Disclaimer: Amy and Daniel Palladino, along with the rest of the WB, own Gilmore Girls. I'm just borrowing the characters.
Jess- You're a sophomore? In college or high school? Coz I'm a sophomore in high school. I just don't play a sport. But my friend is in cross country(her mom forced her into it) and she says it's hell. Field hockey, though? I don't even think we have one of those... we're more of a water oriented school. And Lacrosse for some reason. I'm serious! Almost every single guy I know is either in water polo, lacrosse, or wrestling. It's crazy. Wow. I'm really good at no-point talking. Huh, would you ever think that? Yeah, probably. Anywho, I'm glad everyone liked my twist. I was trying a good, plausible way to get rid of him. Apparently it worked, which surprised the hell out of me. Sorry about the workload. Hope it gets better.
Ms. Vaughn- Again, I hope everything gets better. I really enjoy your posts, and they just won't be the same if you're all depressed and stuff.
four51- Whoo! Yay!
smile1- Thanks. I tried, really, and I'm glad it came out good.
More thank yous to OTHlover04, Peanutbutterluver1399, bBy x jUjUbee, mellowyellow (hee! I'm so easily amused, so I love your name. It makes me think of M&Ms), amanda, readergurl87, Fancyeyes, gilmoregirlfan44, lovlylady7, and mz.sammiz. I love you all alot!
A/N: Omg! I've got over 100 reviews. Ok, 101. But seriously, that's over 100. You guys rock! I never thought that I'd even get 50, let alone 100. Thank you all a lot! And, I wrote the beginning before I saw the season premiere. Did everyone see that? Holy adulterous bastards, Batman! Dude, I've totally re-examined my opinions on Lindsay and Dean. Dean? Fucking bastard. Lindsay? Poor, delusional girl who needs a serious hug. Or a hit on the head. Not sure, but I feel really bad about her. Also? I'm totally and completely in love with Lane's band. I wanna live in that house so badly!!! Y'know, not that I didn't love them before. I just love them even more now, and I can tell you one thing: they're gonna be in this story a helluva lot more now. I'm planning a Lane's band spin off because I love them so much. Gil is so my new boyfriend! Ok, that's seven sentences on my love of Lane's band, so I think I'll just stop it there. And, btw, Johnny Ramone, RIP.
8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888
Rory froze, and she thought she actually felt her heart stop for a millisecond. Her mouth formed an 'O'. But she couldn't have heard him right, right? He could've said something else that sounded a lot like he was moving.
Somewhere deep down in a place she couldn't acknowledge, she knew she was lying to herself. Dean was leaving. He was leaving. For good this time. Out of this relationship, out of the town, out of the state. Out of her life. Forever.
"Rory?" Dean asked, moving closer to her. She scooted away.
"No," she whispered. "This can't be happening. Why? When? Why?"
He got up and ran a hand through his hair. "Next week."
Rory grabbed his hand to stop his pacing through the gazebo. "Next week?" She processed this, turning it over and over again through her head, analyzing the two words from all angles, dissecting them. "Why?"
"I need to get away from here. I see the way everyone looks at me, like I did something wrong because I wasn't in love with Lindsay. They don't even know what we did, but they look at me like they know. And they don't look at you like that. It kills me to be put on trial every time I walk down the goddamn street, Rory!" He yanked his hand from her grip and resumed his pacing, back and forth in front of her watering eyes.
"You don't have to," she pleaded. "You can go to U Connecticut. You can live there, and we can see each other on the weekends."
"We said that when you went to Yale this year. But I've seen you all of five times at the most since September. Rory, I can't keep doing this. I need to go, to leave, to start over. You have to believe me. Please be happy for me." He crouched down in front of her and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. He grabbed her mitten-clad hands and kissed each one.
"I want to. I want you to be happy, and I want you to go to school. But I want you to be happy with me. Am I totally selfish for thinking that?" she asked quietly.
