Title: What Lies Within Us

Chp. 11 What Lies Within Us (I know they're the same, it's the chap that's the stories namesake)

Disclaimer: I don't own. Duh.

Introduction: I know I'm delusional….but Trory. Well, obviously not at first because that would be too easy, but I wanted to clarify. Basically set in the present, maybe like a year ahead, slightly altered to make things work. Oh, side note, and although this fic started before viewing of 'wedding bell blues', assume Rory and Logan got together in similar matter (they're just not having sex), and decided on some 'strings' eventually. Stuff is slightly diff, see rest of fic.

Rating: Pg-13 this chap.

Author's note: I hate reviews (I'm also a really bad liar). I apologize for the week and a half it took me to update. Was a little busy. And, from some rather pointed reviews I got to update NOW, I decided I better write a chapter when I got home today. So, how about an extra long chapter as a result? And, if you say nice things, I may put out another chapter really really soon. Well, that's a bit of a lie, as I may do it anyway due to some extra time I have this weekend, but nice things are always appreciated.

This was written pretty fast. And, for those of you who want things to pick up speed between them, this is all intentional. I have a plan, and I hope you won't be disappointed in the end. Cause I mean really, if I had them groping each other on the couch right now, it wouldn't seem quite right would it? (even if would be enjoyable)

Damn that was a long a/n.

Rory sat beneath the covers in her bed, reading The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini that she had picked up before finals started, but had never really had time to read. She knew logically she should be sleeping, it was late, but books had always been her weak spot. It was never enough just to read one chapter; she had to finish the whole thing.

She looked up when her door opened. She watched as Lorelai did a "stealthy" slip into the room. "Mom!' she said, surprised. "What are you doing up?"

Her mother shrugged, "Couldn't sleep. Came down for some water and saw you were up. Luke's still fast asleep. For someone who gets up so early, he sure sleeps like the dead. Contemplated waking him up, but he's not the late night type. Unless it's for nookie." Rory grimaced, both at the thought of her mother and Luke having sex and her mother's awful choice of a euphemistic word.

Rory sincerely hoped Tristan had been fast asleep when her mom came down. Lorelai was clad in her Powderpuff girls pyjamas; Rory still wasn't sure what had possessed her to buy them. She supposed as embarrassing as they were, they beat Lorelai coming downstairs in some form of lingerie.

"So……." Lorelai began, flopping down on the bed beside Rory. "I decided we should have a little chat. We really haven't gotten time to talk since you've been here. By product of two guys being in the house with us."

"Anything specific you want to bring up?" Rory had long since closed her book and set it aside, knowing if Lorelai wanted to talk there would be nothing stopping her. It had been a long time though since they had a face to face conversation, with her being busy at school and her mother at the inn.

Lorelai shrugged, a faux innocent look on her face, "I dunno…..why don't you fill me in a little on your life lately?"

Rory didn't bother to ask her mother to be more specific. She knew what she wanted to talk about. The love-life aspect of Rory's life. Primarily, Logan, who wasn't here, after being invited and who was after all her boyfriend. "Life has been good," she kept it vague, not really wanting to talk about all of it with Logan, even with her mother.

Lorelai gave an exasperated sigh, "Rory….."

"Fine, fine," Rory gave in. "Things have been….good….with Logan and I. That's not why he didn't come down for Christmas. He just wanted to spend the holidays with his family." And that much was true, but he hadn't been coming down anyway. "He said he'd probably come for at least New Year's though." Her words sounded defensive even to her own ears. It seemed she spent a lot of time defending him to her mother, who she knew didn't like him. She couldn't confide their problems to her mother, who would simply take them as a reason to drop Logan lower in her estimation.

It seemed like she had waited so long from when they first started casually dating to when he finally admitted he wanted more. At the time she had thought that was what she wanted too. And now, he was the most attentive and committed he had ever been. He took her to meet his parents, he wanted to spend lots of time with her, and he called her often. And the funny thing was, it left her wanting more. When she had gotten home from shopping with Tristan she had pulled her phone from her purse and looked at it for a moment, feeling guilty when she didn't have the urge to turn it back on.

"That's good," Lorelai replied in an encouraging tone that Rory knew was false. "It's just that, well, our couch is now taken." Hoping against hope her daughter wouldn't suggest Logan staying in her room with her, not wanting things to have gone that far.

Although her pointed comment had been to try and get Rory to talk about Tristan, the one inhabiting the couch, Rory didn't pick up on it and simply answered dryly, "There are inns in town Mom, one you happen to own in fact." And Logan could afford it.

