Author: Sunday Rain
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Second season.
Disclaimer: Don't own em.
Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present.
Better Days
Chapter 7: The Aftermaths of Unresolved Issues
It had been two days since the discovery of the photo frame.
Two days since Rory had gone to the office.
Two days since she had eaten proper meals, answered the telephone or gotten out of bed.
Subsisting mainly on coffee, Rory lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling. If only she could get over him. Get over the fact that he was gone.
The worst part was that the last she saw of him was during a fight. A terrible fight. A fight caused because she was a chicken and couldn't see a good thing when she had it.
She should have said yes that instant. Then they would have at least had one happy night before…the end. Rory choked up at that. She didn't want to think about him in pain. She hoped that he had been sleeping when it happened, or at least been quick for him.
She did love him.
The shrill ringing of the telephone jolted her from her reverie. She listened to her answering-machine-self, thinking, My God, was I high when I recorded that? Talk about over perky.
"…Hey Ror, its your beloved mom. Again. Listen, I promised Luke that this was the last time I'd call today, but babe, you have got me worried sick over here! If you won't call me by tonight then I'm coming over okay? I love you!"
Rory groaned. Boxes of Kleenex surrounded her and crumpled, used ones were scattered all over the floor and bed. Three giant, empty, family sized cartons of Ben and Jerry's littered the bedside table, along with three dirty coffee mugs and an actual pot still half filled with cold coffee. Rory's secret stash of expensive European chocolates, meant to last more than a month, had been consumed within the past days. Definitely, this was not healthy.
She turned and caught her reflection in her vanity mirror. Ugh. She looked awful. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face was puffy and red, no surprise after two whole days of constant crying. Her fluffy blue bunny pajamas were wrinkled from the constant wear. And… her odor was not very appealing either.
She needed to get up off her sorry butt and clean up. There was no point in being sorry. No matter how much she kicked herself over the matter, how much she cried her heart out, how much she still pined over Colman and regretted her indecisiveness about his proposal, it wasn't going to bring him back.
Rory took a deep, deep breath. I am just going to have to face up to the fact that he is gone and there's nothing else I can do but love his memory and move on.
Saying that was so simple. When it came time to put her plan into practice, it was not as easy.
"Arrrgh," she cried outloud, frustrated with herself. She hated not being able to control her feelings. Logically, she knew it was not her fault that he was dead. But at the back of her mind, she couldn't help wondering whether his death was Destiny's way of telling her that she was a foolish woman, who was never able to make up her mind about love. She who didn't realise that he was the best she probably would ever have, the only one who would love her. By not answering his proposal that night, she as good as ended their relationship. Destiny then proceeded to show her a lesson.
Prior to this, Rory's life had been a satisfying and almost impossibly sheltered. She never had to understand the meaning of loss, never really had to experience life without someone she loved. But this time, it was her turn to have her heart broken.
Now she really did have to face life alone.
And all she could do was deal.
Rory stood up from her bed shakily. It was time to get out of poor me mode and face reality.
But first, Rory headed for her bathroom.
Tristan looked at the phone. It had been two days since he and Rory had gone out for that coffee. He hated to admit that he was eager to see her again. He never in his life knew the feeling and excitement one could have from just having a true friend, but what he felt after meeting Rory had to be something along the lines of that.
Sure, he knew they had just gotten reacquainted, but he had told Rory more about his life than he had ever dared to in those few short hours with her than even with Mark or his friend John Brewer (who, come to think of it, he had not heard from in weeks).
Tristan was not used to friendship. He wasn't used to being overjoyed at having a friend. He wasn't used to being a friend. But that's what Rory said the two of them were. She had said that years ago on a bench in front of an old vine-covered school in a far away land, and she had said that years later, in a supermarket.
Tristan smiled. He wanted to spend some time with his friend, Rory. That sounded weird even to his ears, but it was a comfortable sort of weird, like the phrase was meant to be.
He picked up the phone, but before he got a chance to dial, Mary, who up until that point had made her presence in the spacious library unknown, crawled up onto his lap.
"Hey!" Tristan, surprised, exclaimed.
An enormous smile on her face, Mary gave her father a warm hug, nuzzled him and landed a sloppy kiss on his cheek.
There was a suspicious gleam in her eye.
"Uhuh, nice try babe," Tristan laughed, giving his little girl a squeeze back. "I know that look. You want something, don't you?"
Mary looked pleased with herself at succeeding. "Can you help me with my homework, daddy?"
"Anything, sweetheart," he replied, knowing full well that he could never deny his adorable daughter of anything. "What is it?"
"Well, I have to finish my picture of my family for school…" Mary started. "And all the kids have all these people in their pictures, and I was wondering, daddy, uhm, do I have a mommy? Because all the other kids do. So, where's my mommy?"
Tristan froze. Shit.
