1 …Tomorrow
Author's Note: Sorry that it has taken me so long to update… I have been on vacation. I hope that you enjoy this chapter- please read and review! I have a story line planned out but I would love to know where you want this story to go.
***
1:46 Tristan was getting a crick in his neck from staring at the red numbers on the clock beside his bed. Sighing, he shifted to find a more comfortable position on the hospital bed. It was difficult with a busted leg in traction, he thought bitterly. The room was too loud. Every time he would drift to sleep the harsh patter of the nurses' feet or the insistent metallic clang of medical equipment in transport would awake him. What was worse was when people stopped to speak quietly outside his door. He would strain to make out the conversation but he couldn't quite hear. For the love of God, he thought, shut up! There were people trying to sleep. Trying being the operative word.
The small beam of light coming from under his door was driving him mad. It was there taunting him, reminding him that he couldn't get up and turn it off and he couldn't roll over to try to block it out. Resigning to himself to the fact that the only way he would be able to get rid of the light would be to close his eyes and fall asleep, he tried to do just that. Waiting with his eyes shut for what seemed like hours he groaned when he opened them just to see the clock switch from 1:51 to 1:52. Oh for heaven's sake. Tristan reached up with a bandaged hand and smacked the clock across the room. With a satisfied smirk he heard, rather than saw, it smash up against one of the gray walls, falling to the ground in pieces. Sleep, he thought, must get sleep.
***
Rory stumbled into Luke's later that afternoon. "Coffee," she begged, joining her mother at the counter. "Must have coffee." Rory's eyes lit up when, instead of arguing with her, Luke poured the coffee and placed the steaming mug in front of her. "Coffee…" she exhaled before lifting the mug to her lips and guzzling the liquid.
Lorelai looked on with amusement. "Rough day?" She asked while Rory was still mid guzzle.
Rory held up one finger to ask for a moment, then brought the mug done with a thump. "Hit me again," she requested.
"That bad?" Lorelai sipped her coffee patiently and waited for a reply. Only after Rory had had a sip of her second cup did she receive one.
"Just very long." Another sip. "And very very boring." The coffee was gone and Rory stared into the mug. "Mind numbingly boring." With a grin she slid the mug over to Luke, and frowned when he shoved it back.
"No. You've had two. It's bad for you." Luke continued to wipe the counter down, pretending not to pay attention to the scowling Gilmore.
"It is not," Rory defended, adding under her breath, "mean head." Luke just rolled his eyes.
"It's nice to see that a day at Chilton has reduced my normally chipper and very well worded daughter to name calling." Lorelai cocked her head and looked at her daughter with sympathy. "Want to talk about it?"
Rory straightened up on her stool and looked at her mother. Scrunching her nose she replied, "There wasn't anything wrong with it. It was just long and very boring. I am glad to be home," she added with a smile.
"Well," said Lorelai, rummaging through her purse to find her wallet. "I am glad that you are home." After dropping a few bills on the counter she patted her daughters knee affectionately. "Ready to go?"
Rory nodded her consent and hopped off of the stool. Lorelai picked up her backpack and handed it to her. Luke smiled as the two left the diner. "What have you got in that thing Rory? A small child…" The door jangled shut behind them.
"Oh shoot!" Exclaimed Lorelai as they passed Doose's Market.
"What?"
"I was suppose to talk to Taylor about the Thanksgiving Day Festival. He wants the Independence Inn to cater it." She started to turn to walk back to the entrance. "Do you mind coming in? You can pick some frozen pizza for dinner while I am talking to him."
Rory bit her lip. "What day is it today?"
Lorelai immediately recognized the reason behind her daughter's hesitation. "It's Thursday. He doesn't work today does he?"
"No, I don't think so. It doesn't matter." Rory walked determinably towards the front door. "Come on." Lorelai hurried to catch up.
"Are you sure Rory? Because I can go by myself… I'll meet you at home." Lorelai stood in front of her daughter.
"No, mother, I'm fine. Really." With a brief smile of assurance, Rory pushed past her mother into the store. She headed straight for the frozen food aisle. Lorelai sighed, then entered, intent on finding Taylor.
Rory was debating between supreme pizza and meat lovers when she felt him behind her. Determined not to let him affect her, her gazed remained glued to the food in front of her.
"Rory…" the slightly husky voice behind her pleaded. "Rory we need to talk."
Rory did not turn around. "I thought I asked you to leave me alone."
"Rory please." Dean reached out and grabbed her arm to turn her around.
Whirling around to face him, Rory wrenched her arm from his grasp. "Don't ever touch me again."
Dean held up his hands in surrender. "Please… please Rory. We need to talk."
"No we don't Dean. I think that you made your feelings perfectly clear." She moved to walk past him but he stepped in her way. "What do you think that you are doing?"
"Rory come on. Please let's talk about this." Rory noticed the defeated look in his eyes and relented.
"Fine."
Dean heaved a sigh of relief before rushing out. "I am so sorry Rory. You have to let me explain." When he was met with Rory's cold stare he continued. "I am so sorry that I hit you. I am so sorry that I didn't trust you. But you have to let me explain."