Lorelai just nodded, not saying anything else about Logan even as much as she wanted to. In fact, he had become a subject where she and her daughter had an unspoken agreement to 'agree to disagree'. Rory hadn't wanted to hear any criticism about him, even early in their relationship, and since she realized her mother didn't like him took most comments as such. She wished her daughter would open up more about Logan to her, as she knew Rory wasn't truly happy, not the way she could be. She tried to hide her reservations about the boy, but she knew that was part of the reason Rory didn't like to talk about Logan with her. And it hurt.

"So," Lorelai broached the subject carefully, "Not that I haven't enjoyed having him here, as he does make an excellent goalie for donut hockey, but why exactly is Tristan here?" And doesn't Logan mind? She wanted to ask.

Rory hesitated, unsure as to how much was okay to share with her mother. They weren't her secrets to give. "The same reason he's staying at Logan's for a little while," she finally said, "Some problems with his father at home."

Lorelai wasn't sure how to enter into what she wanted to ask. She had observed the two of them over the past little while, interacting with each other. And she wanted to believe this was just friendship, believe they were being purely platonic, but she saw the way Tristan looked at her daughter when she wasn't paying attention, the way Rory lit up at a simple smile from him, and she knew; knew this was more than that.

It was the end of Christmas Eve, the four of them having spent it together at the Gilmore house. It was a tradition she and Rory had. Every Christmas Eve was spent watching holiday movies with milk, cookies and lots of other junk food known only to them, usually with a holiday theme. Of course that was a habit of theirs any time of the year, but Christmas Eve was the only time with white cotton candy to symbolize snow, and the only time they dug out their DVD of Charlie Brown's Christmas and tried to imitate the humming at the end. Presents always came the next day, still a tradition from when the illusion of Santa Claus had still existed for Rory, even though by age 5 she had pretty much figured it out.

It was little things, nothing special, but she knew her daughter well. Had seen her interact with boyfriends, at least past boyfriends. And as Lorelai had sat on the couch with Luke, her head resting on his shoulder, she had gotten to see the interaction between Rory and Tristan sitting on the floor. Touching and comments neither seemed to be fully aware of the implications of, but there none the less. She liked Tristan, even if she would admit it was half because she didn't like Logan, but she didn't want it to come about this way if they were going to get together. Rory was in a relationship with some who was not Tristan. Lorelai didn't want it to be a pattern; she didn't want him to be another like Jess.

This wasn't like when Rory was younger, she wouldn't welcome the same level of interference, and making her opinions and questions known wasn't worth pushing her daughter away, but she wanted to get this out somewhat in the open. Rory, for all the extra years now, could still be cluelessly naïve about this sort of thing. Lorelai had no doubt that Logan was not happy with Tristan being here instead of him, despite their friendship. Treading carefully, all she began with was, "So, it's been nice having Tristan here though."

Rory smiled and nodded. She had enjoyed having him here. Tristan had fit in so much better than she could have ever imagined. With the town, with Luke, with her mother.

With her.

"It has been nice," was all she put into words, and felt obligated to add on, in case it seemed she was too happy about it, "I just hated the thought of him there on campus, by himself, all alone for the holidays." She squelched the traitorous thoughts she was having about his being a better "fit" in all respects than Logan.

If Lorelai noticed her defensiveness over the invite, she left it alone. "Different from the boy you knew in high school huh?" She was subtly trying to get Rory to talk about him.

Rory actually took the time to ponder that for a moment before she answered. "He has changed," she admitted, "But in some ways he's still elementally the same." It was hard to describe the Tristan she knew now. It wasn't like he had morphed into some other person. It was more he had matured, gained layers; he wasn't as superficial as he had been before. "I don't even think he's mocked me once by calling me Mary," she added thoughtfully.

She wanted to confide in her mother about Tristan, about how much she hated the distance they kept between them, especially since she had seen his scars. She wanted to ask Lorelai's opinion, get her reassurance. But Tristan's past, his secrets, weren't hers to share even if she wanted to. But she wanted to talk to Lorelai about it, because she didn't know how to make Tristan feel like he really had a friend, someone to trust, and she wanted that more than anything. But she kept quiet, knowing that spreading all his stuff wasn't her place.

Lorelai dropped the subject, realizing nothing she said or did was going to induce Rory to talk tonight. Sighing, she slipped her arm around her daughter and leaned back against the pillows of the bed. She knew no matter how good their relationship, Rory was her own person and wouldn't share everything. She just wanted it be like she was younger and Lorelai could guide her, make the right decisions for her. Not have her be hurt. Because if everything she was noticing was true, there would be no completely happy ending for everyone.