"No," he whispered back. "I think you're perfect for thinking that. I think you're perfect in whatever you do. I love you, Rory."
"I love you too," she replied. He kissed her softly on the lips, and pulled her into his arms as she fought back tears.
888888888888888
The house was empty. She preferred it this way. Lorelai, Tristan, and Paris were probably at Luke's. Rory turned on Bjork and flopped onto her bed while she bit her lip not to cry. She was not sad; she was happy because Dean was happy. He was happy in Chicago with his friends. And his family. And his ex-girlfriend. Beth. She still hated that name. What kind of name was Beth?
Without her. She wasn't going to be there. Different state. Miles away at Yale with Tristan and Paris. She could hear the phone ringing in the living room. After two rings, she got up and started her search for the phone. Right before it went to the answering machine she answered it.
"Hello?" She was trying not to sound too sad, hoping that her voice wouldn't betray her.
"Rory?" It was Lane. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she lied.
"You're a terrible liar. Don't make me blast rap music continuously until you divulge," Lane threatened humorously.
Despite herself, Rory giggled. "Fine, you win. You know just how to get me to talk, don't you?"
"The CIA is recruiting me as we speak. I shouldn't have told you that, though. You should watch your back for flying objects, falling flower pots, or other potentially dangerous things that could cause a wacky cartoon death," Lane warned.
"I'm glad you're forewarning me, otherwise I'd take a fatal trip to the Loony Toons studio," Rory deadpanned.
"That's what friends are for," Lane replied. "And they don't forget things, even when their friends are trying their best to change the topic. So spill."
"I almost had you," Rory claimed.
"You're doing it again," Lane said.
"Fine," Rory sighed. "You're good at this. So, Dean's leaving; moving back to Chicago."
Lane gasped. "No! And he just told you this?"
"Minutes ago," Rory replied.
"Wow. He sure doesn't do timing well," Lane observed.
"Not one of his fortes," Rory agreed.
"Do you want me to come over? We can call Lorelai and Paris and Joe and Joe will bring the pizza and we can have a girl's night watching Steel Magnolias and The Bridges of Madison County over and over until you smash the tapes," Lane suggested.
"Sounds like a plan," Rory answered. "Luke can supply the baseball bat."
"I'll ask him, but he may have separation anxiety," Lane said.
"Good point," Rory replied. In the background, the faint beginning chords of Led Zeppelin's 'Houses of the Holy' could be heard. "Band practice?"
Lane sighed. "No, actually. Guess who Zach met today at Luke's?"
Rory groaned. "Tristan?"
"The one and only. It must be a blond-guy thing, because they hit it off. Now Zach's showing off. They recently had an in depth conversation about which actually do have more fun- redheads, blonds, or brunettes?" Lane explained.
"Sounds invigorating," Rory said sarcastically.
"Oh, yeah. I could just feel my brain cells dying off with each word," Lane replied.
"Must be a conspiracy," Rory agreed.
"It must-" Lane trailed off for a minute. "Hold on." She went into the living room to see Zach, Tristan, and Brian holding an impromptu band practice. "No! No 'Stairway to Heaven' unless you'd like to be locked in the Hall of Shame for most overdone song ever!"
"But Lane!" Zach whined.
"We've had this conversation before," Lane warned.
"Yes, mom," Zach conceited in defeat. Tristan snickered when Lane glared at him intensely. Zach immediately segued into a rough version of Blue Oyster Cult's 'Godzilla'.
"What was that about?" Rory asked Lane when she got back onto the phone.
Lane let out an exasperated sigh. "Zach's need to prove his musical skills with Led Zeppelin."
"Never a dull moment at your apartment," Rory quipped.
Lane laughed. "So, I'm gonna go, but I'll see you in about fifteen minutes for Dean bashing and girly crying," she told her friend. "I'll get your mom and Paris. We'll get enough sugar for an epileptic seizure."
