceeded to the next patient. If she were lucky, she would be able to stop by Tristan's apartment after her shift. The possibility of laying her eyes his tall, muscular form, feeling his arms around her waist and his lips on her neck was enough to muster her strength to make it through the last few hours of this torture.

Her next patient was just as routine as the first. It was an elderly gentleman who had taken a nasty spill in his kitchen. He sat on the bed, obviously in pain from the accident as well as many years of arthritis catching up to his body. She carefully described his condition, making note to include all medications he was presently taking. As she turned to leave, she again heard her name. She thought it odd that he would address her by her first name, when she had simply introduced herself as Ms. Gilmore. She turned and met his eyes, the familiar glint at the gift he held. She smiled to herself, taking the rose into her hands. She didn't ask the question she wanted, knowing she would receive no response.

Brushing past the curtain, she quickly found the card, searching out the contents. Again, the card held one single word.

Piano

She actually let out a small giggle at the word. Her favorite musical instrument. For once upon a time, the melody of her soul began at a piano. It was her first kiss, the kiss that ignited the flood of emotions that composed the symphony of her life. Well, technically, it wasn't her first kiss, but it was her first kiss with the only person she would ever love. Someone who would make her whole. Someone who would move heaven and earth just to be in her presence. Someone who would brighten her day like he was doing now, despite the fact that she had bailed on him again.

She let out a small sigh as she began the trek to the lounge once again. Carefully opening her locker, she placed the rose next to the other, running a finger over the silky ribbon around each. She stood silently, gazing at the two, their mere presence reminding her of him. Not that she needed a reminder given that every waking moment of every day was consumed by thoughts of him.

She braced herself for the onslaught of a new patient, and cheerfully smiled at the attendant. She stood patiently as the receptionist held up a hand, silencing conversation while she managed the phone. Rory took a seat across from the desk, her break cut short by another chart in her lap. She flipped through the pages, acquainting herself with the all too familiar patient.

She entered the exam room, cheerfully greeting her regular visitor. The middle aged woman immediately began listing the symptoms of the disease she was certain she had. This time it was a rare form of rash, that Rory could not even spell. She pretended to write down the woman's comments verbatim, her mind wandering through thoughts of other things. She assured her that a doctor would be in as soon as he was free. She had made it to the door and was halfway through before being stopped. Blocking out all rantings of her patient, she quietly took the rose, and exited the room.

Immediately she reached for the card.

Renaldo's

Her heart leapt as she fondly recalled the overpriced restaurant. He had insisted on taking her there, a fruitless attempt to impress her on their first date. He stubbornly refused when she tried to pay for her half of the meal, solving the problem by excusing himself to the restroom, accosting the waiter in the kitchen, and paying him on the spot. She was informed that given her grandparent's contributions to the establishment, the meal was on the house. The fib the waiter relayed held up for many months, until the night she withheld her kisses until Tristan told her the truth.

She focused on the clock in the lounge, willing the hands to move faster. The rose joined the others as Rory longed to spend the rest of the evening standing in front of her locker and gazing at them.

Reluctantly she returned to her headquarters. She was mildly surprised when she was greeted not with a chart, but with another rose. If she had not known better, she almost would have thought the head nurse were smiling at her. She took her prize possession, and turned the corner to be by herself. Leaning her back against the wall, she ran her fingers over the word, willing herself to fight back the tears.

Nantucket

Senior year in the Chilton hallways included much discussion about the locale. The senior trip was something fun, a rarity for their academic lives. She had debated for a long time whether she would go, finally giving into his pleadings the week before. She tolerated the other students fairly, half heartedly exploring the sights of the tourist community. Yet the best part came far from the beaten path. She took a risk the night she snuck out to meet him on the beach, the possibility of expulsion worth the chance to be with him. They held hands under the stars as the sand sifted through the toes of her bare feet. She collapsed against his chest when he pulled her to him, whispering the words for the first time. She knew he loved her, but the sensation of hearing him tell her for the first time, weakened her knees. She ran her fingers through his messy hair, pulling him to her for a breathtaking kiss. He returned the action moments later when her breath tickled his ear with the same declaration.

She brushed the tears from her cheeks, the overwhelming emotions taking over her senses. She looked at the clock, grateful that the end of her shift arrived. She rushed through the halls, anxious to leave this place. She barely heard her name from the nurses station, wanting to ignore her summons. Cautiously she approached, protesting when she was asked to see another patient. Her superior waved off her protests, issuing an order and not a request. She held back many expletives she wanted to release, settling by forcefully stating that this would be her last encounter for the night.

