A/N: Just a short, reflective little thingy.... Who knows where I'm going with it. Leigh is Rory, for those of ya who are slow. There really is a Starbucks at 41st & Broadway.

Lorelai Leigh Gilmore sat at the huge desk situated in her office. She was the youngest editor of the New York Times in over a century. She glanced around the brightly lit office. The sunlight was pouring in through the large windows behind her. The beige walls were filled with awards and accolades she had accumulated since she had graduated college ten years before. Everything was very sleek and modern, mostly black or chrome.

"Leigh, it's Ethan. I've got an article you need to read," said a voice over her intercom. Leigh sat up in her oversized leather chair.

"What's it about?"

"Well, there's two... One about Stars Hollow, and the other is about a former Chilton students. Graduated with the class of 2003," Ethan said.

"Yeah, come on up." Leigh said. "Chilton... Wow. Haven't thought about that place in a long time," she muttered. There was a knock on her door, and Leigh called for them to come in.

"Hey, Leigh. How was your vacation?" Ethan asked when he came in. Ethan Thompson was the social editor of the Times, and one of Leigh's best friends.

"Great... Nothing like Paris in the spring," Leigh said. "So, let me see the article on Stars Hollow first." Ethan handed it over, and she saw how it was about the quaint little town. It basically was a cute, fluffy little piece.

"I just thought you might like it. It mentions the Inn a few times," Ethan said.

"Ah, yes... 'Owner Lorelai Danes is especially proud of her daughter, Lorelai L. Gilmore, editor of the NY Times.' Why did they include that?" Leigh groaned.

"Because, as it says, you are their Rory," Ethan said.

"I gave up that name when I went to Harvard," Leigh said. "It was too childish, I thought... Why is it still haunting me?" she moaned, thumping her head on her glass desk.

"Watch it, Leigh. Remember what happened last time that happened?"

"Right. I'll try to contain it. Why did they make me go to the hospital anyway? I was fine..."

"After you regained consciousness, might I add."

"Minor technical details," Leigh said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Yeah, yeah... So you want that piece about your fellow Chiltonites?" Ethan asked.

"Wait... On the intercom thingy, you said one... There's two now?" Leigh asked.

"Actually, it focuses on two, but includes several of them. I did this story myself," Ethan said proudly.

"Great. Can I read it now?" Leigh asked. Ethan handed her a clipping, and she quickly scanned the headline.

DuGrey Heir marries Geller

Former Chilton Preparatory student Tristan Janlen DuGrey married a fellow classmate of his, Paris Rachel Geller, over the weekend. DuGrey is the heir to DuGrey Inc., a company started by his great-grandfather, Janlen DuGrey . The wedding was a lavish ceremony. Attendants for the bride were Louise Grant, Madeline Lawrence, and Lane Cho.

"Lane?! My former best friend Lane was there?! I am so going to kill her!" Leigh screamed.

"You know these people?"

"Louise and Madeline were vapid, shallow airheads. Paris almost beat me, but I did become valedictorian. Tristan was... Hell, he was the bane of my existence," Leigh said, continuing "At least at Chilton." She got up and crossed the room to a large coffee maker, pouring herself a cup very quickly.

"You know, if it makes you feel any better, I don't think he loves hr," Ethan said. "Well, I've got to go. Society never rests!" He walked put of her office, shutting the door behind him. Leigh crossed back over the room to her desk, flipping through her Rolodex. She pulled out a card and dialed the number.

"DuGrey Inc. How may I help you?"

"This is Lorelai L. Gilmore, editor of the New York Times. I was wondering if I could speak with Tristan DuGrey," Leigh said.

"I'll connect you right away, Ms. Gilmore!" said the eager secretary. Leigh laughed at her thoughts, knowing that the secretary was either a temp or she was new.

"Tristan DuGrey." he answered.

"Hello, this is Lorelai Gilmore," she said in a calm voice, which was completely opposite of what she was feeling.

"Ms. Gilmore, what can I do for you?" Tristan said. He was sitting in his office in New York City, glancing at the same clipping Leigh had been staring at moments before.

"I was wondering if we could get together... I'd like to do a small piece on you. Something for our readers to connect with. When are you available?" Leigh asked.

"I'm available now. Where do you want to meet?"

"There's a Starbucks at 41st and Broadway. I'll meet you there at 11:00. Will that be okay?" Leigh asked, staring at the clock that said 10:45.

"Yeah, sounds good. See you, Ms. Gilmore," Tristan said, hanging up. "Gilmore? No... I doubt it's Rory. It couldn't be! Could it?"

Starbucks

As Leigh sat down, she couldn't help but feel nervous. After all, she was meeting up with one of the guys from her past. How often did that happen?

"Excuse me... Are you Lorelai Gilmore?" said a voice.

"Yes... Tristan DuGrey, I presume?"

"That would be me. Would you like a coffee?" Tristan asked. If this was Rory, she couldn't refuse.

"I already have one, thank you. Please, have a seat." Tristan sat down, and she continued. "Alright... I have to admit that my reasons for this were not all business. "

"Mary, Mary... Did you not know that I was married?"

"I knew. I wanted to see you. It's been what, ten years?" Leigh asked. "And I go by Leigh now. No one confuses me with some girl or with my mother."

"Some girl? Have you grown up, Leigh?

"Yes, I have, Tristan. How's Paris?"

"She's good... Happier than I've ever really seen her. She has been since the day I asked her out," Tristan said.

"What about you?"

"I don't know. I admit, I am glad that I no longer have to suffer through the dating scene, but I'm not sure about anything other than that," Tristan admitted. Leigh silently cheered, knowing this could be good. "How's Bagboy?"

"I wouldn't know. We broke up before I left for Harvard. I'll be right back, okay?" Leigh said. She ordered a coffee and some chocolate covered espresso beans, before returning.

""Enough caffeine, Mare?"

"I resent that. Can you ever have too much caffeine? And don't call me Mare, or Mary, or anything like that!" Leigh said.

"Think of it as... A nickname. A good nickname," Tristan said. The two acquaintances talked until Leigh's cell phone rang.

"Sorry, but Tris, I have to go. Talk to you later, okay? We aren't going to see each other every ten years, and at reunions. See you!" Leigh said, before kissing him on the cheek and running out of the cafe.

"Wow... It was her."

New York Times Offices

Leigh sat down at the end of the day. She looked over the entire office again, then flopped onto the large black leather sofa that was against one wall, near her door. She thought back on the day's events.

"Tristan... Wow. He looked good. It's been so long, and his marriage to Paris complicates things. I guess we would've killed each other in the long run, but I... I've missed him," Leigh said. It was all she would admit to at the moment. "After all this hard work, what do I have? Nothing... My best friend works with me. I haven't talked to anyone from my past, save Tristan, and I've tried my hardest to forget everyone and everything. I don't have anything to show for my life... Except meaningless awards. I guess that for now, it will have to do," she said. She picked up her purse, and walked out of her office, flipping the light out as she went.

"Goodbye, Rory."