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 Teach Me Tonight.

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 Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions and Hofflund-Pollone.  They are used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's note:  This chapter's quote is from the miniseries Anne of Avonlea (also known as Anne of Green Gables: The Sequel)

Unholy Alliance

by Grace

Part Thirteen: Let's not change, Tristan.  Let's just go on being good friends.

                Nearly a week had gone by since the first teleconference between ILRG and G & G.  Ryan and Tristan had flown in from New York to finalize the deal, and the four of them signed a contract.  Ryan had flown out that same night after a romantic dinner with Rory, but Tristan had stuck around for a few days trying to find an apartment with a short-term lease.  So far, he hadn't had much luck.

                Tristan tipped back in his chair with an exasperated sigh.  He had viewed close to thirty apartments since Wednesday.  It was now Friday, and he was ready to tear his hair out.

                Taking a bit of her salad, Paris looked at him thoughtfully from across the table.  "There must have been something halfway decent," she commented.

                He allowed the front legs of his chair to bang back down on the floor.  "Nothing.  There was nothing, Paris.  Either they wanted to lock me into a yearlong lease, or the place was a total dive!  I live across the street from Central Park, for crying out loud!  There's only so far I can lower myself!"

                "Are you sure you've exhausted all the possibilities?"

                He viciously speared a bite of chicken.  "Positive.  I've spoken with five different realtors.  None of them have found anything else."

                "Well, I might be able to help."

                Tristan's eyes brightened.  "Seriously?  I hope you haven't been holding out on me all this time."

                "I haven't!  I just found out about this today.  A…friend of mine mentioned that her neighbor was going abroad for an indefinite amount of time, and is looking for a subletter."

                "Sounds interesting.  Tell me more."

                "Well, the building is old, but very well-maintained.  It's in a residential neighborhood, and the rent is reasonable."

                "It sounds too good to be true.  Do you have the address?"

                "Not on me, but I can get it to you later today."

                "Please do.  I'm getting desperate.  I don't think I could handle bunking on your couch."

                Paris arched an eyebrow.  "What makes you think we'd let you?  Anyway, why our couch?  Rory has a guest room."

                He laughed sharply.  "RJ would just love that.  Besides, Rory would probably murder me in my sleep."

                "And you would probably deserve it," she said lightly.

                "Gee, thanks."

                "Are you sure the two of you are going to be able to work on this project together?"

                "Good grief, why does everyone keep asking me that?"

                "Well, Charlie Brown, probably because you called her 'Mary' during a conference call," Paris snapped.  "It doesn't exactly instill confidence that you'll keep things professional."

                "Oh my God, you're channeling Lucy Van Pelt."

                "Five cents please," she grinned.

                "Paris, trust me.  I'm not a blockhead, and Rory isn't the Little Red-Haired Girl.  We'll get along just fine—particularly if she can keep her gushing about RJ to a minimum."

                "I hope you're right."

                "Like I could be wrong?" he smirked.  "Now tell me, have you and Jess started picking out baby names?"

                "Are you kidding me?  We still haven't figured out what to do about the whole Jewish-Catholic issue."

                "How devout is Jess in his faith?"

                "Not particularly, but he seems pretty adamant about raising the baby Catholic."

                "Have you spoken to anyone about it?"

                "Yes, we've met with both a priest and a rabbi."

                Tristan grinned.  "Sounds like the start of a bad joke."

                "This isn't funny, DuGrey!"

                "I'm sorry, Paris.  What did they have to say?"

                She sighed.  "It went pretty much as expected.  Both of them advocated raising the child in their respective religions.  In other words, we ended up exactly where we started."

                "Have you considered exposing him—or her—to both Catholicism and Judaism?"

                "I've thought about it a little, but I'm worried that by not choosing one or the other, he or she won't come to truly understand or appreciate either one."

                Tristan chewed thoughtfully before replying.  "That's possible, yes, but it would be up to you and Jess to prevent that from happening."

                "I suppose it's worth mentioning to Jess, see what he thinks."

                Chuckling, he commented, "I'll bet you never anticipated this to be one of the dilemmas of parenting."

                "Honestly?  I never really anticipated parenthood."