"Go ahead." Rory leaned against the shelves, crossing her arms in front of her.
"Okay," Dean ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Okay… last week was a bad week for me."
"So obviously that gives you the right to humiliate me in public."
"I cannot apologize enough for that, but if you just let me explain, I think that you might understand." Rory nodded her head for him to continue.
"My father told me that he had lost his job. I thought that we were going to have to move back to Chicago." Dean leaned a hand against the top shelf.
"Why didn't you tell me?" The confession startled Rory.
"I didn't know how. It was making me crazy Rory, because I could never figure out what to say to you. I was tired and on edge."
"That's no ex…"
Dean interrupted her. "I am not trying to make excuses. I am trying to get you to understand. I thought I was having to leave soon, and I wanted to spend as much time as possible with you. But you kept canceling. And I know it was irrational and idiotic, but it made me so mad. I know it is no excuse but everything was weighing down on my shoulders. My sister and mother were always crying at home, my father was moping around, I thought that I was leaving you, and… and I just snapped. I wasn't thinking."
"Dean, I am really sorry about your father losing his job, but I don't understand why you didn't just tell me that Dean. I am sure that we could have worked something out."
"In hindsight, yeah Rory, I am sure that I would have handled things differently. But I was acting in the moment. I wasn't thinking."
Rory sighed and looked at the floor. She traced the pattern of the tile with her shoe. "What do you want from me Dean?"
"I want you to forgive me. Please forgive me," he pleaded.
"You hit me Dean," Rory hissed. "It left a bruise. My nose was bleeding."
"I know," Dean said, nodding his head. "I am so sorry. I can't apologize enough. I don't know what came over me."
Rory bit her lip, deep in thought. "I don't know if I can ever look at you the same, and I know that I will never forget. But I think that I can forgive you."
Dean smiled, and took her hand. "Thank you Rory. You don't know how much it means to me."
Rory offered a shy smile. "So," she asked quietly, "when are you leaving?"
Dean beamed. "That's the best part. There was a misunderstanding at the company that my Dad works for. He wasn't getting fired at all. Isn't that great? I am staying!"
"Yeah," Rory said, weakly. "That's great Dean."
"So," Dean swung their clasped hands between them. "Will you give me another chance Rory?"
"What?" She pulled her hand away from his.
"I thought that you said you forgave me." Dean looked confused.
"I said I forgave you, but I didn't say that we were going to get back together!"
"Why not? I'm sorry Rory!"
Rory was shocked with his audacity. "Dean… just because I forgave you doesn't mean that everything is back to the way it was. It still doesn't change the fact that you hit me. I could never get back together with you."
"But… Rory…" Dean sputtered.
"No, Dean. We can't get back together. We can work at being friends, but I can't be with you Dean. You are just going to have to accept that."
Dean sighed, "I understand."
"You do?"
Dean nodded his head. "Yeah I do."
"Good." Rory saw her mother over Dean's shoulder. "I need to go Dean." She walked past him, but the returned to quickly say, "I meant it when I said that we could work at being friends."
With the small encouragement, Dean smiled, "I would like that very much."
Rory just smiled, then walked to her mother. Lorelai offered and encouraging smile and put her arm over Rory's shoulder, leading her out of the store.
"So…" said Lorelai once they had exited the building, "How does take out sound?"
***
Rory entered the building and stomped straight to the trashcan, pitching her small yellow umbrella inside. "Useless…" she mumbled under her breath before making her way through the crowds of people to the elevators. When she caught her reflection in a hall mirror she groaned. Quickly she wiped the mascara from beneath her eyes, then tried to use her fingers as a comb through her hair. Having left her bag in the Jeep she didn't have a brush to run through it, and it was quite obvious that her fingers weren't getting the job done.
Giving up, Rory stared at her reflection. Her nose was pink from the cold, her hair was wet and stringy and her eyes had dark circles underneath them. "Argh…" she groaned in frustration. Deciding that there was nothing left that she could do, Rory turned and headed towards Tristan's room.
When she entered she found him tucked beneath the blankets, asleep. The lights in the room were turned off; the only light available was from the window. A small smile played upon her lips as she watched him. The head bandage had been removed revealing his tuft of hair. At the moment it was all smooshed to one side of his head. Rory lowered her gaze to his eyes. His eyelashes were fluttering up and down. Must be having a dream, she concluded. Travelling further down she came to rest at his lips. Even in his sleep, she thought, would that smirk be there. Rory continued her journey. She watched as his Adams Apple bobbed when he swallowed. She was just able to make out the slight rise and fall of his chest under the pile of blankets. He must be cold too, she mused.
A noise from behind her drew Rory out of her reverie. She quickly look to the source of the noise. The door to Tristan's room had slammed closed from a draft. Looking back over to Tristan she saw his stirring in his sleep. When he opened his eyes she shifted her gaze, afraid he would catch her stare.
Tristan squinted his eyes to focus on the figure before him. "Rory?" The sleep made his voice raspy.
