Author: VeeTee [vt88600@yahoo.com]

Date: 22 February 2003

Rated: PG13 (language)

Spoilers: May contain spoilers for the second season.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters you recognise from the show.

Summary: Rory has to deal with her past, while Tristan has to deal with the present.

A/N: Busy busy and major writer's block/writing anxiety. Apologies if this thing sucks. Grrr. Oh Major Thanks heaps heaps heaps to Jules because you rock and are a v.v.v. cool chica! Love, V.

Better Days

Chapter 8: Stealing Time and a Favour Asked

The powers that be must not like him.

That was the only conclusion Tristan could come up with. Just as soon as he discovered a new source of happiness in his life, another part of it unraveled completely and all Tristan could do was sit, frozen, and stare as it collapsed in his face.

Just what exactly was he supposed to tell Mary? Tristan had never, in his life, actually thought about what he would say if, when, she posed that question to him. He'd been going through life assuming that in the beginning stages, Mary would just kind of, accept that she was mommy-less. Or that a mother figure was not present in her life. Apparently, he had assumed wrongly.

It wasn't that he was a stupid father. It wasn't as if he was shirking his duties. It was just that… He never really knew what he would say when the time came for him to sit her down and explain to her why daddy and mommy where not on friendly terms. He thought… He had hoped that when the time came for it, she would be… well… older. Explaining this to a five-year-old was not going to be the easiest of tasks.

Tristan sighed. Plopping Mary on the chair, he stood up, smiled at her nervously, ran his hand through his hair—a habit picked up as a child and one which he never seemed able to get rid of—sighed louder. He tried to look everywhere but at his daughter, who, at this moment, was happily sitting in that chair smiling up at her favourite person in the world.

"Ah…" He cleared his throat. "Uhm…" No sound came out. Okay… This is definitely not going to be easy…

Mary eagerly bounced in the leather chair, swinging her short legs. "Daddy?"

"Eh heh," Tristan began again. "Weeell… Um, you see… You do have a uh, mommy… But, uh…"

Mary blinked at him.

Then, in a last desperate hope, he thought of someone who could possibly help.

He picked Mary up and put her on the ground. "Baby," he said, "I'm really sorry, but I have to finish my work… I promise I will help you."

Slightly dejected, a look that very nearly broke Tristan's heart, Mary nodded with a surprising understanding, way beyond her years, and left the study.

Groaning, Tristan reached for his Rolodex and the telephone.

Toweling her hair, Rory made her way from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed determined to start her life anew. Or… err, something to that effect anyway. At least I have resolved to move on.

She knew it wasn't going to be easy. But… What else was she supposed to do? Sit in a little corner and cry all day? No matter how she looked at it, wasting herself away crying was definitely not going to bring her beloved Colm back. And it wasn't going to do her any world of good. And as for the mourning. Well, mourning was… good…?

Well, its going to have to be accepted for now. I do have to let go, Rory decided.

There. That was the logical, normal Rory back. That was a good start… Now it would just be a day at a time.

Distractions were more than welcome…

Rrrring. "Aaaa," Rory exclaimed, startled. What uncanny timing fate had.

After a quick sweep of the room to locate the receiver, she found it—surprisingly—in its proper cradle. Hrrm. Two days and she was already acting abnormal. "Hello?"

"Hello, uhm… Rory?"

The voice was familiar, the tone however, was not. Tristan sounded nervous. "Tristan?" Rory asked, tentatively.

A sigh of relief. "You're home. I was… wondering… if you could… I need your help." Tristan asking her for help?

"Listen, I'm really sorry to just call you like this out of the blue, I know we've just met again, and everything, but I have this enormous problem and I didn't know who to turn to—"

"Tristan!" Rory said, interrupting his rambling, "I would love to help you out… If you'll tell me what it is you need help with."

"Its big," Tristan supplied.

"…And?"

"Its complicated."

"Is it legal?" Rory asked, nervously.

That, Tristan had to laugh at, even under all his stress, "Of course."

