Chapter 4: Treasure

Your pressure on my lips
Your grasp on my fingertips
Keeps me waiting on the boundary... of Earth and fire

Your traipsing in my dreams
You seem more than you seem
But my love overpowers my... incessant ire

Rory smiled. The soft music enveloped her arms and neck as she drowned in the meek melody playing about the background. "I love this song."

Tristan lifted a brow. "You do not. Please tell me you're kidding."

Rory opened an eye from her relaxed reclining state on the outdoor patio. "I don't know. It's twisted and bittersweet and stuff, I know. But there's something about it... maybe the melody, I just..."

The blond across from her licked his lips in amazement. "Rory. The man beat his wife most of the time and then ran to his mistress for the pleasure his wife was shockingly with-holding. That is this song."

"I know," she grinned. "It's terrible, but it's got such a nice beat and trumpet in tune with the music. It's almost romantic, but right on that boundary."

Tristan stared at her blue eyes before her lids claimed the view of them once more as she closed her eyes, enjoying the music. "Unless of course you listen to the words. Then it's simply a power ballad for your amateur serial killer." Rory's eyes snapped open.

"Well if you want to be objective about it..." Her grin faded as she heard the front door of house shut followed by shoes clicking on the tiled entryway. "Is that Robin?"

Tristan rubbed his eyes wearily. "Not too many of my friends slam the door that hard in hopes that the house will crumble and crush me beneath an extra heavy beam."

Rory smiled sympathetically. "Is she… I mean, are you guys talking right now? After that night she told you, I figured she'd open up a bit more—"

"Rory, you really haven't interacted with the modern-day teenager lately," he replied swiftly. "I sense that from your very logical, very naïve view on how they work."

"Really?" Rory took a sip of her tea. "It's just not something you said that you failed to tell me?"

Tristan raised his eyebrows as she sighed at him exasperatedly.

"Come on, Tristan. I know you. You're so protective of your daughter," she said, then instantly added, "not that it's a bad thing, of course. Unless…"

"Unless what? I'm protective of Robin and there's an 'unless'?" he inquired.

Rory licked her lips and looked behind her toward the house. "I just…" She paused, then shook her head. "Never mind. You know, I'm so not the right person to talk to about this. I—I have no experience being pregnant myself let alone having a child that's pregnant." She glanced as Tristan whose eyes were steadily losing hope shining within them. "Not that you should give up, you know? I'm here for you," she placed a hand over his.

He smiled a small smile. "Thank you."

"However," Rory added.

He grinned. "However?"

"However," she repeated, then paused. "Well, I think you should try talking to her again. It's no use for us to sit here talking about her as though she has no say in this. It's her life, Tristan."

"I know it's her life," he cut in angrily. "If it wasn't her life—if I controlled her life like she claims I do, she would have never ended up pregnant at sixteen!"

They sat in silence for a moment as Rory waited for the blond across from her to calm down. "You should talk to her," she repeated, despite the eye roll Tristan was sending her way. "I know it sounds stupid and that you've already done that, but... come on. Trust me." She smiled a reassuring smile. "I promise."

Tristan sighed. "And if it doesn't work?"

"She's a person, Tristan. Your daughter, more accurately. You don't just give up. Plus, there isn't one right answer, you know? Talking to her may make no difference today but it could make all the difference tomorrow." Rory licked her lips and rubbed small circles into Tristan's palm. "I know this…" she grinned, "well, it sucks. But not talking to her is like making things worse. For both of you."

He grimaced. "You know, it's easy bringing up theories and shooting them at me. You've no idea that you're simply the advisor to a very dangerous, very risky and highly disturbed job that is being a parent."

"Finally, someone put into words what it's like on the other side," a cheery voice gave way from the back gate as it was pushed open.

Tristan stood up, his brow furrowing. "Um, Rory…"

She smiled sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind, but in the spirit of communicating and being the not helpful advisor to Superman… I called for reinforcements." Tristan's eyebrow remained raised. "What? Can you think of anyone else better to identify with Robin right now than my mom?"

Bobbey stared at the two woman, plus her dad, all sitting in the kitchen with hot mugs of coffee wrapped in their fingers, quietly discussing something she knew probably wasn't for her ears.

