Author: archangel
E-mail: archangel50210@msn.com mailto:archangel50210@msn.com
Rating: PG-13 for now
Pairing: Trory
CONTENT - So far, nothing bad
DISCLAIMER - Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB own the characters and the show. All that's mine is this story.
AUTHORS NOTE - This is my first fanfic so I would appreciate any reviews. Constructive criticism is welcome. Please review.
"Rory, Rory, Rory. Are you okay? Rory?" Everything was blurry. Rory tried to sit up, but as she moved, a sharp pain caused her to stop. Bringing her hands to her head, she looked up. A panicked face stood over her. The eyes were blue, the hair black. The eyes were familiar... so much like Tristan's.
"Monique," Rory asked hesitantly.
The girl smiled. "Yes, Rory. Are you okay? You've been out for five minutes."
Rory went to nod, but she doubled over from the pain that shot through her head. "Uh, I'll be fine." Rory's eyes traveled around the room slowly. She froze. Where was Tristan? She was sure he had been thrown in here. "Monique, where's Tristan?"
Monique took in the frightened look on the older girl. She smiled reassuringly. "He's okay. He's over there. Trying to open something."
Rory sighed. "Could you get him for me?"
Monique sighed. "Does it ever end? Another girl for Tristan. God, this gets so old." Monique turned around, calling, "Tristan, Rory wants you."
Rory winced, not only from the effect the loud voice had on her head, but also from Monique's choice of words. She watched as a figure emerged from the darkness. "Ror, you're okay. Thank God." Tristan wrapped his arms around her, puling her into the embrace. As he hugged her, he felt something warm and thick. Pulling his hand away, he peered at it. Blood. Rory's head was bleeding. "Rory, are you okay?"
"I'm fine. My head hurts a little but nothing worse than that."
Tristan frowned. "Tell the truth."
"I am."
Tristan looked her in the eyes. "Rory, your head is bleeding. That's more than a little."
Rory paled. "What? Are you serious?" Looking at Monique, then back at Tristan, Rory whispered, "What should I do? How bad is it?"
Tristan instantly knew why he liked Rory Gilmore so much. Even in the midst of a possible head injury, she still didn't want to frighten his little sister. "It's okay." Tristan stood up and took off his shirt. "I'm going to wrap this around your head." As he said this, he did. "And one other thing- you need to stay awake. It's important. Okay, Rory? In an hour or so, tell me how you're feeling." Lowering his voice, he added, "Rory, you may have a concussion."
Rory sighed, saying ironically, "Tristan this has been the worst few days of my life. First, I find out I'm going to have triplets. With you, no less. Then, Monique gets kidnapped. And I break up with Dean. Now this."
Tristan had to stop from laughing at the triplet part. He sank down next to her on the floor. "Hey, Rory."
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"All of that's my fault."
"No, Trist-"
"Yes, it is. Ror, what can I do to make it up to you?"
Rory thought. "Well, you can't get me coffee. So I guess the next best thing would be a hug."
Tristan happily obliged. Rory closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. Even now, with a gunman upstairs, Rory felt safe in Tristan's arms. She took a deep breath, inhaling his cologne. He was comforting. He was safe. He was Tristan.
"Rory, Rory, are you okay? Rory?"
Déjà vu. Only the voice sounded different. Deeper, gentler, more caring. "Tristan?" Rory's voice was quiet, weak.
Tristan smiled. "Rory, you fell asleep. I couldn't wake you up. I thought-"
Rory reached up and touched Tristan's cheek, surprised to see him holding back tears. "Tristan, I'm okay. Now, we have to figure out how to get out of here."
Tristan looked down at the floor, refusing to meet Rory's eyes. Rory grew nervous. "Tristan, what is it?" Her voice betrayed the fear growing inside her. It grew like a wildfire, rapid and out of control.
Tristan met her gaze. "There's no way out."
Rory laughed, her trepidation so high, she didn't notice the pain that shot through her head. "What do you mean? There has to be a way out. There has to be. God, Tristan. I can't die in here." Tears streamed down her face, her eyes begging him to tell her he was lying.
"Rory, someone will help us. But we're in a basement. Underground. And the ceiling..." Tristan reached up, his hand tapping against the ceiling. "Cement."
Rory groaned. "Who has cement ceilings?"
"People who don't want anyone to escape."
Rory scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. "What? That doesn't make sense. Why would your parents do that?"
Tristan sighed. "They wouldn't."
Rory looked at him, still puzzled. "What? Then who did? Who else could-"
Tristan stood up and began to pace back and forth. Rory stood up as well. After a moment, Tristan turned to her. "I don't know Rory. But not my parents. I would have known. I go through all their mail because...well, they don't give us our letters or anything. It's some power issue. But Rory- it couldn't be them. So we need to figure out who it is. Before it's too late."
Rory nodded. "Yes, we do." She rocked back and forth unstably on her feet. The world started to go dark. She watched Tristan, as concern swept across his features. She new he was walking towards her, but he seemed so far away. She felt so disoriented.
Tristan watched Rory as her eyes glazed over. It took him a few seconds to notice she was blacking out. Running to her, he guided her unconscious form to the ground. Sitting with her head in his lap, one hand on her, the other encircling his sister's smaller one, he frowned. Someone needed to find them. He looked down at Rory. Her life may depend on it.