She grabbed the chart from the stack. A look of wonder crossed her face at the lack of information on the chart. The only thing given about the patient was his age and condition. He was her age and was suffering from some sort of heart condition. Rory pushed open the heavy door to the room, swiping a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail out of her face. The room was dark, the only light provided by the busy street a dozen floors below. The sound of late-night traffic drifting through the walls served as a reminder that the real world did indeed exist. Rory's brow furrowed in confusion when she observed that the bed, which would normally house a patient, was empty. Its only occupant a deep red rose. A bloom that had now become a familiar beacon in the still air that loomed over the hospital. Only this time, it was surrounded by at least two dozen others. The fragrant petals dripped like raindrops over the tile floor. She stepped towards the rose, running her finger over the petals, soft as cotton with the stem free of the imposing thorns. Lifting it up to her face and breathing in its sweet, soothing scent, she wasn't at all surprised to see the small slip of paper dangling from the thin satin ribbon wrapped around the stem. The message was different, as it had been the previous times. The black, typed print was the only similarity.

Ring

He stood in the shadows, content to just watch her as he had countless times before. Her back was to him, but he knew the exact way her eyes would have widened in curiosity as she read the message. He had memorized her every feature long ago. Every gesture that she had ever made was a marvel to him. Something to forever treasure. Something that made its presence known in his every dream, because she was his dream. There was nothing he didn't love about her. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. If her world dared to ever crumble around her, he would do anything to make it whole once again.

Every day, he fell even more in love with her. He remembered, when he had been younger, how he would always laugh at the ridiculous notion of the existence of soul mates. Your perfect match. That is, until she walked into his life, like a whirl wind, stealing his heart before he even knew it was available for the taking. She made him whole, like a puzzle that just isn't complete until you find that one last missing piece. And the thing most bewildering and exhilarating, was that she loved him too. That someone as caring and perfect as she could love someone like him. And it was an encompassing love. A love that isn't satisfied until the distance between them has been breached, either by the simple brushing of hands or lips, or the never-ending perusal of each other with their eyes. It was something he had never thought he would find. And now that he had, it became something he planned never to lose. He stepped silently closer, as if being pulled by a magnetic force greater than him. Always and forever drawn to her, never to part. And she knew. Now it was time to cement that love, to watch the seeds that had been planted from a deep friendship become two lives blossoming into one. A life full of shared hopes. Together.

Rory's heart skipped a beat as a pair of strong, tan arms encircled her waist, pulling her against his warm, muscular body. She turned around to face him, his lips turned up into a confident, half smile. "I was told there was a sick patient in here who was asking for me," she teasingly jabbed at him, relishing the fact that he had gone through all this trouble for her, and only her.

"And I am." Tristan took the rose from her, gently trailing the bloom over her flushed cheeks.

She tilted her head at him, letting her eyes slowly scan over the way his khakis fit his tall frame, and the belt accentuating his abdominal muscles. The way the white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up contrasted with his bronzed skin. The way the blond tendrils of his hair seemed to glow in the unearthly beams of the moon filtering in through the window. "You don't look very sick," Rory quipped, adding just the right amount of flirtatious tone to her voice. She had long ago learned to play this game with him. And she had accomplished it well, to the point where it was now done almost unconsciously.

Tristan leaned closer to her, his warm breath tickling the hairs on the nape of her neck. The faint, spicy scent of his cologne had her stomach free-falling to her knees. "I feel this incredible heat surge up within me whenever I'm around you, like I can never get enough," he whispered in her ear, letting his lips brush the skin of her cheek as he pulled away.

"Maybe you have a fever."

"No, that's not it."

She glanced down quickly, trying to hide the blush that formed as a result of the heavy innuendo he had just offered her. "What are your other symptoms?"

Tristan brought his face closer to hers again, kissing her eyelids tenderly in a way only he could do. In a way that spilled over with everything that was the essence of him. His gaze penetrated into hers. Blue locked on blue. Forever joined by the stream of electricity flowing between them. The air positively crackled with it. "Lightheadedness, because I know I'm forever falling. I don't care if I ever have anything to grab onto. I have you, and that's all I need. And every time you look at me with those exquisite blue eyes, I feel as if I'm falling for the first time all over again. I welcome that. I would never have it any other way."

