Hey! I'm back after some writer's block and loss of interest, I've picked up the story again. Then next chapter will probably be the last, and then an epilogue, if requested. I hope you've enjoyed my little saga....this chapter is for Aziza, a gladdened reviewer, shayness, fi, carulaiel, inmyeyes, and glow (who never ceases to amaze me with her bone jarring, awesome writing). it's also for all those that still reviewed during my slump; i'm back! with guns blazing.........but i also have the flu.......so i'm pretty miserable.....but anyway, now i'm officialy rambling and not making sense so just read.
Enjoy.
Luce
disclaimer: 1st ch.
The halls of the empty house seemed to whisper in sinister, sensuous whispers that sent chills down his spine; he closed the door to his room and hurriedly turned a lamp on. Shaking his head at his own childishness, he tried to block all the thoughts out that made him ill at ease. He was strangely uncomfortable, his senses sharpened and poised, waiting for what seemed to hide in the shadows. Flooding his room with light, he did a quick check of the room, and then laid down on his bed. This is ridiculous, his mind laughed uneasily. But he had a premonition; it was as though he could sense, sense her coming, sense the sweet smell of her perfume like poison. His heart sped up; leaping from his bed, he quickly walked towards the door, his eyes fixated on the lock, feverishly wanting to turn it with his mind, reaching out, and then..........
As his fingers reached towards the door, the golden handle slowly went down, and then door swung open a crack, letting in a slice of ominous darkness.
He was too late.
Outside, the wind restlessly began to beat against the sound of the house; over the dark bay, the breakers shattered and rippled in furious little waves.
In horrified fascination, he watched as one slender, familiar hand crept in through the dark slit, caressing the wall as it slid over towards the light switch. Too dazed to move, he saw it lightly touch; and then, in a second, he was left in blinding darkness, the only sound audible the beating of his heart, his breath.
The door began to slowly open.
"Daaaaamn!" echoed Jess' pleased voice down the hallway.
"Jess! If you steal anything I swear to God I'll never forgive you." Rory yelled after the sound of his voice, grinning.
"Blower. That Picasso was lookin' kinda good."
Rory rolled her eyes and skipped down the hallway, flicking on lights as she went. The whole house was soon pleasantly illuminated, the lacy white curtains in the windows and the warm candles adding a comforting familiarity to it. Turning on some slow, relaxing jazz, Lorelai poured herself some wine from a crystal decanter and sank back on the couch with a slow groan.
"Aaaahh..." she sighed, taking a deep drink. "That's more like it."
"Not a teetotaler, I take it" said Jess, watching amusedly from the doorway.
"Oh please. You make me sound like the drunk bum on the park bench," snorted Lorelai, draining the contents of the cup. "I'm very responsible with promoting....responsibility."
"Sure. Don't worry, I'd pick you to chaperone my kegger," laughed Jess as he wandered around the room.
"Don't push it." she glared.
"Yes, Captain Morgan."
"Ok, go to your room. And for your information, I prefer Bacardi. And I know you snuck a bottle of
Heineken Dark, put it back; and don't let me catch you smoking inside this house. I know you don't care if your lungs get all black and smoky and collapse but so help you God if the curtains do, capisce?"
Rolling his eyes, Jess reluctantly put back the Heineken back in the cold bar he'd so quietly extracted it from; saluting, he walked out to look for Rory, leaving Lorelai in her blissful oblivion.
Once out in the hallway, Jess grinned and pulled out the bottle of white zinfandel he'd cleverly slipped under his jacket while replacing the Heineken. Whistling, he walked down the halls, looking at the expensive paintings that were tastefully arranged across the muted colors of the walls.
"Original Tealdi; that that's a very pricey Vermeer," said the intelligently childish voice behind him, startling him. He turned around abruptly.
Rory smiled in the soft hallway light, pointing to the wall.
"I know," he nodded, grinning. "Metamorphose, the second one, and Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window," he said, pointing.
"Hmm, impressive, Mr. Danes. Not only a literature fiend but also an art critic; I must admit, I'm blown away. Vermeer - paintings known for their...." she prompted, eyes sparkling.
"Luminosity," he immediately finished her sentence, a smirk on his face. "Style -"
"Golden Age Painter," shot back Rory, grinning. "Other famous work -"
"Girl with the Pearl Earring," retorted Jess, and they both laughed. Rory shook her head.
"One question; why are you not in some prep school?" she asked, looking at him curiously.
He shrugged, turning to the wall, studying the paintings for a silent moment.
"Too busy being bad," he grinned, suddenly pulling out the bottle from his jacket.