Rory smiled, then pulled "her" chair over to his bed. "Hey sleeping beauty."
Only once Tristan's eyes had focused to the light did he notice her wet hair, and the way that she was furiously rubbing her hands up and down her arms. She looked adorable with her pink little nose and wind burned cheeks. "Cold?" She nodded in response.
"You can have that blanket at the end of my bed." He nodded towards the end of the bed where a solitary blanket lay folded.
Rory grabbed it and wrapped it around herself, then looked at him expectantly. "Well…" She prodded.
"Well…what?" Tristan looked at her as if her had no idea what she was talking about.
"Come on Tristan. Your bandages. You got them off yesterday. Let me see!" She began to reach for the tops of the blankets, which were pulled up to his neck.
"Rory… it's not that big a deal."
"Yes it is. It's the first step. I thought you were excited about it." Rory continued to pull the blankets down, exposing his flannel pajamas. "Sissy Montgomery said that she came by yesterday to see…" Rory stopped when his hands were revealed.
She sat back down in her chair, then took one of his hands into her two. Tristan remained silent during her quiet examination. Rory traced a finger between the tips of his fingers, concentrating reverently on them. "You have beautiful hands Tristan," she said quietly.
Tristan snorted and pulled his hand from her grasp. "Don't lie Rory. It's not very becoming." He knew the truth. His hands had been burned badly in the fire and now they were not much than fleshly scars resembling the shape of a palm and five fingers. His entire left arm was the same way. It disgusted him.
Rory saw Tristan's eyes fog over. She reached to grab his hand again, but he jerked away from her. Refusing to make eye contact he stared straight ahead.
"I'm sorry you feel that way Tristan. I think that…"
Again she was interrupted by a snort. "Yes, Sissy came by yesterday. Do you know what the first thing out of her mouth was?" He asked angrily. Rory shook her head as he continued his tirade. "She said, and I quote, 'I know a great plastic surgeon. He did my nose.' That was the first thing she said to me!"
Rory's heart ached for the boy in front of her. "Tristan, we both know that there is no filter between Sissy's brain and her mouth. She tends to say things without thinking. I blame it on the cloud of hairspray that surrounds her." Her attempts at humor were met with a hostile stare. Clearing her throat she continued. "But Tristan, forget what Sissy said. That's just Sissy."
"No… it's not! It's how everyone who walked through that door yesterday looked at me. It is how everyone in that God forsaken school will react. It's not just Sissy, Rory," his voice rising with every word. "It's them…" he seethed.
Rory grimaced at his anger. The vein in his neck was bulging, and she could practically see the steam coming from his ears. Only once before had she seen him like this.
"Okay," Rory stood from her chair and moved to sit beside him on the bed, facing him. She took his hand back into hers and held tightly when he tried to jerk away. "You want to know what I see?"
Realizing he was going to hear it whether he wanted to or not, Tristan consented with a nod. Rory had to duck her head to make eye contact when he looked away. "Tristan look at me." He did. "Why do you think that I keep coming back to visit you?"
Tristan shrugged his shoulders. "I honestly have no idea."
"I come back because when I see you here in the hospital I see you without your usual air of self righteousness. I see someone different from the Tristan that I know from school. I come back because this Tristan is someone that I want to get to know." Rory smiled up at him, but he quickly looked away.
"You don't know me Rory."
"I know that," she agreed. "But I do think that I know you better than most other people. Other people look at you and see Tristan, King of Chilton. And, I have to tell you, that is not the person I have seen. Sure, you do a mighty fine job of putting on an act, but I don't think that is really who you are."
Tristan narrowed his eyes at her, but did not remove his hand. "What is your point Rory?"
"I was just coming to that. My point is, that I think that you are afraid of letting people see who you really are. That is why you are so upset about your hands. You don't want the perfect image that you have worked so hard to establish be ruined by something that it out of your control."
"You don't know what you are talking about Rory."
"Oh I don't?" She replied indignantly. "Then why are you so afraid of what people think?"
"I am not afraid of what people will think of me Rory. It's just hard for me. I don't want people's pity."
"Tristan, pity is a natural response. People do feel sorry for you. You might have to learn to accept that."
Not knowing how to respond he mumbled lamely, "Whatever." Tristan shifted his attention from Rory over to the window. The rain was still pouring outside.
The two sat in silence for a moment until Rory broke it. "Hey…" she whispered, nudging his shoulder. Tristan turned to look at her. "I don't blame you for being upset. Anyone would be. I'm not trying to downplay your feelings."
Something in her eyes made him relent. "I know," he said quietly.
"I meant what I said earlier."
"What's that?"
Rory lifted his hand and gently pressed her lips against his fingers. "You do have beautiful hands."
Tristan let out a quiet self-deprecating chuckle. "I think that the cold has affected your brain Gilmore."
Rory shrugged her shoulders, "Maybe." The two shared a quiet laugh until the pounding of the rain outside lulled them into silence. Rory blushed slightly from Tristan's stare, but hoped the darkness of the room would hide it. A clap of thunder outside broke the moment. Rory jumped off of his bed, startled.
