DISCLAIMER: Well, we're just about getting tired of this whole degrading
'we don't own anything' business, so if you want disclaimers look at the
other chapters.
~~*+*~~
Rory opened her eyes slowly- her head felt strange, and ached. She struggled out of the blanket tucked around her and sat up. Where was she? Looking around the room, which was small and relatively tidy with a tiny fireplace, yielded no clues. She put a hand to her head. She struggled to find any memory at all from the night before, but nothing surfaced.
There was a crash in the adjacent room- she somehow recollected that it was a kitchen- and the door opened. She pulled the blanket up protectively and cringed back into the sofa.
Tristan entered, carrying a platter of waffles with a small smile playing on his lips.
"I was wondering when you were going to wake up," he said, laying the plate down on the table and ladling out three waffles.
"How did I get here?" Rory felt confused, but the smell of the waffles- and Tristan's smile- were comforting.
"You arrived at my door late last night after some fight with your mum," Tristan answered innocently. It's half true, anyway, he thought to himself.
"Oh- all right-" Rory felt her head, which was throbbing now. "I had the weirdest dream."
"Fights with parents turn everyone weird for a while. Tell me about it." His eyes looked into hers and, even though everything was making less and less sense, she trusted him.
"Well- yesterday was Valentines' Day, right?"
"Right."
"It's a silly commercial holiday and I really don't like it all that much- too syrupy for my taste."
"Says the girl who has just poured half a pint of maple syrup on her waffles."
"Ignoring that. So I wasn't too pleased- I was quite confused, actually- when somebody put a flower in my locker. I mean, what idiot puts a flower in a girl's locker? Usually the smell of gym socks would kill it in two seconds, and dead flowers aren't my idea of romance. Anyway, it's such a waste- and it's kind of cowardly too. I mean, if they like me they should come out and say it, instead of leaving little anonymous flowers." Tristan opened his mouth, and then shut it uncomfortably, his eyes suddenly darkening.
"So what happened next?"
"Well, I went home and talked about who could have sent it with my mum-"
"And then you had the fight."
"It was about. someone you don't know." Rory blushed and looked away.
"This dream sounds quite specific." Tristan's eyes were pained, but his voice was jovial.
"This wasn't in the dream, I remember this perfectly- it all happened, I'm sure of it. Afterwards, though." Rory looked down at her hands, her head swimming. "I'm not sure."
"Just go on," Tristan urged gently.
"Well- it's wild, really- I dreamed that I went to the park at night- something I'd never do usually- and there were muggers-" Her head began to pound again, and a recollection of the pungent aftershave resurfaced in her mind. It had seemed so real. "And I was petrified because there were five of them, and I couldn't do anything. and then." She went very red and fiddled with her fingers.
"Then?"
There was a long silence, Tristan looking intensely at her as if he couldn't tear his eyes away.
"You saved me."
Tristan looked down at the platter of waffles. "So- do you want- waffles?"
"No thanks- I don't feel hungry. My head aches- and my cheek-"
He hurriedly put the plates back in a pile and stood up. "Yeah well, must have slept on it the wrong way." Then he retreated into the kitchen, but not before looking back slightly wistfully at Rory, whose face was growing all the more confused as her hand moved towards her cheek.
Her fingers touched the long gash and immediately drew away as she gasped in pain and the colour drained from her face. The mystery, the fragments of memory in her mind, suddenly pieced themselves together as a coherent whole. A panic welled up inside her.
She ran, grabbing her coat, out the front door and away from the memories.
~~*+*~~
Rory fled off the bus and down the main street, tears streaming down her cheeks. The salt made the cut sting, and she gasped for breath as the horror of the previous evening overwhelmed her once again.
"Lorelai- Mum- she'll understand," she whispered to herself as she ran towards her home. "Oh God- I didn't ring!" Her speed picked up as she approached the house, relief overcoming her confusion. She burst through the door and stumbled forward breathlessly, hollering, "Mum! I'm home!"
She stood silent for a minute waiting for an answer, but none came. She called again, but it only echoed through the empty house. Her mother wasn't home.
Fear and uncertainty consumed Rory, and she sat down silently on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, silently willing her mother to come bursting through the door behind her.
