Pairing: Established relationships for L/L and P/J; R/T…eventually
Rating: R
Spoilers: May reference anything from seasons 1 & 2
Summary: Seven years after graduating Chilton, Rory and Paris are business partners. What happens when they strike up a joint venture with Tristan DuGrey?
Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Amy Sherman-Palladino, and are the property of Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.
Author's Notes: First off, let me apologize yet again for taking so long to update this story. I hadn't realized just how much time had elapsed. Obviously, with the holidays, things were hectic for a while. I was also spending quite a bit of time working on Proud & Prejudiced, the elite GG fic archive I maintain (with my fantastic e-board!). Check it out at http://www.fanshoot.com/proudandprejudiced
Now that it's been Thanksgiving weekend in the story for a full seven chapters, I expect the action to speed up a bit. For those of you eagerly awaiting "Trory goodness," please be patient. At the very least, I will attempt to update more regularly.
This chapter is dedicated to my beloved P&P buddies—Roxy, Chris, Jessica S, Laine, Priya, emrie, Miya, Trixie, Ash, Liza, Kay, Nate, and Jamie. Y'all rock.
Finally, this chapter's title quote is from You've Got Mail, which, while vastly inferior to Sleepless in Seattle, is still a lovely little chick flick that seems to improve each time I watch it.
Unholy Alliance
By Grace
Part Twenty-five: Oh, you poor, sad multimillionaire. I feel so sorry for you.
"Hey, Andy," Tristan casually greeted the mysterious Adonis. "Lane, I'd like you to meet my cousin, Andrew Courtland. Andy, this is my friend, Dr. Lane Kim."
"Tristan never mentioned that he was bringing such a lovely companion," Andrew said smoothly. "Actually, he didn't say he was bringing a companion at all." He grasped her hand lightly and raised it to his lips in a fluid motion. "The pleasure is mine, Dr. Kim."
She giggled somewhat inanely, the result of an adolescence somewhat underexposed to males. "Please, call me Lane."
"Of course, Lane. Call me Andy. Now, why don't you come in? I'm sure the entire family will be thrilled to meet you."
As Lane and Tristan trailed behind him into the spacious, elegant bungalow, she murmured, "I see that charm runs in the family."
Tristan smirked at her. "Would you expect anything else?"
Before she had a chance to reply, they entered a large sitting room filled with people. Suddenly self-conscious, Lane froze. She felt like she had wandered into an old episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. The women were all perfectly coiffed, jewels sparkling at their ears, necks, and wrists, their clothing obviously professionally tailored and expensive. The men all sported lightweight suits, sans ties, their jackets casually unbuttoned.
And here she stood, in a pair of blue jeans and a short-sleeved red shirt, looking for all the world like a lost urchin or the hired help. Her heart pounding, she managed to plaster a smile on her face.
"Tristan, darling, who is your friend?" one of the older women asked, her tone cultured and clipped.
"Mother, I'd like to introduce Dr. Lane Kim. She's a first-year resident, and a very good friend of mine."
"Delighted," Sandra DuGrey drawled, extending one lily-white, carefully manicured hand.
Lane tentatively gripped it, murmuring, "Likewise."
An older gentleman, clearly Tristan's father, stood up and said in a booming voice, "A doctor, eh, Tris? That's certainly an improvement over the last nymphet. What was she? An exotic dancer?"
"A cocktail waitress, Father," Tristan said tightly. "And Lane and I are just friends."
Mrs. DuGrey sighed mournfully. "Tristan, when are you going to settle down and find a nice girl? The DuGrey line must be continued."
Much to Lane's relief, Andrew cut smoothly into the conversation. "Lane, may I offer you a mimosa? Or perhaps a shot of vodka? DuGrey family functions tend to require alcohol."
She smiled gratefully and moved closer to him. "A mimosa would be lovely. Sadly, alcohol is strictly taboo at Kim events. This will be like paradise."
He chuckled. "Touché. So, how did you become acquainted with my delinquent cousin?"
"My best friend's magazine currently has a business partnership with Tristan's company. Actually, he and Rory went to high school together for about a year, too."
"Rory?"
"My best friend."
"Of course. He didn't meet her at military school, did he?" Andy joked.