Rory smiled. "Can't wait."
88888888888888888888
Rory, Lane, Paris, and Lorelai stayed up until almost two in the morning watching sad chick flicks and eating massive amounts of junk food. Lane had called up Brian to tell him that she wouldn't be back until tomorrow to find that he, Zach, and Tristan had decided to go to a club in Hartford.
Sunday afternoon Paris, Rory, and Tristan left, much to the displeasure of Lorelai. She'd sat on the hood of Rory's car telling her that she couldn't leave now because of her dear mother's current seat. Luckily Luke was also there, and persuaded Lorelai to let her daughter go to get an education.
The drive back to New Haven was somewhat strained. Rory was trying her best to forget about Dean's bombshell and Tristan was berating himself for not finding out sooner. He wasn't sure what he'd have done if he had found out the night before, but he figured it'd be something drastic that would include his fist and Dean's face.
"I've got homework," Rory murmured after Tristan insisted on walking her back to her dorm room.
"And it's not done already?" Tristan teased, trying to break Rory's melancholy woe-is-me mood that she had seemed to accumulate over the last twenty-four hours. After only a faint smile that Tristan got an idea. "Ok, Rory, I don't want to have to do this, but drastic times call for drastic measures."
Before Rory could ask him about his cryptic statement, Tristan broke into song at the top of her lungs in the middle of the hallway right in front of her dorm room. And let it be said that Tristan? Not the best singer.
"I use public toilets and I piss on the seat/I walk around in the summer time saying "how about this heat?"/I'm an asshole (he's an asshole, what an asshole)/I'm an asshole (he's the worlds biggest asshole)/Sometimes I park in handicapped spaces/While handicapped people make handicapped faces/I'm an asshole (he's an asshole ,what an asshole)/I'm an asshole (he's a real fucking asshole)," he sang, complete with a dance that wasn't even with the rhythm.
Rory blushed darkly, catching the weird looks people in the hallway were throwing the pair as they passed by. "Are you insane?" she hissed, dragging him into the dorm room.
He smirked. "Probably. But I got you to smile."
"Public displays of humiliation on your part, intended or not, tend to do that to me," she replied dryly.
"Aw, I always knew you loved me, and now that you can freely express it, my life is complete," Tristan cried dramatically, getting down on his knees and grabbing his hands, fake swooning.
"Oh darn, you caught me," Rory dead-panned.
"Would you like an extra order of bitter with your full meal of hatred?" Tristan asked just as sarcastically.
At that Rory cracked a smile. "So, do you want to talk about it, or take a page out of the DuGray Handbook for Healthy Living and keep it bottled up until years from now in therapy?" he asked her abruptly.
"That depends," she replied.
"On...?" he prompted.
"On whether or not you'll leave me alone about it if I say no," she answered.
"Oh. Then no, I won't leave you alone," Tristan told her.
Rory sighed and led him to the couch. "Fine. Yesterday-"
888888888888888888888888
"Hey, man," James greeted when Tristan got back to his dorm room. He popped in the Beatle's white album and turned it up as he got to 'Back in the U.S.S.R.'
"Hey," Tristan replied. "How was your Thanksgiving?"
"I got free food, so I can't complain," James answered. "How's Rory?" He teased patronizingly.
Tristan rolled his eyes. "I tell you one thing."
James grinned. "You've known me for four years, I think you should know by know that you'll tell me everything, no matter how mercilessly I tease you about it."
"Her and her boyfriend broke up," Tristan told his friend.
"Reason for this joyous news?"
"He's moving."
"And I take it from your partying that you're upset by this?" James asked.
"I can't do anything, she's in mourning. It beats me as to why, but she is," Tristan replied, rolling his eyes.
James laughed and patted Tristan on his back while shaking his head. "You have the worst good luck ever, man."
8888888888888888888888888888888888
A/N2: 10 brownie points to who ever can guess what song Tristan sings.