A.N: Wow, it's been a while. Sorry about that- I was stuck in a rut for a really long time. As always, thank you for all the lovely reviews. Hope you guys have fun reading this, although (sadly) nothing much really happens. It's a lot of introspective crap as I get into their heads so I hope I don't bore you. Heh. The pace will pick up in the next one, don't worry. And I'll try not to let too much time lapse before I update again.

* * * * *
It Had To Be You
by inmyeyes
11 : Still On My Brain

The time that he had spent with Rory seemed like a dream that he had abruptly woken up from. When he stepped into his plush apartment, he felt that same uncomfortable feeling he got every time he stepped into the place. He had been living there for almost a year already, but as he looked around, he realized that it didn't look lived-in at all. Sighing, he dropped his duffel bag and hit the 'play' button on his answering machine before lying down on his leather sofa.

He ignored the first few messages, which were from some of his friends who didn't know he was out of town. He made a mental note to call Nick and was thinking about what he was going to have for dinner when a familiar female voice filled the room.

"Tris-tan!" she sing-songed. "I was bored so I thought, what better thing to do than to harass my wonderful brother." Tristan rolled his eyes at Natalie's chattering. "I'll miss you dreadfully, but luckily for me, I'll see your ugly mug again in about a week. And please, brother dear, don't screw things up with Rory. Ta-ta!"

He let out a laugh at his sister's audacity but he was glad to hear her sound so upbeat. Although she had tried to hide it, he knew that she hadn't been feeling very well. Before he could start worrying about Natalie, the next message played and another familiar voice sounded.

"Hi Tristan," was her hesitant greeting. "I just- I wanted to tell you again thanks for last night. You helped me clear my head a little." Tristan sat up, a wide smile on his face, as he continued listening. "I'll give you a call when I get to New York- or," she paused, "you call me- whichever. Hope you got home okay. Bye."

He lay back down on the sofa, his mind absorbed with thoughts of Rory. On his drive back to New York, he told himself to stop analyzing everything that had happened between them; he resolved to let nature take its course. But that tiny, hidden insecure part of him rebelled against the thought, telling him that letting nature take its course would eventually lead to disastrous results. So, for the duration of his drive, he was torn between being proactive in his pursuit of Rory or just letting things happen. Then, of course, he chafed at the idea of pursuing Rory because he knew, instinctively, that he'd just be setting himself up for a fall. When he reached his apartment, he was still confused.

But hearing her voice gave him perspective: yes, he decided, he would just things unfold naturally. It was against his nature to just sit back, but he would do it. Besides, he told himself, he knew that he wanted her and had wanted her for a long time now.

The only uncertainty was whether she wanted him.

* * * * *

She was glad to be back in New York. New York was nothing like Stars Hollow and she suspected that she would never love the city as much as she loved her hometown; but New York was home in its own way. Even though living by herself had its lonely moments, she enjoyed her independence- from her protective mother, her overly-concerned grandparents and the nosy townsfolk. Being another face in the sea of people was a disheartening thought but for Rory, it had its merits.

Her trip back home was good for her… and bad at the same time. She was glad and actually very relieved that the problem between her and Lorelai was starting to sort itself out. Before she left, they had a long talk, clearing up the air and hashing out their thoughts and feelings. Her talk with her dad, and later with Tristan, opened her eyes to Lorelai's point of view. Her rational side won, and she found that the anger she had held so close to her heart was slowly dissipating. Anger was replaced with the pain that came with her estrangement with Lorelai. She was ready to smooth things over and to really deal with the history of her parents' relationship. There was a lot of arguing, a lot of crying, a lot of explaining… but it ended well with a lot of hugs. Their relationship was on the mend.

The bad part about her return to Stars Hollow was that it reminded her of how the path she had chosen in life was taking her away from where she belonged and it reminded her of the things that she didn't want to admit she lacked. The town was so warm and loving; while she didn't miss their protectiveness over her and how gossip traveled at the speed of light, she yearned for the easy acceptance and concern that everyone readily handed out to her. When she talked to Lane, she couldn't miss the way her eyes lit up at any mention of Jess and she was sorely reminded of how very much she wanted to be somebody's somebody.

And then… there was Tristan. She didn't quite know if she should categorize him in the good or bad column. On the one hand, their burgeoning friendship gave her a reason to smile and, she reminded herself, there was the distinct possibility that their relationship would transcend friendship. And that formed the basis of her confusion: a part of her welcomed the maelstrom of feeling that he evoked in her, but the more guarded part of her screamed caution. With Tristan, she recognized that passion could and would be a big part of the equation. And well, passion had the capability of overriding caution and rationality; Rory definitely was worried about that.

