Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T eventually
Spoilers: May reference any and all episodes from seasons 1 & 2, up to and including Lost and Found.
Rating: R
Summary: Future fic. Seven years after graduating from Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?
Disclaimer: All characters from the television show Gilmore Girls were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Dororthy Parker Drank Here Production and Hofflund-Pollone. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.
A/N: This chapter's title quote is from My Best Friend's Wedding. If there was any justice in the world, "Kimmy" would have taken a powder. What is the point of plunking down $7.50 if Julia Roberts isn't going to get her man?
Unholy Alliance
by Grace
Part Eleven: It's amazing the clarity that comes with psychotic jealousy.
The hotel room was dark, and Lane appeared to be sound asleep when Rory finally got in that night. She and Ryan had thoroughly enjoyed their dinner at Serendipity 3, with Rory practically swooning at the wonder of frozen mochaccino. She had managed to put the strange discussions of Tristan out of her head.
Now, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. It had been a long day, and she was exhausted. Ten minutes later, she was sliding between the luxurious sheets and relaxing against the fluffy pillows.
Sleep, though, proved elusive. Free from outside distractions, her mind continued to tick away. She really liked Ryan. In a lot of ways, he reminded her of Dean—but only the sweet, kind, considerate Dean, not the jealous, possessive, unreasonable Dean.
Shoving that memory aside, Rory returned her thoughts to Ryan. There was no question that she was attracted to him, with his dazzling green eyes and reddish-brown hair. She smiled into the darkness. He was also one hell of a kisser. Since she had promised Lane that Sunday would be girls only, she and Ryan said their goodbyes that night. Rory felt her body suffuse with warmth at the recollection of their kisses. It was rare that she allowed herself to get caught up in a moment of passion. Although she had lost her virginity to Dean years before, her experience with men was still rather limited. She didn't want to follow a life path similar to her mother's, and in all honesty, she didn't care enough about most of the guys she dated to even consider the next step.
With Ryan, however, she could not only imagine taking the next step, but every step that came after. Rory knew it was foolish—they had only been on three dates, after all, four if you counted coffee at the airport—but she honestly believed it was fate that they had met. He had definitely come into her life for a reason…
* * *
Not too far away, Tristan was enduring his own bout with insomnia. He kept hearing the words "Then I don't have a problem with it" repeating over and over in his head, like some sort of masochistic mantra. Meanwhile, the sadistic little voice inside his mind kept whispering "Liar, liar, pants on fire."
It was enough to make a man want to throw things. Instead, he punched his pillow savagely and rolled out of bed. Flipping on the bedside light, he padded over to his closet and proceeded to pull out a wooden box. Slightly larger than a briefcase, it was dusty from neglect and secured with a lock.
Setting it on the floor in front of him, Tristan quickly spun the combination and lifted the lid. The long-unused hinges squeaked in protest, and the swirling dust made his nose itch.
No one who knew Tristan Janlen DuGrey would say that sentimentality was one of his defining traits, but then, no one had ever seen the contents of this box. Slowly, carefully, he lifted each item out, arranging them in a loose circle around his body, like planets circling a dimming sun.
First out was the invitation to the birthday party at Rory's grandparents' house, followed by a ticket from the dance where he fought with Dean. Next there was a small piano ornament that he hadn't been able to resist because it reminded him of their kiss. The copy of Casablanca had been purchased after he figured out who Louis was. A pair of unused PJ Harvey tickets seemed to mock him, and he quickly shifted his focus to the last item in the box. The paper was yellowed with age, but the printing still stood out black and bold. Absently, Tristan traced his finger over the lines that read
Act V
Tristan DuGrey as Romeo
Lorelai Gilmore as Juliet
Rubbing a weary hand across his eyes, Tristan made a decision. It was time to stop living in the past. He had given RJ his word, and he wouldn't break it. How did that song go? "If you love somebody, set them free"? It was time to set Rory free, even if she never realized how he felt.
Before he could change his mind, he scooped up the invitation, the dance and concert tickets, and the program. The piano ornament he tossed in the garbage; the DVD he left on the floor. Heading into the living room—which the cleaning service had made immaculate, no questions asked—he lit a small fire in the fireplace. Slowly and deliberately, Tristan watched the scraps of his history with Rory reduce to ashes.
When the fire flickered out, he lay down where he sat, and at last, he slept.
* * *
Rory flung open the door to her apartment, tossed her small suitcase inside, and stumbled in the general direction of the couch. She and Lane had spent the morning and afternoon sightseeing in New York, and then made the drive back to Hartford. Even as Rory collapsed in a crumpled heap on her couch, Lane was determinedly continuing her trek to Boston.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rory saw that the voice mail indicator on her phone was blinking rapidly. Groaning, she sort of rolled off the couch and crawled/stumbled to the phone. Punching in the appropriate codes, she sprawled on the floor and listened to her messages.
"Hey Ror! Billy, Emma, and Charlotte want to know when their big sister is coming to Stars Hollow for a visit. Hope you had a nice trip to New York. Did you bring us presents? Call me when you get in. Later babe!"
"Rory, it's Paris. Call me when you get home. We need to talk."