Tristan looked at Rory, amused. "Rory," he taunted, "Are you scared of thunder?"
"No, I am not scared of thunder." Rory rolled her eyes at the accusation, but then it thundered outside again, this time a little louder. She looked around nervously.
"Alright maybe a little bit." She smirked at the amused glint in his eyes. "Don't even start it, Mr. I'm afraid that the little bitty needle will hurt me."
Tristan held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't say anything!"
"Yeah, but you looked!" Rory accused.
"Well… yes I probably did. I think that most people will look at some point in their lives."
Rory just threw her hands up in frustration. "I give up." Another clap of thunder made her jump.
Tristan patted the spot on his bed that she had been sitting on. "Sit down Rory. I'll protect you," he added chivalrously.
Rory rolled her eyes, but grabbed the blanket that she had been wrapped up in and returned to her position on the bed, sitting Indian style beside him. "Why do you have so many blankets on your bed?" She began to count the layers of blankets.
"I was cold," Tristan replied.
"You have 4 blankets, and a sheet. You were that cold?" Rory eyes him suspiciously.
Tristan nodded. "Yes I was that cold. That, and I had this premonition that a girl would be stealing one from me later in the day, so I asked them to double up."
"Well," said Rory, covering her knees with one before pulling the rest up to his waist. "Aren't you the clever one?"
Tristan just shrugged, letting the topic drop. Rory had taken hold of his hand again, intertwining her fingers in with his. She didn't appear to be aware of it. "What time do you have to leave today?"
"Not until later. I have to meet my mother at my grandparents at 7:00 but until then I am all yours."
Tristan grinned. "I have to put up with you for that long Mary?"
"I think it would be more accurate for you to say, 'You are gracing me with your presence that long RORY?'" Rory pointedly said her real name.
"You say tomato, I say tamatoe." Tristan replied.
"So…" Rory began, searching for a topic. "I have to tell you how much I am loving these pajamas." Rory traced the pattern with her finger.
"Shut up." Tristan replied immediately.
"No really Tristan. I think airplanes are definitely you." Rory giggled as Tristan pelted her with his pillow, causing her to roll to her side.
"They were a gift from my aunt." He said in defense after replacing his pillow. "Besides," he stated, waggling his eyebrows, "hospital regulations didn't permit me to wear what I normally wear to bed."
Rory struggled to sit up straight, using his leg as a crutch. "I don't even want to know."
"Sure you do." Tristan winked at her.
"Do you want me to leave? Because I will," Rory threatened.
"No, Rory. I'll behave I promise. Stay."
"Fine," she relented, "but no more talk like that."
"I promise."
Rory sighed and looked down at their intertwined hands. "Something's missing."
"Huh?"
"Your hand. Something is missing."
Tristan replied sarcastically. "That would be my nail on my index finger. They say it will grow back, but if it doesn't I have the name of a great plastic surgeon."
"No," Rory said, bumping her knee against his leg. "That's not what it is." She traced his middle finger. "It's your ring."
"Pardon?"
"It's your ring. Don't you normally wear a silver ring on your finger?" Rory looked up to look into his eyes.
Tristan looked at her with surprise. "Yeah. My grandfather gave it to me. I can't believe that you noticed it."
Rory shrugged, "Where is it now?"
"They had to cut it off of my finger. I don't know what they did with it," Tristan stated.
Rory watch as he scrunched his eyebrows together. He seemed to be in deep thought about something. "Was it special?"
Tristan nodded. "Yeah it was. It was one of my grandmother's. Of course, she wore it on a necklace because it was too big to fit on her finger. She had the smallest hands," he held up their hands, "Tinier than yours even. It had been her brother's wedding ring, but when he and his wife died in an accident she got it. My grandfather gave it to just after she died." Rory was surprised at the tone Tristan used when talking about his grandmother. It was obvious that he cared about her.
"I'm sorry."
"Nah, don't be. I loved my grandmother very much, but she was in a lot of pain before she died. It was her time to go. I miss her though." Tristan looked over to Rory. She was staring at him. "What are you thinking?"
Rory was caught off guard, drawn out of her thoughts. "You are a good person Tristan," she said seriously.
Tristan grinned and brushed his knuckles against his pajama shirt. "So I've heard."
"Why do I even bother to try to compliment you?"
"Because you love me," he teased.
"In your dreams Tristan."
"I do believe that we have already covered what I dream about."
"Yes, let's not get into again." The two carried on their banter until Rory looked up at the clock and saw it was time to leave. "I have to go."
"Will you come again?"
"I don't know. My mother is getting pretty jealous about all the time that I am spending here." She pretended to think about it. "I suppose so." Jumping off the bed she began to head for the door.
"Wait!" Tristan stopped her.
"What?"
Tristan tapped his cheek. "You forgot my goodbye kiss."
Rory rolled her eyes, but walked towards him. "Your hopeless," she said, leaning down to peck his cheek. Tristan grinned when she stood up. "I'll see you later Tristan."
"Bye Rory."
