Disclaimer: I don't own a damn thing. Yes, I'm bitter. It all belongs to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB. The conversations between Rory & Dean and Rory & Marty are from Chicken Or Beef and The Fundamental Things Apply respectively.

Rating: PG-13 for now. Will go higher eventually.

Spoilers: Everything up until episode three of season 4, The Hobbit, The Sofa and Digger Stiles.

Chapter Two: Memory

"God, I feel like there's an entire marching band playing in my skull," Marty complained to his suitemates the next morning as he stumbled and fell onto the sofa in the middle of their common room. "Actually I think there are two different marching bands."

"Welcome to wonderful world of hangovers my friend," James O'Neil said with a sympathetic smile and patted the other boy on the shoulder. "What did you expect would happen when you came to Yale?"

"Oh I don't know," Marty responded pathetically. "I thought I'd learn something."

"Education is over-rated," Tristan DuGrey stated as he came out of the room he shared with Marty. The other boy was holding a powder blue robe in his hands that seemed to spark something in Marty's drunken mind. Tristan held up the robe and smirked. "But do tell where you got the fetching robe from, Anderson. It's really your color."

"I got it from a girl," he replied innocently and then furrowed his brow. "At least I think it was a girl."

"Ah the joy of sex with a stranger." The blond looked impressed. "I didn't know you had it in you, Martin. So do you even remember the lucky girl's name?"

"We didn't have sex."

"Why am I not surprised?" James muttered, disappointed.

"She found me naked in the hallway," Marty clarified, ignoring the comment. "And she gave me the robe to cover myself. She was sweet."

"That's just adorable," Tristan mocked as he threw the robe in his roommate's direction. "How are you going to get it back to her if you don't remember her name, nimwad?"

"It'll come to me," he answered assuredly and closed his eyes. "As soon as the drumming in my head stops."

"Good luck," James stated and then looked at his watch. "Alright gentlemen, I need to grab a bite to eat and head off to class. You coming, DuGrey?"

"Yeah alright," the other boy agreed. "I'm hoping to run into an old friend and I'm willing to bet anything she'll be one of the first ones in the dining hall, eager to start the day."

"Old girlfriend?" James asked, knowing that Tristan DuGrey was like a sailor, with a girl at every port. "And more importantly, is she hot?"

Tristan rolled his eyes and stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. "She's a girl and she's a friend. Or she used to be, anyway. And of course she's hot."

"Wait!" Marty said suddenly as he sat up straight on the couch. "I think I remember. She had brown hair."

"That really narrows it down, buddy."

"And her name was kind of unusual. Tally? Terri? No, that's not it," he said, frowning. "Lexi. Yeah, I think it was Lexi."

James shot off the couch, exasperated. "Well, good luck finding your dream girl, Anderson. Let's go, DuGrey. If we're late, those dickheads from B3 will hog all the rolls."

As the two boys left the room, they heard their roommate declare, "No, it wasn't Lexi. It was Ronnie! How could I forget Ronnie?"

~*~

Rory had spotted him the second she round the corner and there was no way she could avoid him anymore. She hugged herself as she approached him, wishing she had just stayed at Yale over the weekend. Squabbling roommates and dirty clothes were easier to deal with than seeing Dean after so long, on the day before his wedding no less.

"Hi," she greeted him softly, hoping she didn't sound too uncomfortable.

"Hi." He glanced at Kim's Antiques. "Uh, were you...?"

"Oh, I was at, uh, Lane's," she replied, nodding.

"Right, Lane's." He stared at her and all she could do was stare back. "Um."

"Um," she muttered back stupidly. When had it been so hard to make conversation with Dean? It shouldn't be awkward or weird. They had both moved on, hadn't they?

"So, you're home this weekend."

"Yeah, I, uh, I ran out of clean clothes and quarters, so...how are things?" she asked the first thing that came to mind. He was in the middle of his wedding preparations, how did she think he would be? They made small talk about Yale and Connecticut and then she subtly mentioned the topic they were both trying to avoid. "So, I see you've taken over the town."

"Oh, yeah." He grinned sheepishly and gestured in the general direction of the town square. "Uh, well, Lindsay thought...she likes the gazebo, and..."