                "The best laid plans, right?"

                "Speaking of plans, have you had any revelations about how you're going to design our website?"

                "Well, pending my actually finding a place to live, I want to have a day-long brainstorming session with Rory—one room, two people, unlimited supplies of coffee, pizza, and Twizzlers."

                Paris stared at him, her eyes wide.  "That sounds absolutely terrifying."

                "Oh, trust me, it is.  But, some of my best designs have resulted from that exact technique."

                "Suddenly, I'm really glad that I handed this project off to Rory."

                Grinning, he replied, "I'm sure she's thrilled too."

*              *                *

                "Lorelai Hayden."

                "Hi sweetie!"

                Rory smiled into the phone.  "Hi mom.  Finally get the twins to go down for their lunchtime nap?"

                Lorelai heaved an audible sigh.  "Yes, thank God.  I love the girls, but sometimes…"

                "I know the feeling."

                "Oh really, Ms. Single-Successful-Career Woman?  How do you figure that?"

                "I work with Paris, remember?"

                "Hey, no fair!  I thought you weren't going to play the Paris trump card anymore!"

                "Right, just like you don't barter sex for coffee with Luke?"

                There was silence on the other end of the line.

                "Mom, stop sticking your tongue out at me."

                "How did you know?"

                "I'm psychic."

                "Ooh, then can you use your powers to divine when my prodigal daughter is going to return to the fold?"

                "I'm hardly prodigal.  Anyway, I'm planning on coming out next weekend with Paris and Jess."

                "Goody!  But leave Paris and Jess there."

                "Mom!"

                "Fine, fine.  I'll play nice."

                "You're still bitter about my fractured wrist, aren't you?"

                "I still maintain that the hoodlum was entirely to blame," Lorelai grumbled.

                "Yeah, well, back then you also believed that Dean could pretty much do no wrong, so what does that say about your judgment?"

                "Low blow."

                "Too bad.  Jess is family now."

                "So is Sherry, but I don't see you singing her praises."

                "True, but Sherry is a neurotic, obsessive-compulsive freak job who has somehow managed to snow dad all these years, whereas Jess is a mature, productive member of society who just so happens to make my business partner happier than I ever thought was possible."

                "Hmph.  Remind me again why you didn't become a lawyer?  You could be supporting me in my reclining years."

                "Because life isn't like Legally Blonde, and I don't voluntarily swim with sharks."

                "Fine.  Hey, how's the partnership with Tristan going?"

                "It's with both Tristan and Ryan, first off, and we haven't done anything beyond signing the contract yet.  He's still looking for an apartment with a short-term lease."

                "Let me get this straight—Tristan is going to move to Hartford and work day in and day out with you, while Ryan wanders alone and aimless through Manhattan?  Sounds convenient."

                "Tristan and I are not going to be working day in and day out together.  I'll still be writing for the magazine, remember?  And Ryan is going to be running the business and dealing with their other clients."

                "I still think it's just asking for a Romeo & Juliet moment."

                "Then you think too much.  Tristan and I have only ever been just friends.  That's all we'll ever be."

                "Sure, Anne."

                In the few moments Rory took to ponder that comment, Lorelai hung up—just before her daughter shouted, "He is not Gilbert!"

                Muttering under her breath, Rory replaced with receiver with quite a bit more force than necessary.  When it rang again almost immediately, she snatched it up and yelled, "I'm confiscating all of your L.M. Montgomery books!"

                "Um, okay," came the timid reply.

                "Lane!  Oh, God, I'm sorry!  I thought you were my mother, calling back to continue harassing me."

                "What's she fixating on now?"

                "Just some wacky analogy between Anne and Gilbert and me and Tristan.  I swear, sometimes I wonder if Luke spikes her coffee."

                There was no response from her best friend.  "Lane?  Are you still there?"

                "Huh?  Oh, yeah.  You know, I could totally see myself as Diana.  Unfortunately, that means I'll have to marry some chubby guy named Fred."

                "I'm going to hang up on you," Rory threatened.

                Lane ignored her.  "Although, I think my mother is more like Marilla than Mrs. Barry.  Ooh!  And Miss Patty is totally Mrs. Lynde!"

