Disclaimer : I own.. um, my computer, my dog and my car, but nothing
GG. Sigh.
Few things to address, since I've been asked these questions multiple times. First, the case of the missing 4 chapters. If you read my authors note at the top of Chapter 24, you will notice that there is an address printed in bold. That is where the 4 chapters that aren't here, are. I didn't write them. They were written by another author, because I was bored with the story. Go read them if you haven't. Okay? And second of all, regarding Tristan's current physical state. No, they didn't amputate his legs. I don't know why, they just didn't. I'm not big on the whole medical mumbojumbo, all I know about paralysis, I found on the web and well, I didn't find much. Plus, that wouldn't play into this part of the story very well. So yeah. That's all. Now go read. :)
Don't Say You Love Me
Chapter 28
"I'm going to miss you," Rory said, turning to envelope her mother in a huge hug. Lorelai returned it with just as much emotion, though a smile was on her face.
"You too, kiddo."
Letting go of Lorelai, she moved on down the line and pulled Luke into a hug. "Make sure she doesn't do anything too crazy," she whispered in his ear before pulling away. Luke gave her a gruff smile and nodded.
"Will do."
"Will do what? Rory, what did you tell him?" Lorelai demanded, narrowing her eyes at her offspring. Rory merely shrugged and stepped to where Jess was standing, a few feet away.
"Check up on him every once in awhile," She asked quietly. Jess nodded.
"I will."
The two stared at each other before cracking smiles and bidding each other farewell. She did the same with her grandparents, who had joined the group at the airport. Sadly, she glanced around, wishing that Tristan had been able to come. However, he started rehab today and she wasn't going to let him miss that just to see her get on some silly plane. The two had said their good-byes in private, earlier that day, promising to keep in close contact. They hadn't spoke of the kisses they shared, three weeks earlier, knowing it wouldn't help the inevitable parting, as Rory headed out California for the next four months.
A voice came over the intercom, announcing the boarding of her flight, so after a quick hug to everyone, she flashed them a smile, waved goodbye and headed off.
*****
Three weeks later.
It was almost noon when Tristan woke up, with an intense headache pounding through him. Groaning, he opened an eye, just to check the time and then used his hand as a shield from the light that was pouring in through the windows of his room. Sighing, he struggled to push himself into a sitting position, wincing as the muscles of his upper body strained from the effort. Being paralyzed from the waist down left him to rely on his upper body strength to move around and it wasn't something he was used to. Rehab was helping, teaching him how to do things on his own, like move from his chair to the bed and similar things. But it was an intense workout and usually, like today, left him feeling drained. After a few moments of struggle, he finally managed to get into an upright position and reached over to the night stand, where a glass of water and the always present bottle of pain relievers sat. Opening the bottle, he swallowed a few, before putting them back and throwing the blankets off him.
This was the worst part, trying to get out of bed. It always made him feel inadequate, broken because he had such a problem doing a task most people didn't even think about. Clenching his jaw, the reached over for his wheelchair, which was situated right next to the bed. Pulling it closer, he put all his focus into swinging his now useless legs over the side of the bed so he could push himself into the chair. Biting his lip, he willed them to move and then blinked in surprise when he saw his left big toe move.
"What the hell..." He muttered, after a second, dismissing it as wishful thinking. Propping himself up on his hands, he promptly fell back on the bed, narrowly missing hitting his head on the headboard. A jolt of pain shot through his leg and his blue eyes widened in shock. A fluke. He was tired, the painkillers were starting to kick in, messing with his head. That was it and he fought off the sadness the thought brought. Shaking his head, he finally managed to move his legs and get himself into the chair. Situating himself, he flicked the forward switch and rolled out the door and down the hall, towards the kitchen. The room was warm, the early November sun spilling in through the glass doors, which led out onto the terrace. His mother sat at the table, sipping an iced tea and she looked up when she heard the soft motor of the wheelchair enter the kitchen.
"Good morning," she greeted.
Still somewhat dazed from what he thought he had felt just minutes before, it took a second for her words to register. "Morning, Mom."
"Are you hungry? I'll have Nina whip up some of her waffles, if you'd like."
"No time," Tristan declined, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table. "I have rehab in a half hour."
Catherine nodded. "Oh, alright then. Do you need a ride?"
Tristan gave her a weird look. "Tony always takes me, Mom." He said, referring to the family driver.
"I know, I just thought maybe I could take you this once..."