Her eyes flew wide open, and then resumed normalcy as she realized it was Jess; anything was possible.
"How the hell did you sneak that?" she asked crossly, trying to be mad.
He slung an affectionate arm around her.
"That's for me to know and for you to wonder. I think we should celebrate our own intelligence? Whaddya think?" he said, pulling out a corkscrew.
"Oh for God's sake, what kind of brother are you? You're supposed to watch out for me, not try to get me drunk," muttered Rory, walking down the hall.
He caught up with her, grabbing her hand. She spun around, trying to suppress a smile.
"Think of it as my special way of saying I care. Plus, I always thought it'd be fun to watch you staggering around a room, knocking into things, singing Hotel California at the top of your lungs while I videotape."
"Satan," glared Rory.
"C'mon," he urged, laughing.
Her eyes sparkled with impulse suddenly.
"C'mon, I'll show you my favorite place in the whole house. This is so cool, I bet you've never seen anything like it before. Plus, it's a safe place to hide that naughty bottle."
She raced up the stairs with Jess in pursuit, through a winding maze of stairways, and then up another small, twisted staircase. Opening a small door, they stepped into a warm, tiny room.
The walls were white, a few cushions scattered on the floor big enough to accommodate six people comfortably, at most; there was no furniture, only blankets and throw pillows. At about waist-height, the windows started. The walls from there up were just glass; it was a small look out tower of sorts.
They quietly sat down in the small, cozy space, the wind and cold outside held back by the crystal glass; Rory turned on a small lamp that shut out the darkness and lent a dark glow to the room.
Jess popped open the bottle, and produced two glasses mysteriously procured; pouring the bubbling liquid into them like a solemn ritual, he handed one to Rory. Leaning back against the wall, the two silently drank to mysterious longings better not expressed out-loud.
"Penny for your thoughts," said Jess, breaking the calm.
Rory cocked her head to the side, thinking silently; she sighed, deciding the truth was as good as any lie.
"Actually, I was thinking about Tristan, yes, yes, I know," she sighed, watching his knowing grin as he opened his mouth to retort. He seemed to change his mind, and instead tilted his head back and took another long drink.
"What are you worried about?" he asked, and she felt a slow warmth spread through her at his confident, somewhat amused words.
"Ah....." she said, grasping for words that she didn't know how to express; catching her slight blush, he smirked, knowing instantly.
"You've got him wrapped around your damn finger. Nothing could distract him, trust me. I've seen him look at you." said Jess bluntly, watching her as she sighed and rested her chin in her hands.
"Yeah...maybe....I don't know. It's like I'm afraid it's always going to end, like it was too good to be true from the begging. I'm in love with him, you know." she admitted calmly, watching Jess' mildly shocked and then smiling reaction.
"Sorry, it was just the way you said it. It was like, 'I ordered pizza,' or 'the red shoes are in the closet'. You know?" he said, thoughtfully pouring another glass. " I knew you were, I just never thought you'd be so straightforward about it."
"Yeah well, that's me, closet shocker mystery woman," she muttered glumly, reaching for the bottle. "I just feel so inadequate sometimes. Like I have no way to help him because I've never waken up next to him in the morning in a villa overlooking Naples Bay. You understand?"
Jess nodded, but his forehead wrinkled in thoughtful worry.
"Surprisingly yes, although if I were any normal person I wouldn't get it. Rory, you don't have to give him anything in order to have a pull. He's in love with you. And that's more than probably other girls have had. C'mon, think about it."
Rory considered it for a moment, and then sighed a resigned sigh, but she looked considerably more cheerful.
"Thanks. For everything. I'm glad you got kicked out of your house and sent to live here."
Jess raised one eyebrow in half-disbelief, half amusement.
"Ok, rephrase. I'm glad you're my cousin." she corrected.
"Legally not yet," he chuckled, pouring her a second glass. Rory grinned and rolled her eyes.
"Fate never went to law school," she quipped, raising her glass. "A toast; to our first annual family reunion."
Jess lightly touched his cup to hers, tipping it back.
"Don't expect anyone from my side to come," he smiled, and she shook her head.
"God, can you imagine a Danes/Gilmore family reunion?" she said, holding back the urge to laugh. She settled back into the pillows comfortably, bathed in the quiet gold shadows.
"It's be a sea of flannel on one side, and glitter on the other," he replied, and she choked on her drink giggling.
They both drank quietly to that, setting the cups down.
"Hey, I never showed you the coolest part of this room." she suddenly said, standing up and heading to the wall. He watched as she opened a cabinet, pushed a button, and suddenly the wooden door swung, revealing a telescope.