Author's Note: Sorry that it has taken me so long to update… I have been on vacation. I hope that you enjoy this chapter- please read and review! I have a story line planned out but I would love to know where you want this story to go.
***
1:46 Tristan was getting a crick in his neck from staring at the red numbers on the clock beside his bed. Sighing, he shifted to find a more comfortable position on the hospital bed. It was difficult with a busted leg in traction, he thought bitterly. The room was too loud. Every time he would drift to sleep the harsh patter of the nurses' feet or the insistent metallic clang of medical equipment in transport would awake him. What was worse was when people stopped to speak quietly outside his door. He would strain to make out the conversation but he couldn't quite hear. For the love of God, he thought, shut up! There were people trying to sleep. Trying being the operative word.
The small beam of light coming from under his door was driving him mad. It was there taunting him, reminding him that he couldn't get up and turn it off and he couldn't roll over to try to block it out. Resigning to himself to the fact that the only way he would be able to get rid of the light would be to close his eyes and fall asleep, he tried to do just that. Waiting with his eyes shut for what seemed like hours he groaned when he opened them just to see the clock switch from 1:51 to 1:52. Oh for heaven's sake. Tristan reached up with a bandaged hand and smacked the clock across the room. With a satisfied smirk he heard, rather than saw, it smash up against one of the gray walls, falling to the ground in pieces. Sleep, he thought, must get sleep.
***
Rory stumbled into Luke's later that afternoon. "Coffee," she begged, joining her mother at the counter. "Must have coffee." Rory's eyes lit up when, instead of arguing with her, Luke poured the coffee and placed the steaming mug in front of her. "Coffee…" she exhaled before lifting the mug to her lips and guzzling the liquid.
Lorelai looked on with amusement. "Rough day?" She asked while Rory was still mid guzzle.
Rory held up one finger to ask for a moment, then brought the mug done with a thump. "Hit me again," she requested.
"That bad?" Lorelai sipped her coffee patiently and waited for a reply. Only after Rory had had a sip of her second cup did she receive one.
"Just very long." Another sip. "And very very boring." The coffee was gone and Rory stared into the mug. "Mind numbingly boring." With a grin she slid the mug over to Luke, and frowned when he shoved it back.
"No. You've had two. It's bad for you." Luke continued to wipe the counter down, pretending not to pay attention to the scowling Gilmore.
"It is not," Rory defended, adding under her breath, "mean head." Luke just rolled his eyes.
"It's nice to see that a day at Chilton has reduced my normally chipper and very well worded daughter to name calling." Lorelai cocked her head and looked at her daughter with sympathy. "Want to talk about it?"
Rory straightened up on her stool and looked at her mother. Scrunching her nose she replied, "There wasn't anything wrong with it. It was just long and very boring. I am glad to be home," she added with a smile.
"Well," said Lorelai, rummaging through her purse to find her wallet. "I am glad that you are home." After dropping a few bills on the counter she patted her daughters knee affectionately. "Ready to go?"
Rory nodded her consent and hopped off of the stool. Lorelai picked up her backpack and handed it to her. Luke smiled as the two left the diner. "What have you got in that thing Rory? A small child…" The door jangled shut behind them.
"Oh shoot!" Exclaimed Lorelai as they passed Doose's Market.
"What?"
"I was suppose to talk to Taylor about the Thanksgiving Day Festival. He wants the Independence Inn to cater it." She started to turn to walk back to the entrance. "Do you mind coming in? You can pick some frozen pizza for dinner while I am talking to him."
Rory bit her lip. "What day is it today?"
Lorelai immediately recognized the reason behind her daughter's hesitation. "It's Thursday. He doesn't work today does he?"
"No, I don't think so. It doesn't matter." Rory walked determinably towards the front door. "Come on." Lorelai hurried to catch up.
"Are you sure Rory? Because I can go by myself… I'll meet you at home." Lorelai stood in front of her daughter.
"No, mother, I'm fine. Really." With a brief smile of assurance, Rory pushed past her mother into the store. She headed straight for the frozen food aisle. Lorelai sighed, then entered, intent on finding Taylor.
Rory was debating between supreme pizza and meat lovers when she felt him behind her. Determined not to let him affect her, her gazed remained glued to the food in front of her.
"Rory…" the slightly husky voice behind her pleaded. "Rory we need to talk."
Rory did not turn around. "I thought I asked you to leave me alone."
"Rory please." Dean reached out and grabbed her arm to turn her around.
Whirling around to face him, Rory wrenched her arm from his grasp. "Don't ever touch me again."
Dean held up his hands in surrender. "Please… please Rory. We need to talk."
"No we don't Dean. I think that you made your feelings perfectly clear." She moved to walk past him but he stepped in her way. "What do you think that you are doing?"
"Rory come on. Please let's talk about this." Rory noticed the defeated look in his eyes and relented.
"Fine."
Dean heaved a sigh of relief before rushing out. "I am so sorry Rory. You have to let me explain." When he was met with Rory's cold stare he continued. "I am so sorry that I hit you. I am so sorry that I didn't trust you. But you have to let me explain."
