A.N : Woo! Thanks for all the reviews. :D Just so y'all know, this is a Trory... I don't know what might have led you guys to think otherwise, but it will eventually be Trory. So don't worry about that; I could never turn to the dark side. Hee! Also, since I'm not into gratuitous violence, no killing will be involved ::LoL:: I'll try my best not to be excessively evil and take the very long scenic route... but whatever it is, make the phrase "It'll eventually be a Trory" your mantra while reading this. :D I don't like/am not good at writing Dean so I apologize for his drab characterization.

One last thing: I've forgotten to mention that this story takes place after "Concert Interruptus". The dialogue in this chapter that are in italics is from the previous parts of the story and those in bold are actually from what happened in the episodes up to and including "Concert Interruptus". I'm sure most of guys would recognize that anyways but I'm making that distinction so that you won't be confused. Thank you to gilmore-girls.net for the transcripts.

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Something To Remember
by inmyeyes
Part 7

(That Monday night. Gilmore house. Stars Hollow)

She knew it was pathetic, but she didn't care. After drying her tears, she had refused to tell her mother anything. Instead, she had run straight to her room and threw herself on the bed, trying to keep the tears at bay. After a few laboured breaths, she slowly got off her sprawled position and locked her bedroom door, something that she had never felt the need to do before. Not bothering to turn on any lights, she crawled back onto her bed, curling up onto a fetal position.

"There's something going on between us."

"I guess you could say so."

"You're special."

"I'd say the same about you."

"This thing between us... it's more than just a something, isn't it?

"Yes, we're dating."

She lay unmoving, her eyes staring into the darkness but his words haunted her in her mind, loud and mocking. Swallowing back tears, she shut her eyes, but it only served to make his image in her mind brighter. She saw him smiling at her, laughing, his eyes bright and staring right into her.

"Well I actually thought you'd like to go with me."

"You did not."

"I did too."

"You did not because you are not stupid."

"Why, thank you."

"Slimy and weasely, yes, but stupid, no. You'd have to be stupid to think that, given our history, I would ever, barring a piano or a safe falling on my head, want to go anywhere with you, ever."

And then a moment later, a memory from Chilton would assail her, taunting her and reminding her how... She pressed her eyes closer still, but the voice in her head told her how much of a jerk he had been to her. An arrogant, over-bearing, relentless asshole who made her life at Chilton absolutely horrible.

"You're my girlfriend, aren't you?"

"Well, they're gonna have a long wait ahead of them... I plan on being with you for a long time."

"See, I think you like me, you just don't know how to say it."

"Oh boy."

"What are you doing Friday night?"

"I'm busy."

"What, you gotta be back at the convent by 5?"

"Please leave me alone."

It was so difficult to reconcile the sweet, considerate, loving boyfriend he had been to her with the amazingly self-assured, cocky, suave player image that he portrayed. It sounded like there were two loud, argumentative voices in her head, each pleading their case for him... but they both drowned each other out and all she felt was a hard, throbbing pain in her temples.

"So where's my birthday kiss?"

"It's my birthday."

"So I'll give you a birthday kiss."

"What is wrong with you?"

"Ok, I gotta tell you something. I'm madly in love with you."

"Well, good luck with that."

"I can't eat, I can't sleep... I wake up in the middle of the night calling your name. Rory, Rory!"

Wiping her hand hastily across her cheek, she got rid of the tears that had escaped from her closed eyes. She didn't want to cry, she really didn't but it wasn't as though she could help it. The tears just came and came, like a never-ending flood, dampening her pale cheeks. But she didn't make a sound, didn't make any move at all; here was no visible movement from her but her mind was a jumbled mess of memories and images and pieces of dialogue that should have not made any sense but did.

"I love being with you, it just makes everything else in my life seem better."

"You don't have to be alone, Tristan. Not when you have me."

She was angry. No, she was furious. How could he have led her on like that? How could the lies just flow out of his mouth? How could he play with her emotions and take advantage of her condition just so he could get what he wanted? She felt so outraged that she could strangle him. No, death by strangulation would be too good for him, she decided. She'd kill him... slowly and torturously., drawing out his last breath.

"I think I remembered the first time we met. It was at Chilton... and I remember you smirking at me. And I remember you offering to lend me your notes. That was sweet of you."

"I could loan you my notes, if that would help."

"Really? That's be great."

"Yeah? How great?"

"I don't know. Mr. Remmy said that getting someone's notes would be..."

"I could even help you study. If you want."

