Disclaimer: Jamie and I own nothing. The characters belong to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB. Take it up with them if you have to.

Authors: Susie and Jamie (Mrs. Witter)

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Paris/Tristan/Rory

Author's Note: Yes, we know that this is not a usual Trory fic. We're not even saying it's a Trory fic. We're not saying it's a Paris/Tristan fic. Just read it and go with it.  We'll all be happy that way

Here We Are Again Prologue: It's Been A While

She walked along the boardwalk, noting the serenity that came with being by the ocean so late at night.  In contrast to the day when tourists were milling about in every possible direction, late at night the beach was serene, the only noise the crashing of the waves onto the shore.  She smiled, realizing that this is why people went on vacation, not to see as many sites as possible in four days and five nights, but to relax.  She couldn't even remember the last time she took a break from reality, then sighed realizing this was probably the first time in twenty-five years.

She sat down on a bench overlooking the water, comfortable just watching as the stars reflected off the water.  She began to lose herself, following the rhythmic movements of the ocean, lulling her into a sense of security she never felt in the city.  That is until she felt the bench move beneath her as someone sat beside her.

He had been watching her from a distance; at first without realizing whom she was. But as he drew closer, the face was unmistakable. It felt like the past had finally caught up to him, or something profound like that. Her hair was shorter and her sense of style had changed quite a bit - he had never pictured her wearing shorts and a tank top. Of course, he hadn't seen her since their junior year at Chilton and in retrospect, the uniform did nothing but cover up that incredible figure.

What were the chances that they would be vacationing in the same island resort, eight years later? Apparently, the odds weren't against that fact.

He smiled as he approached her sitting on the bench, gazing up at the stars with that content expression on her face. When he sat down, he felt like he had invaded a peaceful moment. She turned to him startled, eyes wide with shock as she instantly recognized him.

"Paris Gellar, it's been awhile."

She openly stared at the blond a small smile on her lips; he looked exactly the same, same tousled hair, same sun kissed skin, same amused smirk.  She met his gaze, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.  She couldn't deny that the years had been good to him; he looked better now than he did when she had last seen him, if one could believe that.  Shaking her head from that line of thought she recalled his statement before responding.

"Eight years," she stated wistfully, remembering how furious she was when she last saw him, how furious she thought she would be upon seeing him again, but that was years ago, she had moved on, and more importantly grown up.

Tristan hadn't expected a hug so he wasn't taken aback by her calm greeting. Instead, he grinned. "Seems like a lifetime ago."

Paris smiled softly, looking back at the ocean, watching as the waves crashed on the shore a few moments before responding, "that's because it was."

He leaned back against the bench. The light from a nearby lamp illuminated part of her face as he studied her profile, realizing how different she looked now, although he had been able to recognize her immediately at first. "How've you been, Gellar?"

Her smile widened as she thought about the last eight years,  "You know, I haven't really thought about it, but I've been good, really good."  And she had, her life had taken a few unexpected turns but everything worked out and she was happy with how they had.

"Always knew you would, Paris. Harvard did you good."

"It did," she conceded. "But Yale did me better."

"Yale?" he asked, completely surprised. He had always figured she ended up in Harvard. He really had lost all contact with the society he grew up in if he never heard about Paris Gellar choosing Yale over Harvard. "How in the world did that happen?"

"Harvard rejected me," she stated simply, no longer bitter at the notion.  She knew it was for the best; she wouldn't trade her time at Yale for anything. Besides, she still managed to end up at Harvard for law school and she was better for it. It taught her that being the best didn't always make you the best, a lesson she needed to learn.  Looking over at the man seated beside her she couldn't help but wonder, "what about you?"

"Princeton. As it was always planned," he replied, with a grin. He remembered how much he tried to rebel, tried to break free from his father's grip on his future. In the end, he fulfilled his father's wishes and attended Princeton and then, started his own company to break away from the DuGrey name.

"I thought college was going to be your rebellion, or was that what military school was for?" Paris mused.  She couldn't help but wonder why he seemed so happy to have followed along the path he had wanted to escape growing up.

He laughed now, looking back on his youthful indiscretions. "I grew up, Paris. Princeton was a means to an end."

She wasn't sure what to make of his response, so she asked the only question that she thought would help her decide, "What end?"

"My own company." He grinned satisfied - he never got tired of saying that.

She couldn't stop her own grin from forming as she watched him; he looked like a child on Christmas morning.  "Your dad must have hated that."

He laughed out loud. "Oh yeah. That was an added bonus. I'm not going to deny there wasn't a part of me that did it to piss him off. But I realized that I had to do things myself for my own happiness if I ever wanted to end up differently from the rest of our cookie-cutter-molded peers."

She nodded in agreement, her smile growing wider by the second, she never smiled this much.  "You really have grown up," she noted, realizing she wanted to know more about him.

"As have you," he said softly, glancing up at her. "As I recall, the Paris Gellar I knew back then would not be sitting next to me so calm and collected. Especially after what happened the last time we saw each other."

She couldn't contain a chuckle as it escaped her lips, he was right, of course.  "Trust me, I didn't think I would be this calm either, but it doesn't matter anymore.  Besides, I got an A anyway," she added almost as an afterthought.

"I'm glad." He grinned and they both sat in silence, listening to the sound of the ocean. "Have you kept in touch with anyone from Chilton? You were close to Louise and Madeline."

"Both of them actually, and Rory Gilmore" she paused wanting to gauge his reaction to her name.  Seemly satisfied with his lack of response she continued, "Louise is writing a fashion column for Vogue, Madeline is a struggling actress a la Joey Tribianni, and Rory's working her way up the ladder at the New York Times."

Of course he remembered Rory Gilmore; looking back on it now, it was almost embarrassing. He liked to think that he had more self-control now than he had when he was sixteen. "Well, it looks like Chilton did pay off after all. For you and Rory at least. I'm sure Headmaster Charleston did not expect any Chilton graduate to end up in fashion or acting."

"Probably not," Paris agreed.  She stared out over the water no longer sure where to take the conversation.  They had covered most of the polite chatter and now they were left with a semi-awkward silence.  "How long are you here for?" she asked finally, needing a relief from the place they had fallen into.

"I leave tomorrow. In the evening. You?"

She looked at him, surprise written across her face as she responded, "Me too."

"Let me guess: you need to be back for the party at the Claytons?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. When she nodded, he simply smiled. "How come our parents still insist that we attend these parties?"

"My parents believe I will find a suitable partner to betroth, their words, not mine," she replied with a sigh.

Tristan chuckled at the idea of Paris Gellar actually marrying someone she met at a society party. "They do realize we don't live in the eighteen hundreds, right?"

Paris smiled, stealing a glance at the blond beside her, "Sometimes I'm not so sure."

They both stood up at the same moment and Tristan turned to her with a smile. "Well, here we are again. It looks like we'll be seeing a lot more of each other, Paris."

"Hawaii, the plane, the party, eight years and now I get to see you everyday," Paris mused.

He slung his arm around her shoulder as they both headed down the boardwalk towards the resort. "This might be fun. Who woulda guessed it?"

Fate was funny like that.