"Go ahead." Rory leaned against the shelves, crossing her arms in front of her.
"Okay," Dean ran a nervous hand through his hair. "Okay… last week was a bad week for me."
"So obviously that gives you the right to humiliate me in public."
"I cannot apologize enough for that, but if you just let me explain, I think that you might understand." Rory nodded her head for him to continue.
"My father told me that he had lost his job. I thought that we were going to have to move back to Chicago." Dean leaned a hand against the top shelf.
"Why didn't you tell me?" The confession startled Rory.
"I didn't know how. It was making me crazy Rory, because I could never figure out what to say to you. I was tired and on edge."
"That's no ex…"
Dean interrupted her. "I am not trying to make excuses. I am trying to get you to understand. I thought I was having to leave soon, and I wanted to spend as much time as possible with you. But you kept canceling. And I know it was irrational and idiotic, but it made me so mad. I know it is no excuse but everything was weighing down on my shoulders. My sister and mother were always crying at home, my father was moping around, I thought that I was leaving you, and… and I just snapped. I wasn't thinking."
"Dean, I am really sorry about your father losing his job, but I don't understand why you didn't just tell me that Dean. I am sure that we could have worked something out."
"In hindsight, yeah Rory, I am sure that I would have handled things differently. But I was acting in the moment. I wasn't thinking."
Rory sighed and looked at the floor. She traced the pattern of the tile with her shoe. "What do you want from me Dean?"
"I want you to forgive me. Please forgive me," he pleaded.
"You hit me Dean," Rory hissed. "It left a bruise. My nose was bleeding."
"I know," Dean said, nodding his head. "I am so sorry. I can't apologize enough. I don't know what came over me."
Rory bit her lip, deep in thought. "I don't know if I can ever look at you the same, and I know that I will never forget. But I think that I can forgive you."
Dean smiled, and took her hand. "Thank you Rory. You don't know how much it means to me."
Rory offered a shy smile. "So," she asked quietly, "when are you leaving?"
Dean beamed. "That's the best part. There was a misunderstanding at the company that my Dad works for. He wasn't getting fired at all. Isn't that great? I am staying!"
"Yeah," Rory said, weakly. "That's great Dean."
"So," Dean swung their clasped hands between them. "Will you give me another chance Rory?"
"What?" She pulled her hand away from his.
"I thought that you said you forgave me." Dean looked confused.
"I said I forgave you, but I didn't say that we were going to get back together!"
"Why not? I'm sorry Rory!"
Rory was shocked with his audacity. "Dean… just because I forgave you doesn't mean that everything is back to the way it was. It still doesn't change the fact that you hit me. I could never get back together with you."
"But… Rory…" Dean sputtered.
"No, Dean. We can't get back together. We can work at being friends, but I can't be with you Dean. You are just going to have to accept that."
Dean sighed, "I understand."
"You do?"
Dean nodded his head. "Yeah I do."
"Good." Rory saw her mother over Dean's shoulder. "I need to go Dean." She walked past him, but the returned to quickly say, "I meant it when I said that we could work at being friends."
With the small encouragement, Dean smiled, "I would like that very much."
Rory just smiled, then walked to her mother. Lorelai offered and encouraging smile and put her arm over Rory's shoulder, leading her out of the store.
"So…" said Lorelai once they had exited the building, "How does take out sound?"
***
Rory entered the building and stomped straight to the trashcan, pitching her small yellow umbrella inside. "Useless…" she mumbled under her breath before making her way through the crowds of people to the elevators. When she caught her reflection in a hall mirror she groaned. Quickly she wiped the mascara from beneath her eyes, then tried to use her fingers as a comb through her hair. Having left her bag in the Jeep she didn't have a brush to run through it, and it was quite obvious that her fingers weren't getting the job done.
Giving up, Rory stared at her reflection. Her nose was pink from the cold, her hair was wet and stringy and her eyes had dark circles underneath them. "Argh…" she groaned in frustration. Deciding that there was nothing left that she could do, Rory turned and headed towards Tristan's room.
When she entered she found him tucked beneath the blankets, asleep. The lights in the room were turned off; the only light available was from the window. A small smile played upon her lips as she watched him. The head bandage had been removed revealing his tuft of hair. At the moment it was all smooshed to one side of his head. Rory lowered her gaze to his eyes. His eyelashes were fluttering up and down. Must be having a dream, she concluded. Travelling further down she came to rest at his lips. Even in his sleep, she thought, would that smirk be there. Rory continued her journey. She watched as his Adams Apple bobbed when he swallowed. She was just able to make out the slight rise and fall of his chest under the pile of blankets. He must be cold too, she mused.
A noise from behind her drew Rory out of her reverie. She quickly look to the source of the noise. The door to Tristan's room had slammed closed from a draft. Looking back over to Tristan she saw his stirring in his sleep. When he opened his eyes she shifted her gaze, afraid he would catch her stare.
Tristan squinted his eyes to focus on the figure before him. "Rory?" The sleep made his voice raspy.