Well, that sounds ominous, Rory thought. Deciding she would rather get the bad news first, she dialed Paris and Jess' familiar number.
"Hello?"
"Jess? It's Rory."
"Hey, how was your trip?"
"Nice. Not at all relaxing, but a lot of fun. I got a message from your wife. Is she home?"
"Yeah, hang on."
"Rory?"
"Hi Paris. How are you?"
"I'm fine. Look, we need to talk."
"Yeah, you said as much in your message. What's up?"
"I know it's Sunday, and I suppose this could have waited until Monday, but I really just wanted to get it over with…"
"Paris? Get to the point. I'm tired."
"Snippy, too. I know you haven't been particularly thrilled with the idea of an online edition of the magazine…"
"Actually, I've been giving it some thought. So before you launch into some huge diatribe about how good it will be for business, let me say now that I think you're right. I may have even discovered who should design the website."
"Really? And who might that be?"
"Ryan and Tristan."
There was a pregnant pause. "I see. Well, it's interesting to hear that you've changed your mind. I was actually going to tell you that I think you're right. It would be a lot of work, and the timing isn't very good."
"Wait, you're agreeing with my original stance?"
"Yes, but since you're so enamored of the idea now, I think we should go ahead with it. In fact, I'd like to put you in charge of the project."
"What? Why? Hold on…this has been your baby since the beginning. What changed?"
"It's funny you should mention babies…"
It took Rory a minute, but then she screeched, "You're pregnant?"
"Yes."
"Oh my God! Congratulations! How long have you known? How far along are you? When are you due? Are you excited? Is Jess excited?"
"Thank you, two days, six weeks, March or April, yes, and yes."
"Paris, I'm so happy for you. If there's anything I can do, please just let me know."
"You can agree to head up the online magazine."
"Pregnant women are devious," Rory grumbled. "Fine. I'll do it. We're supposed to conference call with Ryan and Tristan tomorrow."
"Are you sure working with them wouldn't be a problem for you?"
"Why would it be a problem? Ryan and I obviously get along just fine, and I felt like Tristan and I really connected as friends this weekend."
"Hmm. I just don't know if it's wise to mix business with a romantic relationship. I think I would be more comfortable if you worked with Tristan."
Rory sighed. "Paris, can we fight about this tomorrow? I really am exhausted."
"I suppose. Just think about what I said."
"I will. Oh, and Paris?"
"What?"
"I really am happy for you and Jess."
"Thanks. We're pretty thrilled, too."
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Good-night."
Hanging up the phone, Rory took a deep breath, then picked it up again and dutifully called her mother.
* * *
When Paris went to join her husband on the couch, he gave her a questioning look. "I thought you were giving up on the online magazine?"
"I was, but it turns out that Rory wants to go ahead with it after all. Who am I to deny her?"
"And if you happen to do a little matchmaking between her and Tristan in the process, all the better, right?"
Paris ducked her head guiltily. "You caught that, huh? It's not really matchmaking. I honestly don't think that people who are dating should work together."
"There's a Grand Canyon-sized hole in that logic, Frenchie."
"Oh, really? And what might that be?"
"Hmm, how about the fact that you don't want Rory and Ryan to work together because they're dating, but what you really want to happen is for Rory to realize that she and Tristan should be dating, despite the fact that they work together?"
Paris groaned. "Have I mentioned how much I hate my hormones? I am not supposed to be the illogical one in this relationship!"
"Hey!"
"And whoever thought the day would come when I was actually trying to get Rory Gilmore to date Tristan DuGrey?"
"They are two of your best friends, so it at least makes some degree of sense."
"Gee, that's so encouraging."
"Just calling it like I see it. What are you going to do if one of them happens to figure out your little scheme?"
She shrugged. "I'll just blame it on the pregnancy."
He eyed her warily. "You're going to milk that for all it's worth, aren't you?"
"Hell yes! All my life, I've been the dependable one, the logical one, the rational one, the focused one. It's my turn to be flighty and have whims."
"Um, okay. Any particular whims I should be aware of?"
"Well…I was thinking that my charming, handsome husband could go draw a bubble bath for two."
He gently poked her stomach. "Don't you mean three?"
"Who said you were invited?" she smirked.
When he moved to tickle her, she cried, "Okay, okay! I meant three! Geez."
"Your wish is my command."
"Ooh, I like the sound of that…"
* * *
Boston traffic was horrible, as usual. Idiot tourists just could not seem to figure out that one lane was Beacon and the other lane was Commonwealth. Was that really such a difficult concept? Laying on the horn as yet another Volvo swerved in front of her, Lane let out a string of Korean curses.
The curses got louder and more colorful when she felt the car jolt. Banging her head against the steering wheel, she realized that she had just been rear-ended. This was so not what she needed on top of this weekend's Tristan-Rory-Ryan saga.
Slowly pulling out of traffic and over to the curb, she grabbed her insurance card and purse, and got out of the car. As the other driver approached her, already apologizing profusely, Lane's eyes widened in shock.
"Henry?" she whispered.
"Lane? Is that you?"
Turning her face to the sky, she mumbled, "Someone up there is playing cosmic chess with my life, and I don't like it!"
To be continued…