There was such a pleading in her voice, he found himself shrugged. "Fine. I'll go get dressed."
"Do you need help?"
"I'm in a wheelchair, Mom, not brain dead."
"Right. Okay, well, then, just tell me when you're ready."
Tristan nodded and wheeled himself out of the kitchen and down the hall, back into his room. Getting dressed wasn't an easy task, but he was getting better at it. As quickly as possible, he pulled on the clothes that had been laid out the night before on and then went over to the desk, from which he did all his work. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a picture of Rory, standing on the deck of his parents yacht, the sun dim in comparison with her smile. A soft grin spread across his face and he tucked the photo into his pocket, like he did everyday. Since she wasn't there physically, he relied on this one picture, his favorite, hands down, to help him through everything. Grabbing his jacket, he turned and went into the bathroom where he ran a hand through his forever tousled hair and quickly brushed his teeth. From there, he sped back down the hall, to find his mother waiting for him in the foyer.
"Ready?"
"Yeah, lets get this over with."
Catherine flashed a brief smile at her son before opening the door and down the stairs to where the car was waiting. Tristan, himself, took it slowly down the wheelchair ramp that had been installed shortly after his accident. After some fuss, they were both in the car and headed towards the hospital.
*****
"Of course," Rory said into the phone, while threading through a pile of paper that littered her desk. Every now and then, she would hand one to her assistant, who was seated across the desk from her, making notes in a small notepad. "Yes, I understand completely. Right. Great, I'll have my assistant give you a call later, with the date and time of our meeting. Yep, thank you. Goodbye." Hanging up the phone, she shot Lisa, that was her assistant, a tired look. "This is insane."
Lisa smiled sympathetically. "This is tame compared to yesterday," she pointed out.
Rory groaned in reminder of the hell raising day that had been the day before. "Don't remind me."
Shaking her head, Lisa stood up. "I'm gonna go grab lunch. You want anything?"
"My usual."
"Four cups of coffee and the rot-my-teeth out special, got it."
Watching her leave, Rory sighed and swiveled in her chair to stare out the window that showcased the lovely view of the city of Los Angeles. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and the streets were crowded, as usual. She sighed again and turned back to all the paperwork stacked up on and around her desk. There was so much to do before the first edition of the LA branch of Fade came out and with the lack of a staff to do the bulk of it, it was in her hands. Resigning herself to another long night, she dug in. A few seconds later, the shrill sound of her phone made her jump. Grumbling, she reached over to pick it up.
"Fade Magazine, Lorelai Gilmore speaking."
"Ooh, professional. Very sexy."
"What did I tell you about making obscene phone calls?"
"Hmm.. to do it as often as possible?"
Shaking her head, Rory smiled into the phone. "You're incorrigible, Tris."
On the other end, Tristan grinned. "So you keep saying.
"I have a lot of work to do, what do you want?"
"I want you to.." He began, his voice full of flirtation.
"Stop right there," Rory interrupted, unable to keep from laughing.
"Why, I know you like it."
"No, I don't." She protested, leaning back in her chair. "So, pray tell, what do I owe the honor of this phone call to?"
"So my phone calls are an honor.."
"Ugh."
Tristan chuckled. "I'm bored. Entertain me."
"I have work to do."
"But all you do is work! I haven't talked to you in over a week," he said, managing to sound sad and whiny at the same time.
"You'll survive, I'm sure."
"How can I survive, you're my source of life, the air I breathe!"
"You're pathetic."
"So I'm incorrigible and pathetic?"
"And egotistical."
"Gee, Mary, you wound me."
"It would take a sledgehammer to wound that ego of yours."
Tristan sighed. "Not that I don't enjoy the very friendly round of 'Let's Diss Tristan' we had going on, but seriously, what's up? You sound peeved."
"I'm just a little stressed out. The first edition is supposed to be out next Wednesday and there's still so much left to do. This is going to be the fifth night in a row I've stayed late."
"Poor baby."
"Glad to know you sympathize."
"I didn't mean it like that."
Rory suppressed a yawn. "I know. I've just got a lot of work to do."
"Well, I'll let you go then. Call me soon."
"I will. Take care of yourself, Tris."
"You too, Mare."
Hanging up, Rory stared at the phone for a second, a smile playing with the corner of her mouth. No matter how bad her day was, just a few minutes on the phone with him could make it so much brighter. Exhaling loudly, she pushed those thoughts out of her head and turned back to her work.