"You birdwatch? Or just perv on the neighbors? Rory, Rory, if only the world knew....."
She smacked him lightly on the arm, pulling him up.
"Here, look. There's Venus. And there's the house where the party was tonight. OOhhh, look, they're dragging a drunk lady out to her car!" she squealed, and he peered through the eyehole.
"I'm the authority on all that's illegal, and I know there's got to be a law against this." he said amused, as he observed the scene, zoooming in and out with the powerful lens. Rory took his place in a second, swinging around the long metal tube.
"And there's our neighbor's house, from above. Some rich people. Damn, that car does look kinda familiar...you know....I could've sworn...."
She suddenly went silent, and stood up, pale.
"What?" he said curiously, immediately looking through the eyehole. Just a silver Porsche.
"That's Tristan's license plate," she said faintly.
The two looked at each other for a second.
Rory dashed out the door. Jess took one look at the bottle, sighed, and sped after her.
Tristan stood silently in the dark, his heart pounding, listening to his own breathing; he froze as he heard the sound of another person's breath, and saw a shadow glide into the room.
The shadow moved by the wall, one hand on a mysterious object; with a single motion, the room suddenly exploded in a dark gold light.
"Boo," giggled the shadow, melting into a person.
He jumped at the sound, and then drew a deep breath.
"Maggie."
His voice was low and dangerous as he glared at the figure leaning against the wall; his heart beat a little faster as she approached, her lower lip pouting irresistibly.
"Did little Mags scare you?" she cooed, and her lips curved up in a naughty grin.
"What the fuck is wrong with you! How did you get in the house, and why the hell are you stalking me!" he exploded, suddenly flinging the nearest object, a desk lamp, into the wall.
Maggie shrank back a second, and then regained composure. Slowly, she walked over to the bed. He unwillingly took in the long curves of her legs under the white fur coat that came to mid-thigh, and cuddled around her neck in soft, white fluffy folds. She was stunning, breath taking, purely sexual; the lamplight gleamed a deep bronze sheen on her skin, stretching over slim muscles and taut limbs. The space between her legs that disappeared under the white fur taunted him.
Her hair cascaded around her neck in soft golden folds and tendrils, messy and rumpled, in her eyes. Her thick fringed clear green eyes pierced him from under inquisitive eyebrows; her stained red lips seduced him with each small motion. She stretched out like a lithe, slim, jungle cat, waiting, waiting to pounce on her prey in one swift movement. She propped her long legs against the wall as the fur coat slid down; her thin, long gold stiletto heels tapped against the white plaster. He stepped back, the images assaulting him, the memories flooding him, the taut, lightly flowing muscles under his fingertips on her back, the soft swell of her curves, her red, guilty, impassioned mouth attacking his own the in the foggy London morning.......
"God," he groaned under his breath, and she seemed to come alive; she slowly stood up, in her full glory, pinning him with her eyes, forcing him to stare. In a terrifyingly slow motion, she started unzipping the coat, slowly, down, down, skin coming into view softly under the gold shadow.
The soft, white fur fell to the floor, and she stood there.
The thin black lace stretched tight against her willing body; clad only in a thin brassiere and panties, the long slender limbs unfolded, slapping him breathless. He felt broken, abused.
Slowly, she slunk towards him. His body reacted the way it always had to her; without mercy, violently awakening. She slid around him slowly, her arms floating over him. Her mouth wanted his, she purred softly, the familiar triumphant smile slowly spreading on her face, her eyes gleaming cruelly, piercing green. Her damp lips were on his neck, her hands at his belt buckle.
His face froze in restraint, ordering his body, but it was no good. It took all his willpower to keep his arms still as her tongue traced tiny butterflies behind his ear. His hands tightened into fists, his knuckles white, his nails digging into his skin.
"Maggie," his voice warned, but it trembled; it only elicited a little delighted laugh from her.
"Just this one time, no one will know. Ever. That's all I was good to you for, well, now I'm offering it again. Isn't that true, Tristan? Why did you spend all that time? Why?" she whispered, her words like tiny needles piercing his skin.
"I knew I had to make you wait, because you'd be gone as soon as the chase was, but God, I was so fucking hopeful that it wouldn't turn out that way......Tristan...." she continued, still circling him, her hands still passing like shadows over his body. A hot lighting bolt ran through him as his belt dropped to the floor and he felt her fingers slide under his shirt, over the steely expanse of stomach.
"Maggie, don't do this. Don't do it," he said, his voice ragged, his body fighting for control. It was already giving in, already losing.
