Disclaimer: I don't own anything affiliated with Gilmore Girls.
Rating: PG
Paring: Slight Lit
Summary: Rory's husband knows more than he's letting on to her.
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Lyin' Eyes
Five years ago I first met her. She was studying journalism at Yale, and I was a transfer from Harvard.
I first saw her one-day when I was in the library. She was sitting in a corner in a huge old chair reading "A passage to India". People around her kept getting distracted from their books, but not her; she was completely absorbed the story.
A few days later, I saw her again, in the Cafeteria. Her tray was piled high of things that my father (a doctor) would have had a heart attack if he saw. A packet of Chips, a few cookies, couple of bars of chocolate, and a considerable amount of coffee.
She sat down at the table opposite mine, put on her headphones, opened her book, and began to eat.
Over the next couple of years, we got to know each other well. We were working on the same paper, and we soon became good friends.
Then around about a year and a half later, we started feeling things towards each other that didn't fit suitably in the "just friends" category.
We dated for a year before I worked up the courage to ask her the most important question of my life: Will you marry me?
To my utter happiness and relief, she said yes, and the following spring, we exchanged our vows.
It's been just over two years since then, and I cant help but notice and feel that somehow things have changed.
When we first got married, we both had dreams of having a family. But after a while trying, the doctors told us that I was unable to have children.
We talked of adoption, and other more scientific options, and she seemed open to them all, until around eight months ago.
She started to become distant, and distracted, I tried my very best to ignore it. But when one day she came out straight and told me she didn't want to have children any more, things changed.
Lately I've been watching her much more closely, I've been taking more notice of her certain habits and movements, and I'm getting the feeling… that there's a lot more going on than I know.
City girls just seem to find out early
How to open doors with just a smile
A rich old man and she won't have to worry
She'll dress up all in lace and go in style.
Every morning she wakes up next to me, gets out of or huge canopy bed, and goes to have her shower. After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, she gives me a kiss goodbye, and then drives off to work.
She's a reporter for the New York Times, and a good one too. I work at a law firm across town. It takes me an hour and a half each morning and night, to get there and back, and up until now, that never bothered me.
Late at night a big old house gets lonely
I guess every form of refuge has its price
And it breaks her heart to think her love is only
Given to a man with hands as cold as ice.
But lately I've been thinking of the worst. The worst being that she's cheating on me. And I just can't help but notice… that all the signs are pointing clearly in that direction.
The first two years that we were married, she left for work promptly at eight am, and was home at six thirty on the dot. The she gradually began leaving fifteen minutes later. Then fifteen turned to twenty, twenty to forty, and these days? Well, these days she's out the door clear before seven am.
And its not just the morning, trust me. Nowadays it's a real rarity if she makes it home in time for our eight o'clock dinner.
So she tells him she must go out for the evening
To comfort an old friend who's feeling' down
But he knows where she's going' as she's leaving'
She is headed for the cheating' side of town.
You can't hide your lying' eyes
And your smile is a thin disguise
I thought by now you'd realize
There ain't no way to hide your lying' eyes
A year ago, when Rory and myself were at an Art show here in New York, we met an old friend of hers.
We'd arrived late, and had to sneak in a side entrance, but Rory looked so beautiful, that it was worth being late for.
I've become accustomed to other men staring at her when we're out together, but that night, there was one who was paying a lot more attention to her than suitable.
At one stage I left to go to the bathroom, and on my way back to Rory, I literally bumped into him.
He wasn't very tall, but had very dark hair and eyes that were haunting to look into. He mumbled an apology, and was just about to walk off when he looked up and recognized me. He stopped in his tracks, as did I.
We both just stood there glaring daggers at each other, until just as I was about to ask him who he was, Rory came over.
'Jess?' she asked. The guy sent me a quick glance, before taking a step towards her, and muttering a 'hey Rory' in response.
They just stood there staring at each other sadly for a few seconds before I'd had enough. I asked Rory if she would like to introduce her friend. They snapped out of it, and Rory told me that he was Jess Mariano, aka the highly acclaimed writer J. M. Mariano. I adored his work. Rory always brought the books he wrote and I just ended up reading them. I considered the guy a genius, and here I was tripping the guy up. After apologizing profusely, we all started talking, if you could call it that. The guy seemed to be fond of one-word sentences, and considering the fact that all Rory was doing was staring at him as if she was hypnotized, lets just say that it was a reasonably short conversation.
Later on, Jess announced that he had to be leaving, I said my good byes, but Rory offered to walk him to his bike; just to say good bye to an old friend she explained to me.
That night when we were in bed, she had she back turned to me. But early into the morning, just as I was starting to drift off to sleep, I heard her start to cry. And cry. And cry.
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Since that evening, she became a lot more distant. I would often come into a room and find her just staring off into space. The quickly following the distant phase came the time when she was always happy. She woke up with a huge grin on her face, and not once did it falter during the day.