******
A few days after his call to Rory, Tristan was sitting in the living room, watching a movie play out on the large TV screen, a bowl of popcorn sitting in his lap. He was alone, for now. His father had gone out of town on business, taking his mother with him. The only people left in the large estate was the cook and the driver, both of whom were off that night. Absentmindedly, he took a swig of his soda, watching the screen intently.
The movie was a made-for-television story and he leaned back as it cut to commercial. It was nice, just being by himself for once. There was nobody constantly fawning over him, someone there to assist him with his every move. He was enjoying this night of solitude, liking the way he felt self-sufficient again. If he wanted or needed something, he would have to do it himself and he rather liked that. Swallowing a few pieces of popcorn, he merely stared at the advertisement for a random brand of laundry detergent when suddenly the bowl in his lap fell to the floor with a loud crash. Startled, he glanced down at the bowl on the floor and then at his legs.
There was no way the bowl had slipped. He knew that, his hand had been holding onto the edge. So the only other explanation... was that his leg jerked. It didn't seem plausible, but it was either that or a ghost had run by and yanked it from his grasp. Gingerly, he reached over the side of the chair to pick up the fallen bowl, only to drop it again, as his left foot moved slightly. With wide eyes, he stared down at the part of him that had long been inanimate. There was no mistaking it this time, he was wide awake, no medication in his system in the past 24 hours. Swallowing hard, he willed it to move again, just to push the doubt out of his mind and it took minimal force to make the foot move slightly.
"Oh, my God," He murmured to himself, still not quite believing it. He had made his foot move, something the doctors had said would probably never happen again. Testing it again, he actually found himself grinning as an intense wave of pain shot up his leg. It was a welcome feeling, after so many months of feeling nothing at all. Excited by this new development, he sat there for most of the night, moving his foot back and forth, watching in wonder.
******
When Tristan made his weekly visit to the doctor the following day, he was beyond pleased to hear the doctor say that there was now a chance he could regain feeling in his legs. He wanted to celebrate, to show the world that he wasn't going to be limited to the wheelchair for the rest of his life. Because he wouldn't. Just the smallest thing, the ability to move his foot, had brought back his self-esteem and he vowed to himself that he would walk. And he was nothing, if not one of the most determined of people. He contemplated calling Rory, to share his good news with her, but another idea began forming in his mind so he didn't. And when she called a few days later, he didn't say anything. Over the course of the next two weeks, more and more feeling began to come back and after a month and a half, he found himself again at rehab, only this time to see if he could stand and to teach him how to walk again.
The first meeting had been a terrible blow to his confidence that he would recover completely. His legs, weak from their lack of use over the past 7 months, hadn't even held him up for a second before he came tumbling back down into his chair. He hadn't been able to push the weights with his feet and this discouraged him a great deal. But he was stubborn and refused to give up. And eventually, a few weeks later, he was able to stand on his own. Walking was still a ways down the road, but he was positive he could do it.
Meanwhile, Rory was busy pulling the staff for Fade Magazine, LA together so she could plan her return to Connecticut. It was coming along slower then she had expected, the interest to work on the low side. Slowly but surely, things were getting done and the applications started pouring in once they started to gain notoriety. Her contact with everyone back home had become less frequent, the bigger their reputation became. There was a lot of stress in heading an entire branch of the magazine and she was kept busy, more than before. She and her mother still talked at least once a week, but her and Tristan were lucky to catch one another once every two weeks, if that. He was never home when she called and she was always knee deep in paperwork when he phoned. But the separation was all coming to a close, as there was only the one vital position to fill before she could head home - the Editor. As much as she missed everyone, she wasn't going to just hand the job over to just anyone. But as luck would have it, just two days before her 4 months in California were up, a young woman appeared, with the knowledge and experience that was needed to do the job. Ecstatic to be heading back to Hartford, she made the one phone call that could make the day even better. And the Gods seemed to be on her side, because Tristan answered.
"Hello?"
"Bible Boy!"
Tristan wrinkled his nose at the nickname, but was smiling. "Hey, Mary."
"I can't believe I got a hold of you. You're harder to reach then a midget trying to pet a giraffe on the head."
"Why would a midget try to pet a giraffe?"
"Not the point. What are you doing home? Shouldn't you be off somewhere so that I can't call you?"
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Aw, you're forgiven."
"You sound chipper. What's up with you?"
On her end, Rory grinned. "Guess what!"
"Chicken butt."
Groaning, her grin only grew wider. "You're such a juvenile."