"Care to enlighten me as to who gave you this inescapable disease?" She kissed his bottom lip softly before moving to the corners of his mouth. She didn't really need an answer for she already knew. But she craved the way he said her name, as if it were the only one he ever cared to say again.

"It's you, Rory. You're the only one who has ever made me feel this way. The only one who ever will."

"It really is nice to know I have that much power over you." She smiled as she slowly ran her finger over his chest, stopping when her hand was directly over his heart. The strength of it pounding out a rapid rhythm against her skin.

He fought the urge to take her into his arms then, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. He placed his hand over hers where it was resting on his heart, massaging her knuckles with his thumb. "There's an ache deep in my heart, and I know there's only one cure that can ease that emptiness inside of me."

"What's that?"

Cupping her face with his hand, his voice was soft and soothing, caressing her very being. "For you to say that you will spend the rest of your life with me by becoming my wife." Tristan brought the rose that had been hidden behind his back out in front of her, reaching up and pulling the platinum band that had been safely tucked near the bloom down the stem. The diamond solitaire glimmered in the dim moonlight. A symbol of his love for her and their love for each other. When Rory saw the ring, her hand went up to cover her mouth, her heart swelling with love for this man. The man with whom she had always imagined spending the rest of her life with. She blinked quickly, tears already beading on her thick lashes.

Taking both of her hands in his, Tristan knelt in front of her on one knee, his piercing gaze never leaving hers. "Will you marry me, Rory?"

"Yes." Her whispered voice twinkled in his ears, tears streaming down her cheeks. He stood once again, taking her left hand in his. She wasn't aware of the three more times she repeated her answer nor was he. All they could see or feel was each other. Matching one another in a symphony of unspoken emotions only through their eyes. He slipped the engagement ring onto her finger, taking his time. He wanted to savor the moment he would remember for the rest of his life. Rory's eyes flitted everywhere, trying to take in everything at once, from the heated look in his cerulean blue eyes to the warmth of his hand enveloping hers as he placed the symbolic band firmly where it belonged. Forever on the finger of the woman he would pledge to love for eternity. Temporarily his fiancée, forever to be his wife and he her husband. Kissing the tears off her cheeks, Tristan rested his forehead against hers. Their hearts matching every beat for racing beat.

Seeing him smile in amusement, Rory ran her hands through the downy soft locks of his hair, treasuring everything about him. "What are you thinking?"

"About the first time we kissed at the piano." His lips curled up into that familiar, teasing smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"How could I forget?"

"Well, yeah, considering you ran out on me." He threw her a playfully scolding look, all while kissing the tip of her nose. It was unbearable for him to break even the slightest bit of contact from her.

"And I'll live to regret it for the rest of my life, I'm sure." Noting the still present devilish expression on his face, she punched him lightly in the arm. "Now what were you really thinking?"

He ran his hands tantalizingly down her arms, goose bumps prickling on her skin just from his simple touch. "Well, I was thinking there better be a piano in our honeymoon suite."

"Why's that?" She asked, though she already knew what his answer would be. If she were honest with herself, she would admit that it had crossed her own mind more than once.

"If we continue our tradition of firsts, there should be one present when I make love to you for the first time." His voice was low with emotion and huskiness, dripping with want for her. But he had waited. And he would wait for her until the one moment when they would become one. Body and soul joined together in a declaration for their love for each other. Yes, she was worth the wait. Just being by her side was enough for him. They were content in their love for each other, conveying how they felt with just a glance laced with a tumult of emotions.

"Let's hope it's not an upright."

He grinned at her. Raising an eyebrow, "Well, I do like a challenge..."

She ducked her head, trying uselessly to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks at the thought of his hands exploring her body in a way no one else had. In the way only he ever would. The color rose up her neck as she thought about herself returning the same favor to him. Her eyes met his then, taking in the confident, knowing grin on his face. "You're impossible."

Tristan leaned closer to her, his lips mere inches from hers. "No, I'm just head over heels in love with you." He dusted kisses across her jaw line, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo and of everything that was Rory. Claiming her mouth with his, he felt her melt into him in a kiss that said more than words ever could. Her arms came up to lock around his broad shoulders, joining them in a never-ending circle. One never to be broken. Time had brought them to each other, and it would soon allow them to grow together as one union. Husband and wife.