Summary: Trory. Set Season One Post-TBP2 and Pre-LDAT. The Kiss at Madeline's Party never happened for the purposes of this fic.

Disclaimer: I own no rights to anything that is mentioned in my stories, including the main characters that I've borrowed for my plot manipulations.

Rating: T (might be bumped up with future chapters. The jury's still out.)

Story Title: Untouched

Chapter Title: Part Three

AN: Oh, you guys rock! I love you all for all your varying opinions and reactions. And Miel, for helping me out with all this, and encouraging me when I need it. And Katherine for the fab picturesque inspiration! This would have been much longer in the making without those things. I hope you all enjoy!

He had no need for this.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he maneuvered the custom-crafted car around the twists and turns of the dark country roads. He was used to driving on streets and interstates—long, planned stretches. He balked in the face of change and refused to let it slow him down. Heading out on these paved cow paths just wasn't something that he normally did. Everyone in his world lived in the confines of a mapped out city.

Everyone but her.

It was a Saturday night, which in most cases (barring illness or family obligation) meant that he would be out with someone of the feminine and willing persuasions. There was no shortage of beautiful women that were looking for the kind of good time he provided, especially on a Saturday night. Hell, he'd had fourteen women call him between the end of school on Friday and ten minutes before he got into his car to 'make sure' of his unavailability.

He could have changed his mind at any time, picked anyone of them up and blown this off, ensuring his evening include his own release and a cigarette afterward. Of course, and perhaps it was because he knew this to be true that he agreed to the plans that he had, the fact was that the entire evening up until the inevitable ripping of clothes and searing skin he'd be mind-numbingly bored. A glaze would fall over his eyes until his companion whispered something salacious into his ear, bringing the gleam of lust (and nothing more) into his eyes until he found himself in the nearest out of the way place with a satisfied woman lying next to him, no doubt trying to bum a hit off his cigarette that he used to fill his body back up with something other than her.

He never shared his cigarettes. There was something too intimate about it that he felt no need to encourage.

It'd surprised even him when he made his first exception.

And now, as he neared the city limits of her town, he found himself wondering how many more of his rules he would find himself breaking for her. It'd started out simply enough. He offered to study with her again on Saturday, taking his part of the blame for the meager amount of work they'd gotten accomplished after their coffee break and before she had to get home for the evening.

She had a curfew. She obeyed her mother's wishes. It intrigued him, and before he knew what was happening, she was telling him that she normally would agree, but she'd committed to being at the Spring into Spring Carnival her town was putting on. He asked if she was manning the kissing booth, but she'd blushed and said that she was committed as a spectator only. And then she did the improbable. She asked him if he'd like to stop by.

This was the question. Was he willing to give up the comforts of his lifestyle for one evening, to travel into a strange world where money didn't matter and he had no guarantees of satisfaction past seeing her where she was happiest? The idea of giving in so easily to her request made him uneasy, like he was handing over the power to her.

And so he'd counter offered.

He told her that he'd stop by her town on this evening if she would accompany him to the party at Louise's house the following Saturday. She'd hesitated. He could tell she hadn't been wholly confident in her invitation in the first place. But he could also tell that she was considering acceptance of his new offer.

She'd run through the gambit of excuses for why she didn't want to go to one of 'those' parties. It wasn't her crowd. She hadn't been officially invited. She had too much homework to do, especially since she'd be giving up other nights to devote to their current project. He'd listened patiently as she talked herself first out of and then into going as her excuses began to sound as flimsy and dishonest to her as they did to him. After a long beat, she flashed him a hesitant smile and agreed.

He pulled to a stop along the curb near the town square, as per her directions, and locked his car via remote control. This very act garnered him a bevy of strange looks, ranging from amused to annoyed. It was an every day occurrence, something he would never think twice about, and yet he felt like he should be sliding back into his car to escape back to the world that he knew. This obviously wasn't it. He squared his shoulders confidently and looked around the skyline for a moment, seeking out the landmarks she'd mentioned.

And then he saw it.

She was clearly visible through the panoramic windows, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face, blurring her vision before they made their escape. She reached out to the woman next to her for support, but the woman began waving her arms wildly until a man approached their table, ultimately calming the women to the point of swallowed giggles.

He opened the door, a bell chiming his presence only a half a second before the hushed whispers began. Rory even looked up, startled to see him, before extracting herself from her seat and making her way to his side.

"You came," was her only greeting.

"I did," he nodded before leaning closer to her ear. "What is it with these people?" he whispered.

"Oh, they," she thought for a moment. "They're harmless. We're uh, just finishing dinner," she said, walking away from him and back to her seat.

Feeling his only lifeline in this sea of abnormality floating away, he moved to follow her and took a seat at her table. He received a tight smile from the woman sitting next to Rory, and was just about to introduce himself when a gruff voice boomed over his head.

"You eating?"

"I'm sorry?" he craned his neck to look up at the man that had calmed the women earlier.

"This is a diner. You came in on your own, unless you have some invisible kidnappers pointing a gun to your head. It's not a crazy question."