"Uh, I kind of view studying as a solitary activity. But thanks."

Yet her anger was laced with confusion; she wanted to believe that he cared for her. She wanted to believe that the way he looked at her as though she was the beautiful girl in the world was true and not some contrived act. She wanted to believe that every kiss they shared was so good, so earth-shatteringly amazing because he truly felt something for her, not a result of years of experience and practice.

"Did you fall madly in love with me then?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Really?"

"Well, I definitely knew that you were different... and I knew I wanted to know you."

"This is stupid. you don't even like me! You just have this weird need to prove that I'll go out with you. That's not liking someone."

"Why are you fighting this? You're gonna give in eventually."

But she absolutely refused to acknowledge the disappointment that filled a small part of her heart. The disappointment that he was all she had initially thought he was when she first met him; that at his core, he was a manipulative, selfish bastard who didn't care about anyone but himself.

She pushed aside the hurt that filled her at the realization that she was nothing but a game; one that he had easily won in her fragile situation. He didn't care for her, and he certainly didn't love her. And it hurt, more than she wanted it to. More than it should have.

"I just want you near me."

"Rory?" The sound of her mother's voice from behind the other side of her bedroom door startled her. "Are you okay in there?"

She clearly her throat gently and prayed that Lorelai wouldn't be able to tell that she had been crying. "I just want to go to sleep."

There was a short pause and Rory hoped that she would be left alone.

"Okay then."

As the sound of footsteps faded, Rory brushed away the lingering tears.

"No, no... I don't know anyone named Mary."

"Hey, Mary."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"My name is Rory."

He lied to her. She could phrase it any way she wanted to, try to deny his actions and his words... but at the bottom of it all, he had lied to her.

"You make it sound as though you're never gonna see me or speak to me ever again."

"Maybe you'll meet someone there and fall madly in love with him. And you'll never want to see me again."

"I don't think so. You won't be able to get rid of me so easily. Why would I want anyone else when I have you?"

She bit her lip, hard, not noticing the taste of blood on her tongue that mingled with her tears. She had been so naive, so trusting and so ready to care for him... and he had played her like a Hawaiian on a ukulele. She had fallen for his game; hook, line and sinker.

"Rory, whatever happens, know that this moment is true. Everything about it is true."

No, it was worse than that; along the way, somehow, she had fallen for him.

She had fallen for the one who manipulated her, lied to her and used her for his own end. She had fallen for a lie.

Curling her arms around herself, she let the tears freely fall.

* * * * *

(Outside)

She didn't believe for one second that Rory was fine. She recognized the way her voice had sounded stuffy and hoarse, as though she had been crying. Rory obviously didn't want to confide in her, as she had barred Lorelai from entering by locking the door. The last time Rory had locked the door, it was.... well, it had never happened. Lorelai was forced to stop chewing on her nails and worrying about Rory when the doorbell chimed. Heaving a loud sigh of frustration, she strode to the door, praying that it wasn't one of the good-natured but nosy neighbours. The reality was worse.

"Dean, what are you doing here?"

"Is Rory okay? I was waiting for her at the bus stop just now, but she never showed. Is she-"

Lorelai held up her hand, cutting him off in mid sentence. She could clearly tell that he was concerned but she knew that the last thing Rory needed was him fussing over her like she knew he would. "Woah there, boy. Back that truck up a little. She's all right; she just decided to stay at her grandparents' one more day."

"Are you sure? Can I-"

"She's tired and she's already gone to bed." Lorelai felt a pang of sympathy at Dean's crestfallen face but didn't waver in her decision; something was obviously wrong with her daughter and her instinct told her that it had something to do with Tristan. And until this mess could be sorted out, Dean didn't need to be involved in it; he'd only bring with him a whole lot of pressure and stress on Rory.

"Okay then," he conceded, not hiding the disappointment in his voice. "Tell her that I'll see her tomorrow."

She smiled, kindly and nodded.

* * * * *

(Next morning)

The familiar whirring sound of the coffee maker woke Lorelai from her semi-awake state. Blinking rapidly to adjust to the bright sunlight filtering in through the windows, she lifted her head from the kitchen table to see Rory.

"Hey, you got it to work!" she exclaimed. "I was trying but I couldn't."

Rory poured out two cups and handed one to her mother, chugging her own coffee down. "Yeah. You forgot to switch on the main plug, Mom."