"How am I to help, if I haven't a clue what to help with, huh?"

"Mary…is asking me about her mother."

Rory cringed. "Ouch. What did you say? Nothing damaging, I hope."

"See, that's just it. I didn't know what to say…" Tristan explained. "I just, kind of, told her that I'd get back to her on that…"

"You just left her hanging?!"

"What was I supposed to do?!"

"Something, but not that!"

"Arghhh, but I don't know what to do," Tristan exclaimed, frustrated. "This part of fatherhood I never really bargained with."

"You never made a backup speech? For when the time came for it?" Rory asked.

"Well, I never thought that this question would pop up so early in her life…"

Rory paused to think of what her own mother had said when she asked her that very question about her her father. Except, Rory couldn't recall. Christopher was always in her life, close or faraway, but not a black hole in her history of existence. Which was what Regina was to Mary.

"You know what?" Rory said after awhile. "When I was a little kid, my dad was always there. I mean, not in the physical sense, but I knew that he was around. In my life, I mean."

"But," Tristan whined, "How is that supposed to help me?"

Rory twirled the telephone cord between her thumb and index fingers. "Maybe you should ask Regina to meet her daughter…"

Tristan balked. "What? You're asking me to—"

"You can't just take on this responsibility by yourself," Rory defended her idea. "Besides, you of all people should know it takes two people to make a baby."

Tristan chuckled. "Flashback to ten years ago, and I would be enjoying where this conversation's going, but…" He sighed. Then reluctantly, he added, "To be honest, I don't know where she is, Rory."

"How can you not know where the mother of your own child is?"

"I saw her once," Tristan said. "When Mary had just turned three. We talked. It went fine until I told her how wonderful Mary was growing up to be. Then she had this sudden desire to powder her nose, and I never saw from her since. The last I heard of her was around six months ago; she sent me a short postcard telling me she was moving to Italy. She didn't give a return address."

"Don't you think Mary would want to meet her?"

"I don't think anyone would want to meet her."

"Don't joke," Rory chided. "This is serious."

"I of all people know the seriousness of this situation," Tristan said. "I… hated seeing the look of disappointed on her face, Rory. But the thing I know is that she'll be even more disappointed when I do tell her the truth. It hurts me to think that Mary could be hurt be all of this. She's too young, you know?"

Silence filled the airwaves.

"Well," Tristan said. "Listen to me go on and on."

"No, its all right, really," Rory replied, reassuringly. "Trust me, I need all the distractions I can get."

"Why?"

"Its…its nothing, really." Rory shook away an idea that had formed in her head about telling Tristan about Colm. He didn't need other people's problems right now, she decided.

"Are you sure? Because, you know, if we ever get through this, I will owe you everything," Tristan replied. "You can talk to me."

Rory forced a smile. "I know. Thank you." A strange sense of warmth and reassurance filled her.

More silence.

"I still think you should talk to Regina."

"No… As much as possible, I'd like to figure out a solution that does not involve her. You don't know her, Rory. She's… not… nice…"

"Not nice. That doesn't sound that bad."

"Trust me, there are other adjectives I could use," Tristan commented dryly. "However, as an adult and a father, I prefer to stick with that one."

"Well, how about… how about coffee?" Rory asked tentatively. She wasn't sure whether she actually wanted to be social after the past two days, yet, she felt that Tristan's problem was indeed a big one, and she felt a sense of… elation, that he turned to her with it. Plus, throwing her energy in helping someone else with their problems certainly seemed a much better option to her than moping about the apartment all day.

Tristan sounded almost relieved. "Actually, I was just about to make some lunch for Mary and I. How about you come over instead? Free food…"

Rory realised just how little she had consumed and her stomach growled at the thought. Although she was a little hesitant to accept Tristan's invitation to his home—it seemed too much like invading his privacy—her survival instinct got the better of her. She was hungry. And no Gilmore would refuse the offer of free food. "That sounds fantastic, actually!"

After giving his address, they were about to hang up, when Tristan remembered something. "Rory?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"No problem."