AN: Wow. You reviewers rock—you're feeding the frenzy of writing, believe it or not. I like to think it's a rather symbiotic relationship, and I thank you for such wonderful feedback.

He awoke to the gentle tickle of her hair against his cheek. There was a chestnut mass of fallen curls in his direct view, and it was a stray lock from that mass that had swept back against him. She moved gently against him as her chest expanded and emptied with air, effortlessly as she continued to sleep unaware of his study. He vaguely recollected waking up to her in the middle of the night, and her kissing his brow as he fell back to sleep. He wondered if it'd been a dream, but he didn't really care—if it was, it was one of the sweetest, simplest dreams he'd ever had. One he would find himself eager to go to sleep in order to recreate on a nightly basis.

He supposed that she would love a show of breakfast in bed, or coffee in the very least, but that would involve him leaving this warm cocoon they'd forged under the covers, by their sheer proximity, and chancing her waking up all alone in the large house. It was far more preferable to watch her sleep, with the possibility of being coaxed back to sleep by the gentle sounds and rhythms of her breath.

He did just that, wrapping an arm tighter around her as he closed his eyes, leaving the offending lock of hair just where it was. He'd almost quieted his mind enough to allow his mind to shut down when she bolted straight up in bed, gasping.

"Rory?" he asked, sitting up to match her.

She looked to him, surprised almost to find him next to her, then a split second later relieved, as she buried herself in his arms. She'd forgotten how nice it was to have someone there next to her after a bad dream. He soothed her, one hand smoothing her hair back, taming the strays and further loosening her curls, the other an unmoving constant on her back. She clung to his chest, working on focusing all her attention on settling her breathing.

"Bad dream?"

"Yeah."

"It's okay," he continued to assure her.

"Sorry," she realized how frightening it could be to wake up to someone having a panic attack.

"It's okay. You want to talk about it?"

"No, it was stupid. I was being chased."

"I've had those dreams," he nodded, still not letting her out of his arms.

"I have them a lot. That, or where I'm falling."

"Who was chasing you?"

"I don't know, some guy. I couldn't see his face," she said, shuddering as she could still feel the person in pursuit of her. She woke up when she felt the hand on her shoulder, pulling her back.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm good now," she assured him, pulling away from his chest to give him a soft kiss. "It's nice that you're here," she smiled gratefully.

"I have a confession," he smirked.

"You programmed my dream so I'd wake up clinging to you?" she teased.

"I woke up just now, and I was going to get up, to make you coffee, but you were just too warm to leave," he admitted.

"Thank God. I thought you were going to say there was none in the house, that we'd have to wait 'til we got back to London."

"I may be selfish, but I'm not suicidal," he shook his head. "Speaking of London, when do you need to get back?"

"Well, I should probably get back tonight at least. I have a lot of work to do, and I promised Mom I'd call her sometime this weekend. I left my phone at school."

"You wouldn't have gotten good reception out here, anyway."

She shrugged, settling back against the pillows. She hated to leave the bed; she wasn't quite ready to put the memories she was collecting in this room to rest.

"So, we can take our time getting back?" he asked.

"Sure, why?"

It was his turn to shrug. "Just not in a hurry to get back. I like being out here in the middle of nowhere with you."

"It is nice," she concurred.

"Besides, if what you said last night was true, I might have an angry female waiting on my doorstep," he cringed, causing her to laugh at his predicament.

"You shouldn't have been so sexy and irresistible," she chided him.

"Can't turn it off, babe," he leaned in to nuzzle her neck, much to her glee. "Hey, you wanna do me a favor?"

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" her eyes sparkled with fervor.

"I'm serious. How do you feel about answering my dorm door wearing just one of my shirts?"

She looked at him, surprise filling her eyes. "What?"

"You know, if we get another heads up about psycho-chick coming for a visit. You answering my door wearing just one of my shirts should give her a clue," he rationalized.

"OR, and call me crazy, but it just might work: you could call her and tell her you aren't interested."

"Rory," he complained.

"What are you, a man or a mouse? Tell her the truth—she's a very nice, but callow girl, and the one time you went out was fine, but now you've met your match—a girl that doesn't like to share your affections."