"Damnit, I always forget that," Lorelai said, shaking her head. Over the rim of her coffee cup, she studied the girl before her. Surprisingly enough, she didn't look as though she had been crying all night long. There were no dark circles under her eyes, her eyes weren't that red and puffy, her hair was neatly combed and... she was actually smiling. Okay, so maybe the smile was a little false and too cheery but at least she was trying.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?" Lorelai asked, striving to keep the suspicion and concern out of her voice. "You don't have to go back to school just yet."

"Mom, I missed Friday and Monday. I have a 5 feet pile of work to do now. I can't miss another day," she reasoned. "Plus, I've already gotten my memory back. So I'll be fine."

Lorelai nearly choked on her coffee. "What?!? You got your memory back? When was this?"

"Yesterday," she answered nonchalantly.

Lorelai's worry increased but she tried not to show it. "Yesterday, huh?" She put the pieces of the puzzle together and realized that Rory had probably been crying because of that.

Rory shifted uncomfortably under her mother's scrutiny. "I really should get going."

"Wait," Lorelai got up quickly, "Give me 10 minutes, I'll drive you."

Rory was already half-way through the living room. "No, you don' hav-"

"Rory, I'll drive you." Her firm tone meant business.

Rory sighed and sat down on the couch. She knew better than to argue. "Okay. 10 minutes."

* * * * *

(Before first period. Chilton)

Rory clenched her jaw, her eyes roving the halls for the sight of his fair head. But he was nowhere to be seen. Suppressing a sigh, she made her way to her locker and prayed that she wouldn't bump into Paris. With the mood she was in, she knew that if Paris baited her, she would blow up. Just as she was taking out her Calculus book, she felt a tingle run up her spine and instinctively knew that Tristan was nearby. She hated that he had that effect on her; she hated that she loved it.

Pretending to not have noticed him, she continued putting away the stuff she didn't need and taking the ones she needed, seeming engrossed in her task. The tremor that assaulted her at the familiar feel of his arm sliding around her waist and the touch of his soft lips on her neck was real. Berating her heart for letting him make her feel that way, she breathed in and called forth every ounce of acting talent she had. This had to be an Oscar-worthy performance.

Turning her body to face him, she wanted to smile widely at the look of happinessin his eyes which shone like a brilliant blue sky. That look couldn't be pretense, she told herself but her rational side reminded her of what he had done. Hiding the feelings that were bubbling inside of her, she ran her hand up his arm and looped her arm over his neck and smiled coyly. "Hey you, I missed you." You lying asshole.

His hand came up and he brushed his knuckles over her cheek in a carress, his eyes soft. "I missed you too, Rory."

Like hell you did. Rory smiled, her fingers playing with his soft hair. She caught his gaze then realized that he wanted to kiss her, that he was going to kiss her.

She wanted him to. That was the worst thing; that even after all she knew, she still wanted to feel his lips on hers one last time, to pretend that maybe they were in love and that he really was who he said he was. One last kiss before she had to deal with reality.

When his lips finally touched hers, her response was swift. A hand clutching his arm, the other in his hair, her lips never losing contact with his. When he buried his hand in her hair and pulled her closer still, pressing her against the locker next to hers, she just kissed him harder.

But for some reason, his lips remained gentle on hers, not allowing the kiss to escalate too much but rather, he was taking his time as though he was just learning the taste and feel of her. It was slow and deep and Rory wanted to die from the pleasure his kisses brought.

Breathing heavily, it was Rory who broke the kiss. But she didn't pull away completely from him. Instead, she let her fingers trace the chiselled lines of his jaw and his soft, swollen lips. She drew her gaze up and met his cloudy blue eyes straight on.

"You lied to me."

Her voice was soft, but she knew when the impact of her words hit; he knew exactly what she was talking about when she felt him stiffen against her. Prying his arms away from her waist, she turned to close her locker and then grabbed her bag.

She shouldn't have kissed him that last time; it made her resolve weak. She almost wanted to pretend that everything was just fine for a little while more. To enjoy his kisses and his words and the way his eyes lit up. His laughs, his boyish smile and the way he hugged her like he didn't want to let go. But she couldn't.

She turned back to him, her eyes blazing into his. For a second, neither said or did anything.

She couldn't just stand there, looking at him and seeing the guilty expression in his eyes mingled with a touch of longing. She couldn't bear the sight of him. She wanted to scream, yell at him at the top of her lungs, hit him, and make him feel a measure of the pain that she carried with her but she didn't have the energy to do it.

So, she ran out, leaving Tristan standing there, watching her departing figure.

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