Next part up! They're on the road to the airport right now, in case anyone's confused. He's stopped the car for a quick second ....and then........ for anyone who saw that ending of this Tuesday's episode, my heart is broken. and if you're trory, so is yours...well, not seriously but hey, what a blower! anyhow, here's the next bit, getting better and better....the heat is turning up soon.......lemme know what you think.

luce

disclaimer on first ch.

I should have never stopped the car.

I couldn't have known, but now as I see it.....waking up alone, not remembering the dizzying feeling of freedom, feeling only loneliness and confusion, turning to see the face of someone...you don't know...someone who frightens you ...

She's ran out into the pouring rain, her slender fingers snapping the door open, the heavy drops pouring over her face. I can't do anything but run out, hoping to catch her before a car hit her. It's dark on the highway, the sporadic red lights piercing the torrent; a car whizzes past, spraying me; I just run after her. Lost, staggering like a small child she lets out a cry, in the middle of the darkened road. In one second, I've got her, and she's breaking in my arms, limp as I snatch her and the cold, hard steel swishes inches away, it's red eyes fading in the torrential downpour.

Sobbing, she looks up at me, her hair plastered to her face; all of a sudden, she remembers, and becomes lucid. Abruptly, she tears herself away and walks back to the car unsteadily.

Soaked, we sit inside the leather silence.

I turn up the heat after taking one look at her shivering form; the rain plastered the thin, white undershirt to her lithe body. My mouth goes dry, but everything's different and difficult. I don't know what to say.....where is this, what is this and what's happening?

"Rory, I need to know what's going on! You need to talk right now or I'm heading right back to Hartford."

Mute, she sits in a clenched silence, cold eyes staring straight ahead. Only her trembling voice betrays her.

"Please don't. I can't go home right now."

"Did you have a fight with your mom?"

"No."

Sighing, I took one look at the tormented girl next to me, a silent tear creeping down her cheek like a diamond.

"It's Dean, isn't it." I asked, the words quietly slicing me as I even spoke them.

Silence. Then, a scary thing happened.

A tiny smirk spread across her face. A smirk that I recognized too quickly in myself, and felt a terrible horror at the sight of it overtaking her features.

"Too many questions, Tristan. I thought you'd be overjoyed at the fact I'm here with you making this request at this moment."

Numb, I watched her with open eyes.

"What do you mean?" I ask, carefully.

With clear eyes, she turns to me and smiles.

"I wanna go away. Can you take me?"

"Take you where?" I asked incredulously. "What about your mom?"

"Fine," she said cooly. "Take me home."

"Wait," I protested, suddenly feeling fire in my veins. "I'll take..you..."

"You will?" she asked, suddenly smiling at me, and my world opens before me. Her smile floods over me like a blessing......

We sit in silence for another second, and then awkwardly, I turn to her.

"I want to know how to act. Am I supposed to be me or am I supposed to be sensitive?"

She giggled, and carelessly tossed her hair up in a bun with a pencil she found on my dashboard. Incredulous, I watched her, my mind formulating plans with no base...my heart pounding out the rhythm to them....

Numbly, I drove into the darkness of the night, that carefree and magic afternoon fading behind us with the slick darkness stretching ahead; awake, she lay there quietly letting the headlights of the passing cars wash her in pools of yellow and red. Shadows slipped over her face and in-between her lips, and I watched in the trembling darkness as she pulled out an ever present book and started to read.

Half an hour later, we're at an airport terminal, and she's holding my hand like a little kid, lost and mouth gaping, smiling at every new thing. I pull out my trusty visa card and get us two tickets on the next flight to New Orleans. We have a house there in the French Quarter; every aristocrat with a flair for the extravagant and senseless does. She settles into the seat, and suddenly I feel a terrible sense of wrongdoing. But as her head lands on my shoulder, all thoughts are erased as I breathe in the slight fragrance of her shampoo and feel her breathing close to me. Leaning my head against hers, I close my eyes and pretend that she loves me.

She's acting irrationally. She's made no lists, arranged no plans, had no worries, hasn't even called her mother.......there's something terribly wrong with Rory, and somehow through her desperation she chose me to help her in her own way. I don't know whether to feel as though I'm blessed, or as though I've been taken advantage of.......either way I don't care, and I sink into the slow blisfulness of sleep near her. Until one last nagging thought enters my mind.

Wearily, I stumble out into the aisle, and pull out my cellphone.

It rings...once....then, a frantic voice answers.

"Rory?" it asks, and I can read her anguish.

"Ms. Gilmore....this is Rory's friend Tristan....Look, I don't know how to explain this but...first, I need you to stop worrying. Rory's safe and well and sleeping like a baby. But other than that, I think there's something wrong."

Soft crying on the other end for a second, then quiet.

"Thank you Tristan, but explain quick before I get nervous again."

"She came up to me after school, which is weird because-"

"Because your other name in our household is Satan?"

Dumbfounded, but slightly smiling, I replied.

"Well, I didn't know all that but I was under the impression she didn't like me..."

