Pairing: R/T, of course
Rating: PG-13 at the
most
Spoilers: May reference
anything and everything from Season 1
Disclaimer: The
characters referenced here are the property of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy
Parker Drank Here Productions, and Warner Brother Television. No copyright infringement is intended. The characters are being used solely for
entertainment purposes, and no profit is being made from them.
Author's Note: Any
literary analysis in this chapter should be taken with a grain of salt. Perhaps several grains of salt. Like Tristan, I never actually read all of A
Tale of Two Cities (I had a tendency
to skim what I perceived as the "boring sections"). I have read The Great Gatsby ten or fifteen times though, so those comments are
decidedly more insightful. We now
return to our regularly scheduled Trory fic.
Unbreakable Heart
by Grace
Part 3: It
Is a Far, Far Better Thing He Does
Steeling himself, Tristan depressed the button to lower the window. Before he had a chance to speak, Dean shouted, "What the hell are you doing here, DuGrey? You can't get Rory to date you, so now you're going to stalk her?"
Struggling not to lose his temper, Tristan spoke slowly. "Actually, Rory knows I'm here. She offered to tutor me. Our first study session is tonight."
Dean's face began to turn a highly unattractive shade of red. "You expect me to believe that Rory just offered to tutor you out of the blue?"
Tristan shrugged, determined to maintain his calm demeanor. "Believe whatever you want. Rory heard some of my grades were suffering, and she wanted to help. End of story."
"Listen, you preppie punk, nothing is ever 'end of story' with you. Why can't you just accept the fact that she's my girlfriend, and leave her alone?"
"Why can't you accept the fact that she's my friend?"
Dean snorted. "Since when?"
"Since today." Engrossed in their "discussion," neither boy had noticed Rory's approach. Now, both of them turned to face her, quickly seeing the angry look on her face.
A nervous note creeping into his voice, Dean spoke first. "Rory, I…"
Much to his and Tristan's astonishment, she cut him off. "Save it, Dean. I am so tired of this. Why can't the two of you find a way to get along?"
"I think you know why," Dean replied quietly.
"Yes, well, maybe it's time you got over it. I don't want to have to worry about you fighting every time you see me with Tristan."
Nervousness was replaced by fury when Dean spoke again. "And will I be seeing you with Tristan often?"
Rory stiffened at his words. "You might. I'm tutoring him in English, Dean. We'll probably be studying together several times a week. Are you going to have a problem with that?"
"What do you think?" he sneered.
Rory groaned. "We're going to be studying, Dean, not going on a date, not making out, not even hanging out doing friend stuff. Studying. That thing that involves books, papers, insane Chilton assignments? It'll most likely be insanely boring."
"I'm still here, you know," Tristan interjected dryly.
Without even turning to face him, Rory snapped, "You be quiet. I'm fighting with my boyfriend right now. I'll deal with you later."
Refusing to be deterred, he spoke again. "Look, maybe it would be better for everyone involved if I just found myself a different tutor."
"I agree. Case closed," declared Dean.
This time, Rory did turn around, and Tristan was stunned to see a look of hurt in her eyes. "You don't want me to tutor you?" she inquired softly.
Tristan thought his heart would break right then and there. "Of course I want you to tutor me," he answered, matching her quiet tone. "But I wouldn't feel right causing problems between the two of you." When did I become so selfless? he wondered. When you fell in love, his subconscious replied.
Dean watched in silence as Rory turned to face him once more. Although his countenance didn't betray his true feelings, he was furious with Tristan for putting him in this position. If he continued to insist that Rory stop tutoring the other boy, he would come off as selfish and unreasonable, while Tristan would be perceived as all noble and crap, willing to sacrifice his academic future in order to save Rory and Dean's relationship. The little manipulative bastard…
He suddenly realized that Rory was staring at him, waiting for him to say something. Hesitantly, he cleared his throat. "Maybe I did jump to the wrong conclusion. Like you said, it's just studying. Besides, I trust you, Rory." He shot a pointed look in the direction of his rival, letting him know that his trust did not extend to Tristan.
