AN: Just a warning—this might be the last chapter for about a week or so. I have to take my laptop in on Thursday for its keyboard issues, and then I'll be out of town all weekend for a friend's wedding. So, enjoy, and I'll update as soon as I get back!

The sensation of free-falling through the open sky has been described as euphoric, self-actualizing, and even exhilarating. These people were obviously mentally hindered, or in the very least, strapped to a very reliable looking parachute, she decided. Slicing though the air at the gravitational constant did nothing for her, save for solidifying the certainty of near and (she hoped) sudden death. She could feel her heart pound in every cell of her body as the ground sped towards her. She got a strange sensation, akin to déjà vu, that she needed to wake up now. She'd had dreams of falling many times in her life, and they had all involved her waking up just before she hit. This wasn't right, she couldn't stop the evitable end. She impacted the ground on her back and was very aware of a sudden stillness. It was as if the world stopped rotating as she collided with the surface.

Her eyes opened, and she hesitantly attempted to lean up into a seated position. She looked up at the cliff above her from which she'd fallen, now unable to see the top where her free fall had begun. She shuddered as she felt blood coursing through her veins, as if her circulation system had reset itself. Exhilaration: she was still alive.

'Now what?' she asked aloud.

Rory bolted straight up in bed for the second night in a row. This time her surroundings were much more familiar, but all she had to cling to was her pillow. Her heart raced as the disturbing dream flashed through her mind once more, an instant replay. She slipped out of bed, not even noting the early morning time on her bedside table as she made the quick journey down the hallway.

He woke easily to the light rapping on his door. He'd always been a light sleeper, with the large house he'd grown up in constantly settling, moaning and creaking, that would cause his eyes to pop open at random intervals. He threw the covers off of him at the second round of knocking, this time sure he wasn't just hearing things, and pulled the top sheet off to wrap it around his midsection as he moved quickly across the cold tile to the door.

She was standing before him, her eyes wide with fear. Silently, he moved back, pulling her into his room so he could shut the world out. He pulled her close to him, holding her as she leaned into his chest. He felt her breathing slow to match his, and he moved her over to sit on the bed.

"I had another dream. I was falling, and usually I wake up before I hit the ground, but this time, I hit the ground, and just got up."

"You hit the ground and didn't wake up?" came his incredulous response.

She nodded her head against him. "I'm sorry, for waking you up, it just really unnerved me."

"You want to stay in here for a while?" he offered.

"I should get back to my own room," she said, feeling like a scared little girl for having come to him like this.

"Just stay. I'll kick you out if you take up too much of the bed," he joked.

"I just don't understand why I'm having these dreams."

"Being chased and falling are common themes in dreams. Go look them up at the library," he yawned.

"Good idea," she said, feeling better now that she had a plan to figure it out. "Cute toga, by the way."

He looked down at his sheet wrapped waist. "I could just answer the door naked, if you prefer. I wasn't sure if it would be the second floor chick or not," he smirked.

"Well, it's just me. You can remove the loin cloth," she said, moving back to lie down on the bed on her side, careful to leave an inviting space for him to join her.

"I like you waking up scared—it seems to heighten the arousal factor," he informed her, as he followed her lead. He wrapped his arms around her to make more room for them to fit in the smaller dorm bed, and she smiled.

"I said nothing about your getting lucky tonight," she informed him as she sank into the warmth of his frame.

"Too late, you're here, in my bed—you're kind of at my mercy," he shot back.

"We can't—we'll wake up the whole floor!" she exclaimed quietly.

"Guess you'll just have to work on being quieter when I do this," he said, kissing her neck as a starting place. He felt her shiver, and he was thus encouraged to move down, eventually disappearing completely under the cover of bed sheets. She bit her lip, finally opting for a pillow over her face to muffle the escaped sounds of pleasure.

XXXX

The next morning, she woke laying mostly on top of Tristan, as the bed had allowed for few sleeping positions. A single bed definitely wasn't providing proper room, but they'd been inventive enough to make what they were given work. His alarm clock sounded off at six, even before her own was timed to go off in her room down the hall, a forgotten detail as she'd bee lined for his room the night before. Her hand reached out to smack at it in her state of waking sleep, but as she wasn't in her room, she ended up just hitting bare mattress next to his head. His eyes snapped open at the perceived attack, and he easily reached the off button once he assessed the situation. Not a snooze person himself, he turned it off and ran a hand briskly up and down her back, trying to coax her awake.

"Rory," he nudged her head with his nose, enjoying the fact that she was sprawled on top of him.

"Early," she moaned.

"I have class. We need to get up," he reminded.

"Uhhhh," came her response.

"Besides, if you leave now, there's a chance no one will see you leaving my room all tousled and pleased."

She lifted her head wearily to look at him, wondering who on earth was this coherent moments after waking up at six in the morning. She had no idea what time he'd gone to bed, but she'd woken him up around three, and they'd not fallen back to sleep until after four in the morning.

"Morning."

He kissed her in response, which seemed much more effective in revving her bodily systems than soft words and gentle caresses. She slid up his body, her bare chest pressed now into his, and returned the greeting with increasingly more fervor as the sleep washed away from her.

"As tempting as this is, you'll make me late to class," he groaned, trying to pry himself out from under her.