E-mail: archangel50210@msn.com mailto:archangel50210@msn.com
Rating: PG-13 for now
Pairing: Trory
CONTENT - So far, nothing bad
DISCLAIMER - Amy Sherman-Palladino and the WB own the characters and the show. All that's mine is this story.
AUTHORS NOTE - This is my first fanfic so I would appreciate any reviews. Constructive criticism is welcome. Please review.
"Rory, Rory, Rory. Are you okay? Rory?" Everything was blurry. Rory tried to sit up, but as she moved, a sharp pain caused her to stop. Bringing her hands to her head, she looked up. A panicked face stood over her. The eyes were blue, the hair black. The eyes were familiar... so much like Tristan's.
"Monique," Rory asked hesitantly.
The girl smiled. "Yes, Rory. Are you okay? You've been out for five minutes."
Rory went to nod, but she doubled over from the pain that shot through her head. "Uh, I'll be fine." Rory's eyes traveled around the room slowly. She froze. Where was Tristan? She was sure he had been thrown in here. "Monique, where's Tristan?"
Monique took in the frightened look on the older girl. She smiled reassuringly. "He's okay. He's over there. Trying to open something."
Rory sighed. "Could you get him for me?"
Monique sighed. "Does it ever end? Another girl for Tristan. God, this gets so old." Monique turned around, calling, "Tristan, Rory wants you."
Rory winced, not only from the effect the loud voice had on her head, but also from Monique's choice of words. She watched as a figure emerged from the darkness. "Ror, you're okay. Thank God." Tristan wrapped his arms around her, puling her into the embrace. As he hugged her, he felt something warm and thick. Pulling his hand away, he peered at it. Blood. Rory's head was bleeding. "Rory, are you okay?"
"I'm fine. My head hurts a little but nothing worse than that."
Tristan frowned. "Tell the truth."
"I am."
Tristan looked her in the eyes. "Rory, your head is bleeding. That's more than a little."
Rory paled. "What? Are you serious?" Looking at Monique, then back at Tristan, Rory whispered, "What should I do? How bad is it?"
Tristan instantly knew why he liked Rory Gilmore so much. Even in the midst of a possible head injury, she still didn't want to frighten his little sister. "It's okay." Tristan stood up and took off his shirt. "I'm going to wrap this around your head." As he said this, he did. "And one other thing- you need to stay awake. It's important. Okay, Rory? In an hour or so, tell me how you're feeling." Lowering his voice, he added, "Rory, you may have a concussion."
Rory sighed, saying ironically, "Tristan this has been the worst few days of my life. First, I find out I'm going to have triplets. With you, no less. Then, Monique gets kidnapped. And I break up with Dean. Now this."
Tristan had to stop from laughing at the triplet part. He sank down next to her on the floor. "Hey, Rory."
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"All of that's my fault."
"No, Trist-"
"Yes, it is. Ror, what can I do to make it up to you?"
Rory thought. "Well, you can't get me coffee. So I guess the next best thing would be a hug."
Tristan happily obliged. Rory closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. Even now, with a gunman upstairs, Rory felt safe in Tristan's arms. She took a deep breath, inhaling his cologne. He was comforting. He was safe. He was Tristan.
"Rory, Rory, are you okay? Rory?"
Déjà vu. Only the voice sounded different. Deeper, gentler, more caring. "Tristan?" Rory's voice was quiet, weak.
Tristan smiled. "Rory, you fell asleep. I couldn't wake you up. I thought-"
Rory reached up and touched Tristan's cheek, surprised to see him holding back tears. "Tristan, I'm okay. Now, we have to figure out how to get out of here."
Tristan looked down at the floor, refusing to meet Rory's eyes. Rory grew nervous. "Tristan, what is it?" Her voice betrayed the fear growing inside her. It grew like a wildfire, rapid and out of control.
Tristan met her gaze. "There's no way out."
Rory laughed, her trepidation so high, she didn't notice the pain that shot through her head. "What do you mean? There has to be a way out. There has to be. God, Tristan. I can't die in here." Tears streamed down her face, her eyes begging him to tell her he was lying.
"Rory, someone will help us. But we're in a basement. Underground. And the ceiling..." Tristan reached up, his hand tapping against the ceiling. "Cement."
Rory groaned. "Who has cement ceilings?"
"People who don't want anyone to escape."
Rory scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. "What? That doesn't make sense. Why would your parents do that?"
Tristan sighed. "They wouldn't."
Rory looked at him, still puzzled. "What? Then who did? Who else could-"
Tristan stood up and began to pace back and forth. Rory stood up as well. After a moment, Tristan turned to her. "I don't know Rory. But not my parents. I would have known. I go through all their mail because...well, they don't give us our letters or anything. It's some power issue. But Rory- it couldn't be them. So we need to figure out who it is. Before it's too late."
Rory nodded. "Yes, we do." She rocked back and forth unstably on her feet. The world started to go dark. She watched Tristan, as concern swept across his features. She new he was walking towards her, but he seemed so far away. She felt so disoriented.
Tristan watched Rory as her eyes glazed over. It took him a few seconds to notice she was blacking out. Running to her, he guided her unconscious form to the ground. Sitting with her head in his lap, one hand on her, the other encircling his sister's smaller one, he frowned. Someone needed to find them. He looked down at Rory. Her life may depend on it.