As she lay down on her sofa and mindlessly switched tv channels, she refused to admit to herself that she was waiting for the phone to ring. Of course, she realized that she could call him but she reasoned that she had been the one to call and leave a message and so, he should call her. Rory shook her head and laughed at her somehow faulty logic. She wasn't making sense to herself, a clear sign that she was frazzled and on edge.

She finally settled on a re-run of The Simpsons. After a few minutes, even Bart's crazy antics couldn't lift her spirits. There was only one course of action left: Coffee.

Sighing, she sat up and slipped her feet into her fuzzy bunny slippers before making her way to the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, half-listening to the blare of the television. She was so lost in la-la land that the sound of the telephone jarred her. Her eyes widened in expectation as she practically ran to the living room. As usual, the phone was nowhere to be found. Rory let out a loud growl of frustration and began overturning cushions and magazines, hoping to locate the source of the ringing.

"Don't stop ringing, don't stop ringing," she chanted, feeling increasingly frantic. The moment the cordless phone was in her hand, she immediately hit the 'on' button. "Hello," was her breathless greeting.

"What took you so long?"

"Oh," she bit back a sigh of disappointment. "It's only you."

"Wow, I'm feeling the love," Samantha laughed. "It's great that you're so enthused 'cos I'm waiting outside your door with bags of junk food."

Rory wandered back to the kitchen and was glad to see that the coffee had brewed. "You know, there's this new thing called a doorbell. It's a pretty useful device to let people know that you're at their door. " She poured the coffee into her favourite Powerpuff Gurls mug- a gift from her mother, of course- and took a long gulp.

"Doorbells are so over-rated. Especially those annoying ones that technically aren't bells. You know, the ones that play horrible, cheesy holiday music and they just go on and on. And you're just praying that someone would open the damn door and cut off the stupid music."

As Samantha continued her tirade, Rory made her way to her front door and pulled it open. "Hey." She hit the 'off' button on the phone and offered her friend a smile.

Samantha was leaning against the door frame, a quart of Ben & Jerry's ice-cream in her hand and grocery bags around her feet. She grinned, "Took you long enough."

* * * * *

He found that silence only made him think, and honestly, he was tired of thinking. And so, he did the one thing that he knew would obliterate any kind of rational thought. He'd get himself drunk.

As he walked through the doors to Harry's, he took a moment to adjust to the semi-darkness, the rambunctious laughter and the blare of the basketball game that was on tonight. Smiling at a few people he knew, he made his way to the back of the bar, the usual meeting place for him and his friends. 

"Well, look who's here!" came the sarcastic greeting.

Tristan laughed as he sat on the stool next to his friend. "Hey Nick."

"You didn't tell me you were back," he accused.

Tristan merely shrugged. "I was going to call you and let you know."

There was silence for a few minutes; Tristan avoided his friend's eyes, knowing that Nick was taking inventory. The silence was broken by the loud cheer that went up from the patrons who were following the game on the tv.

Nick smiled and shook his head, seeming incredulous. "You met a girl, didn't you? God, you were home for a week and somehow you got involved with a girl!"

He didn't try to deny it. There was a loud frustrated sigh, as he rested his chin on his steepled fingers.

Nick held back a laugh at his friend's forlorn expression, choosing instead to signal to a nearby waiter for another drink. "Who is she?"

Tristan didn't answer immediately, and Nick didn't push, knowing that the details would come forth in due time. When the waiter came to their table with a beer, Tristan reached for the mug and took a long gulp. Then, he finally answered the question.

"Just a girl that my parents tried to set me up with," was his vague answer.

Nick knew him too well. "Isn't the first time this has happened, so I know there's more to the story. Who's the girl? Anyone I know?"

"Her name is Rory Gilmore."

Nick racked his brain, trying to figure out if the name should have any significance. Indeed, the Gilmore name was familiar to him since his late father and late grandfather spoke highly of Richard Gilmore. But the name Rory Gilmore… his eyes widened as a conversation from years ago came to mind.



"Laura broke up with you?" Nick asked, his tone disbelieving. "I thought you said that everything was going well."

His laugh was bitter. "Well, I thought wrong."

"What did you do?"

Tristan laughed again. "I forgot her birthday." He paused, taking a deep breath. When he spoke, he knew that his voice would tremble. "And apparently, I don't know how to love."

Even in his half-inebriated state, Nick knew that despite the nonchalant way Tristan spoke, the words were painful for him to say. He didn't know how to respond, so he just looked away, not wanting to watch the hurt flash in his friend's eyes.

