Author's Note: Finally. I think this is an extremely happy ending. Far more than Rory deserves. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Thanks especially to anyone who's still reading this after my months of not writing.
*
Jess flung her away as soon as they were alone, and somehow he hurt her more as he let her go. The room was too small for him to move much, but that just made serious damage more likely. Rory crept back until she felt the wall, needing the support.
"You're fucking Tristan."
There was no real way to deny that, but she had to try, try to make him understand. "No, Jess, it wasn't like that. You don't know—"
"You're right, I don't. All I know is what DuGrey's girlfriend just told me. So tell me it's not true, Rory. Tell me you didn't have sex with him." A bare hesitation before he swept on; he'd been hoping, even though he knew. "But you can't. So tell me how it was, Rory. Tell me all about it. How I just don't understand, wasn't listening, don't know you as well as he does. Tell me how that makes it better."
"It doesn't. Jess, I'm not saying that it's excusable—"
He turned to face her, frighteningly genial. Carefully sat down. "What are you saying?" Hands spread wide, expansive, encouraging. "I'm listening."
There was nothing that she could say. "I'm sorry."
"Well, yes, I imagine you are. Sorry for what, exactly?"
"For hurting you. I shouldn't have done—"
But Jess was looking down, and the friendliness had vanished. She didn't want to see his pain, even though she'd caused it.
"That's what I thought. You know, Rory, I really would like to hear your reasons. Just for future reference."
"Jess, please."
"I think I deserve to know what I did wrong, don't you? This is nothing if not a learning experience. So tell me, what exactly happened? You weren't happy, so you started looking for something better. I wasn't paying enough attention, so you jumped at the chance when DuGrey did. You couldn't bring yourself to have sex with me, so you turned to somebody you were actually friends with to help you with that. I couldn't read your mind, so you couldn't talk to me." The fury seemed part of him. "You couldn't talk to me, so you went and fucked DuGrey instead. Really, I'd like to know. Fair trade?"
"No, it wasn't about you—" Worst thing to say, so it was entirely natural to hear it coming from her mouth.
"Of course not. What I'd really like to know is why you didn't tell me. Before you did it would have been good, but even after. I don't know what the hell you thought you were doing. Maybe you just weren't thinking about me at all."
"Jess, stop. Please. I know, and I'm sorry, just please calm down. I'm sorry. We can be friends, I'll—"
His hand was clamped around her other arm now; he was sneering down at her as he pushed her across the room. "You won't do anything. Do you think I give a fuck that you're sorry? You're the one who doesn't understand." And he was calm now, reaching past her to open the door. It didn't hit the wall this time. He wasn't angry anymore, not even hurt, just sad. "You don't get to do that. You can't fix it."
Suddenly his hand was gone, and Rory was scrambling to regain her balance, was halfway down the stairs, grabbing for the banister to break her fall. She hit the wall hard. When she looked back up, Jess was gone. She hadn't heard the door close.
She sat there for a minute, fingers scraping across the worn carpet, and began sliding down the stairs, one step at a time. She couldn't stay there, but she didn't want to reach the end.
When she did, Tristan was waiting. She ignored him, ignored Luke's stare, Lane's hesitant offer of assistance. She didn't know if people were watching, didn't want to know, and she was so glad when she was outside.
Tristan had followed. Couldn't leave her alone. Never had, wouldn't when she'd wanted him to, and that had caused so much trouble. She'd wanted him to leave her alone, she'd asked, and if he had none of this would have happened.
"What?" He stepped back, startled. "What do you want?"
"I just wanted to talk to you."
She didn't want to talk to him, but she really didn't want to cause more of a scene. "Come on."
The alley at the side of the diner was uncomfortably familiar, too close to her current life to hold such bad memories.
"What, Tristan?"
"What did he say?"
"I have to tell you? Come on, what do you want?"
"I don't want anything. I just wanted to see how you were."
"Why? You have what you wanted, you're developing a conscience now?"
"What?"
"This is all your fault."
"Seriously."
"Yes, seriously."
"You really believe that?"
"Yes!" She didn't, but she wanted to, and maybe she could. "You started this, you pushed and pushed and you made me do this. And even afterwards it just wasn't enough, and you dragged Crystal in and you wouldn't let me go, and look what you did to her, too."
"You're angry with me because of Crystal."