Rory beamed at her boyfriend. She had been expecting him to insist that she not tutor Tristan. This was a delightfully unexpected surprise.
Suddenly, her smile faded. Why should she be surprised that Dean was "allowing" her to tutor Tristan? He said he trusted her, but if that were really true, he wouldn't have made such a fuss in the first place. Yes, he was her boyfriend, but that certainly didn't mean that he got to make decisions for her!
Her voice was cool. "It's not as though I needed your permission, Dean, but I'm glad you've decided to be reasonable about this. Now, if you'll excuse me, Tristan and I have a lot of studying to do."
Before Dean had a chance to respond, she slid into the passenger seat of Tristan's car, still clutching two cups of Luke's coffee. Shock evident on his face, Dean was left standing outside the diner as the pair sped away.
Inside the car, the atmosphere was anything but relaxed. Rory angrily jammed the coffee into the cup holders, and then turned to glare at Tristan.
"Don't think for a moment that this has anything to do with you. Just because I agreed to tutor you, and Dean and I had a fight…" Her voice broke, and she had to swallow hard before continuing. "…doesn't mean that…" She trailed off, overcome with emotion, and tears began to stream down her face.
Alarmed by her outburst, Tristan immediately pulled over to the side of the road and shut off the car. Unable to sit idly by and watch her cry, he reached over and took her hand, the pad of his thumb tracing circles around her knuckles.
"I meant what I said before, Rory. I don't want to cause any trouble for you. So don't feel bad if you change your mind, okay?"
She sighed heavily, the tears beginning to subside. "It's not you, Tristan. It's Dean. I suppose it's partly my fault, too. I just don't understand why he has to be so irrational and jealous."
He was puzzled. "But Rory, at the end he seemed okay with the whole situation."
Her shoulders sagged. "I know. But all of a sudden I felt like, I don't know, he was some kind of parent giving me reluctant permission for something he really didn't approve of me doing."
"I see. What would you have done if he hadn't said he was okay with it? Would you have still agreed to help me?"
Her eyes widened. "I don't…I don't know. I mean, I said I would…"
Gently, he released her hand. "…but you don't want to risk losing Dean. After all, he is your boyfriend, and you…you love him, right?"
Rory could hear the apprehension in his voice, and she knew her answer was going to hurt him yet again. "Yes," she whispered. "I love him."
Abruptly, Tristan started the car and began to pull back onto the road. "Well, that's all that matters, then."
* * *
The only words spoken on the remainder of the ride to Rory's house were her occasional directions to turn left or right. They remained quiet until they were settled in the living room, side-by-side on the floor, their books piled on the coffee table.
"So where do you want to start?" Tristan asked.
Relieved that he hadn't broached the topic of Dean again, Rory responded easily, "Well, what have you been having the most trouble with?"
He grimaced. "A Tale of Two Cities. I try to do the assigned reading, honestly I do, but it's just so boring."
Rory was shocked. "Boring? How can you say that? It's a classic!"
He groaned. "Exactly how many times have you read it, Rory?"
She flushed. "Um, three or four."
"I figured as much. The first few times were probably for fun, right?"
Her flush deepened, and she nodded.
"I thought so. I guess your idea of fun is a little different than mine. To me, reading this book is work."
"Tristan, what's your favorite book?"
Despite the sudden change in topic, there was no hesitation to his reply. "The Great Gatsby."
She grinned. "That is so not surprising."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively.
"Well, think about it. Gatsby is a clever, confident, wealthy man, but his whole life revolves around winning back the heart of Daisy. The place he lives, the parties he gives, are all in hopes that she will become a part of his life again. It doesn't matter to him that she's married, or that she has a child. In his mind, the only important thing is that he wants her."
"But her husband doesn't deserve her!" Tristan burst out. "He's a pompous, arrogant ass, and as if that weren't bad enough, he cheats on her!"
