A.N: I know that this seems AU, but honestly, it is not. It's just that a lot of things have happened, which you will find out as the story moves along. There's a reason for everything, trust me. How far along into the future does this take place? Give or take 10 years. I cannot express how amused I was that so many reviews mentioned Natalie and asked who she is. Hee!


* * * * *

It Had To Be You
by inmyeyes
02 : Que Sera Sera


"There are things we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn and people whom we can't live without but have to let go".

The next seven days stretched out before him, seeming like an endless body of water in which he had to cross. There was no land in sight, and he wasn't at all sure if he would survive the journey. And if he did survive, would he be battered and bruised? Or would he turn out a better man?

As he stared unseeing into the New York skyline- the glorious sunset bathing the city in splashes of orange and red and every other colour imaginable, the tall skyscrapers that reached for the heavens- he absently twirled the ring on his left hand, bringing back memories that he didn't wish to relive.

It was an innocuous looking ring; a silver band without any designs or any markings that deemed it special. His grandfather had given it to him on his 12th birthday- or was it his 11th birthday?- but as a young, lively boy, he had been more interested in his other gifts; the Playstation, the trip to Disney World and the assortment of other gifts that had been a result of his party. It hasn't meant much to him then; of course, he had thanked his grandfather profusely and sat patiently next to him as the story behind the ring was passed onto him. Back then, he had the attention span of a flea and he hadn't absorbed anything of what his grandfather had said. Instead, once his grandfather was done, he had jumped up, dispensed a hug and then ran off to hook up his Playstation to his TV.

The ring was soon forgotten, probably lost in the mess that resided in one of his drawers. It didn't cross his mind at all, until about 4 years later. He remembered that day clearly; he had been woken up late one night by a phone call from his grandmother, who frantically told him that his grandfather just had a heart attack and was to be admitted into hospital. As he pulled a shirt over his head, his eyes caught a glint of silver on his dresser. Amidst the neat row of toiletries and the photo frame with a shot of his grandfather and him that was now the right side up- the maid must have been cleaning, he concluded- lay that piece of jewellery that would come to mean a lot of him. Curious, he had picked up the ring, and somehow, instantly knew that it was the one that had been given to him by his grandfather. Without hesitating, he slid it onto the middle finger of his left hand, grabbed his keys and ran out of the house.

His grandfather passed away not two weeks later, leaving him devastated. The two of them shared a bond that was so important to him since his own father didn't seem to care much for him. The presence of the ring on his finger- he had never taken it off since that day- served to remind him of the wonderful man whom his grandfather had been and of the love that had been shared between them.

At the thought of his father, the ever powerful Stephen DuGrey, who wielded his influence over his son like a knight brandishes his sword, he smiled wryly.

No one defied Stephen DuGrey; except his only son. When his father told him to sit, he'd stand. When he told him to come to dinner, Tristan would stay in his room. When Stephen forbade his son to do something, Tristan would do it- right in front of his father.

Tristan thrived on creating battles, especially after his grandfather's death and especially with his father. So, the long and drawn-out argument that was a result of Tristan's choice of major in college came as no surprise.

Stephen wanted his son to follow in his footsteps.

Tristan wanted to find his own niche.

The battle of words and wit was audible beyond the thick walls of the study and left an even thicker and higher wall between father and son.

Tristan won and… he didn't regret it.

He majored in Architecture at Yale and went on to get a Masters degree from the School of Architecture. Upon graduation, he went on to work for one of the best firms in New York, Chase & Heyer, which was headed by a close friend, Nicholas Chase. With his natural talent and unwavering determination to succeed, he quickly moved up the ranks until he became head architect and one of the firm's most valued employees.

For all intents and purposes, he had cut off all emotional ties with his family; returning to Hartford only when he absolutely had to and during the holidays. Natalie was the only reason why he didn't completely turn his back on his family.

Sighing, Tristan leaned his head against the cool glass of the window.

* * * * *

Stars Hollow.

It used to be the only place she knew as home. The tree-lined streets, the gazebo at the centre of town, the shops that she knew like the back of her hand, the close-knit community and the wonderful coffee at Luke's. Once, she had known nothing but that town.