"She won't understand 'callow'," he interjected, amused by her explanation.

"Exactly. It's nicer than saying ignorant," she smiled.

"Is that how you let guys down? Use big words that sound all flowery and eloquent that mean, 'Hit the road, Jack'?"

"First of all, the men I date all understand big words," she pointed out.

"Dean," he shot back.

"Okay, so he didn't catch all the big words," she bit her lip to keep from grinning too much.

"Go on," he nodded.

"And second of all, I've only ever done the breaking up once."

"And I suppose you were the picture of dignity and grace?" he prodded without giving much thought to how recent he knew this particular occurrence had been.

She remained quiet, biting her lip in thought. "No."

He watched her, wondering if she was going to elaborate. If they were going to be in a serious relationship, she should be able to tell him what was bothering her, but in all honesty, he didn't want to hear much about her and any other guy. It was bad enough having witnessed it first hand back in high school.

"But this is different, you went out for a couple of hours on one date. Logan and I dated for six months," she looked up in his eyes.

He held in a wince at the use of this afore 'mystery' man's name and the emotion that her voice allowed to show in saying the one word.

"What happened?"

She looked up at him, unsure if he really wanted to know. "It's not important."

"Did he cheat on you?"

"No, he didn't. We just, we wanted different things."

"Such as?" he led.

"Such as he wanted to continue the relationship and I didn't."

"Be vaguer."

"He needed a trophy wife, not one that wanted to see the world while on assignment. He needed one skilled in hosting cocktail parties, and I've yet to find an appealing appetizer or the necessary skill to smile for hours on end for people that I've never met or don't like."

"Wow. He's from money, huh?"

"You could say that."

"And you still hate the society life, I take it?"

"It's not that, I just don't want it to get in the way of the life I want."

"I can understand that."

She looked to him, and he saw the hope in her eyes. "So, what kind of life do you want?"

He ran a hand through his hair, and considered his words carefully. He remembered all too vividly her disdain for all things haughty. She loved the close-knit, albeit meager, world that she'd been brought up in. She was willing to stretch herself into that world for her betterment, but she would carry a part of small town life with her wherever she went. It was in her genuine smile as she talked to perfect strangers, the way she would stop whatever she was doing to help someone with a task, and her intolerance of class distinction.

"I can't say that I would like to remove myself from all of this, but I certainly don't want to live in the constraints of Hartford society by any means. I plan on having money, but I don't plan on letting the money rule my affairs."

She nodded, her face awash in relief. "I just couldn't imagine shipping kids off to boarding schools or let them be raised by a nanny, especially if I'm not expected to work. It seems so antiquated and trite. What's the point in living if you aren't having real experiences?"

He loved the passion that she held inside of her. He knew she had always possessed it, but she was truly beginning to come into her own, and discovering all of her own strength.

"So, how is this experience ranking? Real enough for you?" he asked, in all seriousness.

"Yeah," she nodded, moving closer to him. "It feels real to me."

He could feel her heart beat against his as she let the sheet she'd pulled up modestly over her chest fall away. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but at this range words were failing him. She closed her eyes, her long lashes brushing against his angled cheek. He'd just have to settle for showing her instead.

XXXX

The drive back went by quicker, with now more familiar landmarks to tick off segments of the drive. It was true wherever you went, she supposed. She had hoped a foreign land would bring about some magical power of making time pull, keeping their trip suspended in time. As much as she was enjoying the classes so far and her internship, being with Tristan in the country house had been one of the most amazing days of her life. Before they left, they'd wandered the grounds, ending up in a game of tag in the garden—weaving in through the plants and flowers, him chasing her, him catching her. It hadn't been a long game of tag, as she was most willing to be caught and kept. The smell of flowers had mingled in with his aftershave, making her dizzy. She could still sense it if she closed her eyes now in the car.

Standing now, rather regretfully, at her door, she opened it and looked up at him.

"I suppose you don't want me to come in," he said more than asked.

"It wouldn't be very conducive to my getting actual work done, no," she shook her head sadly, not managing to hide her smile despite her best efforts.

"Can I ask you one last thing? I promise I'll let you study then," he smirked.