Lane grinned. "No, she transferred to Chilton her sophomore year, and they met there."
"Too bad—it's always entertaining to bring up Tristan's tenure as the family black sheep."
"Doesn't he hold the crown any longer?"
Andy smiled sheepishly. "No, I ascended that throne when I shocked the family by majoring in journalism."
"What's wrong with journalism?"
"Nothing, if you come from a normal family. The DuGreys, however, don't view the press as having a particularly stellar position in society."
"That's ridiculous!"
"Isn't it though?" Tristan commented, joining the conversation. "I see Andy's already trying to gain sympathy for being a poor, misguided reporter."
"Managed to escape your parents' clutches already, old boy? You must have been practicing."
Tristan smirked. "This isn't the first time this weekend I've had to get away from some unwanted attention."
"What do you mean?"
He gave Andy a quick synopsis of dinner with Kathleen Salinger, a story which had his cousin clutching his sides with laughter.
The humor was cut short when Tristan's father walked over. "Son, surely you didn't fly all the way across the country just to be anti-social? I know we taught you better manners than that."
Lane noted the tension that immediately stiffened Tristan's body. "Of course, Father. We'll be right over."
* * *
Lake Forest Hospital was pretty much like every other hospital Rory had been in—only more opulent. Rather than the typical bile-green paint, the walls were papered with an elegant floral print in shades of burgundy and hunter green. A path of green tiles ran down the center of the hallway, discreetly leading visitors to the patient areas.
The smell, however, was exactly the same—antiseptic and slightly stale. Rory firmly grasped Ryan's hand, knowing how difficult it was for him to see his grandfather this way.
The old man had been sleeping since they arrived, and they were loathe to wake him up, knowing how little peace and rest he was able to get each day. Now, though, his eyes began to flutter open.
"Hi, Grandpa," Ryan said quietly.
"Ryan! I didn't expect to see you today. And who is this beautiful young lady?"
"This is my girlfriend, Lorelai Gilmore. She's the one I've told you about."
His grandfather gave a rusty chuckle. "Of course, of course. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Gilmore."
"The pleasure is mine, sir. Please, call me Rory."
"Okay, Rory. So how is it that you've managed to tame my wayward grandson?"
Rory blushed. "I'm sure I haven't done anything. Ryan has been a perfect gentleman since the day we met."
His bushy white eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really? Funny, those aren't the stories I've heard over the years. You and I will have to compare notes someday."
It was Ryan's turn to blush. "Grandpa, I'm sure Lorelai doesn't want to hear boring stories about me."
"On the contrary, Ryan, I'd love to hear stories about your misspent youth," Rory said with a chuckle.
"I can see why my grandson likes you. I don't suppose there's any chance you'll be giving me a great-grandchild before I dies? Or at least a wedding?"
"I'm working on that, Grandpa. Lorelai still needs a little convincing."
"Then she's more astute than more young women her age. Most girls these days take one look at a diamond and fall all over themselves racing to the altar. Marriage is not something to be rushed into."
Rory smiled gratefully. Ryan had been subtly pressuring her all day to make up her mind quickly, and it was a relief to encounter someone who understood and agreed with how she felt.
"I'm sure that when the time is right, you'll make the correct decision, young lady."
"I hope so, sir."
"Now, tell me all about Thanksgiving dinner. What kind of mischief did the family stir up this year?"
Relieved that the conversation was being steered away from marriage, Rory relaxed as Ryan launched into an account of the previous day's festivities.
* * *
Sitting on an overstuffed sofa, sandwiched between Andy and Tristan, Lane took a tentative sip of her mimosa. Conversation among the DuGreys had thus far been stilted and awkward, to the point that she almost missed her mother's religious diatribes.
"So, Lane, where are you doing your residency?" Tristan's mother suddenly asked.
"At Beth Israel. I worked there as a medical student, and they hired me on full-time after graduation."
Andrew looked at her with interest. "I didn't realize you were living in Boston," he commented. "I've been working at the Globe for just over a year. We'll have to get together sometime."
"I'd like that," Lane said warmly.
As she and Andy began discussing the finer points of Beantown, Phillippe DuGrey focused his attention on his son. "How's business these days, Tristan?"
"Things are going quite well, Father. Right now we're gearing up to launch an Internet version of a local magazine."