The moment she had stepped foot on the Harvard campus, the world as she used to know it ceased to exist. The road before her had widened, opening her eyes to the scary and unpredictable reality, which she came to realize was the real world. Her rose-coloured glasses had been shattered, changing her irrevocably.

For one thing, she had been forced out of her shell since she had come to Harvard without knowing anyone. At first, that feeling of self-consciousness followed her everywhere but as the days passed, she learnt to be comfortable on her own. In a way, she learnt how to be her own best friend.

Her isolation didn't last long; after four days, her room mate finally arrived with, literally, a bang. She had been engrossed in her book- it was Wuthering Heights if she remembered correctly- when there had been a loud knock on her door. Without taking her eyes off the small print on the dog-eared page, she had stumbled her way to the door. But whoever it was who was waiting wasn't very patient and opened the door. As she entered the room, she tripped over a stack of books on the floor and fell right at Rory's feet.

There was stunned silence for a few seconds before they both burst out laughing. The brunette got up, dusted herself off and introduced herself as Samantha Lee from Maine, grinning the entire time. Just like that, a friendship was born.

It was half-way into her freshman when she bumped into a familiar face.

Paris Gellar.

At first, she couldn't recognize the girl who had become a friend during their junior year at Chilton. Gone was the long, blonde hair. In its place was a shorter hairstyle. Coupled with her cheery smile, jeans and a deep red top, Paris looked like the average college student. Of course, as she later found out, Paris was far from average; she had a 4.0 GPA, was on the executive board of Harvard-Radcliffe Television, was an Associate Arts Editor for The Harvard Independent, volunteered regularly at a nearby orphanage and was planning on a double major in Government and Economics, one of the few students who were doing so.

She remembered Paris' smile brightening when she had called out her name. She remembered her surprise when Paris gave Rory a short hug and said how great it was to see her. Sure, Paris had mellowed out during their friendship and being around Rory and Lorelai had certainly loosened her up a little but the Paris she saw at Harvard was a lot more carefree, happy and… well, young. For once, Paris was acting like the 19 year-old she was instead of the 18-going-on-30 act that she had before.

During their years at Harvard, the three girls formed a strong bond based on intellect, quirkiness, their distaste for fraternity boys, an appreciation for Brad Pitt, shared laughter, joy and tears and lots and lots of coffee. Upon graduation, they vowed to keep in touch despite the different directions they were taking; Paris was staying at Harvard to do her graduate studies, the Columbia School of Journalism had accepted Rory and Samantha was taking a few months off before looking for a job.

She made a mental note to let Paris know that she'd be in Stars Hollow; it had been a while since they had met. While she was at it, she also reminded herself to call Lane and tell her about her visit. She knew that her life-long friend had been planning to go home for Christmas which was barely two weeks away. Maybe she could come a little earlier and they could catch up…

The muffled sound of ringing reached her ears, interrupting her reverie. Rory stood still for a moment, wondering if she had imagined the sound. When she heard it again a few seconds later, she abandoned her packing, and her memories, and ran into the living room. Not surprisingly, the cordless phone was not on its stand. She stood in the middle of the room, ignoring the insistent noise as she tried to remember where she had stashed the phone. As she did so, the call was forwarded to her answering machine.

A familiar, perky voice filled the room. "Hey Rory, it's me."

At the sound of her best friend's voice, Rory smiled. She quickly searched the sofa and when she didn't find it lodged between the cushions, she knelt down on the floor and looked beneath the sofa for the elusive phone. She noticed the white object near the back and slid her hand between the bottom of the couch and the hardwood floor to fish it out.

"I guess you're not at home. I just-."

Quickly, she clicked it on. "Lane!"

A peal of laughter greeted her. "Let me guess? You couldn't find the phone."

"Shut up, Lane!" Rory retorted, sitting down on her couch with her feet curled under her. "I haven't spoken to you in so long and the first thing you do is make fun of me."

"It hasn't been that long," Lane protested. "It's only been about a week. Besides, poking fun at your expense has become a hobby of mine."

Rory snorted and rolled her eyes. "What did you want to tell me, anyways?"

"Well…"There was a pregnant pause before Lane squealed excitedly. "I'm engaged!"