"But you love me anyway."
"Huh. So anyways, do you wanna hear my news or not?"
"Of course I do, Mar. I'm all ears."
"Guess who's coming home tomorrow!"
"Enlighten me."
"You could sound a little bit more enthusiastic."
Tristan chuckled at her disgruntled tone. "Okay, okay. Who's coming home tomorrow."
"Me!" Rory squealed, causing him to pull the phone away from his ear for a moment. When he put it back the distinct sound of dancing could be heard.
"You're doing the happy dance."
"I am not."
"You are too. I can hear you from here."
The sound abruptly stopped. "Shut up."
"So you're really coming home tomorrow?" He asked, changing the subject.
"Yep. I'll be getting there around 2. You know my mom's going to make it mandatory mommy time, but I promise you'll be the first person I visit when I can escape her."
"Aw, I feel so privileged."
"Yeah, whatever," Rory scoffed good naturedly.
"Well, since I'll be seeing you soon, I guess I can you this now."
"Ooh, intrigue. Spill it, HunkyBoy."
"HunkyBoy?"
"Shush you. Now what is this thing you can tell me now."
"HunkyBoy ?" Tristan questioned again, his eyes lit up with laughter.
"Did I not tell you to shush?"
"I'm sorry, it's just, HunkyBoy?"
"Okay, hanging up now."
"I'm sorry," Tristan grinned.
"Forgiven. So.. now, tell me.."
"Okay. I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise? I hate surprises."
"I know. But remember, this is a surprise from me. You've never once hated one of my surprises."
"You speak the truth. Now tell me about this surprise..."
Tristan laughed at that. "It's a surprise. Which means no information before the surprise has been revealed."
"You're no fun."
"Sure I am."
"Not."
"I've had more fun watching water evaporate."
"You're odd."
"But you love me anyways," Rory rebutted, using his line from earlier.
"No arguments here."
Silence followed before Rory sighed. "I should go. I've still got a lot of packing to do."
"Right, okay. Give me a call when you get home?"
"Wild antelope couldn't keep me away."
"Glad to hear it. I'll talk to you soon."
"Okay. Night, Tris."
"Night, Ror."
******
Tristan hung up the phone with a huge grin spread across his features. He couldn't wait to see her face when she saw him stand up, let alone walk. Well, take the three steps he could without seriously injuring himself. The doctors said he had to take it slow, if he didn't want to end up screwing his legs up irreversibly. He had to wear leg braces in order to stand and take those steps, but the clunky things were worth it. Turning in his chair, he sped off towards his room to get some sleep. Tomorrow was a big day.
******
Rory glanced down at her watch and then back at the door in front of her. It was nearly midnight and it was absolutely freezing outside where she stood, but this was the first chance she had to escape Stars Hollow since she arrived home that afternoon. She exhaled and watched her breath appear and then disappear, she bit her lip and pushed the doorbell. The ring could be heard through the door and a few seconds later Catherine appeared. She smiled when she found Rory standing on the doorstep.
"Rory, you're home!" She exclaimed, pulling her into the warm house. Rory smiled back at her and nodded.
"I got in earlier today."
"Well, it's great to see you again. I suppose you're here to see Tristan?"
"If he's still awake."
"I'm sure he is. He should be in his room."
Rory nodded and thanked her before disappearing down the hall. Stopping outside his door, she collected herself and knocked. Any signs of nervousness dissipated when she heard his voice call from within.
"Come in."
Pushing the door open, she poked her head in. He glanced up and broke into a huge grin. Her face mirrored the expression and she hurried in and into his welcoming arms.
"I missed you," she whispered, pulling away. Tristan wiped away the tear in the corner of her eye and nodded.
"You, too. It's just not as fun without you around."
"Well, I am known for my element of funness, y'know," Rory giggled. sitting down on his bed. They stared at each other, both acknowledging how eerily similar this was to an earlier scene.
Tristan pulled himself onto the bed, so he was sitting next to her. They exchanged smiles and he guided her into a long discussion of what California was like and how glad she was to be home before all the snow melted. As excited as he was to show her of the latest developments, a decision made that morning had changed his mind. The time would come soon, he knew, and it would be perfect.
*******
Okay, that's the last chapterish, chapter. The epilogue is up next.. I'm going to try like hell to get it up before Monday (I go back to school then, so I'll have *zero* time to write.) .. If not, then sometime next week, granted I'm not loaded down with homework. I think you'll enjoy the next one though. Hehe.