"And it's her wedding," she finished for him, needlessly.

After some weird conversation between then about whose wedding it was and a Victoria's Secret commercial, Dean said, "I didn't know you'd be home this weekend."

"It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing."

"Because if I had known, I would have, you know, invited you." Would he have? If he had, did he think she'd come or would it have been too awkward?

"Oh." Awkward. She decided it would have been too awkward. "Oh, well, it's..."

"I mean, I didn't want you to think I was just not inviting you," he cut her of, sounding sincere. She assured him she didn't think that but it looked like he didn't believe her. "I just figured you'd be at school."

"'Cause you're logical."

Some more nonsensical babbling followed this before Dean made a crazy suggestion. "But, hey, since you are here, come."

"Come?" she asked dumbly.

"To my wedding. Come to my wedding," he clarified.

"Oh, Dean..." Dammit, she was in trouble.

"You and Lorelai, I want you to." Oh great, now Lorelai was being dragged in too. Why Dean? Why couldn't you just leave this alone? she thought to herself helplessly.

She bit her bottom lip. "Well..."

Before she could say anything else, he was talking about chicken and beef and then assuring her she didn't look like beef. She tried to get a word in but he rambled on, as if he were determined to make the situation more awkward than it needed to be. "Okay, so, noon at the church. I'll be the one in the tux. And don't worry, we didn't write our own vows and no one's singing opera. I know you think that's lame."

"Oh, no, well, it's a wedding. It's supposed to be...operatic," she said.

"Okay, so, I better get over there. Lindsay is expecting me. Uh, so, I'll just see you two tomorrow."

"But..." she called after him but he was already on his way to his bride-to-be. She sighed, folded her arms over her chest and wondered why she hadn't stayed at Yale. Paris, Janet and Tana would have been so much easier to deal with than this. Hell, Tristan DuGrey would have been so much easier to deal with than this. She back-peddled her thoughts and felt significantly worse. Was Tristan really a better option than attending her ex-boyfriend's wedding?  Wow, that was saying a lot.

~*~

"Gellar!" Tristan called out as he jogged up to her on the path, in order to keep up with the blonde's swift strides. "Hey Paris, wait up! Good Lord woman, you're a hard person to track down."

She barely glanced up at him, merely adjusted her shoulder bag and kept walking ahead. "What do you want, DuGrey?"

"To talk," he answered quickly as she rounded a corner and nearly ran over a boy with books stacked in his arms. Tristan reached out to steady the teetering freshman and then resumed speed walking next to his feverish friend. "Paris, can you please slow down for a second and pretend to be interested."

"Sorry, takes too much energy." Sighing, he impulsively grabbed her upper arm and forcefully pulled her to face him, leaving her no choice but to stop. She looked up at him irritably and snapped, "I don't have time for this. Talk fast."

"If looks could kill," Tristan stated amused, as she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot for emphasis. "I've been trying to get a hold of you this entire weekend. I even called the mansion - you're mother says you're to call her, by the way – and I'm beginning to feel like you're avoiding me, Paris."

"You catch on quick. Always knew you were as sharp as a tack."

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Paris, can you honestly tell me that you're going to forget our friendship, our childhood?"

Paris lifted a shoulder and narrowed her wide eyes. "Why not? You've been doing it since puberty."

"Paris," he said softly, almost pleadingly. "Don't do this. You can't be mad at me for something that happened almost three years ago. We've both grown up and changed. Moved on. I want to be friends again."

"So what?" she asked, her anger finally seeping through. Her voice rose progressively as she spoke. "Who the hell are you to decide when you want us to be friends again? And then drop me the minute someone more interesting comes along? Someone you can grope in a broom closet or someone who'll avoid you like the plague only making the chase all that more thrilling for you. Forget it."

He knew she was upset with him but the anger he saw in her eyes, the sheer force of it that radiated off of her took him by complete surprise. "I didn't mean…I would never…"

"Yes you would, Tristan," she cut him off and threw her hands in the air for dramatic effect. "You know you would. If you're on some kind of self-actualization mission because some stupid military school taught you that you could be whatever you want to be well then leave me the hell out of it! You've really got some nerve."

