Yay! Here it is, the long awaited chapter. Where is Rory dissapearing to? What's going on! All those questions answered and more in this ch.. For all those that wanted to know why Rory was acting so all out of character and throwing caution to the winds, here it is. Expect an epilogue sometime soon....as soon as the two of them get it together and Rory decides....

enjoy

luce

Occurrences In the Rain.

The air was thick outside, and gray when Tristan DuGrey woke up; with a slight jolt, noticing the empty pillow beside him. Outside, the rain drummed sadly on the roof, splashing like tears down the windowpanes and dripping to the desolate ground below. Underneath, the swollen belly of the city's gutters roared with the floods pouring in the grates; it was a low rumble that all residents of that old, mysterious town felt quietly underneath them. Tristan laid in silence, listening to the sounds of the rain outside, staring at the ceiling, and remembering.

He had never felt this way before.

Maggie Longbourne-Sheffield. The way she had pronounced it when she had told it to him was a challenge in itself; he found himself obsessed by her startling green eyes and stained lips. She had been wearing a Burberry raincoat when he'd seen her first, her long legs slipping out from underneath, a smirk on her face, her disheveled blonde hair falling in her eyes. She was the British girl with her father's coat of arms tatooed on the inside of her thigh, the one he'd chased for a month before she'd given into him. But he remembered nothing but cold satisfaction in the aftermath that followed, and he'd never seen her again after leaving the Essex estate that summer.

There was Theresa at the spa in Beverly Hills, Sheila whose parents spent winter with his in Hot Springs at the ski cabana, too many girls at Chilton whose name he'd forgotten; Silver, the girl who worked at the merry go round in Martha's Vineyard, and Penelope, the pretty maid that worked at their tile house in Argentina.........and Marie, the French girl that went to Sorbonne that he'd met on the Riviera when they were there two summers ago. But none of them had made him feel like this. Looking back at them, he felt a certain sense of revulsion, of disgust with himself. They had only hardened his heart, made him less caring....suddenly, with a flash of fear, he wondered, were Rory to fall for him too, would she become like the rest of them in his eyes?

Chilled, he banished the disturbing thoughts from his head, trying to shake them clean. He was who he was; that he could not deny. His life had molded him. But for her sake, there was nothing he wouldn't try to change. Smiling warmly at the thought, he showered, dressed and walked to her room.

"I'll take her to tea parties, and have them serve her coffee; I'll go explore Stars Hollow with her if she promises to come to our beach house with me for a day. I'll do anything unconventional, anything wrong; I'll show her my life without pulling her into it. Then maybe she'll understand." he though to himself as he knocked.

Silence.

He felt a twinge of dread in his stomach.

"Rory?" he called through the door, and nausea accosted him when he felt the door handle open easily under his fingers.

The room was quiet and silent, and clean; there was only a note on the table, a plain sheet of paper with a few sentences scrawled across.

"Dear Tristan,

Thanks for letting me stay and I'm sorry for causing trouble. Must head home, my mom is probably worried. Seya sometime."

Numbly, he gazed at the letter, with each moment a growing sense of strangeness alerting him of a hidden danger. It did not sound like Rory; there seemed to be something wrong. The Rory he knew would not take off without warning, without thought........

Neither would the Rory Lorelai knew, his mind warned him.

Suddenly, a single though flashed across his brain.

There was something wrong with Rory.

On the curb outside the airport, in the pouring rain, stood a single solitary figure.

She was wearing a blue plaid skirt and blazer; confused, she stood there, letting the cold water drip off her, a backpack on her back. She leafed through it again, and she looked extremely disturbed, then she looked around again. A few passersby looked at her curiously, but she searched feverishly and did not notice their glances. Heading inside the terminal, she sat on a bench and stared aimlessly; her face was pale and thin.

Rory Gilmore was sick.

