Title: What Sam Says

Chapter 5: The First Mention of the Guy

Disclaimer: See the first three chapters. It's still true. 'Magine that!

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews…I'll try to answer some of the questions here, but the truth is, I'm not entirely sure what's gonna happen, so not everything's gonna be answered. Oh, and flashbacks are still in italics. And I think I'm going to add people who have actually been in the show…cause that seems like fun. I'm weird like that.

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"You ready to talk yet, sweetie?" Lorelai asked as Rory finished off her pancakes. Rory swallowed, and nodded.

"Where was I?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"You were unpacking in the hotel."

"Ah. Okay. So, I unpacked—that took about two minutes—and then I sprawled on one of the beds and started watching TV. But everything was in French, and I didn't understand any of it. Unfortunately, high school French only takes you so far."

Lorelai nodded. "I took Spanish. Only thing I remember is tengo hambre. I forget what it means, though. But continue. Everything on TV was in French."

"Right. I eventually settled on an episode of Friends I'd seen before."

"Which one?"

"Mom."

"Right. The story."

"So I was watching Friends when there was a knock on the door of the suite. I walked over to the door and asked who it was."

"Who was it?"

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"Mademoiselle, please open the door!" a voice asked desperately. Being that she knew nobody, Rory answered, but only opened one door, and only opened it a little bit. The young man from before, in the cab, came bursting through.

"You are in trouble. You must leave at once," he declared, running through the suite and into the bedroom with the TV on. Rory followed him, a little slower.

"You have already unpacked? But why?" the man practically wailed, gesturing to Rory's empty bag.

"I thought I was going to stay here for a while," Rory offered as an explanation. The man immediately started shaking his head.

"Non, non, non," he repeated over and over. "Pack again. We must leave as soon as possible."

Rory nodded and repacked. The man settled onto the bed, half-watching her, and half-watching the television. As Rory turned the TV off and they began a brisk walk from the room, the man turned to her and said, "That Joey. He is so funny."

Rory nodded, and the man continued steering her away from the suite. They bypassed the elevator and ran down the stairs, slowing to a quick walk as they entered into the lobby, with the crowds of people all around. The man suddenly grabbed Rory's hand and pulled her with him out the door, ignoring the man at the front desk, who was yelling about Mr. Miller's guest.

"Where are we going?" Rory asked as the man steered her around the building to a dark alleyway.

The man shook his head. "Mr. Miller says that you are to stay with his friend."

"Who's his friend?" Rory asked, confused. Suddenly a limousine pulled up and the back door swung open. The man pushed Rory in the small of her back and guided her into the back of the limousine.

"Goodbye, Mademoiselle," the man nodded, slammed the door, and the car started moving. It was incredibly dark inside the car, and the windows were tinted, so the late afternoon sun wasn't coming through. Rory glanced around her and spotted a button labeled, "Driver Separation Down," and pressed it.

The window directly in front of her rolled down and Rory saw half of the driver. He glanced in his rearview mirror.

"Curious, aren't we?" he asked in a perfect American accent.

"You're American?" Rory asked, surprised.

"Answering a question with a question. Classic sign of avoidance."

"I'm not avoiding anything," Rory said, annoyed. "And besides, I thought it was a hypothetical question. And you didn't answer my question."

"I assume yours is also hypothetical."

"You know what happens when you assume: You make an 'ass' of 'u' and 'me'."

"It wasn't hypothetical?"

"Alright, fine, it was hypothetical. Happy now?" Rory crossed her arms. God, this guy could push her buttons.

"Delirious." There was a pause. "All right then. Any questions you want to ask?"

"Yes."

"Ask away."

Rory thought. What was the most pressing question on her mind? "Who are you?"

"Your driver—or rather, Mark Miller's hired driver. At least for today."

What did that mean? "Where are we going?"

"A safe place."

"With Mark's friend?"

The driver paused. "Yes."

"Who is Mark's friend?"

"An old friend of yours, I'm told."

This piqued her curiosity. "Who?"

"I'm not allowed to tell. Not till we're at the safe place."

"Oh." Rory leaned back into her seat. "Are we there yet?" she asked, after a pause.

The driver laughed. "No, not yet. But we will be there soon."

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"Can I take a break?" Rory asked.

"Sure, sweetie. What do you want to do?"

"Well, first I want to go to the bathroom. And then I was thinking we could wander around town."

"You sure you're ready?"

"Yeah." Rory nodded, and then pushed herself from the table.

"Wait," Lorelai called out. "You know people are gonna ask who the father is."

Rory ducked her head and rubbed her hand over her stomach. "Maybe we won't wander just yet."

"Okay," Lorelai agreed softly. "But you can take your time, sweetie."

"I know." Rory nodded and headed to the bathroom.

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"We're here," the driver announced, pulling to a stop at a curb outside the Paris International Airport.

"The airport again?" Rory asked almost desperately.

"Yup. But this time we're headed for an English speaking country."

"'We'?"

"Yes, 'we'. Geez, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."

"I don't even know you."

"Yes, you do."

"What?" Rory asked, but the driver was already out of the limo. Seconds later, he opened her door and offered his hand.

"Shall we?"

"Sure," Rory said, taking his hand and climbing from the limo, looking around at the exact same airport she'd arrived at not long ago. She sighed, slightly, and allowed herself to be pulled by the driver—who was still holding her hand—through the airport, to a gate where another private jet was waiting. The driver pulled her onto the jet and settled her into a seat, and then disappeared for a minute. When he returned, the engines were turned on, and he had changed from his driver outfit to jeans and a t-shirt. He sat in the seat across from Rory and she got her first good look at him. The blue eyes seemed familiar, but the dark brown hair was entirely unknown to her.

And then he smirked, and winked, and she gasped.

"Tristan?" she asked, and he nodded.

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"Tristan DuGrey?" Lorelai asked incredulously.

Rory nodded. "Yep. Tristan DuGrey. Sophomore and junior year at Chilton. The most annoying person known to man."

"And you were stuck with him on a plane."

"Exactly." Rory nodded. There was a pause.

"Is he the father?" Lorelai asked, her eyes grazing over Rory's stomach for about the two thousandth time since Rory had shown up on her doorstep less than twelve hours before.

Rory bit her lip.