At first I just thought that she was over whatever she was depressed about before hand, and then one day when she was out, I needed to check her diary to see if she was free for dinner, when a message written for the previous day caught my eye:
Six thirty- meet J.M.M at 12Rockwell
Who was J.M.M? And what did Rory need to meet him for?
I ignored it for the rest of the day, but when Rory came home late yet again, and went straight to her diary to write something in for tomorrow, my curiosity got the better of me.
The following morning, I took the morning off work, and went to visit my old school friend Ryan Samuels, who just happened to be a top private investigator.
I told him that I had a slight suspicion that my wife was seeing someone else.
He said that he would watch her for three days to start with. Just park near the house to watch where she left to go to, and follow her too and fro work to see weather or not she was being faithful.
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That evening she came home earlier than usual. She muttered a quick hello to me before she disappeared into the bedroom. She emerged ten minutes later in a short black cocktail dress, and her hair was swept up elegantly. She walked quickly across the room, past me and was half way out the door before she seemed to realize I was there, and turned to say goodbye. I asked her where she was off to, but the door closed into my words.
I went and stood at the window and watched her drive away in the Mercedes, followed closely by a sleek black jaguar.
On the other side of town a boy is waiting
With fiery eyes and dreams no one could steal
She drives on through the night anticipating
'Cause he makes her feel the way she used to feel.
She rushes to his arms, they fall together
She whispers that it's only for a while
She swears that soon she'll be coming' back forever
She pulls away and leaves him with a smile.
You can't hide your lying' eyes
And your smile is a thin disguise
I thought by now you'd realize
There ain't now way to hide you lying' eyes.
Two hours after my wife left the house, my mobile goes. It's Ryan. He has some news for me, and its not good.
I hang up just as she walks in the door.
She's smiling to herself, but stops sharp in her tracks halfway across the room when she sees me watching her so intently.
I ask her if she will be coming to bed in a minute.
She tells me that she'll do a bit of writing on her laptop first.
I nod sharply before tuning directly around and shutting the bedroom door behind me.
Out in the hallway she sighs, goes outside onto the deck, and begins to think about what she's doing.
Then, for the third time this week, she begins to cry.
She gets up and pours herself a strong one
And stares out at the stars up in the sky
Another night, it's gonna be a long one
She draws the shade and hangs her head to cry.
She wonders how it ever got this crazy
She thinks about a boy she knew in school
Did she get tired or did she just get lazy?
She's so far gone she feels just like a fool.
My, oh my, you sure know how to arrange things
You set it up so well, so carefully
Ain't it funny how your new life didn't change things
You're still the same old girl you used to be.
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The following morning I wake to find her gone.
I make myself breakfast, and go outside to eat it, all the time wondering if this is it.
Across town a woman emerges from a pharmacy, bag full of purchases in hand.
She opens the bag once and peers inside it, a petrified look upon her delicate features.
Then, without a second glance, she heads off in the opposite direction.
Just after noon she comes home. I give her a smile and pretend that everything is perfect. But it's a lie. Nothing in the world is perfect, not even her.
She looks up at me, a forced smile covering her true feelings. I look into her eyes and see concern. Then, with another quick smile forced in my direction, she goes into the bathroom and shuts the door with a click of the lock.
Twenty or so minutes later she emerges, white faced and clammy.
I ask her what's the matter, twice. But she never replies. She just heads out to the deck, her eyes fast filling with fear.
Again. My curiosity takes control, and I retrace her previous paces into the large marble bathroom.
I look around me, and all seems intact.
The glass still solid, the mirror still reflecting.
Just as I am to depart, out of the very corner of my eyes, I see a flash of blue under the cabinet.
I get down onto the cold tiles on my hands and knees, and with my pulsing hand, I feel around under the cupboards, my hand finally connecting with the object.
I grasp it firmly and pull it up to eye level.
And my heart stops beating.
You can't hide your lying' eyes
And your smile is a thin disguise
I thought by now you'd realize
There ain't no way to hide your lying' eyes.
My eyes begin to blur, and I struggle to regain my calm, as my world as I know it spirals out of control.
In one hand I tightly grasp a white stick.
In the other I hold a box, labeled "pregnancy test"
The last thing I see before I pass out, is the stick balanced on my sweaty palm. And the small but incredibly clear, positive sign.
There ain't no way to hide your lyin' eyes.
Honey, you can't hide your lyin' eyes...
THE END
AN: hi to everyone reading this.
I hope that you enjoyed this one parter fanfic.
I got the idea when I was listening to the song on the radio, and I just thought that it would make a good story.
The song in it is called "Lyin' Eyes" and it's by the Eagles
I hope that the writing was decent, and that it all made sense.
PLEASE update and tell me your opinion. It really means so much to me!