"No. Stop— Yes. You didn't even try to stop her. How could you do that to me? We'd agreed— You didn't think I'd do it. You thought you'd do it yourself, just like everybody else. You can't make that choice for me. I was going to do it. I was. And you took that away from me, and you lied, and you betrayed— There's nothing you can say that— That's as bad as anything I've done. Worse."
"It's not."
"It is. You never listen to me. You didn't listen to me when I told you I had a boyfriend and you didn't listen to me when I told you I didn't want to have sex with you—"
"You never—"
"—and that was your fault, don't even think about saying that I started that, because maybe I did, but only because you made me. You pushed me into this, from the very start, you twisted everything so that I had to— You never gave me a choice. I was happy. I just wanted to be your friend. I was your friend, and I was happy with that. You made this happen."
"I wasn't happy."
"And that gives you the right to ruin my life?"
He laughed. "I didn't ruin your life, Rory. Jesus, stop deluding yourself. You made the choices. You have no right to blame me for them."
"You didn't leave me with any choices."
"Yes, I did. If you think you made the wrong ones that's—"
"Of course I made the wrong ones. But I didn't want to. I wanted to do the right thing, and you wouldn't let me. I chose Jess. I chose Jess at the beginning, and ever since you've been forcing me into positions—"
"And that's wrong? If you had really chosen Jess we wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have seen anything wrong with what I was doing, and you—"
"It doesn't matter that I wanted you. It matters that I was Jess' girlfriend, he was my choice, and you couldn't let me have that."
"If I could take the choice away from you it obviously didn't mean anything, did it?"
Rory hit Tristan on her way out of the alley, but she was knocked more off-balance by it than he was.
*
Lorelai was munching on popcorn. Rory wouldn't have minded, but pieces kept dropping into her hair. She'd tried Lane's shoulder, but it didn't make nearly as comfortable a cushion.
Lorelai pointed at the screen. The popcorn fell on Rory's face this time. "Those aliens are a total Buffy reject. So pathetic."
"I don't think it matters." Lane shook her bag of popcorn. Nothing. "It's not really about the effects. Or the aliens."
"But still. They aren't scary at all. The stupid radio static was spookier."
"I think they are."
Lorelai pulled back so she could look down at Rory. "You sound so depressed. Stop that. It's depressing me."
"I'm depressed, too. Once school starts tomorrow I'm never going to see Henry again."
"Well that's the same reason that Rory's depressed, but you're not wallowing in it."
"That's not why I'm depressed. I'm not depressed."
"No, you're upset because you haven't seen Tristan in forever, and whose fault is that?"
"Not mine."
"Oh, never. God forbid."
"He started it."
"No more kissing boys. You're not old enough."
"He did. And I haven't seen Jess either."
"But he's been avoiding you. You'd have a reason to be depressed about that, if you were."
"Whose side are you on? And why haven't you made him stop?"
"These hands only work miracles in massage."
"No they don't."
"They could. If I learned."
Lane reached over and grabbed a handful of Lorelai's popcorn. "Why haven't you made him stop, Rory?"
"What?"
"You haven't even tried to fix things."
"I have."
"Taking no for an answer doesn't count. But you've been all wrapped up in your moping over Tristan. You haven't spared a thought for Jess."
"That's not true." Not really.
"No, Lane's right. When I say that Jess has been avoiding you, I mean that he's still telling me that he doesn't want to see you. Because I ask. You don't."
"I don't want him to say no again."
"Well, he will. So you'll have to hear it. Seriously, you can't even deny him the pleasure of rejecting you. What kind of ex-girlfriend are you?"
"Mom."
"It will be okay." Lorelai's hand found Rory's cheek, and Rory didn't even mind the butter. "It will."
"Maybe."
"It will. We'll make it be." Somehow, it didn't matter that Lorelai couldn't make it anything. Rory was still comforted. "So wait, why did they come to Earth, with all the oceans?"
*
The first day of school was surprisingly exciting. It was the last year; things were going to change soon, and her actions now would determine those changes. Rory was glad that Chilton was so academically oriented, because a lot of other students looked excited too, and that put her at ease with her happiness, even if nobody was looking.
She met Tristan on the way into English. They caused a pile-up as they stood in the doorway, and then Paris shoved between them to get into the classroom and Tristan was gone.
Rory was distracted all day, thinking about those seconds.