"Hey, you only wanted my body. Now I only want yours. Is that a crime? Did you think it'd never come back around?" she questioned lightly, her words poisonous. She quirked one eyebrow, and suddenly looked down as if shy.
"You want me," she said so softly, he barely caught it. Her knee suddenly found it's way between his thighs; her fingers were steel on his back as she pressed his body to his, and her hot, fierce mouth crushed his sending his body up into a violent flame of passion. Each fiber of him responded as programmed, each nerve ending raw and aroused beyond control, each cell wanting to slam her into the wall.
"Tristan," she whispered in that second, and he froze.
Rory.
Flash of blue.
A sweet innocent smile. Thick, heavy, shiny slippery brown hair falling like a curtain.
I love you.
With one last breath, he gathered every ounce of will he had in his body.
Rory burst through the front door of Tristan's house, wild eyes, her body shaking; Jess stopped short behind her, his face glowing darkly. She turned to him with full eyes.
"Whatever happens, no violence," she said firmly, and Jess groaned, running a hand over his face. "Promise!" she hissed furiously, desperately, and he nodded.
She took a deep breath and ran up the staircase.
"No!" Tristan yelled, numb to himself and to the world around him; he grabbed her arms wildly and tore her away, sending her stumbling backwards. He watched in shock as Maggie flew backwards, against the bed.
"I hate you!" she screamed, her eyes burning fierce green. "You never knew what you did! God," she moaned and started crying wildly, terrible sobs tearing themselves out of her chest.
Rory stopped still at the sound of his voice, the one powerfully spoken word that stopped her blood cold and sent waves of cool hope washing over her. Gasping, Rory burst into the doorway.
She took in the girl, the wild eyed boy clutching his head on his knees, the terrible weeping emanating from the half-naked figure of the girl on the floor. Gathering up all her courage and trust, she gently stooped down over the boy.
"Tristan," she said softly, and his head snapped up violently.
"Rory!" he burst out, terrified. "Please, I can explain! Please don't leave, you have to believe me! Rory!" he exclaimed, grabbing her hands, his body racked by the powerful emotion. Jess crept in, spotted a robe in the closet and silently pulled it out. He slipped in the shadows, approaching the sobbing girl on the floor; gently, he draped the robe around her, maneuvering her arms into it. She was limp and unconsciously allowed him to, not even noticing.
"Tristan!" Rory yelled, shushing him, covering his mouth with kisses, her hands on his face, on his arms, holding him as she tried to make him listen. "Tristan! Listen to me!" she said, pronouncing each word clearly and carefully.
"It's alright," she said simply, and he stood there shocked.
"It's not what it looks like, I mea-"
"It's alright." she cut him off again powerfully, her blue eyes holding his trustingly. He slumped, and she held his weak frame against her as a few hot tears slipped into her hair from his eyes. "Shh.... it's alright," she murmured, rocking him.
"Mary," he said brokenly, and she tightened her grip. Letting go, she wiped his eyes with her hand, and her eyes glimmered, full of tears as she smiled a wobbly smile. She ran her fingers lovingly through his hair, over his eyes, over the angles of his jaw, the nape of his neck; he wrapped his arms around her and held her close for another minute. The only sound in the room was the wild sobbing coming out in broken cadence from the crumpled girl on the floor as she slowly rose, staggering to her feet.
Rory pulled back, and took his hands. Giving him one last look, she turned around.
Her whole demeanor changed. Her eyes hardened, her mouth a straight, thin line; fists clenched, she directed a deadly look towards the blond girl.
"You. Fucking. Bitch." were Rory's clipped words that punctured the air and hung suspended for a breathless second before she hurtled like a streak towards Maggie.
With a scream, the other girl went down, and the two fell twisted on the floor as Rory's fists swung, cracking the blond in the jaw. Maggie slapped her, rolling over, and Rory administered a punch to the other girl's stomach that sent her reeling. With more rage than she'd ever felt in her whole life burning in her veins, Rory was a danger to herself.
She felt herself lifted by a pair of arms so powerful that she struggled against them uselessly; she was lifted off the other girl like a wilted leaf, and held back. On the other side of the room, Jess had the green eyed girl in a lock.
The two screamed and cursed at each other from across the room; Maggie's string of half-british curses interrupted by tearing sobs, Rory's words thrown at her like daggers.
"Stop it!" yelled Tristan, clamping a hand over Rory's mouth, and Jess followed suit. The two girls wildly struggled for a second before they gave up, making small effort to resist, and finally hanging limp.
"If we let go, will you behave?" shouted Tristan angrily at both. Sullen looks were his only response.
Tristan slowly unclenched his arms, nodding to the other boy to do the same.