-- Shay
Few things to address, since I've been asked these questions multiple times. First, the case of the missing 4 chapters. If you read my authors note at the top of Chapter 24, you will notice that there is an address printed in bold. That is where the 4 chapters that aren't here, are. I didn't write them. They were written by another author, because I was bored with the story. Go read them if you haven't. Okay? And second of all, regarding Tristan's current physical state. No, they didn't amputate his legs. I don't know why, they just didn't. I'm not big on the whole medical mumbojumbo, all I know about paralysis, I found on the web and well, I didn't find much. Plus, that wouldn't play into this part of the story very well. So yeah. That's all. Now go read. :)
Chapter 28
"I'm going to miss you," Rory said, turning to envelope her mother in a huge hug. Lorelai returned it with just as much emotion, though a smile was on her face.
"You too, kiddo."
Letting go of Lorelai, she moved on down the line and pulled Luke into a hug. "Make sure she doesn't do anything too crazy," she whispered in his ear before pulling away. Luke gave her a gruff smile and nodded.
"Will do."
"Will do what? Rory, what did you tell him?" Lorelai demanded, narrowing her eyes at her offspring. Rory merely shrugged and stepped to where Jess was standing, a few feet away.
"Check up on him every once in awhile," She asked quietly. Jess nodded.
"I will."
The two stared at each other before cracking smiles and bidding each other farewell. She did the same with her grandparents, who had joined the group at the airport. Sadly, she glanced around, wishing that Tristan had been able to come. However, he started rehab today and she wasn't going to let him miss that just to see her get on some silly plane. The two had said their good-byes in private, earlier that day, promising to keep in close contact. They hadn't spoke of the kisses they shared, three weeks earlier, knowing it wouldn't help the inevitable parting, as Rory headed out California for the next four months.
A voice came over the intercom, announcing the boarding of her flight, so after a quick hug to everyone, she flashed them a smile, waved goodbye and headed off.
*****
Three weeks later.
It was almost noon when Tristan woke up, with an intense headache pounding through him. Groaning, he opened an eye, just to check the time and then used his hand as a shield from the light that was pouring in through the windows of his room. Sighing, he struggled to push himself into a sitting position, wincing as the muscles of his upper body strained from the effort. Being paralyzed from the waist down left him to rely on his upper body strength to move around and it wasn't something he was used to. Rehab was helping, teaching him how to do things on his own, like move from his chair to the bed and similar things. But it was an intense workout and usually, like today, left him feeling drained. After a few moments of struggle, he finally managed to get into an upright position and reached over to the night stand, where a glass of water and the always present bottle of pain relievers sat. Opening the bottle, he swallowed a few, before putting them back and throwing the blankets off him.
This was the worst part, trying to get out of bed. It always made him feel inadequate, broken because he had such a problem doing a task most people didn't even think about. Clenching his jaw, the reached over for his wheelchair, which was situated right next to the bed. Pulling it closer, he put all his focus into swinging his now useless legs over the side of the bed so he could push himself into the chair. Biting his lip, he willed them to move and then blinked in surprise when he saw his left big toe move.
"What the hell..." He muttered, after a second, dismissing it as wishful thinking. Propping himself up on his hands, he promptly fell back on the bed, narrowly missing hitting his head on the headboard. A jolt of pain shot through his leg and his blue eyes widened in shock. A fluke. He was tired, the painkillers were starting to kick in, messing with his head. That was it and he fought off the sadness the thought brought. Shaking his head, he finally managed to move his legs and get himself into the chair. Situating himself, he flicked the forward switch and rolled out the door and down the hall, towards the kitchen. The room was warm, the early November sun spilling in through the glass doors, which led out onto the terrace. His mother sat at the table, sipping an iced tea and she looked up when she heard the soft motor of the wheelchair enter the kitchen.
"Good morning," she greeted.
Still somewhat dazed from what he thought he had felt just minutes before, it took a second for her words to register. "Morning, Mom."
"Are you hungry? I'll have Nina whip up some of her waffles, if you'd like."
"No time," Tristan declined, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table. "I have rehab in a half hour."
Catherine nodded. "Oh, alright then. Do you need a ride?"
Tristan gave her a weird look. "Tony always takes me, Mom." He said, referring to the family driver.
"I know, I just thought maybe I could take you this once..."
There was such a pleading in her voice, he found himself shrugged. "Fine. I'll go get dressed."