It was hours later when Rory woke, a crick in her neck. As she glanced over at her clock, she saw it was three in the morning. Lorelai was still sitting beside her, fast asleep, her arm still wrapped around Rory. They had fallen asleep like that in the sitting position, and Rory's back was cramping.

Carefully, she slipped from the bed taking care not to wake her mother. She adjusted the covers better around Lorelai who let out a rather indelicate snore, but settled back into a deep sleep. Rory stretched as best she could, and decided to head out into the kitchen as she was mostly awake now, and Lorelai had invaded most of her bed.

She slipped carefully from her room, expecting the house to be pitch black. But, when she could see the room in front of her she realized there was a light coming from the living room. The lights on the Christmas tree were plugged in. She swore softly, assuming Lorelai had turned them on, and it must be making it hard for Tristan to sleep. Softly, she tiptoed into the living room to turn them off, only to find Tristan sitting wide awake on the couch, staring at the tree.

She hesitated in the doorway, and watched him for a moment. He wasn't doing anything, except just sitting there staring at the Christmas tree. It wasn't spectacular. They had decorated it the night before. All the ornaments were on. Half the tree had been meticulously hung with tinsel, and the rest just had some dumped on when they had gotten sick of the effort. The crowning effort, as always, was an angel Rory had made in second grade. Every year Rory begged her mother to get something different, but Lorelai refused to give up the cardboard tree-topper, no matter how much it clashed with everything else.

"It's not even five yet," she chided softly, walking into the room. Surprised at anyone being up, his head swung towards her.

"Couldn't sleep," he replied shortly, shrugging his shoulders. As it was a cold night, he had the blanket from his makeshift bed on the couch wrapped around him as he sat there. Rory noticed he looked a little pale and drawn.

She walked further into the room, noticing the cup of coffee beside him. The cookies and milk for "Santa" had been gone from the kitchen table, but she had assumed Lorelai had consumed them earlier. "Have you slept at all?" she asked, shocked.

He looked a little embarrassed, but offered no explanation as he shook his head. "Not really."

Rory simply accepted his words and walked over to sit down. She hesitated slightly, but sat down next to him on the couch but not availing herself of his blanket. He didn't say anything, just seemed to be staring at the tree again. In particular, the photo ornament of her and Lorelai from when they were in Germany. "It's a beautiful tree," was all he finally commented.

She wanted to ask him exactly how much eggnog he'd had to drink that night, but didn't. "We like it anyway," was all she said, cautiously. It was far from 'beautiful'. It looked pretty much like it did every year. Last time Emily had seen it she hadn't even bothered to comment, just gave that little snooty look of hers.

When he didn't say anything else, she felt the need to fill the silence. "That one there is my favourite ornament," she told him, pointing to a little unicorn that hung on a branch near the top. "It was a gift to me from Luke actually. My friend Lane and I went through this huge unicorn phase when we were about ten. Posters, clothes, stationary, the whole bit. That Christmas Luke gave me that little unicorn ornament. First present he ever gave to us actually. I remember my mom laughing that she couldn't believe he ever went into a girly store to pick it out, and he turned beet red, but he was used to us by that point."

Tristan still didn't say anything, and when she looked up at him he was still staring at the tree as if transfixed. She kept blathering on, not sure if she was boring him, but not sure what else to say. Rory indicated her 'baby's first Christmas' ornament. "That, as you can probably tell, is mine. Of course it's a little misleading. My mom actually didn't buy it until I was six, and that was because I made her as all my other friends had ornaments from their first Christmas's. I never told them the difference. And, let me tell you, it was hard to find the right one 6 years later, but mom managed because it was so important to me."

She just kept going, describing all the ornaments on the tree. Because really, all their ornaments had stories. No plain red or silver balls for the Gilmore girls. Well, there was one blue one that had actually come from an old Christmas pageant costume of Rory's, but even it had a meaning. It took her a long time, telling him the story of every individual piece hanging there, but eventually she wound down, having nothing else to say. And still he was silent, and they just sat there together staring at the tree.

It seemed an eternity later before he spoke, "I couldn't sleep, and I turned it on, and….." he stopped suddenly, as if it wasn't what he meant to say. And it wasn't. He had awoken from another nightmare. They had faded over the past while, but still came to him occasionally. And they always ended the same. The screaming, and then the face that would haunt him for the rest of his life. After awaking in a cold sweat, he knew sleep was nothing more than a pipe cream for the night. He didn't know what had possessed him to turn on the tree, but it had started him thinking. He paused, then began again.