Rory smiled, then pulled "her" chair over to his bed. "Hey sleeping beauty."
Only once Tristan's eyes had focused to the light did he notice her wet hair, and the way that she was furiously rubbing her hands up and down her arms. She looked adorable with her pink little nose and wind burned cheeks. "Cold?" She nodded in response.
"You can have that blanket at the end of my bed." He nodded towards the end of the bed where a solitary blanket lay folded.
Rory grabbed it and wrapped it around herself, then looked at him expectantly. "Well…" She prodded.
"Well…what?" Tristan looked at her as if her had no idea what she was talking about.
"Come on Tristan. Your bandages. You got them off yesterday. Let me see!" She began to reach for the tops of the blankets, which were pulled up to his neck.
"Rory… it's not that big a deal."
"Yes it is. It's the first step. I thought you were excited about it." Rory continued to pull the blankets down, exposing his flannel pajamas. "Sissy Montgomery said that she came by yesterday to see…" Rory stopped when his hands were revealed.
She sat back down in her chair, then took one of his hands into her two. Tristan remained silent during her quiet examination. Rory traced a finger between the tips of his fingers, concentrating reverently on them. "You have beautiful hands Tristan," she said quietly.
Tristan snorted and pulled his hand from her grasp. "Don't lie Rory. It's not very becoming." He knew the truth. His hands had been burned badly in the fire and now they were not much than fleshly scars resembling the shape of a palm and five fingers. His entire left arm was the same way. It disgusted him.
Rory saw Tristan's eyes fog over. She reached to grab his hand again, but he jerked away from her. Refusing to make eye contact he stared straight ahead.
"I'm sorry you feel that way Tristan. I think that…"
Again she was interrupted by a snort. "Yes, Sissy came by yesterday. Do you know what the first thing out of her mouth was?" He asked angrily. Rory shook her head as he continued his tirade. "She said, and I quote, 'I know a great plastic surgeon. He did my nose.' That was the first thing she said to me!"
Rory's heart ached for the boy in front of her. "Tristan, we both know that there is no filter between Sissy's brain and her mouth. She tends to say things without thinking. I blame it on the cloud of hairspray that surrounds her." Her attempts at humor were met with a hostile stare. Clearing her throat she continued. "But Tristan, forget what Sissy said. That's just Sissy."
"No… it's not! It's how everyone who walked through that door yesterday looked at me. It is how everyone in that God forsaken school will react. It's not just Sissy, Rory," his voice rising with every word. "It's them…" he seethed.
Rory grimaced at his anger. The vein in his neck was bulging, and she could practically see the steam coming from his ears. Only once before had she seen him like this.
"Okay," Rory stood from her chair and moved to sit beside him on the bed, facing him. She took his hand back into hers and held tightly when he tried to jerk away. "You want to know what I see?"
Realizing he was going to hear it whether he wanted to or not, Tristan consented with a nod. Rory had to duck her head to make eye contact when he looked away. "Tristan look at me." He did. "Why do you think that I keep coming back to visit you?"
Tristan shrugged his shoulders. "I honestly have no idea."
"I come back because when I see you here in the hospital I see you without your usual air of self righteousness. I see someone different from the Tristan that I know from school. I come back because this Tristan is someone that I want to get to know." Rory smiled up at him, but he quickly looked away.
"You don't know me Rory."
"I know that," she agreed. "But I do think that I know you better than most other people. Other people look at you and see Tristan, King of Chilton. And, I have to tell you, that is not the person I have seen. Sure, you do a mighty fine job of putting on an act, but I don't think that is really who you are."
Tristan narrowed his eyes at her, but did not remove his hand. "What is your point Rory?"
"I was just coming to that. My point is, that I think that you are afraid of letting people see who you really are. That is why you are so upset about your hands. You don't want the perfect image that you have worked so hard to establish be ruined by something that it out of your control."
"You don't know what you are talking about Rory."
"Oh I don't?" She replied indignantly. "Then why are you so afraid of what people think?"
"I am not afraid of what people will think of me Rory. It's just hard for me. I don't want people's pity."
"Tristan, pity is a natural response. People do feel sorry for you. You might have to learn to accept that."
Not knowing how to respond he mumbled lamely, "Whatever." Tristan shifted his attention from Rory over to the window. The rain was still pouring outside.
The two sat in silence for a moment until Rory broke it. "Hey…" she whispered, nudging his shoulder. Tristan turned to look at her. "I don't blame you for being upset. Anyone would be. I'm not trying to downplay your feelings."
Something in her eyes made him relent. "I know," he said quietly.
"I meant what I said earlier."
"What's that?"
Rory lifted his hand and gently pressed her lips against his fingers. "You do have beautiful hands."
Tristan let out a quiet self-deprecating chuckle. "I think that the cold has affected your brain Gilmore."
Rory shrugged her shoulders, "Maybe." The two shared a quiet laugh until the pounding of the rain outside lulled them into silence. Rory blushed slightly from Tristan's stare, but hoped the darkness of the room would hide it. A clap of thunder outside broke the moment. Rory jumped off of his bed, startled.