"Do you need help?"
"I'm in a wheelchair, Mom, not brain dead."
"Right. Okay, well, then, just tell me when you're ready."
Tristan nodded and wheeled himself out of the kitchen and down the hall, back into his room. Getting dressed wasn't an easy task, but he was getting better at it. As quickly as possible, he pulled on the clothes that had been laid out the night before on and then went over to the desk, from which he did all his work. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a picture of Rory, standing on the deck of his parents yacht, the sun dim in comparison with her smile. A soft grin spread across his face and he tucked the photo into his pocket, like he did everyday. Since she wasn't there physically, he relied on this one picture, his favorite, hands down, to help him through everything. Grabbing his jacket, he turned and went into the bathroom where he ran a hand through his forever tousled hair and quickly brushed his teeth. From there, he sped back down the hall, to find his mother waiting for him in the foyer.
"Ready?"
"Yeah, lets get this over with."
Catherine flashed a brief smile at her son before opening the door and down the stairs to where the car was waiting. Tristan, himself, took it slowly down the wheelchair ramp that had been installed shortly after his accident. After some fuss, they were both in the car and headed towards the hospital.
*****
"Of course," Rory said into the phone, while threading through a pile of paper that littered her desk. Every now and then, she would hand one to her assistant, who was seated across the desk from her, making notes in a small notepad. "Yes, I understand completely. Right. Great, I'll have my assistant give you a call later, with the date and time of our meeting. Yep, thank you. Goodbye." Hanging up the phone, she shot Lisa, that was her assistant, a tired look. "This is insane."
Lisa smiled sympathetically. "This is tame compared to yesterday," she pointed out.
Rory groaned in reminder of the hell raising day that had been the day before. "Don't remind me."
Shaking her head, Lisa stood up. "I'm gonna go grab lunch. You want anything?"
"My usual."
"Four cups of coffee and the rot-my-teeth out special, got it."
Watching her leave, Rory sighed and swiveled in her chair to stare out the window that showcased the lovely view of the city of Los Angeles. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and the streets were crowded, as usual. She sighed again and turned back to all the paperwork stacked up on and around her desk. There was so much to do before the first edition of the LA branch of Fade came out and with the lack of a staff to do the bulk of it, it was in her hands. Resigning herself to another long night, she dug in. A few seconds later, the shrill sound of her phone made her jump. Grumbling, she reached over to pick it up.
"Fade Magazine, Lorelai Gilmore speaking."
"Ooh, professional. Very sexy."
"What did I tell you about making obscene phone calls?"
"Hmm.. to do it as often as possible?"
Shaking her head, Rory smiled into the phone. "You're incorrigible, Tris."
On the other end, Tristan grinned. "So you keep saying.
"I have a lot of work to do, what do you want?"
"I want you to.." He began, his voice full of flirtation.
"Stop right there," Rory interrupted, unable to keep from laughing.
"Why, I know you like it."
"No, I don't." She protested, leaning back in her chair. "So, pray tell, what do I owe the honor of this phone call to?"
"So my phone calls are an honor.."
"Ugh."
Tristan chuckled. "I'm bored. Entertain me."
"I have work to do."
"But all you do is work! I haven't talked to you in over a week," he said, managing to sound sad and whiny at the same time.
"You'll survive, I'm sure."
"How can I survive, you're my source of life, the air I breathe!"
"You're pathetic."
"So I'm incorrigible and pathetic?"
"And egotistical."
"Gee, Mary, you wound me."
"It would take a sledgehammer to wound that ego of yours."
Tristan sighed. "Not that I don't enjoy the very friendly round of 'Let's Diss Tristan' we had going on, but seriously, what's up? You sound peeved."
"I'm just a little stressed out. The first edition is supposed to be out next Wednesday and there's still so much left to do. This is going to be the fifth night in a row I've stayed late."
"Poor baby."
"Glad to know you sympathize."
"I didn't mean it like that."
Rory suppressed a yawn. "I know. I've just got a lot of work to do."
"Well, I'll let you go then. Call me soon."
"I will. Take care of yourself, Tris."
"You too, Mare."
Hanging up, Rory stared at the phone for a second, a smile playing with the corner of her mouth. No matter how bad her day was, just a few minutes on the phone with him could make it so much brighter. Exhaling loudly, she pushed those thoughts out of her head and turned back to her work.