~~*+*~~
P.S. No, knowing what we're about to say does not make you psychic. Sorry for the disappointment.
~~*+*~~
Rory opened her eyes slowly- her head felt strange, and ached. She struggled out of the blanket tucked around her and sat up. Where was she? Looking around the room, which was small and relatively tidy with a tiny fireplace, yielded no clues. She put a hand to her head. She struggled to find any memory at all from the night before, but nothing surfaced.
There was a crash in the adjacent room- she somehow recollected that it was a kitchen- and the door opened. She pulled the blanket up protectively and cringed back into the sofa.
Tristan entered, carrying a platter of waffles with a small smile playing on his lips.
"I was wondering when you were going to wake up," he said, laying the plate down on the table and ladling out three waffles.
"How did I get here?" Rory felt confused, but the smell of the waffles- and Tristan's smile- were comforting.
"You arrived at my door late last night after some fight with your mum," Tristan answered innocently. It's half true, anyway, he thought to himself.
"Oh- all right-" Rory felt her head, which was throbbing now. "I had the weirdest dream."
"Fights with parents turn everyone weird for a while. Tell me about it." His eyes looked into hers and, even though everything was making less and less sense, she trusted him.
"Well- yesterday was Valentines' Day, right?"
"Right."
"It's a silly commercial holiday and I really don't like it all that much- too syrupy for my taste."
"Says the girl who has just poured half a pint of maple syrup on her waffles."
"Ignoring that. So I wasn't too pleased- I was quite confused, actually- when somebody put a flower in my locker. I mean, what idiot puts a flower in a girl's locker? Usually the smell of gym socks would kill it in two seconds, and dead flowers aren't my idea of romance. Anyway, it's such a waste- and it's kind of cowardly too. I mean, if they like me they should come out and say it, instead of leaving little anonymous flowers." Tristan opened his mouth, and then shut it uncomfortably, his eyes suddenly darkening.
"So what happened next?"
"Well, I went home and talked about who could have sent it with my mum-"
"And then you had the fight."
"It was about. someone you don't know." Rory blushed and looked away.
"This dream sounds quite specific." Tristan's eyes were pained, but his voice was jovial.
"This wasn't in the dream, I remember this perfectly- it all happened, I'm sure of it. Afterwards, though." Rory looked down at her hands, her head swimming. "I'm not sure."
"Just go on," Tristan urged gently.
"Well- it's wild, really- I dreamed that I went to the park at night- something I'd never do usually- and there were muggers-" Her head began to pound again, and a recollection of the pungent aftershave resurfaced in her mind. It had seemed so real. "And I was petrified because there were five of them, and I couldn't do anything. and then." She went very red and fiddled with her fingers.
"Then?"
There was a long silence, Tristan looking intensely at her as if he couldn't tear his eyes away.
"You saved me."
Tristan looked down at the platter of waffles. "So- do you want- waffles?"
"No thanks- I don't feel hungry. My head aches- and my cheek-"
He hurriedly put the plates back in a pile and stood up. "Yeah well, must have slept on it the wrong way." Then he retreated into the kitchen, but not before looking back slightly wistfully at Rory, whose face was growing all the more confused as her hand moved towards her cheek.
Her fingers touched the long gash and immediately drew away as she gasped in pain and the colour drained from her face. The mystery, the fragments of memory in her mind, suddenly pieced themselves together as a coherent whole. A panic welled up inside her.
She ran, grabbing her coat, out the front door and away from the memories.
~~*+*~~
Rory fled off the bus and down the main street, tears streaming down her cheeks. The salt made the cut sting, and she gasped for breath as the horror of the previous evening overwhelmed her once again.
"Lorelai- Mum- she'll understand," she whispered to herself as she ran towards her home. "Oh God- I didn't ring!" Her speed picked up as she approached the house, relief overcoming her confusion. She burst through the door and stumbled forward breathlessly, hollering, "Mum! I'm home!"
She stood silent for a minute waiting for an answer, but none came. She called again, but it only echoed through the empty house. Her mother wasn't home.
Fear and uncertainty consumed Rory, and she sat down silently on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, silently willing her mother to come bursting through the door behind her.
~~*+*~~
P.S. No, knowing what we're about to say does not make you psychic. Sorry for the disappointment.