AN: Reviewers ROCK! I'm guessing you missed my updates. And I'm so glad you liked the angst. As promised, here's the (hopefully speedy enough) second half to my 'cliffhanger'.

"What's going on?" Dan asked, fumbling for his keys, hurrying over to the door.

"Some guy is in there, and she's yelling," Tristan managed, not wanting to hear the words again, as he continued to try the door to no avail. It was definitely locked.

Rory looked up at her door as someone was obviously in a futile attempt to open it. Logan's arms were wrapped around her, his soothing words in her ear attempting to calm her. Her door rattled violently a couple of times before a key was heard in the lock. It was then that Logan's attention was drawn away from her.

"Rory?" Dan asked, hating to open the door completely unannounced, even if she were in trouble. He swung the door open, to see Rory with some guy wrapped around her. She was half seated on the bed, the man kneeling on the bed next to her. She looked disheveled, but not harmed in any way.

Tristan moved past him, to see the same view. Logan and Rory looked up at the intruders, and Tristan noted the look of panic fly through Rory's eyes. Logan had no such look, rather, he looked angry.

"We heard yelling, what's going on?" Dan asked, the paid peacekeeper.

"It's okay, I'm fine," Rory assured him, pulling further away from Logan, but not moving off of the bed.

"Who are you?" Dan turned his questions to the unknown of the group. He noticed the jewelry box that had been discarded next to the pair on the bed, and prayed that Tristan didn't see it. He was surely getting enough of an eyeful.

"I'm her boyfriend," Logan said without hesitation. "She had too much to drink tonight, and I'm just taking care of her."

Tristan looked to Rory, unable to ignore the ease with which Logan had spoken. "What?"

Dan now looked from Tristan to Rory, wondering if it were possible to be suffocated by discomfort and tension that was coursing through the air. Each of the four wanted a different outcome here, and right now all that was clear was the palpable confusion and anger.

"Do you always come barging into rooms?" Logan asked, still unsure as to why both men were standing in her room and what gave them the right to do so.

"She was yelling for you to get off of her, asshole," Tristan informed him, moving close to the other man, causing Logan to stand up in defense.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Me? Oh, I'm nobody," he gritted the words through his teeth, giving Rory a look of building malice. He wanted to hurt her for the words he'd just been forced to hear. To prove his point, he turned on his heel and headed off down the hallway.

"No," she managed, her voice weak. "No, Tristan, wait!" she called, moving up off the bed and heading to follow him.

Logan looked to her, piecing information together. "Is he the reason you didn't want me to come? Or is he the reason you came over here in the first place?"

"Logan, stop it," she snapped. Her head was beginning to pound, and she just wanted to get this straight with Tristan. She continued out of her room and down the hall to find Tristan.

He stopped outside his door, turning to look at her. She was a mess; mussed hair, barefoot, smudged make-up. Even so, she was beautiful. It hurt to look at her, but still he watched her.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"He doesn't seem to know that."

"I didn't know he was coming. I told him over and over not to, in fact."

"Did you tell him about me?" his voice was expectant.

"There was nothing to tell last time I talked to him. It was before we went to the cottage."

He sighed. His head hurt, his chest hurt, and now he could see the other man coming towards them. Gritting his teeth in preparation, he took at moment to really look at this guy. Rory'd been right—it was obvious he came from money. His clothes, his walk—he was someone Tristan might have been friends with under different circumstances. That was not going to be the case now, however.

Rory noticed Tristan tense up, and she turned to follow his gaze. "Logan, just go," she sounded exhausted.

"So, this is why you said no?" he spoke to her, but was clearly assessing Tristan.

"I said no because I don't want to marry you. I don't love you."

Tristan looked to her in surprise. He hadn't seen the discarded ring. She wasn't done, however.

"You don't even want to marry me! If you did, you wouldn't have done it like this! This isn't how you propose to someone, Logan."

"I know it seems rushed," he began.

"No. You're reacting to my ending things. You're trying to prove me wrong. You want me back, and it's not right. It's not what I want. You should go. Go home."

He looked at her, clearly taking in her words. He looked back at Tristan, who hadn't moved for the duration of their exchange. He was just standing there by her side, not interrupting.

"You heard her," he added, moving to put an arm around her shoulders now. She moved in closer to the warmth of his chest. Seeing this, an unconscious act of trust and safety, Logan nodded and left without another word. Dan came down the hall to check on them after seeing Logan leave. Rory had wrapped herself around Tristan's torso.

"So, all clear on the western front?" Dan ventured.

Tristan nodded and steered Rory into his room. Once alone for the first time this ill-fated evening, he heard her crying into his chest. He ran a hand over her back, hating the sound.

"I'm sorry."

"What happened tonight?" he wished she'd stop crying. He wasn't good with crying, but he couldn't really blame her. Her emotions were bound to need an outlet after she'd been slammed with every one in the book tonight.

She gulped in air before trying to explain. "I don't know, I think I got scared."

"Scared of what?"

"I'm not like you. It's hard for me to be impulsive, and I hate that. It's something that I admire about you."

He hadn't expected a compliment from her at this point in time, but then again she did have a tendency to surprise him at every turn.

"So, you make me want to open myself up because of how you are. And that's good, but it's still hard for me," she paused, "You're the only other person that has ever made me feel reckless."

He nodded in understanding. "Logan being the other."

She nodded. "In many ways, you two are very similar. And that scares me. It was hard for me to leave him, but I knew he just wasn't what I needed. But I think that maybe you are. The whole time he helped me to my room, and when he was proposing, I just kept thinking about you, wishing I'd gone up to that hotel room with you."