******
A few days after his call to Rory, Tristan was sitting in the living room, watching a movie play out on the large TV screen, a bowl of popcorn sitting in his lap. He was alone, for now. His father had gone out of town on business, taking his mother with him. The only people left in the large estate was the cook and the driver, both of whom were off that night. Absentmindedly, he took a swig of his soda, watching the screen intently.
The movie was a made-for-television story and he leaned back as it cut to commercial. It was nice, just being by himself for once. There was nobody constantly fawning over him, someone there to assist him with his every move. He was enjoying this night of solitude, liking the way he felt self-sufficient again. If he wanted or needed something, he would have to do it himself and he rather liked that. Swallowing a few pieces of popcorn, he merely stared at the advertisement for a random brand of laundry detergent when suddenly the bowl in his lap fell to the floor with a loud crash. Startled, he glanced down at the bowl on the floor and then at his legs.
There was no way the bowl had slipped. He knew that, his hand had been holding onto the edge. So the only other explanation... was that his leg jerked. It didn't seem plausible, but it was either that or a ghost had run by and yanked it from his grasp. Gingerly, he reached over the side of the chair to pick up the fallen bowl, only to drop it again, as his left foot moved slightly. With wide eyes, he stared down at the part of him that had long been inanimate. There was no mistaking it this time, he was wide awake, no medication in his system in the past 24 hours. Swallowing hard, he willed it to move again, just to push the doubt out of his mind and it took minimal force to make the foot move slightly.
"Oh, my God," He murmured to himself, still not quite believing it. He had made his foot move, something the doctors had said would probably never happen again. Testing it again, he actually found himself grinning as an intense wave of pain shot up his leg. It was a welcome feeling, after so many months of feeling nothing at all. Excited by this new development, he sat there for most of the night, moving his foot back and forth, watching in wonder.
******
When Tristan made his weekly visit to the doctor the following day, he was beyond pleased to hear the doctor say that there was now a chance he could regain feeling in his legs. He wanted to celebrate, to show the world that he wasn't going to be limited to the wheelchair for the rest of his life. Because he wouldn't. Just the smallest thing, the ability to move his foot, had brought back his self-esteem and he vowed to himself that he would walk. And he was nothing, if not one of the most determined of people. He contemplated calling Rory, to share his good news with her, but another idea began forming in his mind so he didn't. And when she called a few days later, he didn't say anything. Over the course of the next two weeks, more and more feeling began to come back and after a month and a half, he found himself again at rehab, only this time to see if he could stand and to teach him how to walk again.
The first meeting had been a terrible blow to his confidence that he would recover completely. His legs, weak from their lack of use over the past 7 months, hadn't even held him up for a second before he came tumbling back down into his chair. He hadn't been able to push the weights with his feet and this discouraged him a great deal. But he was stubborn and refused to give up. And eventually, a few weeks later, he was able to stand on his own. Walking was still a ways down the road, but he was positive he could do it.
Meanwhile, Rory was busy pulling the staff for Fade Magazine, LA together so she could plan her return to Connecticut. It was coming along slower then she had expected, the interest to work on the low side. Slowly but surely, things were getting done and the applications started pouring in once they started to gain notoriety. Her contact with everyone back home had become less frequent, the bigger their reputation became. There was a lot of stress in heading an entire branch of the magazine and she was kept busy, more than before. She and her mother still talked at least once a week, but her and Tristan were lucky to catch one another once every two weeks, if that. He was never home when she called and she was always knee deep in paperwork when he phoned. But the separation was all coming to a close, as there was only the one vital position to fill before she could head home - the Editor. As much as she missed everyone, she wasn't going to just hand the job over to just anyone. But as luck would have it, just two days before her 4 months in California were up, a young woman appeared, with the knowledge and experience that was needed to do the job. Ecstatic to be heading back to Hartford, she made the one phone call that could make the day even better. And the Gods seemed to be on her side, because Tristan answered.
"Hello?"
"Bible Boy!"
Tristan wrinkled his nose at the nickname, but was smiling. "Hey, Mary."
"I can't believe I got a hold of you. You're harder to reach then a midget trying to pet a giraffe on the head."
"Why would a midget try to pet a giraffe?"
"Not the point. What are you doing home? Shouldn't you be off somewhere so that I can't call you?"
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Aw, you're forgiven."
"You sound chipper. What's up with you?"
On her end, Rory grinned. "Guess what!"
"Chicken butt."
Groaning, her grin only grew wider. "You're such a juvenile."
"But you love me anyway."