She had come to the airport with a single thought; getting back to her mother, the trouble she must have caused, the pain. In her mind, Tristan was forgotten almost completely. She was distracted, unaware, and slightly delirious. Upon realizing she had no way to get home, she sat down and let her mind blank out a bit.

She felt sick, but not really; a little hungry and very wet and cold. Thinking a ticket would show up soon, she sat there carefully, watching the people swirl around her.

Her eyes were glazed, staring out into space.

She was lost.

Jumping out of the Benz and motioning to the chauffer, Tristan ran towards the airport. The rain thundered down around him, cold and hard and sharp, stinging his skin with it's small, frigid slaps. Searching the outside carefully and finding nothing, he ran inside, his eyes sweeping the length of the terminal. People looked curiously at the soaked boy navigating the masses, women casting more than once glance at the blue cotton shirt clinging to his frame, men curiously and amusedly looking at a boy they perceived as lost, secretly and subconsciously envying him. Unaware, he moved through the crowds in the chilly terminal, looking in each corner and bend until he came out of a store and saw her.

She sat on a bench, holding her backpack and looking deathly pale and sick; carefully, she tied her shoelace and looked back up again, her tired eyes seeing nothing. Her hair was neatly swept back and her skirt was ironed, but it was clear Rory was not there.

"Rory!" he yelled, rushing towards him. She looked up at him with feverish cheeks and burning eyes, and smiled, troubled.

"What are you doing here? I left a note, it's alright, I'm alright. I need to get home, I left my mother. Like I left Dean, but I have to go back to my mother. You see? She's worried. Have to go back. Absolutely no two ways about it, but I have to wait...."

Horrified, Tristan looked back at the girl.

"Cmon," he said, firmly grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to her feet. Protectively, he looped one of his arms through hers, gently pulling her along towards the exits. She willingly followed, still dazed, and he managed to get her into the Benz.

"Home," he ordered crisply, and the driver nodded.

He pulled her through the doors, and helped her up the stairs. Feeling very helpless and terrified, he took off her shoes and laid her on her bed. Running downstairs, he called the butler.

"Call the doctor," he commanded, and the butler nodded.

Looking back at Rory, he was horrified to see her pale lips, her listless hands, and most of all her coldness; her cheeks were chilled, and yet her eyes burned brightly. Full of fear, but sense overcoming panic, he managed to take off her rain-soaked blazer and then her damp shirt off. Feeling as though he were committing some sacrilege or serious crime, as though he were desecrating something pure or innocent, he managed to peel to knee socks off too, and then the chilly undershirt. His eyes carefully traveled the length of her vulnerable, exposed body, he felt a wave of protective love and worry sweep him. He slid a flannel pajama top on her, then some pants under her skirt, managing to take the skirt off best he could. Tristan had never done this so gingerly, so fearfully and carefully, and without lust, just concern; although the mere act was sending shivers through him, his worry quenched anything that might have occurred.

Tucking her in under the covers, and rubbing her hands desperately to try to keep her warm, he paged the butler.

"Bring some hot herbal tea, decaf," he told the servant, with a sudden vague sense of an unknown.

Walking over to the other side of the bed, he tripped over her backpack. Looking down at the offending object, that sense suddenly kicked in again. On impulse, he suddenly started digging in her backpack. Finding nothing but a load of homework and papers and books, he was about to set it down when he noticed a small bottle.

Picking it up, his eyes grew wide in horror as he saw the label; his breath caught in his throat, and a wave of dizziness hit him.

"Shit" he muttered blankly, his mind a sudden wasteland. Out of the panic, he managed to formulate one thought; call Lorelai.

Four hours later, Lorelai and Tristan sat outside an emergency room in New Orleans; the hallway smelled of antiseptic and fresh paint. The two did not say much, just tensely sat in the plastic chairs, waiting, waiting and praying.

"Ms. Gilmore?" a voice above them said gently.

Lorelai's head snapped up, and Tristan could see the fear etched in her features.