"It's not your Christmas tree only Rory," his words were tinged with sadness, but affectionate. She wasn't sure what he meant, but decided this wasn't the time to talk and just looked over at him expectantly.

He glanced back at her, the first time he had really looked at her since she had sat down. "It's you, your mom, and even Luke. The way you all are together. It's just, being with the three of you has been enjoyable for me, but last night all I could think of were my parents at home. Probably sitting in front of their perfectly groomed Christmas tree, my father with his brandy and my mother with her glass of white wine. And I just kept thinking of Christmas's as a kid, because I haven't even been back for years."

Tristan paused again for a moment, lowering his eyes before looking back at her. "I just wanted you to know, because you're the only one who's ever seen my father in action, they weren't bad parents, not really. I was always provided for. Always taken care of, whether it be by nanny or babysitter. I got presents at Christmas, and at birthdays. I had the right clothes when I went to school, and the right car when I turned sixteen. Appearances were key. They aren't bad people, no matter our problems now."

And again, she just sat there as he waved his hand at the tree, and continued on. "But this," his words had a tinge of helplessness to them. "This wasn't there."

At that point Rory could understand all he wasn't saying directly. What he, being him, was incapable of voicing out loud. It wasn't envy exactly, it was just him being presented again with what he didn't have with his parents. Rory knew her relationship with her mother was special, but none of this was unique to her family. Most families had special ornaments, holiday traditions. Most families loved each other unconditionally, and cared enough for their sons to support them in any way possible. "You wanted a baby's first Christmas ornament," was all she said softly, placing her hand on his knee. It was the best way she knew how to sum it up. And he nodded, grateful he wasn't being made to more fully express the feelings he was embarrassed to have.

They just sat there like that for a moment in silence, her hand resting on his knee in silent support. She wanted to hug him, but didn't think it was her place. She wanted to be the one to comfort, whether he really wanted it or not. And when she heard him say softly, more to himself than to her, "They didn't even come visit me in the hospital," she was at a loss for words. As much as she prided herself on being an empathetic person, this was out of her depth, far beyond her experience.

"I think we should open a present," she finally declared. And from the surprised look on his face, it seemed to be the last thing he expected her to say. And it wasn't what she had planned on coming out of her mouth, but now it seemed like the perfect idea. "It was something my mom and I did when I was younger," she explained, as if to give the idea some basis, "and I couldn't wait to open my presents. We opened one before we went to bed."

He looked a little taken aback. "I have presents?" was what he blurted out, not expecting to be receiving anything from them, and had resigned himself watching them open their gifts in the morning.

"Of course," Rory told him with a smile, not adding that Lorelai's present to him was a copy of a St. James bible she had swiped from a hotel. He wouldn't get the joke in the gift even when he opened it.

She got up and walked over to the tree where the gifts were piled. Leaning over, she sorted through the stack of gifts until she found the one that was covered in plain blue paper with a silver ribbon. Her present to him.

As she stood up with his gift, she felt confident in her idea to give this to him tonight, not just because of the reasons that had presented, but because it would be easier to do the gift thing without Lorelai and Luke there watching their every move. Because only the two of them really got it.

He took the gift from her as she sat back down beside him. Tristan stared at it for a moment, before gently taking off the paper, amusing Rory as she watched. She knew even has he held it in his hand before opening, he knew what type of present it was from the feel of it. But now with the paper off, he could see the full thing.

It wasn't anything spectacular or amazing. It could be found at most major book chains across the country. It was a preparatory book for the MCAT, the test every student had to write before getting into medical school.

She watched him stare at it for a moment, and said softly. "I thought it might come in handy." She tried to make her words nonchalant, but it didn't quite happen.

Rory was pleased when he opened the front cover without her prodding. She watched him read what she had written inside. She knew what the words were as he read them, as she knew her inscription off by heart.

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Merry Christmas Tristan. One day, when you're performing open-heart surgery at the Mayo Clinic, remember me fondly. And always know this, even if there's nobody there to remind you, you are capable of anything.

It was sappy, it was corny, and it had taken her hours to write it. She had spent a lot of time deciding what quote to use, because typically authors tended to express things better than she herself did. It just seemed to suit his circumstances. Even her three sentence message had caused her untold agony, not knowing exactly what to write. As she watched him read it, she hoped it was the right thing. And, when he finally lifted his head, and looked into her eyes, she rather thought that it was.