"That's not what I am trying to do," he protested, not caring that people were stopping to stare. The fact that she obviously thought very little of him was enough to make him forget where he was and what he was doing. "Paris, listen to me."

"No," she retorted and took a step closer. "You're right. I have grown-up and I have changed. I'm not some pathetic loser who pines for you and I refuse to let you lead me on for whatever sick, twisted games you choose to play. Leave me alone, Tristan. Just stay far away."

Before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving him completely speechless for what was probably the first time in his entire life.

~*~

Rory rushed into the dining hall in her robe and slippers, frantic for some breakfast. The last time she had gone to her morning classes without any food, her stomach hadn't stopped making weird noises. "Excuse me, excuse me. Can I…?" she motioned for the waffles that were about to be thrown away. The cafeteria worker handed it over, looking a little displeased. "Yes, thank you."

As she turned around, the Naked Guy from the night of the party was standing in front of her. "Rory."

"Marty."

He looked pleased. "You remembered."

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "Well, I wasn't the one passed out in the hallway, so I had a better shot."

"True, very true. So, I see you're a little late for breakfast."

"Yeah. My alarm was turned off," she explained and left out the part about her neurotic roommate who she was going to murder. She didn't need any witnesses.

"Well, hey, you want some eggs or something? I always take enough for ten. I blame my brother. He always took the biggest piece of chicken," he rambled and she wondered if she sounded like that when she went on one of her spiels. 

"And left you none?"

"No, there was plenty more. I just really wanted that big piece."

"Oh. Well -" she trailed off wondering when she was going to be able to enjoy her food.

"Hey, I want you to meet The Breakfast Crew."

"Oh, well, I'm kind of -" she started to say as her stomach protested wildly to his suggestion.

"Well, we all just started eating breakfast together every morning, so someone came up with the name The Breakfast Crew," he continued, ignoring her. They approached a table nearby and Rory resigned herself to meeting his friends. "I mean, it's not like an official club or anything. There are no hats. At least not until we can all agree on a color. Uh, excuse me, guys. I want you all to meet Rory."

One guy looked up uninterested. "Who?"

"The robe," Marty clarified and Rory felt her cheeks flush.

"Oh, the robe." Uninterested Guy looked intrigued. "Nice to meet you."

She stayed a little bit longer, while they talked (at disturbing length) about her robe and then, when one guy complimented her bunny slippers she knew she had to bolt. "Thank you. Uh, well, it was nice meeting you all. I actually have to go, so..."

Marty followed her as she left. "I embarrassed you."

"It's fine," she said, waving it off.

"I'm sorry. I was just so relieved that I could finally approach you."

"Why couldn't you approach me?"

"Well, that night was really humiliating, so every time I saw you after that, I just hid. But then when I saw you show up this morning like that, I thought, here's my chance to even the playing field."

"Marty, this is not as embarrassing as being totally naked."

"Oh I must agree," a familiar voice drawled from behind her. "Seeing Anderson naked is a real embarrassment."

"Shut up, Tristan!" Rory and Marty stated simultaneously and then looked at each other and said, "You know him?"

Tristan smirked. "I am known by all. So Martin, Rory is your dream girl, is she? He couldn't remember your name. We were this close to calling you Terri."

She shuddered at the name and raised her eyebrows in Marty's direction. "I was hung over. But I remembered it eventually. My roommate is just being as ass."

Rory smiled at Tristan sweetly. "It's part of his charm."

Tristan ignored her comment and stared at her for a minute. "You cut your hair."

Unconsciously, her free hand flew up to her shortened locks. A lot of people had commented on her hair, but the way he said it made her want to run to the nearest mirror. "Yeah."

His expression was unreadable but when their eyes met, he smiled a little. "It looks nice."

She smiled, feeling her cheeks redden again. "Thanks."

Marty looked between the two and cleared his throat. "I'm going to get going. See you around, Rory."

"Yeah. Bye Marty," she waved and then turned to Tristan who was now staring at her feet, smirking. She rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm with her free hand. "So I like bunnies. Get over it."

He pocketed his hands and simply laughed. "I think they're cute. Very much your style."

She couldn't figure out if she was supposed to be insulted or not so she simply rolled her eyes and pushed past him. "I'll see you around, Tristan."

"Count on it," he called after her.