Rory's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh my God!"

"I know!"

A thought just occurred to Rory. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Jess."

Her jaw dropped open. "Jess? Jess Mariano? Jess, Luke's nephew? Bad-ass Jess?"

On the other end, Lane grinned at the incredulous tone of her friend's voice. "Yes, that Jess."

"When were you planning on telling me that you guys are dating?" she demanded. "I can't believe you kept this from me!"

"I would have told you… eventually."

"Yeah. Just before the wedding invitations are sent out apparently," Rory retorted dryly. She shook her head, still unable to digest the information. "You and Jess… wow."

"I know. I didn't expect it either."

"You've got to tell me everything!"

"I will, I will," Lane promised. "Are you going back home?"

At the reminder of her week off, Rory sighed. "Yeah. My editor made me take a break. I'll driving back tomorrow."

"That's good. You've been working too hard."

"Lane!"

"Rory!" Lane copied her friend's dissenting tone. She knew Rory didn't want to talk about it so she changed the subject. "I'll be there the day after and we can catch up."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," Rory repeated. "I feel cheated."

"Don't. You're the second to know," Lane clarified.

Rory arched her brow. "How did your mother take it?"

"Not too bad."

"Not too bad?" Rory repeated, unable to hide her disbelief.

Lane laughed. "Well, there was a lot of screaming, she threatened to disown me if I didn't come to my senses and then she said a few insulting things about Jess. Not too bad. Once she cools down, I think she'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Rory asked, concerned.

"Sure about what?"

"Sure that your mom will be fine with this. Sure that you love him."

Lane didn't hesitate. "On both counts, yes."

"I'm really happy for you, Lane."

Lane laughed, the sound ringing with happiness. "I'm really happy for me too."

* * * * *

He didn't hide his relief when William, their butler, informed him that his parents were away and wouldn't be back for another two days. As he took off his coat and stepped into the marble foyer of the house, he struggled not to let the chilling stiffness of his surroundings get to him.

"Thank you, Will," he smiled warmly. "Is everyone here all right?"

The tall man who was dressed impeccably in a black suit smiled. "Everyone's fine, Tristan."

"Even Natalie?"

William's expression softened. "Even Natalie," he confirmed. "Why don't you get some rest? The drive over must have been tiring. I'll let you know when dinner is ready."

Smiling gratefully at the servant whom he had come to consider a friend, Tristan took the stairs two steps at a time.

When he entered his room, he immediately headed for the bed and laid down. The three hour drive had worn him out mentally more than anything else. Being back in Hartford was always bittersweet for him; in some ways, he liked the familiarity and some of the memories that he had made as a boy. On the other hand, he had to deal with his parents, ex-Chiltonites and that feeling of being trapped by his name, his reputation and expectations.

He lay there for a few minutes, until that restlessness in him stirred again. Stifling a sigh, he sat up and wearily ran a hand through his hair. He reached for his bag and took out a black sketchbook. As he leaned back against the pillows, an image from his past took shape in his mind. Without a thought, he reached for a piece of charcoal and started drawing.

* * * * *

Her first stop once she arrived at Stars Hollow was Luke's. Number one, she needed coffee and two, she wasn't quite ready to see her mother yet.

As she pushed the door open, causing the bell to jingle, she resisted the urge to bolt when she saw Lorelai standing at the counter, gesturing wildly to Luke. She let a smile escape as she heard the familiar sounds of her mother arguing with Luke over her excessive intake of coffee. 'Some things never change,' she thought.

"Can I get some coffee in here?" she called out.

Lorelai stopped her tirade and turned around. "Rory!" she exclaimed.

"Hi Mom," Rory answered, smiling tentatively. Walking forward, she slowly reached out to hug her mother and noticed Lorelai's breath of relief at the affectionate gesture.

"What are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming."

Rory sat down on a stool and accepted the cup of coffee that Luke brought her. "I'm on a forced vacation."

Lorelai laughed. "Only you would have a forced vacation. What happened?"

"Apparently, I was working too hard."