Lorelai giggled and pointed at Luke. "See? I am rubbing off on you! That was totally a Lorelai thing to say!" she nudged Rory. "Wasn't it?"

"'fraid so, Luke," she consented, her giggles returning as well.

"God help me. Eat off their plates, would you? Start with the coffee," he muttered before walking away.

"So, you must be Lorelai?" Tristan snatched a fry as directed off of Rory's plate, which earned him a smack to the back of his thieverous hand.

"I am. And you must be Tristan. I mean, not that we couldn't smell the money as you drove up."

"Excuse me?"

"It's why people are staring, sweetheart," the sarcasm dripped from her voice even as her tone dropped to a whisper.

"We should probably get out there. They just turned the lights on the Ferris wheel, which means everything's set up, and I don't want to miss Kirk's smack talk while trying to dunk Taylor at the Save the Bridge dunk tank," Rory pointed out the window. Tristan looked out, taking in the carnival that had indeed been set up in the middle of town. You could see what looked to be the whole town from this diner.

"Why don't you two go ahead, and scope out the good rides, try to con Eddie out of a couple of free cotton candies? I'm going to bug Luke some more. My quota for the day hasn't been met yet, and I can just feel that this will be the year I get him on the Tilt-A-Whirl."

"Oh, uh, sure," Rory said, clearly saying more with her eyes to her mother than she was uttering for the world, or most likely for him, to hear. But her mother just smiled and waved them off.

--&--

"So, Ferris wheel?" he offered once they'd strolled out into the open air.

"Uh, no."

"Got a fear of heights?"

"More like a fear of shoddy craftsmanship."

He tsked at her and grabbed her hand to pull her along after him. "You can't go to a carnival and not ride the Ferris wheel. It's un-American."

"Yeah, well, I thought I'd burn a flag and kick some puppies later, but first I was going to steal some candy from babies, so you see, I just don't have time to ride the Ferris wheel," she pulled her arm back in attempts to wrench it out of his grip.

He stopped, allowing her wriggling to cease for a moment, and stood directly in front of her so as to block her view of anything but him.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

He'd been going for a lighter tone than what had come out from between his lips and assaulted her ears. Sure, he had meant it in a 'dangling from the disjointed hinges of the unsafe contraption he was attempting to talk her into getting onto with him' way, but suddenly he realized it sounded more like he was offering to slip on a superhero costume and be her protector.

"You know, on the ride," he reiterated, trying to make it better, but from the look on her face he was only showing more of his introspective thoughts than hiding them.

She looked up at the wheel; at its swinging seats that creaked under the weight of those clambering onto the ride, its unpredictable stopping points, and its guarantee of getting away from the stares and whispers of the nosey townsfolk—even if they were just out of earshot. She looked back at his hopeful face.

"Okay."

He led the way to the ticket taker, and she forked over the four tickets from her stash that she'd bought on her way to the diner earlier. Taken off guard by her providing for him, he hesitated only slightly before offering his hand out to help her into the metal bucket that they were willingly placing themselves. She slid across to the far side of the seat and looked back at him expectantly, watching as he closed them into the ride and latched the metal lock securely in place on the door.

Neither spoke as the ride shifted around, moving them back and forth and higher at the same time. He took the time to truly get the bird's eye view of the town and marveled inwardly at how tiny it really was.

"So, this is where you live," he remarked.

"This is it."

"And that was your mom?"

"Yep."

She wasn't even looking in his general vicinity, but out over her side of the ride. Her curt responses made him begin to wonder why she'd even asked him to come along in the first place. Originally, by the way she'd said it, it was clear that the idea had popped into her mind the second before the words escaped her lips. She wasn't one to break a promise or not to follow through on anything. Was he here because she was too polite to rescind the offer upon further consideration?

The ride came to a sudden, lurching halt. The tiny modules shook harder back and forth, and he felt her hand clamp down on his arm. He looked down at her frenzied attachment and gave a soft chuckle.

"Why did it stop like that?" she asked frantically.

"It's okay. Haven't you been on one of these before?"

"No," she replied hastily. "Are you happy? I'm afraid of heights," she admitted.

"Then why did you agree to go on it?" he asked with sincerity.

Her gaze cut through him like a master chef filleting a fish. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not kidding, you look terrified."

"Are you going to sit there and pretend that you would have given up on getting me to ride this rusty piece of crap?"

"Rory, calm down," he urged her, as her increased volume was drawing even more attention than before from those on the ground below them.

"Why did you even come here?"

"You invited me, remember?"

"I remember," she spat out, still gripping his arm like it would be the thing to save her if they began to plummet to their deaths.

"Why did you ask me to come? You obviously don't want me here," he said, not bothering to retract the digging of her nails into his flesh. He welcomed it; the pain, the stinging, the reality. Her very touch.

"I don't know, it's not like I planned it, I just did," she withdrew her hand from his arm and pulled it in to her own torso, nearly hugging herself. Fear and frustration shot through her body, and she felt no outlet for either. They just kept building, and she could feel her skin humming from their desire for emergence.