"Thank you," was all he told her, rather solemnly. He made a motion as if to hug her, and then pulled back, and she hid her disappointment as she had no right to it. "I really like it." And she knew, with him that was as touchy-feely as it was going to get. And she smiled, satisfied, hoping to have banished his inner demons if only for that night.

"I have something for you too," his words were awkward as he reached down into his bag that sat beside the couch. He pulled out a small package, simply wrapped by a gift bag. "I wasn't sure if I was going to give it to you, but…."

She didn't ask why not, just took the pre-offered bag from him not wanting to spoil the moment. Slowly, she broke the tape that was inelegantly holding the edges of the bag together and pulled it open.

"It isn't much," he was saying apologetically as she opened it, "I don't have a lot of money right now, and….." he kept apologizing for the gift, even though she thought it was perfect just as it was as she looked inside.

It was a collection of books, used she could tell but not that it mattered. All in the same theme. The first she pulled out was 'A Reporter's Life' by Walter Cronkite, then 'Burning Down My Master's House: My Life at the New York Times' by Jayson Blair; and 'War Torn: Stories of War from the Women Reporters Who Covered Vietnam' by Jurate Kazickas. And the last book was 'Flirting With Danger: Confessions of a Reluctant War Reporter'by Siobhan Darrow. As she had just been looking at the last book in the store the other day, Rory couldn't help but be impressed.

"I heard she was a better reporter than Amanpour anyway," Tristan quipped beside her, and she blushed as she remembered she had told him about her little 'complex' the first time they had talked.

"Thank you Tristan, I love the books," she told him honestly, and she did. She would get more use and enjoyment out of these books than some fancy necklace. And she refused to let herself feel guilty for admitting it because it was nothing less than the truth. There was nothing wrong with Logan buying her such a beautiful gift, in fact it had been amazing of him, it just wouldn't bring her the same pleasure reading these would.

And, she too resisted the urge to lean forward for a hug, although likely for different reasons than he had. It seemed wrong to initiate it, wrong when she would get enjoyment out of it on a far deeper level. Tristan had probably never thought of her in those terms, and it seemed wrong when she kept finding herself more drawn to him, even as she shouldn't be. So she sat awkwardly there, feeling like she should do something, but not sure what.

As they sat there, she felt a shiver course through her as it was a cold night. She saw Tristan notice, and he raised his eyebrow. "Cold?" was all he asked mildly, still wrapped in his blanket.

She shrugged, and suddenly became aware she was sitting there in her pyjamas with him. Of course they were perfectly plain, modest, and flannel for warmth, but wearing them still brought about a sense of intimacy.

"Come here," he urged, lifting up the corner of his blanket before his rational judgement could interfere and motioning her next to him.

Unlike his offer of a jacket earlier in the day, she took advantage of his offer of warmth. Hesitating only slightly before moving, she cuddled up next to him and he wrapped the blanket around them both. Rory sat erect, not wanting to lean on him, wondering if it would seem weird; but finally, she decided to stop over thinking it, and just let her head rest on his shoulder.

And in this way, using the cold as an excuse they both got the hug they had wanted desperately to give and receive, without actually acknowledging what it was.

Rory could feel the warmth, both from the blanket and the heat from his body. His body that was only covered in a shirt and boxers, a fact she refused to think about. As she let her head rest on his shoulder, she let her eyes fix on the Christmas tree. And, as she felt him hesitate, and then wrap his arm more firmly around her, she could feel herself getting drowsy, surrounded by the cocoon of warmth. "Merry Christmas Tristan," she heard herself say, slightly slurred as she slipped back into sleep.

"Merry Christmas Rory," he whispered the words, even as he knew she was asleep. And knowing she was out to the world, he allowed himself the small luxury of leaning over and placing a kiss on the top of her head, something he would never do when she might actually feel it.

And as he sat there, Rory snuggling into his side, and his arm wrapped firmly around her, he felt, for lack of a better sentiment, content. Thoughts of Logan, of the temptation of that which would never come to fruition that he placed on himself, threatened to intrude on the peaceful feeling of the evening, but selfishly he wouldn't let them. Not now. And with the feel of her breath lightly upon his shoulder, he found the sleep that he had thought would elude him all night since had had awoken, bathed in sweat.

His last recognized view was of the Christmas tree, and his last thought, not consciously acknowledged and that would be forgotten in the morning, was that the empty space on the top branch would be a good place for a photo ornament of him and Rory together.

And it was this, the two of them peacefully asleep together on the couch, that Lorelai saw as she came out of Rory's room. She hesitated, looking down at her daughter and Tristan together, and silently slipped upstairs to rejoin Luke.