Tristan listened, in sheer relief, as she explained her surge of thoughts and realizations from this evening. He decided now would not be the best time to inform her of his own realization—she'd been through enough for tonight.

"It wasn't anything you did that upset me. I just got scared," she reiterated.

"I wasn't so calm when I heard you yelling."

She smiled. "I'm surprised you didn't break my door down."

"Dan wouldn't let me," he smiled back.

"So, you forgive me?"

"Yeah. Come here," he pulled her back to him, kissing her softly at first, reassuring. He ran a hand through her hair, feeling her melt into him. He leaned her back over his bed, moving slowly over her. It was she that broke the gentle waves and brought on a full-forced storm. Her touch became insistent and no one was complaining as she took this opportunity to both loosen her inhibitions and make an attempt to show him just how sorry she was and how much she wanted him. It was he that had to use a pillow to bite down on this evening, as to not alert the entire floor to the fact that not only had they fought—but they were equally passionate in making nice.

XXXX

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, stroking the hair that was splayed out over his chest. She was close to sleep, having no intention of moving from her spot on his chest. This room was host to the only scene from this horrible day that she cared to remember.

"Sure," she yawned.

"Did you really think I would sleep with someone else?"

She looked up at him, the guilt evident in her face. "No."

"Then why would even say that?" his tone remained soft.

"You mean besides the fact that I was drunk and jealous that this girl thinks she has a shot with you?"

He smiled. "Yes, besides that."

She propped herself up on her elbow. "I know you aren't Logan, but my head was in a really weird place tonight. I know you wouldn't cheat on me."

"He cheated on you?"

"He was with other girls when we were first together. I tried to be okay with it, we had this deal. I don't know that he cheated after we became serious. I don't think he did. I know it was always an option for him. He wasn't used to having to restrict himself that way. I guess I assumed that you aren't really, either."

He nodded, her words ringing true. "What you're saying is true. Except there's one thing you don't seem to realize."

She looked into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. He loved the hope he saw in her eyes, as she lay vulnerably in wait on top of him. He could feel every last inch of her body along his, and he wanted to savor the feeling of searing skin that was joined together.

"I don't want to be with anyone else."

He saw a single tear begin its descent down her cheekbone, and he was taken aback by the beautiful simplicity of the gesture. He reached up to wipe it away before it fell, even though it would have just fallen onto him at any rate. He leaned up to kiss her, making promises that he hoped they were both ready for.

XXXX

"Wow, your life is like a soap opera! I keep expecting you to tell me that Sonny showed up with his cronies to off Logan!"

"Mom," she sighed.

"Then, just when you think you and Tristan are ready to ride off into the sunset, Lucky comes up to you and tells you he was never in love with Liz, and you're the girl for him."

"Why do I tell you things?"

"Okay, okay. Sorry. So, continue."

"That's it. There is no more."

Lorelai laughed. "Dan leaving you alone isn't the end of the story. You had make-up sex."

"Mom, please," she shook her head, walking down the streets of London towards her class.

"And I'm guessing not only was it make-up sex, but it was ranked as a top-five, if not a top-three of all time best beddings."

"I used to love the fact that we shared things, but now," she hedged.

"Tell me!"

"Fine. It was spectacular. He does this thing, where he takes my leg, and--,"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry I asked!" she interrupted.

"Thank you!"

"So, do you want to hear my news?"

"Yes. Let's talk about anything other than my sex life."

"I'm late."

"For work?"

"No, for my monthly visitor."

"Maybe it's pre-menopause."

"Hey, still young and viable, here!"

"Are you seriously telling me you're late?"

"Yes."

"Have you told Luke?"

"There's nothing to tell. It's probably just the stress of him not proposing, and not only can I not tell him that I know about the ring, but then I have to deal with him going on about how women's issues are icky and how he wishes for the days when they sent menstruating women out to the edge of town," she rambled.

"Luke's very opinionated."

"Besides, then he'll propose."

"Which is what you want," Rory pointed out.

"Not because he feels obligated."

"Oh. Right. Well, how late are you?"

"Two weeks."

"Mom!"

"What?"

"Take a test or go to a doctor!"

"I have to make an arrangement and find time to go somewhere in Hartford—if I do it around here, everyone will know and run to Luke with balloons and gift baskets with baby stuff in it that say things like 'I love my Daddy.'"

"Who would give Luke balloons and gift baskets?"

"Do you remember this town at all?"

"Right. Sorry. But look, you have to know, one way or another."

"I know. I know."

"This is a toughie."

"I wish you were here."

"I could maybe fly home for the weekend, if you need me."

"No, you have school and your internship, and Tristan."

"Yeah. I do."

"I still can't believe he proposed when you were trashed."

"I wasn't trashed. But I was fairly drunk."

"Just what every mother dreams of hearing her daughter say."

"He didn't really want to marry me. He'll see that soon enough. It's better this way."

"Says the girl getting all the sex."

"Logan was never in short supply of that. He'll be fine."

"So, who would it be?"

"Huh?"

"Tristan versus Lucky?"

"Oh, look, I'm at class. Time to go."

"Hey, come on! Play with me! We can play something else—oooh, 1,2,3!"

"We're on different continents. We can't play 1,2,3. Not to mention the fact that we both have special someones."

"You're no fun."

"Go pee on a stick."

"Mean. Bye."

"Bye," she said, shutting off her phone as she hurried toward her classroom and settled into a seat near the front of the hall. She was relieved to have a breather; in class, in a routine that felt safe and natural. The entire weekend had been full of upheaval and heightened emotions—and it sounded like it was getting heavy on the home front as well. She pulled out her notebook and pen, poised to take notes and forget about the real world for an hour.