"Yes," she whispered, her whisper a plea.

"Your daughter is fine, we've taken care of the problem. She's being placed in room 211, you can see her in a few minutes if you'd like. She'll probably be still asleep under the anesthesia, but she might recognize you. The doctor will come by to tell you what's going on," said the nurse with a smile.

Tristan and Lorelai let out a sigh of relief, managing to finally look at each other.

"You're not off the hook yet," she said, her lips in a thin line.

"Ms. Gilmore, ah....Lorelai......I promise you, I had nothing to do with this. I would never do anything to hurt Rory," he said softly, holding he woman's gaze firmly. "I would say I love her, but the truth is, I don't know her well enough yet; but I know that there's a good chance I'll be mad about her for a very long time. And even if she never loved me, she'd still be that one girl that I would never forget, the one that all girls I might date after would know they were being compared to without even knowing her name. Rory's already hooked me."

Lorelai looked at the boy for a second, and sighed.

"I'm sorry Tristan, I didn't mean to accuse you. But the truth is, you remind me so much of her father."

"Father?" Tristan said confusedly.

"Yeah," smiled Lorelai wearily. "You're a bad-ass spoiled rich kid, you got girls from France to Sun Valley to Oxford, you're a little rebel in plaid. And you have that effect on Rory that her dad did on me,.....and well, look what happened to us. I'd give anything to make sure Rory doesn't repeat that. Plus, you're the Evil One," she told him, managing a small grin.

"What if I bought you some coffee at that gift shop on the second floor on the way to Rory's room?"

"Do you think you could escape my wrath by bribing me with coffee?"

"Well...." grinned Tristan.

"Good job, you're learning fast," smiled back Lorelai. "I promote you to Mildly Bad One. Less than Evil, not yet good."

"What does it take to be promoted to good?" asked Tristan with a cocky grin.

"Driving an average nice little 97 Honda Accord, calling my daughter by her real name, not shopping at Abercrombie&Fitch anymore, and remembering all our birthdays and anniversaries for starters."

"97 Honda Accord?" groaned Tristan. "You're one evil woman. You'd love to see me sacrifice my lifestyle and turn into a little hometown boy type."

"Nah, then you'd be Dean." admitted Lorelai pensively.

Tristan thought about it for a moment.

"You don't really want that, do you." he asked her quietly and good-humoredly.

"Ok, ok, you can drive a Volvo. Good enough for you?"

"It screams 'boring and responsible yet filthy rich' but whatever you want."

"Sounds great. Shall we go up to her room?"

The two entered the elevator with their coffee, hearts much lighter.

"Hey Rory," whispered Lorelai softly as she bent over her daughter's bed. "I'm here. How're you feeling?"

Rory turned her head groggily, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her mother.

"Mommy," she cried, and threw her arms around Lorelai. The two hugged for a second before Lorelai leaned back.

"Somebody else here to see you too," she smiled.

Tristan peeped over the edge of the bed, a small smile on his face. She was still in the flannel pj's he'd given her, and even with her drawn face and puffy eyes she looked beautiful.

"Hey," she croaked out, and he just reached down his hand and stroked her hair softly, as though making sure she was real. Lorelai watched quietly, feeling the depth and width of feeling running like an underwater current through him.

"Shh, don't say anything. Feeling better?" he asked, reluctantly taking his hand away.

She nodded and smiled a tiny smile. Looking back and forth between her mom and Tristan, her eyebrows arched in a question mark.

"Oh, yes, I've met the Evil...ahem, Mildly Bad One. We bonded in the elevator. He's promised to drive a Volvo and bring me coffee. So that means at the moment he's at peace with the Gilmore tribe and is in no current danger of being hunted, captured and roasted over a pit fire in our backyard."

They laughed at Rory's look of horrified amusement, when the doctor walked in.

The four of them stared at each other for a second, before he spoke.

"I'm Dr. Walton, Rory's doctor. Before we start, are you all familiar with what induced her sickness?"

