Everything's Not Lost

- Guinevere -

A/N: Come on, send me a review guys. I don't know if I even like this story yet, so offer some suggestions, okay? : )

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't want to.

~*~

Ch Three: Empire Diner

Rory made her way back to the living room where Tristan was flipping through a pile of photographs she had left on the coffee table. She couldn't decide what to do about the maybe-situation she may or may not be in. If she said something about her boyfriend/ roommate, she might offend him, or make him think that she thought that's why he was there. But if she didn't say anything, she might end up leading him on. She finally decided the safest route was number two, and she would just let things go back to the way they were progressing before the phone call.

Tristan held up a picture of Rory and Dean at Rory's debutante ball. "You actually went to one of these?" He asked. "And you took 'Bagboy' with you?"

"Dean," Rory began, ready to let him have it, but he cut her off with:

"I know, I just couldn't remember the guys name. Sorry."

"Forgiven. Anyway, yes, I went to one as a courtesy to my grandmother, and never did it again."

"Wow. The things I never knew about Rory Gilmore," Tristan said wistfully.

"Hey, there's a lot you never knew about me. A whole lot."

"Then tell me. Like who is this guy?" He held up a worn, folded photo of Rory and Jess in a sleigh.

"That's Jess. He was my boyfriend after I broke up with Bag- I mean Dean." No need to mention any more than that, she reasoned.

"And what about that famous mother of yours. She really didn't like me very much."

"I think you may have symbolized everything she ever hated about rich, spoiled private school kids."

"Yeah, probably. Does she still, what, run an inn? If I remember correctly."

"The one she managed actually had a fire, so she bought her own with one of her friends. It did so well, she handed the reins over to her deputy a few years ago, and she moved here with my step-dad to open a Williams' Hardware."

"Isn't that the diner/restaurant on Broadway and 53rd? I love it there. Greatest coffee east of Seattle. Wasn't there one in your hometown?"

"Yeah, the original. My mom married the guy who owned it and convinced him he should franchise. She meant maybe a little closer to Hartford or New Haven, but you plant a seed in Luke's head, and that thing just grows until it's as big as it can possibly get, but that's a good thing I guess."

At this point Tristan glanced down at his watch and noticed that it read 7:30. "Wow, sorry to cut out on you, but I've got to be in court in the morning and I'm about half ready. We should do this again sometime, Rory."

"Yeah, we should. It was fun."

"Yeah, it was. So, I'll see you later then, seeing as we are neighbors."

"You certainly will," Rory followed him toward the door. "Good night and good luck tomorrow," she called as she shut the door behind him. Suddenly, their last meeting entered her head, specifically what Tristan had said. 'I'd kiss you goodbye, but your boyfriends' watching.' She had to wonder if that may still be true.

~*~*~

Tuesday afternoon Rory had taken a run through Central Park. A good hour of sweeping out her mind, thinking clearly as the cool breeze rushed by. After her run, she sat down on a bench near The Lake and admired the view. Who should happen along, in all his lanky yet strong and confident glory, but Tristan who himself had obviously just ran for quite a while.

"Hey Rory. Don't take this personally, but I didn't really take you for the athletic type," he said as he sat next to her and retied his sneaker.

"Well," Rory laughed, "I'm not really, but sometimes I just like to go for a run."

"Ah, I see. This is a great place to clear your mind. It's like an island of calm serenity in the dead center of a storm of bustle and stress."

"My thoughts exactly. Hey, I've got to get home to finish an article, and it looks like you just started, so I'll let you get back to it, okay?"

"Sure. But, uh, Rory, are you busy later tonight?" He figured he might as well have some fun after the past two days he had had.

She thought about his question, looking for any sort of implications behind his invitation, but he looked genuine enough. "After I finish, I should be all clear. Why, what did you have in mind?"

"There's this diner, the Empire Diner, and though it's not as good as Williams' and it is certainly no macaroni and cheese, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me."

"Sure, sounds great. How's eightish sound?"

"Good for me. See you then." With that, he stood and took off running, and Rory turned toward home.

~*~*~

Rory had finished her article, submitted it and then gotten in the shower. At seven she was standing in her half-unpacked closet, trying to decide what to wear. This wasn't a date, of that she was sure, but it also wasn't vegging out with Lane. She decided on her favorite pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. Prepared to leave whenever Tristan arrived, she settled down on the couch and turned on the tv. Ten minutes into a rerun of Will and Grace, the phone rang.

