A/n: I don't remember the name of the hotel Emily is staying in. So after looking online and not finding anything, I decided to just make it the Hilton. If anyone knows the hotel they used on the show, please tell me and I'll fix it. Sorry if it bugs you. But you guys will all get the point.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls, or the characters. I only own my dreams that Chad Michael Murray might someday be mineā¦
Chapter Two: Neighbors
Tristan stormed out down the hallway towards the door.
"Tristan, wait!"
He turned to face his mother. "I can't do this. I can't stay here this summer. I thought I would be able to do it, but I've been home for two hours and you're already on my case."
"Tristan, that's not fair. Your father and I are just-"
"Looking out for my well being, I know. You've told me a hundred times. Well, what I need to maintain my well being is to get out of here. You know what's not fair? The fact that I don't have a place to come home to. This isn't home to me. You guys always made sure of that."
He grabbed his wallet from the place where he had left it by the door, and hurried out to the driveway. He sped away in his BMW as fast as he could, wishing he had bought the sports car that went up to 160 mph. He turned on the radio and headed towards the main road, wondering where he could go at this time of night.
It wasn't really late for him. Only ten thirty. But he had lost touch with just about every person he knew in Hartford. Finishing high school in North Carolina and going to college out West had isolated him from everyone he had once called his friend. But he didn't care so much. Military school had taught him to resent those people. His 'friends' were the ones that got him into the mess with the safe, or so he told himself. Yes, it was all peer pressure. Tristan didn't like to think that anything was his fault. It was so much easier to blame things on other people.
A trait he had actually earned from his father. Though he hated to admit it, Tristan had many of his dad's qualities. Mostly the unfavorable ones. Even though he tried to control that controlling, manipulative side of himself, he sometimes found himself slipping into what he called "David Mode" after his father.
He drove towards the center of Hartford, looking for a hotel. Comforted by the fact that he had his father's credit card, Tristan turned into the Hilton.
After checking in to a suite, he grabbed his key and went upstairs. Knowing he was too wide-awake to settle into his room, he decided to explore for a little while. On the ninth floor near the ice machine, he spotted an older woman who seemed familiar. He ducked around a corner and watched her walk down the hall towards the place he had been standing.
He immediately realized she was a Hartford society member. Older than his parents but younger than his grandfather, he couldn't quite remember her name. But he knew there was something familiar about her.
"Do you need something Mrs. Gilmore," a man wearing the staff uniform asked her.
Tristan's eyes opened wide, remembering.
"I was just wondering where this hotel's abominable service ran off to. I called for more towels more than an hour ago. If these were my wait staff I would have fired them days ago."
"Yes I'm so sorry Mrs. Gilmore. I'm afraid this is our busiest hour, what with everyone settling in for the evening. I am sorry for the inconvenience, but we can provide you with a bottle of complimentary champagne."
The voices grew fainter as they walked back down the hallway in the way Mrs. Gilmore had come. Tristan was leaning against the wall, overcome with emotions he hadn't felt in years.
It was all so clear, so vivid that he had no idea how he had forgotten it. That was Emily Gilmore, Rory Gilmore's grandmother. What she was doing at a hotel in her own town was of no importance to Tristan. It was her granddaughter that interested him. Where was she now? What was she doing? He had tried so hard for two years to get involved with her life that it seemed unnatural he had forgotten it. But now it was back, every memory, every moment he had called her Mary.
He sighed and went down the hall towards his room. It was funny how out of all the girls he had seen over the years, Rory was the one who stood out. She was the only one he could recall every memory with. The only one whose full name he remembered.
Maybe someday he'd stop by and see her. Just to see if she really had gotten into Harvard like she had wanted.