She didn't see him again until Wednesday. Spanish was spent staring at the back of his head. It didn't take her long at all to decide that something had to be done about this. It was going to affect her grades.
She didn't work up the courage to approach him for a week. He'd seemed entirely unconscious of her regard, but she was convinced that he was purposely ignoring her. He was still angry, or worse, he wasn't. Maybe he wasn't anything anymore. Not staring, not angry, not interested. The thought hurt, but she couldn't help thinking about it, and she couldn't stop looking. Rory told herself that it was her teachers' disappointment with her performance that prompted her to action.
The past week wasn't all that clear, but she must have been even more aware of him than she'd known, because when she decided to speak to him privately, she discovered that she knew when all his free periods were and where he'd be during them. She was getting scarily obsessive. This had to stop. It was a reason.
Tristan was completely engrossed in his history text when she joined him in the library. She thought she'd managed the approaching him bit very well, but there was something stuck in her throat now. You weren't supposed to speak in here anyway.
He looked up once he'd finished the paragraph, going from enquiring to wary far too quickly.
"I wanted to talk to you." Too low, but at least her voice didn't crack.
"You did."
"Can we go somewhere else?"
A pause that felt long, and if he rejected her did that make her an ex? Then he was shoving his book into his bag and standing and he was always ahead of her.
They ended up on a bench in the courtyard. It was prettiest in spring, when the air was filled with lilac and the sky with apple and cherry. The bench was still shielded with leaves, but all the blossoms had fallen.
"So I'm sorry." She smiled nervously. "I've said that a lot. To you. But I mean it."
"I know."
"Do you care?"
"It's always nice to get an apology. Makes you feel charitable when you accept it."
"Is that the only reason you would?"
"No. I know you mean it."
"Good." This was as far as she could reasonably expect to get. "And all that stuff I said the other day — I didn't mean it. Mostly. I think you have to take some responsibility."
"You do."
Not encouraging. "But I have to take more." A little more.
"You do." Agreement, this time.
"And I'm sorry that I didn't get the chance to do what we talked about, to tell Jess. I would have." She knew this; she was sorry about the fallout, but she wasn't sorry that it was over. "I wish you knew that."
"Did you want something?"
He was just trying to fluster her. If she let him, she'd have to do this again. "To talk to you. Let me. Although I wouldn't mind if you did a bit." It would take the pressure off.
"Then talk." His voice was strained, patience gone. "Get to the point. Have one."
"Fine." Synopsis. She could do this. "I'm sorry about what happened, and we'd come to this agreement that I was going to keep, and would you?" Or maybe she couldn't.
"Would I what? Exactly."
"Just—" This was incredibly frustrating. Rory knew what she wanted, but had no idea how to get it. "We were going to try. I want to. That hasn't changed." Has it for you? Couldn't bring herself to ask, and his reply would tell her anyway.
"I'm never going to know what you would have done."
"I know."
"No, you don't." She wanted to argue with that, but he was right. A bird took flight from the tree above, and the branches shivered. Tristan's voice recalled Rory's attention. "I could try. Nothing more."
Impossibly easy, impossible relief, and could you throw up from that? She was going to. She fought the urge to put her head between her knees. It passed, and then there was just excitement.
"What happens now? What do we do?" He sounded slightly uncertain, and she didn't know how to change that.
"I don't know. I—"
She shook her head from side to side, trying to think of something to say. The sun was shining through the leaves, dappling Tristan's face. She could look at him now. Turned towards her, he was squinting against the light, and that made it even more acceptable. Rory studied the softness and vulnerability of his mouth, the underlying tenseness that was almost abhorrent. She watched it turn down at the corners, watched little lines crease his forehead as he frowned. And he was too beautiful for breath, but she stared at him until the ache in her chest became painful and she forced herself to inhale. The sudden knowledge of how young he was, they both were, how easy to wound, was far more shocking than it had any right to be; all she knew was that she didn't want that look on his face to be because of her. She wanted a chance, the chance to look after him, and keep him safe, even from herself.
And she didn't know what would happen; they were still angry, and hurt, and she thought that maybe they'd take it out on each other and they'd end up hating each other like they never had, like they should never have to when he could make her feel like this right now. And as she watched the kiss approach, felt its inevitability, and then the first gentle pressure of lips, and warm breath pushed into her mouth, she realised that she was the one who'd moved.
End.