Lorelai's expression was one of mock surprise. "Wow, that's a shocker." There was a short, awkward pause as she searched for something to say. Finally, she said, "Well, I need to get back to the Inn." She was referring to the inn that she had set up with Sookie some four years ago. "It's been 15 minutes… Sookie could have burned it down by now," she joked, earning some weak laughter from Rory. "I'll see you at home?"

Rory nodded, trying to smile as brightly as she could. "Yeah, I'll see you at home."

Lorelai's smile widened. "Great."

As Rory watched her mother's departing figure, she desperately wished that the distance between them could be breached. She could never have imagined that things between them could change so much, but it did. All it took was a piece of paper.

"She's been beating herself up over it," came the gruff voice from behind her.

Rory swivelled the stool around and met Luke's concerned gaze. "She shouldn't have hid it from me," she said quietly.

Luke didn't say anything for a few seconds. "I know. But it's in the past, Rory and it's not worth all the heartache that both of you are going through."

Rory gripped the edge of the counter tightly, trying to rein her anger. "It affected my whole life, Luke! How can I just be so forgiving? Because of that, I had doubts about my relationship with-" She broke off, shaking her head vehemently. "I can't just forget it, Luke."

"Rory-"

"Luke, I know you're trying to help. I know you mean well but for now, things can't go back to the way it used to be," she explained, her tone resigned. "Forgive and forget doesn't apply to this. Not yet."

Luke saw the weary expression in the eyes of the young woman whom he had come to think of as a daughter. He knew that he couldn't push the issue. "All right. But give her a little break, will you?"

Rory just smiled.

* * * * *

"Do you ever just sit down and relax?"

Tristan looked up from the sketch and smiled when he saw the girl leaning against the door frame. "Do you ever mind your own business?"

Sweet, tinkling laughter filled the room as the tall girl sauntered into the room and sat herself down on the bed next to him. "Not when it comes to you." She slung her arm around his shoulder and gave him a quick hug. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Absent-mindedly, he rubbed his cheek, leaving a streak of charcoal. "I didn't know I was coming until yesterday," he explained, intently examining the drawing he had done.

Natalie reached out and lightly rubbed off the streak that had marred his skin. Then she placed a light kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad you're here. I was getting a little bored all by myself."

Tristan looked up and met blue eyes that mirrored his own. "What happened to your lover boy? What was his name again?"

Natalie rolled her eyes. "His name is Glenn and we broke up."

"Who's your new flavour of the week?" he asked teasingly.

Her response was a smirk. "I should be asking you that, my dear brother."

"No new flavours. This ice-cream shop is closed."

"Paris was asking about you," she said casually.

Tristan arched his brow in surprise. "Oh really?"

"I think she likes you," Natalie said in a stage whisper.

"We're just friends, Nat. Don't get any ideas."

"Nope, no ideas." She grinned impishly. "I know you don't like her. You don't look at her the way you look at other women."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," was his off-handed response.

"I may only be 16, Tristan, but I know that you don't see Paris in a sexual way."

"Please do not put Paris and the word sexual in the same sentence." Tristan said playfully, giving an exaggerated shudder.

Natalie rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." Her eyes wandered to the sketchbook in her brother's hands and she marvelled at how lifelike and detailed the drawing was. "Who is she?" She saw the look on his face and knew that he was trying to make up an excuse. "Don't tell me that she's no one and that you drew this from your imagination or whatever."

Tristan sighed. "You're way too perceptive for your own good."

Natalie grinned unabashedly. "Thank you. Now tell me who the girl is."

His answer was purposely vague. "Just someone I knew."

"Tristan!" Natalie whined, tugging on his sleeve and intentionally annoying him. "Tell me!"

In his mind, the charcoal drawing before him came alive; the creamy, porcelain skin, the long, flowing dark brown hair, the electric blue eyes and soft, pink lips. A face that had become a memory which lingered at the back of his mind, emerging every once in a while and taunting him with all the 'what ifs'.

"She was the one who got away," Tristan said, smiling wistfully.

Knowledge clouded Natalie's eyes and she peered interestedly at the drawing. "The PJ Harvey girl?" she asked, remembering the story that he had once told her.

Tristan laughed lightly. "The PJ Harvey girl," he confirmed. His fingers idly traced his sketch. "Rory Gilmore."

* * * * *