Tristan's face went slightly pale, and he looked at the two, but they seemed clueless.

The doctor placed the bottle on the table. With a shock, Tristan realized it was the bottle he'd found in Rory's backpack. Terror materialized in Rory's eyes, and confusion in her mothers.

"Unfortunately, we see a lot of these cases. Not only are these "Herbal Remedy Energy" pills highly dangerous in themselves, but combined with other metabolism and drugs such as caffeine, they can be deadly. A lot of students think these scams are harmless ways of keeping awake during that final; what most don't know is that they can come closet to killing you.

"I'm sorry," Rory managed to whisper out. "Madeleine said Paris took them and that's how she stayed on top so much, and we had finals that week and I was so tired, and I took one and it kept me going so good that I bought my own the next day.." she finished hoarsely.

"SSShhh, honey, it's alright," Lorelai said tearfully.

"Now," continued Dr. Walton, "Rory consumes a higher amount of caffeine than the average teen. Combined with mental stress from her personal life, and with the pills, it resulted in temporary lapses in her mind's usual neuron synapses and patterns. This may have caused breaks in the pathways, thus leading Rory to do things she wouldn't normally consider due to lack of judgment. If she acted out of character, if could be due to what she's been taking. I recommend that she lay off the coffee for the next two weeks till it's out of her system. As for these," he said, dropping them in the trash and glaring, "touch them again on risk of losing your life. Thank the young man over here for bringing you when he did. Otherwise, you'd be losing a lot more than a few grade points."

With that, the graying man walked out of the room, muttering about the irresponsibility's of kids.

"Why didn't you tell me? Never mind, don't tell me now. If your workload got too heavy, there were other things we could have resorted to! Oh Rory, don't ever do something like that again," cried out Lorelai, grabbing her head in her hands. Tristan watched from the side of the room, unsure whether to leaver or stay. Without warning, Lorelai rushed up to him and hugged him.

"Thank you so much for taking care of her, this officially promotes you to Marvelous One." she said, smiling through her tears.

"Oh wow, how many levels did I get to skip right there?" he said, in a mock-amazed tone, but understanding.

Rushing back to her daughter, the distracted woman hugged Rory again, and then looked at her trembling hands.

"Need coffee, be right back. Too much to take without coffee."

The two were left in the room by themselves, and Tristan pulled up a chair to Rory's bedside.

The looked at each other for a while quietly, eyes full of emotions that just stood there, wobbly, needing to be taken care of and neither of them knew how to do it.

"Guess it was too good to be true, huh," smiled Tristan a bit sadly. "Turns out you weren't in your right mind when you did those things you did. If you never want to hear it from me again when we go back to school, I can go back to being your...whatever I was....enemy...."

Rory shook her head madly from side to side, and Tristan felt his heart suddenly pound strangely.

"I wasn't out of my mind the whole time," she whispered hoarsely, and smiled a strange smile.

"Oh really?" he grinned suddenly light. "Do you remember anything?"

She thought for a moment, and motioned him nearer with her finger.

Bending close to her to catch the muted whisper, Tristan suddenly heard her words brush by his ear delicately.

"I remember what you sang to me," she said delightedly, and watched him pale; then, his discomfort as he quickly gazed into her eyes for reassurance that she wasn't upset.

Instead, Rory raised her head only slightly, and brushed a chaste kiss on his cheek, close to him mouth. His hand went up to it almost instinctively, incredulously; she let her head back down on the pillow, and closed her eyes softly.

He leaned back and watched her breathe quietly, saying nothing.

Outside, Lorelai watched the two, smiling a tiny smile.

He would pass.

Only one question.......where did Rory get those pajamas she was wearing?

There! Now expect an epilogue.....well, depends. If ya'll think this is an epilogue in itself, I won't need to write one but if you think it needs an ending, tell me. Either way, we'll see. Liked it? Tell me.