She just smiled. "I don't have to be anywhere until eight," she hinted.

"As much as I'm loving this insatiable aspect of your sexuality, I have to get to class," he stood in search of a robe. She jumped up behind him, trying her best to remove the article of clothing he'd just put on.

He turned in towards her and grabbed her hands to keep her from any further explorations. "You're dangerous," he smirked.

"I know."

"What are you doing later?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "Not sure. I have to go to the station after class, but I should be done after eight or so."

"So, I might get to see you?"

"Count on it," she kissed him quickly, and moved in search of her own clothes. They exited the room together, her mostly relieved at the empty hallway they spilled out into. He grabbed her wrist as she moved past him, and pulled her back against him.

"I just wanted to let you know," he leaned down to her ear, in case anyone should happen to emerge from their rooms and overhear him, "When you were standing at my door last night, I thought I was still dreaming."

She swallowed, only able to focus on his lips. She knew instinctively from the tone of his voice that the look in his eyes would be too intense for her to handle.

"My dreams haven't been nightmares, they've been of you," he finished.

"Tristan," she breathed, finding the courage to look into his eyes. "I'll see you later," she promised, giving him one last kiss before moving towards her door.

XXXX

"Why hasn't he proposed?" she groaned, her frustration not unnoticed on the other side of the Atlantic, where Rory was patiently listening as she made her way back from the BBC offices that night.

"Weren't you not ready for him to propose in the first place?" she asked, trying to pump some rationality into her mother.

"That is not the point."

"What is the point?"

"The point, is that he HAS the ring. It's here, for him to use at any given point he sees fit. He went into a store thinking, 'I want to marry her,' and evidently since then has been thinking, 'Just not NOW.'"

"So, you're frustrated that he hasn't seen fit to propose to a woman who admittedly isn't ready to give him an answer?"

"I hate it when you do that."

"Well, someone has to be the voice of reason."

"But why hasn't he seen fit? Am I horrible? Do I have really bad morning breath? Am I one of those horrible people that chew with their mouths open? Or worse, am I a close talker?"

"Mom, calm down. Luke loves you. He's just waiting for the right moment."

"The ring is perfect."

"I'm sure it is. And I'm sure you'll be wearing it by the time I get back home."

"I hope so. So, what are you up to tonight?"

"I'm going to see Tristan," she smiled.

"Again? My, my. That's a lot of the pretty blonde boy, isn't it?"

"Not really. It's not like I get to spend every waking moment with him."

"But you would if you could, wouldn't you?"

"Mom, please."

"I'm just saying. You're all love-y and sigh-y and happy. It's nice to hear."

"It's nice to feel."

"So, what happens when you two get back to the States?"

"Huh?"

"He goes to Harvard, doesn't he? That's a lot of road trips between New Haven and Boston."

"Oh, I don't know. We haven't really talked about that."

"Well, it is still September."

"Yeah. And we just started dating."

"It'd just be a big adjustment, to go from living in the same hall to a couple hundred miles away."

"I hadn't thought about it," she admitted.

"Well, I'm sure you will work it out later," Lorelai assured her.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Oh, I'm back. I need to go."

"Alright. I'll call if he ever deems me ring-worthy."

"So, I might not hear from you for a while?" she joked.

"That's no way to speak to your mother, young lady," she half-joked back.

"Say hi to everyone for me."

"Everyone who?"

"Everyone, everyone. Sookie, Luke, Patty, everyone."

"Will do. Bye."

"Bye."

She got up to the third floor just as she shut her phone, finding a ton of people milling about in the hallway. Most everyone had mail in their hands, and she realized that it was probably the first round of mail from back home that had been delivered. She dumped her bag and headed back down the stairs to the post office area in the basement of the building. She found her P.O. Box and opened it, finding it stuffed with letters. She smiled to herself, she loved getting mail. And the fact that it was like little pieces of home was all the more sweet. There was something old-fashioned and romantic about real mail, the idea of someone sitting down to compose a letter to a long lost and dearly missed friend or loved one. She rifled through the return addresses, seeing letters from Lane, Sookie, her grandmother, and two from Lorelai, and one that was from the university. She opened it first, wanting to save the others for the confines of her own room. It was just a welcome to the campus letter, with yet another map and list of contact numbers.

She turned to go back up the stairs, when she heard a familiar voice, causing her to look up from her pile.

"My, my, someone misses you," he commented, grinning at her score.

She held up the envelopes. "Two are from Mom," she admitted.

"Still," he said, opening his box to find just the welcome letter from the university and a postcard. He held up the postcard.

"My grandfather. He's in Japan."

"Ah. Aren't your parents in Italy?"

"Yeah, but I don't even think they have my current address."

"That's, odd," she managed.

"Not really. The old man knows how to get a hold of me. So, are you going to be reading fan mail all evening, or am I still going to get to spend some time with you?"

She smiled. "Well, my fans won't be denied," she giggled.

He put his arm around her shoulders as they headed back up to their floor, where he proceeded to keep her too distracted to read any of the news from her hometown. She got through one from her mother, but the stack of envelopes got shoved off the bed quickly after that, as his efforts began to prove too much for her to ignore. She gave in, happy not to focus on anything but the sensations of his lips, hands, and skin.

It was so much better than a free-fall.