The new woman, the one she hadn't yet met even for a brief moment, seemed to have some sort of relation to the her father's original consultant, down to the porcelain-like skin, blue eyes, and deep brown hair.

She had a sort of style and grace about her, less obvious like the younger woman because of her forthright spirit and energy, but still enough to embrace a sense of composure and a firm grasp on things all around her.

Grabbing her coat, Bobbey decided she didn't like her.

"Robin, I'd--" Tristan began, before his brow furrowed at her outerwear. A second later, Bobbey interrupted his thought anyway.

"I'm going to Cara's," she said briefly, eyeing the strange woman at the table again, before hooking her index finger into the chain of her keys and pulling them off the hallway hook. "Bye."

"Not bye, Robin," her father countered, putting down his mug. "You didn't ask me earlier. And I've never met Cara; I don't even know who she is. You expect me to just let you go?"

Bobbey licked her lips slowly, looking away, then pinning her father with a stone cold stare. "You have met her, dad. And I did ask you before. I believe your exact words were, 'Sure, sweets, just give me a ring when you get there.'" She through her purse over her shoulder. "Considering you didn't bother to look, I just assumed you were talking to me and not the client on the phone."

Sighing, Tristan gave a weary smile to Rory and Lorelai, both of them looking slightly uncomfortable at intruding, though completely unsurprised by his daughter. He motioned to them, rubbing a hand over his face. "Before you go, I want you to meet Lorelai, Rory's mother. Lorelai, this is my daughter Robin."

Bobbey, she forcefully corrected in her mind, but held her tongue and took the woman's outstretched hand cautiously, shaking it for a mere moment before letting it go.

"Hi," she broke into a wide, toothy smile. "Tristan and Rory have told me so much about you. It's nice to meet you, Robin."

Bobbey smiled tightly. "And I've heard nothing about you, Lorelai. Still… fabulous to meet you." She turned slightly, eyes narrowing. "I thought you were Lorelai, anyway."

Rory smiled sheepishly. "I am. But people just call me Rory."

Bobbey nodded. "How nice for people," she shot back before turning around and opening the front door. "I'll be back." And with that she left.

Tristan stood, ready to run after her. "She didn't say when, damn it."

Lorelai smiled sympathetically, leaning toward Tristan. "I think the fact that she said she'd be back at all should cherished."

"Mom," Rory glared, "what is that? Parent logic?" She turned to Tristan and took his hand in hers as he sat. "I'm sorry."

He smiled slightly. "Don't be. She just went out, right? And Lorelai's right, at least she promised to be back in my lifetime." He frowned. "Or maybe she meant her's."

Rory eyed her mother angrily again. "My mom is not right--"

"I beg to differ," Lorelai retorted, frowning over the rim of her cup as she sipped.

"Look," Rory continued, as though her mom never spoke, "it's hard enough dealing with this without us barging in and--and upsetting Robin. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was…"

"No," Tristan smiled. "Robin's always upset. She's a teenager. Even happy's not a fully joyous state."

"I can't believe you," Rory whispered, shivering as they loaded into the Jeep. "I--Why would you do that in there? Can't you see he's completely lost control of his daughter and I brought you to help him and you discourage him."

"Rory, I wasn't going to lie to him," Lorelai retorted indignantly. "Being a parent is hard and sometimes it sucks. It's that--it's what he's going through back there and I was going to help him by talking to Robin, but evidently she's off to be back at an unknown hour."

"Oh yeah, mom. You have experience raising pregnant teenagers who stomp off with major attitude at night, off to who knows where," Rory rolled her eyes, staring at the road as her mom backed out of the DuGrey driveway.

"First of all," the elder Gilmore snapped, "you were not half bad at the stomping away with major attitude act, missy. I'll have you know, you pretty much perfected it, come college." At Rory's huff, the Gilmore continued. "And second, of course I have experience dealing with kids like that. I was one. That was me. Only worse. I would have never actually met my parents' friends without some sort of catastrophe or another."

Sighing, Rory looked at the passing houses on the street through the passenger's seat window. "I… I know, I just… I just want to help him, mom."

Lorelai looked over at her daughter, deep in thought. "I know, babe."

Author's Note: It's all the pre-written chapters I had. From now on, I'll be upating from scratch. You guys should be very angry right now because it means I'll be updating a whole lot slower. Plus I've got the education to worry about. Meh.

-Beach