Rory shook her head. "That's not the point. No matter how foolish they may seem, Daisy has made her decisions on how to live her life. It never occurs to Gatsby that she may have made those choices for a reason. He believes that his mere presence in her life will cause her to change her entire lifestyle."
Tristan was quiet for a moment. He had never looked at the story in quite that way. Unsurprisingly, he had always believed that Gatsby's actions and motivations were perfectly justified. Still, Rory had made a good point. With a start, he realized that his previous attitude towards Rory and Dean's relationship was very similar to Gatsby's outlook on Daisy and Tom's marriage. A strange feeling came over him, and he recognized it as a combination of guilt and shame. Clearing his throat, he asked, "So what makes A Tale of Two Cities so great?"
Her brows knit together as she contemplated how she wanted to answer his question. "I don't want to give away any important plot points. For starters, of course, it's a fascinating look at the French Revolution. Instead of viewing it from an overall, historic perspective, it brings it to an individual level. And in the end, it shows that sometimes the greatest, most honorable love is the one which is willing to sacrifice itself for the object of its love."
During the course of her little speech, Tristan simply stared raptly at her. Her passion never failed to astound him. He didn't think anything had ever mattered as much to him as this book—and everything else in her life—obviously did to her. Well, anything besides Rory herself, that is.
Catching him staring at her, Rory felt herself flush slightly. "What?" she asked, nerves creeping into her voice.
Tristan smiled the same beatific, heart-stopping smile he had sent her way in the car earlier that day. "You continue to amaze me, Rory Gilmore. In the span of just a few minutes, you've made me actually want to read the damn book."
She grinned at him. "Well, that is part of my job as your tutor, you know."
Without thinking, he flung his arm around her shoulders and leaned closer. His voice dropped to a seductive purr. "You, Ms. Gilmore, are very good at your job."
Rory felt the heat rise once again in her cheeks, and forced herself not to otherwise react to his touch. Far from wanting to squirm away from him, she felt an undeniable urge to move closer, to allow the heat radiating from his body to further warm her already burning skin…
The shrill ring of the telephone caused Rory to leap to her feet, almost knocking Tristan over in the process. She was breathless when she answered the phone, despite having only walked about five feet.
"Hello?"
"Oh, hi, Lane."
"Actually, can I call you back later? Tristan's here."
She lowered her voice. "Yes, that Tristan."
"I'm tutoring him."
"In English."
"Yes, really."
"Dean already knows."
"Um…seriously, can I call you back?"
"Okay, bye."
Normally, Tristan would have found it confusing to hear only one side of a conversation. In this case, though, it was pretty clear what Rory's friend had been asking.
After hanging up the phone, Rory returned to her seat, and Tristan noticed she had placed an extra foot and a half of floor space between them. Making a conscious effort to act "less like Gatsby," he remained where he was and asked casually, "So what's the game plan?"
Her eyes darted up quickly to meet his, then just as quickly looked away. "G-game plan?" she stuttered.
Ignoring the instinct to flirt and tease her mercilessly, he maintained his casual tone. "Yeah, for my tutoring sessions."
"Oh. Right." She took a deep breath. "How far behind are you with the reading?"
Tristan made a face. "I just finished chapter four of the second book."
Rory paled slightly, and opened her copy to the table of contents. "We're supposed to have finished all of book two by Friday, so you have twenty chapters to go. Think you can manage it?"
"That's what, five chapters a night? I'll do my best."
"Good. How about we meet every day after school this week to discuss the chapters from the previous night? At least that way, you'll be able to get any questions answered before trying to tackle the next five chapters."
He looked at her skeptically. "Are you sure that's not too much trouble?"
She nodded. "I'm positive. We won't need to meet this often for very long, just until you're mostly caught up."
"Well, I'm glad you think that won't take very long," he mumbled.
"O ye of little faith. Before you know it, I'll have you eating, sleeping, and dreaming Dickens."
He waggled his eyebrows at her. "You know, I can think of much more appealing things to dream about."