"Huh. So anyways, do you wanna hear my news or not?"
"Of course I do, Mar. I'm all ears."
"Guess who's coming home tomorrow!"
"Enlighten me."
"You could sound a little bit more enthusiastic."
Tristan chuckled at her disgruntled tone. "Okay, okay. Who's coming home tomorrow."
"Me!" Rory squealed, causing him to pull the phone away from his ear for a moment. When he put it back the distinct sound of dancing could be heard.
"You're doing the happy dance."
"I am not."
"You are too. I can hear you from here."
The sound abruptly stopped. "Shut up."
"So you're really coming home tomorrow?" He asked, changing the subject.
"Yep. I'll be getting there around 2. You know my mom's going to make it mandatory mommy time, but I promise you'll be the first person I visit when I can escape her."
"Aw, I feel so privileged."
"Yeah, whatever," Rory scoffed good naturedly.
"Well, since I'll be seeing you soon, I guess I can you this now."
"Ooh, intrigue. Spill it, HunkyBoy."
"HunkyBoy?"
"Shush you. Now what is this thing you can tell me now."
"HunkyBoy ?" Tristan questioned again, his eyes lit up with laughter.
"Did I not tell you to shush?"
"I'm sorry, it's just, HunkyBoy?"
"Okay, hanging up now."
"I'm sorry," Tristan grinned.
"Forgiven. So.. now, tell me.."
"Okay. I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise? I hate surprises."
"I know. But remember, this is a surprise from me. You've never once hated one of my surprises."
"You speak the truth. Now tell me about this surprise..."
Tristan laughed at that. "It's a surprise. Which means no information before the surprise has been revealed."
"You're no fun."
"Sure I am."
"Not."
"I've had more fun watching water evaporate."
"You're odd."
"But you love me anyways," Rory rebutted, using his line from earlier.
"No arguments here."
Silence followed before Rory sighed. "I should go. I've still got a lot of packing to do."
"Right, okay. Give me a call when you get home?"
"Wild antelope couldn't keep me away."
"Glad to hear it. I'll talk to you soon."
"Okay. Night, Tris."
"Night, Ror."
******
Tristan hung up the phone with a huge grin spread across his features. He couldn't wait to see her face when she saw him stand up, let alone walk. Well, take the three steps he could without seriously injuring himself. The doctors said he had to take it slow, if he didn't want to end up screwing his legs up irreversibly. He had to wear leg braces in order to stand and take those steps, but the clunky things were worth it. Turning in his chair, he sped off towards his room to get some sleep. Tomorrow was a big day.
******
Rory glanced down at her watch and then back at the door in front of her. It was nearly midnight and it was absolutely freezing outside where she stood, but this was the first chance she had to escape Stars Hollow since she arrived home that afternoon. She exhaled and watched her breath appear and then disappear, she bit her lip and pushed the doorbell. The ring could be heard through the door and a few seconds later Catherine appeared. She smiled when she found Rory standing on the doorstep.
"Rory, you're home!" She exclaimed, pulling her into the warm house. Rory smiled back at her and nodded.
"I got in earlier today."
"Well, it's great to see you again. I suppose you're here to see Tristan?"
"If he's still awake."
"I'm sure he is. He should be in his room."
Rory nodded and thanked her before disappearing down the hall. Stopping outside his door, she collected herself and knocked. Any signs of nervousness dissipated when she heard his voice call from within.
"Come in."
Pushing the door open, she poked her head in. He glanced up and broke into a huge grin. Her face mirrored the expression and she hurried in and into his welcoming arms.
"I missed you," she whispered, pulling away. Tristan wiped away the tear in the corner of her eye and nodded.
"You, too. It's just not as fun without you around."
"Well, I am known for my element of funness, y'know," Rory giggled. sitting down on his bed. They stared at each other, both acknowledging how eerily similar this was to an earlier scene.
Tristan pulled himself onto the bed, so he was sitting next to her. They exchanged smiles and he guided her into a long discussion of what California was like and how glad she was to be home before all the snow melted. As excited as he was to show her of the latest developments, a decision made that morning had changed his mind. The time would come soon, he knew, and it would be perfect.
*******
Okay, that's the last chapterish, chapter. The epilogue is up next.. I'm going to try like hell to get it up before Monday (I go back to school then, so I'll have *zero* time to write.) .. If not, then sometime next week, granted I'm not loaded down with homework. I think you'll enjoy the next one though. Hehe.
-- Shay