"Under it? Must've been heavy, surprised it didn't crush you."

A little crestfallen, I still answered bravely.

"At any rate, she came up to me, got in my car, and told me to start driving. This is not Rory...but then...I didn't know what to do. I tried to ask if she wanted to go home...I guess it's partly my fault. I'm sorry. It's because...."

"You can't exactly say no, huh," replied her mom softly, and I can hear her understanding.

"You understand,.." I whisper, and hear a little laugh on the other end.

"She seems to be irrational, but very sane, just sad and uncaring...look, she meant to call you as soon as we got there but I figured it couldn't wait. I can't return her....I can't use force.."

I could hear the sigh on the line.

"Very well then....but I can't believe I'm handing my daughter to Satan. Does this make me a cult member?"

I laugh a little, and sigh.

"I'm that bad, huh."

"Right now, I'm under the impression that you're slightly different than pictured.."

"Let it be a heavy one," I answered.

"Please don't let anything happen. If something happens, and something covers everything, I will proceed to torture you with bamboo splinters and maim you, or send you to live with my mother, or maybe I'll be merciful and kill you."

"Sounds good, Ms. Gilmore," I grinned.

"That's Lorelai for you now."

"Lorelai."

"Good night Tristan. Don't lose the Visa."

"Yes'm" I said quietly, and snapped the phone shut.

Back in the plane seat, she fell against me, her innocent face slightly disturbed as she shifted in discomfort. Pulling up the armrest between us, I put a pillow against the wall and let her lay across me, and it was that way that I woke up to see her eyes, blue and fierce and quiet watching me in the pools of morning gold.

"Tristan?" she whispered, and my name sounded different coming from her mouth. Clean.

"Yes Mary?" I said subconsciously, and realized it when she sighed, scrunched up her face and attempted to sit up.

"Rory," I said immediately, and gently put my hand on her arm.

Slowly she sank back, and becoming aware of the slightly intimate position we'd slept in, blushed a little and shifted comfortably.

"See Mary, I told you you'd end up sleeping with me someday," I smirked, and she sat up for good that time. Dissapointed, but satisfied, I grinned, and buckled her in, then myself.

"I can do my own buckles," she said, looking at me like a rebellious five year old.

"Yes'm" I said submissively, and gripped the armrests as we felt the wheels touch down.

We stood outside in the warm, breezy late August weather, a little jetlagged and confused.

Calling a cab, I immediately gave the address to our little mansion in the French Quarter.

"Off of Bourbon...left by the Old Absinthe...follow, ok now left past Andrew Jackson park...right on ..here we are."

We stepped off the curb, and I took in her, the surroundings...

It was warm outside, the sunlight warming us; a light breeze blew through the beautiful street, shadows dancing between leaves and sidewalks. The houses were old and stately, courtyards hung with long spanish moss and old trees, fountains behind the wrought iron bars; flowers bloomed in profusion over the delicate lacy iron balconies. A few leaves scattered on the freshly swept sidewalk, the old ancient wrought iron gates greeting us, ivy curling around them.

I punched in the dial security code, and waited for the butler.

She stood there in the thin wifebeater and plaid skirt, kneesocks and some black mary janes; her hair fall thick and messy around her face, her fabulous blue eyes looking around in lost wonder. She was slender, yet full, with wide hipbones and a proud back, her innocent features fresh and beautiful as the New Orleans morning. There was a current of excitement flowing deep underneath her, and she was beautiful in a way I'll remember even when I'm old and senile.

The doors opened instantly, and we stepped into the deserted courtyard, flowers blooming around us under the tree-shaded cement, a dry fountain in the middle of it; Slits of sunshine poured through the trees, setting little beams and fairies dancing on her face and her arms. She cautiously walked towards the heavy, carved French doors, jumping back startled when they suddenly opened.

"Ah, it's you," said Martin, our butler. Expressionlessly, he looked at Rory and went inside. Relieved, I took her hand hesitantly and walked into the house.

She looked down at our hands, and suddenly nervous, I let go. Her gaze seemed to say, what are you doing? Frustrated, I sighed and led her upstairs.

"You can have the green room. It's the guest room......shower, and my mom's got some clothes in there that would probably fit you. She's shaped kinda like you," I tell her, and scrutinize her.

"And how am I shaped?" she asks, slightly amused.

"Satisfactorily," I leer, and she quickly turns around and runs up the stairs. Chuckling to myself, I walk to my room and let a hot shower steam the plane ride away. Finding some boxers and a pair of jeans, I slip into them quickly, and I'm about to find a shirt when I see her.

She's just standing in my doorway, momentarily stunned; suddenly, she looks down and flushes, and I realize it's me she's unsure of. Enjoying the effect, I walk up to her, close enough to make her even more nervous.

"Something you needed?" I ask, purposely putting the touch in my voice I've learned how to use well.

Flustered, she looks up and starts babbling.