"Is that so? Which one?"
"The Hartford Harbinger."
"That's a fine up-and-coming publication, son. How did you manage to land the account?"
Damned with faint praise yet again, Tristan thought. "It was founded by two of my old Chilton classmates. You remember Paris Gellar, don't you?"
"Of course, of course. Tragic what happened to her parents. It's good to know she's doing something with her life."
Tristan bristled. "As opposed to me, you mean?"
"Now, darling, your father didn't say that," Sandra DuGrey said soothingly.
"He didn't have to," Tristan said bitterly. "It's no secret what he thinks of me and my life. You're never going to forgive me for not following in your footsteps, are you dad?"
"That's enough," Phillippe said sharply. "We are supposed to be having a pleasant day as a family. Moreover, you have a guest. This is neither the time…"
Tristan cut him off. "Spare me. First of all, there hasn't been a DuGrey family party without a screaming match for at least twenty years. Second, Lane is more like family to me than you will ever be. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there's someplace I need to be."
Lane immediately jumped to her feet and, shooting an apologetic look at Andy, followed Tristan out of the bungalow. They had made it twenty feet down the path when the door behind them banged open, and a blonde whirlwind came hurtling towards them.
"Tristan, wait!" yelled Natalie DuGrey.
He stopped, and allowed his sister to embrace him tightly. "I love you, big brother, and don't you ever forget it," she whispered.
He kissed the top of her head. "I love you too, Nat. I'm sorry about what happened in there. I hate putting you in the middle like this."
She pulled back and stared straight into his eyes. "There's no middle, Tristan, and you know it. You and me against the world, remember?"
He smiled gently. "I remember."
"Where are you guys staying? I'll try and see if Andy and I can sneak over later."
Tristan told her their bungalow number, gave her another hug and kiss, and sent her on her way. When Natalie was gone, Lane took him by the hand and asked, "Are you okay?"
He shrugged. "I will be. It's not like it's anything new."
"I'm sorry, Tristan."
"It's not your fault."
"I know. I just wish there was something I could do."
He squeezed her hand. "You're here. That's enough."
Hand-in-hand, they walked back to their bungalow in companionable silence. Once they were inside, Lane commented, "Well, that was fun."
Tristan flopped down on the couch and groaned. "I'm so sorry, Lane. I promise, you won't have to see the Addams Family any more this weekend."
She sat down beside him and patted his knee. "Don't say that, Tristan. You're insulting the Addams Family." She paused when he chuckled. "Besides, Andrew and Natalie didn't seem so bad."
"Yeah, you and my dear cousin seemed to hit it right off."
"He's nice, and he plied me with alcohol. What's not to like?"
"And of course, you think he's hot," Tristan teased.
Lane blushed. "That doesn't hurt either."
"Awfully convenient that you both live in Boston. Even more convenient that he wants to 'get together sometime.'"
"Do you think he meant it?"
"Of course he did." He looked at her thoughtfully. "I'm guessing this means you won't want us to masquerade as a couple after all."
"Do you mind? I mean, I still want to help you with the Rory situation…"
"Of course I don't mind, Lane. For one thing, I don't want to trick Rory into falling for me. For another, if you're meant to find happiness with my cousin, I'm not going to stand in your way—despite his questionable family."
"You're too kind. Don't forget that you're a member of that questionable family. Now come on, enough sitting around. It's time for you to show me the sights of Napa."
"Your wish is my command."
* * *
Rory shivered violently as she and Ryan stepped out of the hospital into the frigid air. "I really like your grandfather, Ryan. He's a fascinating man."
"I think he finds you equally fascinating, Lorelai. You certainly earned his seal of approval."
"I'm glad. Ryan…is there any chance he'll pull through this?"
Ryan sighed. "Well, I suppose there's always a chance—but the outlook doesn't look good."
"I've never lost anyone I love, you know? I don't even want to imagine what it will be like when one of my grandparents dies."
Ryan squeezed her hand. "I hope you don't have to find out for a very long time. The way I look at it, though, when he does finally go, at least he'll have lived a full, wonderful life."
"That's a nice way to think of it. When my time comes, I hope people can say that about me."
"I'm sure they will, Lorelai."
To be continued…