For once, Rory didn't blush. Instead, she reached out and grabbed a throw pillow off the couch, and proceeded to whack him soundly in the head with it.
"Hey! What was that for?"
"For being so…so…flirtatious!"
He shot her a wicked grin. "If I didn't flirt, I wouldn't be me."
"And that would be a bad thing?" Rory deadpanned.
Tristan clasped his hands to his chest as if he had just been shot. "You wound me, Mary, you wound me."
She waved the pillow at him menacingly. "I'm going to start calling you 'Judas' pretty soon if you don't lose the 'Mary' bit."
His face grew somber. "I'd never betray you, Rory, although…" His eyes began to twinkle. "The 'with a kiss' part if pretty tempting."
"Arrrghh!" She whipped the pillow at him, and watched in surprise as he deftly caught it.
"You're in for it now, Gilmore," he growled.
He lunged at her, and began pummeling her mercilessly with the pillow. She squealed and jumped to her feet, trying to find some way to reach the other pillow, which was safely nestled at the opposite end of the sofa. As she attempted to run around Tristan, her stocking feet slipped on the hardwood floor, and she began to fall.
In horror, Tristan watched as Rory's feet flew out from underneath her and she pitched backwards. Her flailing right arm knocked over a lamp, which shattered as it hit the floor. He winced at the thud of her head hitting the floor, and rushed to her side.
Her eyes were shut, and remained closed as he knelt beside her and lifted her head into his lap. With one hand, he gave her shoulder a gentle shake, murmuring, "Rory, wake up," while his other hand felt the back of her head for the lump he knew would be forming.
Panic beginning to rise in his chest, he continued to repeat her name until her eyes fluttered open several seconds later. He thought he might burst into tears when her sapphire eyes locked their gaze on him. Instead, he cleared his throat and whispered, "Hey there. You took a pretty nasty spill. How do you feel?"
She grimaced. "My head hurts. So does my leg."
Tristan glanced towards her legs, and only then did he notice the pool of blood forming beneath her right one.
"Dammit, you're bleeding!"
"Excellent deduction, Holmes," she said dryly.
Gently, he removed her head from his lap, and moved down her body to examine her leg. "Hold still," he commanded.
"Yes doctor."
When he carefully lifted her leg up, he chided himself for feeling the usual tingling shocks at a time like this. He quickly realized that she had landed on a piece of the broken lamp. The cut wasn't large, but it looked pretty deep. "I think you're going to need stitches," Tristan announced.
Rory groaned. "Wonderful. My mother is going to freak."
"Whether she freaks or not, the important thing right now is to get you to the hospital. Do you guys have a first aid kit?"
"Yeah, it's in the kitchen, under the sink." She waved her hand in the general direction of the kitchen, and Tristan dashed off to retrieve the kit.
He returned quickly, cleaning the wound before applying a gauze pad and tape. "There, now keep pressure on it to help stop the bleeding."
Rory did as she was instructed, both surprised and impressed by his adept handling of the situation. Tristan slipped his Chilton blazer back on, stuffed his copy of A Tale of Two Cities into the pocket, and then scooped Rory up into his arms.
"Hey, I can walk!" she protested.
"No arguments," he said firmly. "There's a chance you have a concussion. I'm not going to risk having you black out and fall down the steps or something."
Unable to fault his logic, Rory lapsed into silence. She couldn't help but notice that he carried her as if she weighed next to nothing; couldn't help but feel the firm, well-defined muscles as he cradled her in his embrace. Practically against her will, she felt herself relax, drawing comfort from the warm cocoon of safety he held her in.
Feeling her snuggle closer, Tristan smiled. Bending his head close to hers, he said quietly, "You know, Rory, if you wanted to get close to me so badly, you didn't have to hurt yourself. You could have just asked."
In spite of herself, Rory laughed. "Well, I guess I have to give you credit for being consistent."
As they laughed together, neither Tristan nor Rory noticed the tall, dark-haired figure hidden beside the Gilmore porch, his face contorted in fury…