"You know," Tristan started, his voice casual, "there was this girl in Chilton… and I think I might have loved her. Or at least I could have."

"Really?" This was news to Nick; as far as he knew, Tristan had never had a relationship lasting anything more than 2 months and he definitely never said anything about loving any of his girlfriends.

"Rory Gilmore," he breathed. "She was- she was everything I never knew I wanted." He smiled wistfully. "I wanted so badly to get a chance to love her, but I never got it." A sigh, then he spoke, sounding resigned, "Maybe it was meant to be that way… since I couldn't have possible given her all the love she deserved."

Nick wanted confirmation. "You mean… the Rory Gilmore?"

"The very same one."

"I'm very sketchy with the details, but weren't you…"

Tristan's laugh was wry. "Yes, I am crazy about her."

Nick prodded further. "And the problem is?"

"The problem is that I shouldn't be crazy over her."

Nick raised his mug to his friend and grinned, trying to lighten to the mood. "You were never one to do what you should, Tristan."

His lips quirked in a half-smile. "True."

"So, what's your battle plan?"

Tristan shrugged. "I have no battle plan; I'm just gonna let things be."

This caused Nick to raise his brow. "How very unlike you."

"Well, we're talking about Rory Gilmore here," he pointed out. "I'd think that acting unlike myself would be an asset."

Nick shook his head, marveling at his friend's rationale. "I hope you're right, Tristan. I hope you're right."

* * * * *

As she sat down at her desk, Rory tried to stifle her yawn. She had barely gotten 4 hours of sleep before her alarm clock had unceremoniously taken her away from her peaceful slumber. She woke up to find herself settled uncomfortably on her couch, empty containers and wrappers around her. As she stretched her arms above her head, a bright pink post-it note fluttered to the ground. Squinting to read the almost illegible scrawl, she found that it was a hastily scribbled note from Samantha, saying that she had left about 4 in the morning and that she'd see her at work.

A long hot shower and four cups of coffee later, she was feeling a little more awake and coherent but seeing the large pile of paper that was on her desk made her want to just plead sickness and go home. But she was never one who would take the easy way out- at least not when it came to her work- so she pulled out her thermos full of coffee and took a drink before gamely looking through all the accumulated work on her desk.

She was half-way through reading a fax when someone put a piece of chocolate cake in front of her. "Sam, I really don't think that chocolate is a good choice after all the junk we ate last night."

Samantha just grinned and perched herself at the edge of Rory's desk. "You looked as though you needed a little pick-me-up."

Rory returned the grin and held up her thermos. "Well, I have my coffee so all is good."

"Have you read the memo?"

"What memo?"

Samantha searched through the papers on the desk until she found the one she was looking for. As she handed it to Rory, she said, "There's a Christmas party on the 23rd at the Marriott."

After scanning through the memo, she looked up to see Samantha smiling pointedly. She ignored her friend and said instead, "The Marriott? Wow, that's a little upscale."

She winked. "That's because I'm on the organizing committee this year and I managed to weasel out a larger budget."

"I'm sure it'll be great."

"Of course it'll be great. And you're going."

"No, I'm not," Rory disagreed, wary of the mischievous glint in her friend's eyes.

"Yes, you are. And you're gonna ask Tristan to go with you." Samantha rubbed her hands gleefully. "I wanna meet this guy who's gotten you out of your no-dating rut."

Rory was vehemently shaking her head, as she inwardly chastised herself for not divulging all the details of –what she liked to call- her non-relationship with Tristan. "No, I'm not going and I'm not asking him."

She leveled a questioning stare at her friend, who was fidgeting. Putting on her best 'reporter' voice, Samantha asked, "Would you say that Tristan is a good-looking man?"

Rory wasn't quire sure what Samantha was up to, but her wariness remained. "I guess so," she answered. "If you like the blonde type, he is attractive."

"Hmm. And would you say that he can hold a decent conversation?"

"Yes, Tristan has conversational skills."

Samantha grinned smugly. "So I see no reason why you would wanna hide him from the world."

"No, not the world." Rory rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. "I'm just hiding him from you."

"Hardy-har, Miss Gilmore." Her words lost her sarcastic bite as she urged, "Just ask him, and if he doesn't agree, then you don't have to go."

"So you don't want me there unless I'm with him?" Without waiting for a response, she gave in, knowing that Samantha would not stop hounding her until she agreed. "Okay, fine. I'll ask him."

"You know, with your astounding level of enthusiasm," Samantha remarked, "I'm sure he'll accept your invitation."