It took only a split second for the two of them to lounge forward again, but Jess and Tristan were prepared; the lamp was knocked over, shattering, plunging the room into darkness; a scream, a missed punch, a tight grip, and then a hand that blindly fumbled and flipped on the light switch, flooding the room with bright fluorescent reality.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!" yelled Jess at the two sullen girls glaring at each other as they wriggled in their respective captor's hands.
"That's it," ordered Tristan, dragging Rory downstairs.
"I can walk," she spat, and looking into her eyes carefully, Tristan saw submission. He nodded, and let go of her arm.
The two shot deathly glares at each other in the passing; Tristan managed to drag Rory into the foyer.
They breathed heavily and stared at each other for a minute.
"What the hell happened," she said in a tiny voice, and suddenly slumped to the ground. Silent sobs shook her body, leaving her weak and fragile; feeling a desperate urge to cry himself, a sheer insane madness, a terrifying brush with the closest edge he'd ever come into in his whole life. He'd been so close to losing her. If he hadn't yelled No at that moment....all...would've been lost......
Tenderly, he scooped her up in his arms, and deposited her into the Porsche. Gathering a few things, he stocked the car quickly, and closed her door.
"I'll be back in a second, don't move, ok?" he said gently, assuring her. She nodded, her lip quivering.
He raced back into the house, where he found a tired-looking Jess at the bar in the den, pouring himself some gin, a still crying Maggie on the couch.
"Can you tell Lorelai we've gone to New Orleans, and we'll call in a bit, and everything," he said to Jess, tiredly rubbing his eyes.
Jess nodded, and shook his head, a small smile on his face.
Tristan raised one eyebrow.
"What?" he said, grabbing Jess' drink and taking a swallow.
"You said no. I didn't think you would. But you did. I don't know how........" said the dark haired boy, grinning.
Tristan shrugged, set the glass down, and grabbed his keys.
"Take care..." he smiled, and ran out the door.
"Sure, leave me here with the gorgeous damsel in distress," muttered Jess, a smirk growing on his face. Swallowing the rest of the gin, he closed the door.
The silver Porsche sped over the road, it's destination awaiting.
In den, Maggie's head snapped out at the sound of the door being shut.
Her crying immediately ceased, her features relaxing, into thin lines of discontent. Immediately examining her jaw, she tied the robe around her and poured herself a heavy drink.
Jess rested against the doorway, watching.
The blonde girl tipped back the glass, sending prisms of diamond light against the wall; setting it down, she wiped her mouth and cursed as she gingerly felt her cheek. Suddenly seeing the figure leaning against the doorway, her eyes widened; then, in a split second, they relaxed and narrowed again. Smiling a thin, curved smile, she strode across the room, coming face to face with him.
"Disappointment hasn't seemed to kill you," smirked Jess, sipping a beer and watching her cautiously.
Her face was expressionless, but a little tired; she was in a bitchy mood. Her lips pouted as she scanned him aggressively.
"Got a smoke?" she said coolly, surveying him, her eyes running over his body like invisible fingers.
He grinned, producing two from between his fingers like magic; she giggled for a second at the little trick, before she remembered who she was. Taking them, she caught the lighter he tossed and lit one. Sighing, she inhaled the smoke, and dropped back on the couch. Tiredly, she ran her hands through her hair and checked her watch.
"I don't think we've really been properly introduced," he said smoothly, falling into a couch opposite hers. "I'm Jess."
She smiled slowly, over the rim of her glass.
"Hello Jess," she whispered, and one finger slid along the rim of the glass as she watched him under her eyelashes.
"So, I take it you have a little thing for Tristan. I won't dig, but I'm curious; I think you were acting the whole time....the sobbing bit......."
Her face suddenly snapped up to see his; her smile gleamed in the soft light of the chandeliers, the diamond glittering and sparkling on her long finger.
"Was I?"
Ok, sorry for the craptastic ending but if you read Escaping the Inescapable (the prequel to this) you'd get the New Orleans part and maybe understand the cliffhanger. As for Miss Maggie and Jess.....got a little surprise comin' up there.......and Rory and Tristan are about to make up after a fight.....and you know how that usually goes......
Anyway, I was thinking (as the grand finale after the episode) about putting Escaping the Inescapable and Dance a Thousand Steps together in one big story with a bonus chapter and foreword (from diff peoples' point of view) and stuff like that. Do ya'll wanna see that or should I just leave them as two separate stories??
So, there's your chapter, ladies and gents. I would love to hear from you (comments, drop a line, review if you have the time, original pieces, flames, lawsuits, stalker notes) or however your heart moves.
Luce