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 9: Getting to Know You
Well, it took longer than just lunch to map out a plan. Lunch came and went at the Dugray penthouse, and it was five o'clock when Rory finally managed to convince Tristan of a decision. "Finally," Rory said, leaning back in a suede brown settee, "I cannot believe I have been at your house this whole day."
Tristan smiled across the room. He was surrounded by boxes that the two had uncovered, boxes filled with memories and newspaper clippings and photographs that never had time to be put into albums. Rory had convinced Tristan to show Mary a few photos of Regina and him, in case Mary was still curious.
After much compromise on both parts, Tristan had agreed to tell Mary the whole truth, so long as he didn't have to hunt down his ex-fiancée who was now in parts unknown anyway.
"Well, since its almost dinner, why don't you just stay anyway?" Tristan asked. "That way I can go have 'The Talk' with Mare and you can go buy some pasta for me, cos my feet hurt."
Rory rolled her eyes. "You. Lazy."
Tristan shrugged, "I've been digging up history this whole day, give me a break."
"Oh, whine whine whine. Poor little rich boy," Rory said, teasingly.
"You can't say anything," Tristan said, "You aren't the one with the broken past, and hidden mysteries and child who's looking for her long lost mother."
"So dramatic."
"Indeed," Tristan said proudly. "I took drama for a year at Yale."
"Ahh, that explains a lot," Rory nodded knowingly. She stood up and walked across the library to peer at the full and almost overflowing bookshelves.
"Mare should be heading back from swimming with Jessica," Tristan mused aloud. "So, how about it, Ror? Stay for dinner? Mare would love it…"
Rory turned around, a thought at the back of her mind had been nagging her and she had just remembered it. "Tristan? What's the story behind Mary's name?"
Tristan blushed. "Oh, you remember what I used to call you in high school, right?"
"Yep," she replied, shuddering. "What horrid memories."
Tristan chuckled lightly, "Well, it was sort of a coincidence actually, that we named her Mary. Regina was about to name her Sloane, and I put my foot down. She said, 'Well, can you think of a better name?' And the first name in my head I could think of was Mary. So that was it. We named her Mary."
"Sloane?" Rory laughed, as the sound of the doorbell rang. "Ah, the little princess is here…"
The two of them walked to the door and as soon as Tristan opened the hinge, a little ball of human launched herself at her father. "Daddy!"
"Hey babe," Tristan said, giving his daughter a kiss. He turned to the nanny of Mary's friend who had brought Mary safely home. "Thanks so much, Liza."
"No problem, Mr. Dugray. Have a great day," she smiled and turned to the elevator.
Closing the door, Tristan set Mary on the floor. Rory smiled at the little girl, "Hey Mary, how was swimming?"
"Rory!" Mary squealed, noticing for the first time her presence. "You're still here! Yay! Let's play. Daddy, can I go play with Rory?" She already had her tiny hand clutching around Rory's bigger one.
"Uh…" Tristan looked at Rory who looked pointedly back at him and tapped her foot. "Uhm, in a minute, sweetie. Rory has to go by something for dinner and then she'll be back to play with you, but right now daddy has to talk to you." Rory smiled, satisfied.
Mary reluctantly let go of her hand. "Oh, OK, bye Rory, but come back quick, 'kay?"
Rory nodded, and bent down. "I promise, Mare. Do you want anything?"
"Ice cream! Chocolate!"
"OK," Rory said, and tweaked her nose. "I'll be back," she called behind her shoulder as she grabbed her coat. "Take care." She disappeared out the door.
Mary turned and looked at her father. "OK, Daddy… So?"
Tristan took a deep breath. "Lets sit down, sweetheart." He picked his daughter up and took her to Mary's favourite chair, settled down in it and settled his daughter on his lap. She curled up against him, hair still damp from the pool.
"Now, remember this morning, when you asked me about…Your mom?" Tristan started, with a little hesitation. He felt her nod against him. "Well, here's the story, darling, I'm going to tell you about your mother…"
And he launched into the tale of him and Regina Brown.