"Shut up and get me a fork, Sam." Rory eyed the cake on her desk. "Chocolate is suddenly looking good."

* * * * *


He hated being indecisive.

He had been poring over his latest assignment, which was for an office building downtown. After a week of idleness, the workaholic in him jumped at the chance to get back in the swing of things. But he soon found that his concentration was lacking; not surprisingly, his thoughts wandered to Rory. He had spent most of the previous night at Harry's with Nick. Contrary of his earlier plan, he didn't drink too much and decided instead to indulge in reliving every moment he had spent with her. Nick had been a most willing listener; Tristan suspected that his friend had been somewhat amused by his ramblings.

He'd been back in town for two days and Rory still hadn't called him. He wasn't sure if it was because she didn't want to, or because she wasn't back in New York yet. Of course, he could just call her and end his guessing game. But he didn't. A part of him warned him against seeming too eager and another part of him didn't want to be hurt in case she actually didn't want to talk to him. He tried to put her out of his mind, but the more he resolved not to think about her, the more his thoughts strayed.

That was why he found himself standing in the florist during his lunch break, trying to decide what flowers to send to her. Flowers, he thought, were a relatively safe bet. They would tell her that he was thinking of her and they would save him from outright rejection- Rory could just throw the bouquet away if she didn't feel anything that he was feeling.

Normally, he wouldn't think twice about sending a bouquet of red roses to a woman. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had never sent a woman anything but red roses. But somehow, he thought that roses – especially red ones- weren't appropriate; they conveyed too much. Plus, Rory wasn't just any woman. She was special to him and roses were too commonplace.

Sighing, he decided to just grab whichever type of flower that caught his eye.

* * * * *

"He gave you daffodils?"

Rory looked up from the bouquet that was lying on her desk to see Samantha's incredulous expression. "There's nothing wrong with daffodils," she said defensively.

"No, but from what you told me, he struck me as a roses kind of guy."

Rory just shrugged.

"So, this is your chance," Samantha said, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly.

"My chance to do what exactly?"

Samantha sighed exasperatedly. "I've been hearing you moan about how he hasn't called-"

"I have not been moaning. There has been no moaning of any kind," Rory protested.

"Well, you don't need to moan. You've been walking around, looking decidedly mopey and," she pointed accusingly, "don't think I didn't see how you suddenly became all smiley when you got his flowers."

"It's not like I get flowers every day."

She ignored Rory and went on, "So, this is your chance. Call him! Even if you don't wanna ask him to the party, at least call and thank him for the flowers."

"You had to use the courtesy reason, didn't you?" Rory narrowed her eyes.

Samantha's smile was sickly sweet. "Well, Rory dear, I do know how you hate to be rude. By the way, what does the card say?"

Rory slapped Samantha's hand away. "Go away, Sam."

Samantha laughed and winked before walking back to her desk, enjoying how easily she managed to rile Rory. "Call him," she said over her shoulder.

* * * * *

Tristan was home early for once. After spending his lunch break stressing over flowers, he had gone back to his office and remained holed up in there until five when he was finally done with the plans that were due. After showing them to Nick and discussing their upcoming project, he went home.

For once, he took the opportunity to relax. He took a long, warm shower before lying down on his king-sized bed and letting the sounds of Diana Krall soothe him. He was almost asleep when the telephone rang. He was tempted to just let it ring, but as his eyes drifted close, an image of Rory suddenly shot into his mind. Instantly, he jumped out of bed and reached for the phone on his bedside table.

"Hello?"

"Tristan? It's me, Rory."

He almost sighed in relief.

"I got your daffodils. They're gorgeous- thank you."

He thought back to what he had hastily written on the card- Thinking about you. He hoped it wasn't too much. "Well, you're welcome."

"Would you- well… I mean…"

Tristan laughed lightly, somehow comforted by how flustered she was- at least he wasn't the only one whose heart was pounding. "Spit it out, Rory."

The sound of her laugh traveled through the line, warming him. "What I've been trying to say is, would you wanna have dinner tonight? With me, I mean."

He was surprised since he had been trying to gather his nerve to ask the very same question ever since he picked up the phone and realized it was her. "I'd love to. I know this great place that-"

"I was hoping that we could stay in instead. It's been a long day and I just wanna relax a little."

Again, she surprised him. "Okay, sure."

"You can come over to my place and we can order pizza or Chinese or whatever."

"Sounds good," he agreed.

After confirming their plans and getting directions to her apartment, Tristan replaced the phone on his table and flopped back down on his bed. His cheeks hurt from smiling too much.

* * * * *