Rory searched through the cushions until she found the cordless and answered. "Hello?"

"Hey baby, what's happening?" It was her boyfriend, laughing the entire time he said this.

"I thought you weren't going to try to call since the reception is so bad," he had told her this when he called late last night.

"The weather cleared up, so I thought I'd try it out. Do I sound okay?"

"Sounds good to me. But are you getting a cold?"

"I think so.. So what are you up to this evening?"

"Well you know I told you about Tristan a long time ago?"

"Yeah, the Bible Boy. The one you hated but secretly loved."

"Your interpretation, not mine. Anyway, he is our neighbor. He was here last night when you called the first time, and tonight we're going to check out this diner he knows."

"Oh, sounds like fun. Well, you always liked the bad guys." He could barely conceal the concern in his voice, Rory noted.

"Well, maybe I did like them, but I love you," Rory reassured him.

"I know, I know. But enough of this sad love story. You, go have fun, but don't forget to pick me up tomorrow afternoon."

"I won't, don't you worry. Bye."

"Bye Ror. Love you."

Rory hung up and dialed her mother's cell phone. After two rings, the voice mail picked up. "Hi Mom, it's me, Rory, your daughter. Hope you aren't somewhere tied up, just beyond reaching distance of a steaming cup of Columbian dark roast. Call me back. Luke, if you get this, will you remind her please? Thanks guys, bye."

Rory placed the phone on the end table and leaned forward to get the remote. After twenty minutes of one of her favorite episodes of Boston Public, there was a knock on the door. "Coming." she called, grabbing her jacket. "Hi Tristan, she said as she opened, locked and shut the door.

"Hey. So I hope you're ready for a food fest 'cause this place is great. The only catch is, you have to eat breakfast food, 'cause that's what they are known for." Tristan held the elevator door and pressed the 1.

"Where is it exactly? I've never heard of it before."

"Way down in Chelsea, but if we go straight down on the C train, it shouldn't take any more than twenty minutes."

"Good, 'cause I'm starved." The two stepped out of the elevator and exited their building. "So Tristan, tell me something about yourself. You, after all, know a lot more about me than I do about you."

"What is there to tell? My family is a veritable laughing stock, although in Society, they're pretty normal. I work in a job I hate in one of the family companies. I live a rich man's boring life."

"It can't be all that bad. What do you do exactly?"

"I'm a lawyer for my uncle's firm. But do you want to know what I really want to do?"

"What's that?" she asked as she took a seat on the subway they had just boarded.

"Work for something like Legal Aide or a nonprofit. This may sound stupid, but you know that show like six years ago or something? The Guardian? I want to be like him. Not just wasting away practicing corporate law for the rest of my life, but actually making a difference."

"So why can't you?"

"Because it's not what's expected of me. I'm supposed to be the trophy son, lord knows no one else can be."

"So defy all preordained destinies set forth by your family and go for it."

"It's not that easy Rory. I'm holding on in my family by a thread as it is. I think I may be the only sane one left."

"Are they really that bad?"

"My father is sixty-five, and his fourth wife of only three months is pregnant - did I mention that she's only thirty-seven? I have a one-year-old brother and a three-year-old sister, both from his third wife, and a ten-year-old sister from his second wife, not to mention my forty-four-year-old sister and I from his first. My mother and father were married happily for thirty-five years, until she went berserk and he cheated on her with his soon-to-be second wife. My uncle won't promote me directly to Deputy Senior Partner because of a vendetta he has against my father, who in turn wants to "take care of the situation." Yeah, they are 'that bad.'"

"So they are. But screw them, Tristan. I never thought you of all people would be one to give in to something you didn't want to do."

"Military school, enough said."

"Yeah, but you had no choice back then. Now, you do."

"I suppose you're right, but Rome wasn't built in a day. There's nothing I can do about any of this tonight, so why don't we just have a good time and thoroughly stuff ourselves."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

They sat for a moment, then the train lurched to a stop. Tristan offered Rory his hand and they both stood. "Let's go have some fun Mary," he said as they exited and headed up to the street.

"Hey Tristan?" Rory glanced at him sweetly.

"Yeah?"

"Please, don't call me Mary. You know, it really spoils it," though she said this sternly, she flashed him a smile as she finished.

"You got it Mary."

The two headed down Twenty-Second Avenue for an evening of scrambled eggs and French toast as the sun set before them. They painted a perfect portrait of the typical New York couple in early spring. Too bad they weren't a couple.

~*~

Yeah, so R&R, please. Should I continue??