                "Are you done yet?" inquired Rory dryly.

                "Sorry.  I couldn't help myself—I always wanted to live in Avonlea."

                "No you didn't.  You just wanted to hook up with that guy that played Gilbert."

                "True.  I wonder whatever happened to him?"

                "Not a clue.  He's probably looking for a young Korean doctor to support him."

                "Cute.  Must I remind you of the Jason Priestly-as-"Teen Angel"-on-the-New Mickey Mouse Club incident?"

                "You promised never to mention that!" choked out Rory.

                "Your point being?"

                "My point being that I'm not the one who thought Brian Austin Green had musical talent."

                Lane gasped.  "I was nine!"

                "Your point being?"

                "Fine.  Stalemate.  Moving on…did Tristan find a place to live yet?"

                "Do I look like his social secretary?"

                "Okay, wrong subject change.  Take two.  How are things with Ryan?"

                A dreamy look passed over Rory's features.  "They're great.  He's driving up tomorrow morning, and then we're going to go see all the covered bridges in Connecticut."

                "Awww…"

                "Oh, hush.  I really like him, Lane.  I haven't felt this way about anyone is such a long time.  I think he could be the one."

                Lane stifled a sigh.  "I'm happy for you, Ror.  Just promise me you won't run off to Vegas with him, okay?"

                "I promise—but I can't rule out Atlantic City!"

*              *                *

                Dusk was slowly settling over Stars Hollow when Lorelai Danes dropped onto the porch swing beside her husband.  Swiveling around, she rested her head in his lab and allowed her feet to dangle over the side.  Automatically, Luke began to stroke her hair, and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

                As Lorelai's eyes began to drift shut, he said quietly, "She's a smart girl, Lor.  She'll figure it out eventually."

                Her eyes flew open, and she gazed intently into his.  "How do you always seem to know what I'm thinking?"

                He shrugged.  "You're predictable.  Completely insane, but predictable."

                She reached up and playfully slugged him in the chest.  "Watch it mister."

                "Okay, okay.  I also heard you on the phone with Sookie earlier."

                "Cheater!"  Her expression sobered.  "I just want her to be happy, Luke."

                "Maybe this Ryan guy makes her happy."

                She sighed.  "That's what I thought about Max and Christopher, once upon a time.  It took your miscreant nephew to show me how wrong I was.  I don't want her to end up wasting all the time we did."

                "How do you know that Tristan is the one she's supposed to be with?"

                "A mother knows these things.  Even my mother got a clue about you and me before I did.  Besides, between Lane and Paris, I'm practically getting daily updates on the situation.  There's something there, Luke, whether my darling daughter wants to admit it or not."

                "She'll be home next weekend.  Maybe you can talk to her about it then."

                "There's really no point—she's too much like me.  She's not going to believe me unless she wants to believe me."

                "You know, she is an adult now, Lorelai.  She's doing pretty well so far.  You have to let her live her own life, make her own mistakes."

                "I know.  I just don't want to see her get hurt."

                "Neither do I.  You know I would do anything to prevent that."

                Lorelai grinned.  "Yeah, between you, Christopher, my father, Jess, and probably even Tristan, this Ryan guy had better watch his step."

                "Personally, I would worry more about you, your mother, Paris, and Lane."

                "Funny, funny man.  Now shut up and kiss me."

                Luke happily obliged.

*              *                *

                Peering intently at the small piece of paper Paris had given him, Tristan quickly dialed the specified number.

                "Hello?"

                "Hi, yes, I'm trying to reach Jenny Calabrese."

                "Speaking."          

                "Jenny, hi.  My name is Tristan DuGrey.  A friend of my told me that you're looking to sublet your apartment."

                "Yes, I am."

                "Have you found anyone yet?"

                "No.  I haven't even put an ad in the paper yet."

                "Would you be willing to hold off on that until I could take a look at the place?"

                "I suppose.  When exactly did you have in mind?"

                "Do you have any time tomorrow?"

                "Sure.  I'm just going to be packing."

                Within a few moments, they had set up an appointment for eleven o'clock the following morning.  He smiled as he switched off the phone.  Things were definitely looking up.

To be continued…