"Well you see, I took a shower, and it was a nice shower, that's not the problem, anyway, uh, so I found the towels, nice and fluffy by the way, but I didn't find the clothes, I was wondering....also ....what to do about..um.....undergarments? And, oh god, this is embarrasing..." she groaned, and I couldn't help smirking.

"Oh, so you're not wearing anything under your robe?" I whisper, and leer.

"Ok, that's it. If I have to pack food and set out on my own through this vast wilderness you call a house to find some clothing, so be it. Send a search party if I'm not back by lunch."

Determined, she marched away.

Laughing, I ran after her. Entering her room, I took a deep breath of the clean, steamy Rory scent drifting from the open bathroom door....

Opening the door to a closet, we stepped inside another smaller room, with huge bay windows that had green velvet curtains draped over them and tied back. Rory gasped.

The room was marvelous, but suddenly I saw it through her eyes and it seemed magic; maybe because she was in it. The walls were hung with clothes, dressers full of lingerie, a whole drawer of it completely new with the tags still on. My mom and dad hadn't been back in the house since last May....before things started going the way they went....

I shook the painful thoughts out of my mind and pointed her to everything.

I turned to go, when she hesitantly called.

I felt a small thrill run through my body..hesitantly wondering what she wanted,......imagining it was something I knew not to be.....

I could feel the proximity of her, the lean, golden legs pouring out of the satin robe that clung to her; she looked like a innocent girl....half fairy...half woman....

"Um, these are all dress clothes.....most of them anyway.....oh my God, that's a Gucci dress... and there's so much green stuff....."

Suddenly grinning, I turned around.

"How bout we make a deal? Paper scissors rock, whoever loses has to wear an article the other picks from this room...."

One eyebrow quirked, she suddenly laughed.

"You're on."

And..... "Rock."

She'd lost.

The air in the room was thick with tension as she watched me carefully. Casually, I headed to the dresser... and pulled out a slinky piece of lingerie...a teddy...

Her eyes opened wide and horrified, and suddenly I regretted it.

"Just kidding," I smirked. "How bout this?"

Going to the back of the rack where I knew I'd seen the dress, I pulled it out.

"That's a evening dress, dumbass....."

"I don't care, I want to see you wear it."

She sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"Fine, turn around."

I turned, but even turned I still saw her in my head; half ashamed, half trembling, I waited...the air in the room crackled with electricity.....

"You can turn around," she said softly, and he did.

She stood there in her bare feet, the dress softly shining in the morning sunlight.

It was a simple cut, two thin straps that wound around her neck and a bodice, then, a knee length skirt that billowed out in soft tulle and taffeta, a magic, green dream of a dress that made her look like an afternoon princess; as she spun, the dress took wings like a butterfly, and floated out in a cloud, and she giggled as she stop.

"I feel like a big, dumb fluffy umbrella."

I had no words.

"C'mon, let's go."

"Like this?" she laughed, her eyes caught up in the sheer joy and unexpectedness of it.

"It's New Orleans, you'll be the least weird thing you'll see all day. Trust me. You look gorgeous," I added softly.

"How gorgeous?" she asked suddenly, taking a step closer to me. Reaching one hand out, she placed it on my bare chest over my heart, and I felt my skin prickle under her electric touch.

I've never been nervous. Girls don't make me nervous. They're shallow...gossiping...smoking cigarettes....wanting more and more.......

Except for her. She just wants me to tell her how gorgeous. And she's only a few feet from me....reaching out with a innocence and appeal I can't resist...

"I wouldn't know. You've skyrocketed off the gorgeous charts.....they've stopped even measuring you.."

Giggling, she suddenly takes her hand away and starts going through the clothes.

"Either you're complimenting me or you're offering me a stockbroker's analysis...make up your mind..."

Pulling her by the arm, I drag her downstairs to breakfast.

Over beignets and coffee, I suddenly get serious.

"We've got to talk. Here's the deal. I'll let you stay here, but Sunday night we're going home to Stars Hollow, and to your mother and to Chilton. I don't know the reason you ran away, but I can't let you stay."

Her face suddenly crumbles, and she's like a little girl just curled up, feet bare in her make believe princess dress across from me at the breakfast table.

"It's Dean....and everything...."she whispers, and I bitterly understand.

"Things got too sad huh...." I answer, and look at her.

First friends...is the thought that flashes through my head.

What?

Suddenly, I'm angry. I've waited...waited for her to love me for so long...and now this? Why?

But the truth is, I know that though was right. First friends. It's my job to take care of her for now. The future had yet to be written......

She slipped some greet satin flip flops on her feet, and we headed outside into the bright sunshine, getting lost in the crowds....her smile forever branding itself on my memory that day, the picture of the innocent beauty with the huge, azure eyes in the green taffeta dress that floated like wings around her slender legs....

Until that night we watched the dark oil water glimmering under the city's lights by the docks, the bridge in the distance......until that night....when.........

It's all happening in the next part! coming up soon, i'd love your opinions, flames, critique, whatever. sorry, i really took artistic license with the poor kids...