Tristan looked at Rory, amused. "Rory," he taunted, "Are you scared of thunder?"
"No, I am not scared of thunder." Rory rolled her eyes at the accusation, but then it thundered outside again, this time a little louder. She looked around nervously.
"Alright maybe a little bit." She smirked at the amused glint in his eyes. "Don't even start it, Mr. I'm afraid that the little bitty needle will hurt me."
Tristan held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't say anything!"
"Yeah, but you looked!" Rory accused.
"Well… yes I probably did. I think that most people will look at some point in their lives."
Rory just threw her hands up in frustration. "I give up." Another clap of thunder made her jump.
Tristan patted the spot on his bed that she had been sitting on. "Sit down Rory. I'll protect you," he added chivalrously.
Rory rolled her eyes, but grabbed the blanket that she had been wrapped up in and returned to her position on the bed, sitting Indian style beside him. "Why do you have so many blankets on your bed?" She began to count the layers of blankets.
"I was cold," Tristan replied.
"You have 4 blankets, and a sheet. You were that cold?" Rory eyes him suspiciously.
Tristan nodded. "Yes I was that cold. That, and I had this premonition that a girl would be stealing one from me later in the day, so I asked them to double up."
"Well," said Rory, covering her knees with one before pulling the rest up to his waist. "Aren't you the clever one?"
Tristan just shrugged, letting the topic drop. Rory had taken hold of his hand again, intertwining her fingers in with his. She didn't appear to be aware of it. "What time do you have to leave today?"
"Not until later. I have to meet my mother at my grandparents at 7:00 but until then I am all yours."
Tristan grinned. "I have to put up with you for that long Mary?"
"I think it would be more accurate for you to say, 'You are gracing me with your presence that long RORY?'" Rory pointedly said her real name.
"You say tomato, I say tamatoe." Tristan replied.
"So…" Rory began, searching for a topic. "I have to tell you how much I am loving these pajamas." Rory traced the pattern with her finger.
"Shut up." Tristan replied immediately.
"No really Tristan. I think airplanes are definitely you." Rory giggled as Tristan pelted her with his pillow, causing her to roll to her side.
"They were a gift from my aunt." He said in defense after replacing his pillow. "Besides," he stated, waggling his eyebrows, "hospital regulations didn't permit me to wear what I normally wear to bed."
Rory struggled to sit up straight, using his leg as a crutch. "I don't even want to know."
"Sure you do." Tristan winked at her.
"Do you want me to leave? Because I will," Rory threatened.
"No, Rory. I'll behave I promise. Stay."
"Fine," she relented, "but no more talk like that."
"I promise."
Rory sighed and looked down at their intertwined hands. "Something's missing."
"Huh?"
"Your hand. Something is missing."
Tristan replied sarcastically. "That would be my nail on my index finger. They say it will grow back, but if it doesn't I have the name of a great plastic surgeon."
"No," Rory said, bumping her knee against his leg. "That's not what it is." She traced his middle finger. "It's your ring."
"Pardon?"
"It's your ring. Don't you normally wear a silver ring on your finger?" Rory looked up to look into his eyes.
Tristan looked at her with surprise. "Yeah. My grandfather gave it to me. I can't believe that you noticed it."
Rory shrugged, "Where is it now?"
"They had to cut it off of my finger. I don't know what they did with it," Tristan stated.
Rory watch as he scrunched his eyebrows together. He seemed to be in deep thought about something. "Was it special?"
Tristan nodded. "Yeah it was. It was one of my grandmother's. Of course, she wore it on a necklace because it was too big to fit on her finger. She had the smallest hands," he held up their hands, "Tinier than yours even. It had been her brother's wedding ring, but when he and his wife died in an accident she got it. My grandfather gave it to just after she died." Rory was surprised at the tone Tristan used when talking about his grandmother. It was obvious that he cared about her.
"I'm sorry."
"Nah, don't be. I loved my grandmother very much, but she was in a lot of pain before she died. It was her time to go. I miss her though." Tristan looked over to Rory. She was staring at him. "What are you thinking?"
Rory was caught off guard, drawn out of her thoughts. "You are a good person Tristan," she said seriously.
Tristan grinned and brushed his knuckles against his pajama shirt. "So I've heard."
"Why do I even bother to try to compliment you?"
"Because you love me," he teased.
"In your dreams Tristan."
"I do believe that we have already covered what I dream about."
"Yes, let's not get into again." The two carried on their banter until Rory looked up at the clock and saw it was time to leave. "I have to go."
"Will you come again?"
"I don't know. My mother is getting pretty jealous about all the time that I am spending here." She pretended to think about it. "I suppose so." Jumping off the bed she began to head for the door.
"Wait!" Tristan stopped her.
"What?"
Tristan tapped his cheek. "You forgot my goodbye kiss."
Rory rolled her eyes, but walked towards him. "Your hopeless," she said, leaning down to peck his cheek. Tristan grinned when she stood up. "I'll see you later Tristan."
"Bye Rory."