"Sure."

"Can I tell people we've dated, now?" he teased.

"Won't that crimp your style?"

"I hope so," he raised his eyebrows, leaning in to give her a goodbye kiss. She giggled and nodded.

"Well, then go ahead, shout it from the rooftops," she nodded firmly.

"You think I wouldn't?" he challenged.

"Go, study," she said sternly.

"Gilmore, sorry to break up the game of kissy-face, but I need to see you in my quarters," Dan opened his door and broke up the pair.

"No way, man, she's mine," Tristan put an arm around her shoulders, which she shirked off as she moved toward Dan.

"What's wrong?" she asked, now concerned at Dan's tone of voice. She moved into his room, and he sat down on the edge of his desk.

"Did you leave your phone here?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Your mother called, trying to track you down. I didn't know how to reach you, but she'd called the main dorm number trying to find you—you need to call home immediately. She sounded very urgent."

"Thanks, Dan," she ran back out of his room, past Tristan, who watched in confusion as she hurried into her room and began dialing before she shut the door. Tristan walked over to Dan's room and stuck his head in.

"Is everything okay?"

"Emergency at home," Dan said. "I don't know details."

"Is it Lorelai? Is she okay?"

"Her mom called with the message to contact her as soon as humanly possible. You now know all I know."

"Shit," he moved back out and tried Rory's door, which opened easily. He moved to sit next to her as she waited on the other end to be answered, tapping her foot anxiously.

"Hello?"

"Mom? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Rory, thank God! Where have you been?"

"We went out to the country, I told you I was going out with Tristan," she reminded.

"I didn't think you'd go away for a weekend, leaving no way to get a hold of you!"

"Mom, what happened? Is it Grandma, or Grandpa?" her tone rushed and full of concern.

"No, everyone's fine, I just found something."

"I should hang up right now. You can't do that to a person! I was scared to death!"

"No, Rory, listen to me: there is an engagement ring in this house," she said slowly.

"What?"

"You heard me!"

"Luke bought an engagement ring? Are you sure?"

"Well, I didn't find the receipt, I can assume he didn't steal it or go grave robbing," she rolled her eyes.

"Where was it?"

"In his sock drawer!"

"What were you doing going through his sock drawer?"

"Putting away his socks?"

"Aw, you're all homemaker-y," she cooed.

"Rory, focus. Luke. Bought. An. Engagement. Ring."

"Maybe it's not for you," she joked.

"Not funny."

"Would it be the worst thing in the world if he proposed? You love him."

"Yes, but this is the man that it took eight years to ask me out. We've been dating like a second, and he wants to get married?"

"Mom, you've been dating for over a year. Stranger things have happened."

Lorelai let out a long breath. "I guess you're right. I just don't want to screw this up."

"You won't. I have complete faith and confidence in you."

"Can I borrow it?"

"Sure."

"When are you coming home, again?"

"December."

"Damn."

"Sorry."

"You are not. So, details of the dream date to take my mind off of things on the home front?"

"Uh, can't."

"Is he sitting right here, waiting to smooch when you get off the phone?"

"Affirmative."

"I see. Well, when you detach him from your side, call me back. Day or night."

"You say that just like you mean it," Rory mused.

"Ah, you know me too well. Bye."

"Bye," she said, turning to Tristan. "Uh, so knocking's a thing of the past?" she inquired.

"I thought you might want some moral support for your dire emergency," he said sheepishly.

"Well, it wasn't so dire. Mom will recover from this bout of insanity, I assure you."

"Good to hear. I'll just go," he nodded.

She smiled moved to kiss his cheek. "You can play my knight in shining armor later. I promise."

He just shook his head at her making light of the instinctive feeling he'd received to be at her side. He wasn't prepared to react so quickly or feel so feral, but when he heard emergency and saw her move so quickly, it just hit him. Having been so close to her all weekend, he wasn't able to separate himself out from her all the way. He didn't want to go into a spiel about it, explaining this feeling he was having—it wasn't his style and he'd like to think she felt it too, even if just in a small way. He consented to leave her to study, going back down the hall to settle in for the coming week himself. He was content in just knowing this groundwork had been laid.