"I don't get it, Rory. What the hell did I do?"

His tone had gone from concerned to pissed, and as he scooted away from her to gain distance or perspective or anything else he wasn't going to achieve, his movements made the bucket sway harder again. He could see the visible tensing of her muscles and he couldn't help but feel relief at this power over her emotions.

"Nothing," she glowered.

"Fine," he said as he stood up in the rickety seat, causing her to reach her hands up and pull at the legs of his pants.

"Tristan, sit down! What are you doing?"

"Getting your complete attention," he informed her.

"Fine, you have it! Now sit!"

"Your complete attention?" he tested her, putting one foot on the opposite side and pushing off a bit, rocking them harder. Her grip got tighter on his jeans and she shook with fright.

"Yes," she hissed.

"What is it with you?"

"I told you, I'm afraid of heights!"

"No, other than that. Why did you invite me here?" he towered over her, gripping onto the support rods above him as he leaned closer to her.

"God, are we still on that? I told you, the idea just popped into my head and out it came," she said quickly, giving the fabric covering his calf another tug.

"Because I just don't get it. You normally can't wait to be rid of me. I mean, I know we agreed to be more cordial since we have to work together on the project, but that doesn't include hanging out apart from that."

"You were free to decline," she said through gritted teeth as he remained standing next to her.

"Did you," he began, but the Ferris wheel started up again at that moment, lurching them up higher into the air until it stopped violently again a few spaces up. Tristan's weight was shifted further than he thought, so he didn't compensate for the momentum, and he lost his footing. He managed to land hard on his butt next to Rory once again.

She let out a series of high squeaks during his ordeal, and when he landed he concentrated on his heart beating in his ears as she clutched the edge of the bucket and now his leg just above his knee. He began to laugh after a moment of focusing on his breath, and she shot him an evil glare.

"I'm sorry, it's not funny," he choked out, laughing harder now.

She raised an eyebrow at him, wishing now that he had fallen out of the unit. It would have served him right. He had some nerve, laughing at this. Here she was shaking with fright—which was heightened by his near accident—and he was laughing? She knew he had a sick sense of humor, but this was too much.

He put an arm around her and pulled her in to him, to calm her ignited nerves. She resisted his touch, but he remained with two arms wrapped around her until she stopped shaking.

"Better now?"

She reached out and punched his arm. He reeled back a little from the force he hadn't been prepared for from her.

"Shit! What was that for?"

"For scaring the hell out of me!"

She was still glaring at him, but when the wheel started up again, she scooted in closer to him, and he cautiously replaced one arm around her shoulders. Her heart continued to beat hard in her chest.

"I'm sorry. But admit it—it got your attention."

She muttered something under her breath, but he couldn't quite make out her words.

"What was that?"

"I said that you didn't need more attention drawn to yourself."

"Is that what you think of me? That I seek out attention?"

"Don't you?" she turned in to look at him skeptically.

He couldn't deny it, though he couldn't say it was his top priority.

Except when it came to her.

He wanted her to see him.

"I can't help it if people are naturally drawn to me. What would you have me do, walk around all day, ignoring people with my nose in a book?"

"I'm just saying, people tend to watch those who put on a show," she responded in kind.

"Yeah, everyone except you. You seem to have no trouble ignoring me."

She looked at him in surprise. "You think that is even possible? How can I ignore you? You're in my face fifty times a day, insulting me, arguing with me, or shoving some girl up against my locker so that you can torture me by making me watch you stick your tongue down the flavor of the week's throat!"

He pulled her in closer, causing her to wriggle within the confines his embrace in protest, though not hard enough to pull away, out of her ongoing fear of literally rocking the boat. He leaned down so that he was nearly nose to nose with her and she suddenly stilled in his arms.

"Sounds like someone's jealous, Mary," he accused.

"I'm not jealous of those girls," she spoke softly, yet firmly. It seemed quite unnecessary to yell to get him to hear her.

He took in her comment, and was all set to respond in kind until he watched her gaze shift from his eyes to his mouth. He could feel her breath against his cheek, and he could feel the pull of her lips as she unconsciously rewet them with her tongue.

"Good. Because you shouldn't be," he informed her as she again met his eyes.

He could feel his heart beating against every pulse point in his body, so much so that he feared it was looking for an exit point. He let go of her body, leaving her sitting next to him in confounded silence.

Both sat determined not to touch as they waited out this newfound purgatory, though neither was sure what to do with themselves or the other once they were let out from the confines of this ride and were free to roam about on solid ground.

It was shakier than the swinging cart in which they were currently seated.

The ride began shifting around yet again, taking them up above the highest apex of the circle. He turned to look at her, finding her eyes squeezed shut in terror.

"Tristan?" she hedged.

"Yeah?"

"Can you . . . ?" she didn't open her eyes.

He nodded despite her inability to see his response and wrapped his arm around her once more, not letting go until they were safely stopped and let out of their cage.

He needed for her to need him.