Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Gilmore Girls, actors, characters, plots, etc, that would be the wonderful people at WB. Although if I did, I'm pretty sure they'd be some big changes coughChadcough. Anyway if you do feel inclined to sue me, some people have strange urges and we must accept them for who they are, I'm currently flat broke so all you will get is a used textbook, on organic chemistry.
AN: Double update and no one to thank!
The chapter is for the fifty people who have this story on alert, thank you darlings …
Chapter 15She hid behind the rows and rows of books, she was aiming for the self-help book section and in all honesty there was no reason for her to hide, but she did anyway. She was absolutely sure that the shop assistants, with their snotty, I-only-read-classics attitude would point and laugh if they saw her here. Not to mention, her mother did frequent this particularly bookshop, now that was encounter she would pay money to avoid. Turning careful around another corner, she edged closer to her target, so close she could almost read the titles, just one more –
"Lorelai?" the voice came from her left.
Looking up sharply, Lorelai immediately thought of a myriad of excuses for her odd behaviour, but they all fell away when she saw who had caught her.
"Tristan," she greeted stiffly.
He raised an eyebrow quizzically at her.
"This is perfectly normal behaviour for someone my age," she explained quite seriously, "This is the future you'll have to look forward to."
"I'll make a note of it," Tristan replied, in the same tone.
"So, um, what are you doing here?" she asked, he was of course supposed to be on the other side of the country.
"Looking for an olive branch."
"In a bookshop?" even Lorelai found that odd.
"Figuratively… it's for Rory," Tristan explained, "A peace offering."
"Oh," Lorelai frowned slightly, she was still not talking to her daughter and Tristan was part of the cause.
"I updated my life insurance policy, if you want to take a shot at me," Tristan said, seeing her expression, "I would completely understand."
Lorelai eyed him critically. Her impression of him, just weeks earlier had been of someone she could trust and though she did want to take a shot at him, something in her just couldn't.
"Buy me coffee."
"That's it?" he didn't hide his surprise.
"Of course not," Lorelai scoffed, "I just need finalise how I'm going to exact my revenge on you."
"In that case, Starbucks is that way," he nodded accommodatingly.
"So what were you doing creeping about that bookshop?" Tristan asked as they sat down, placing their coffees on the table.
"I was not creeping!" exclaimed Lorelai, indignantly.
"I think you were."
"Okay, fine, I was," Lorelai pouted, "But I was just trying to avoid the snotty shop assistants."
"Snotty shop assistants," Tristan repeated, amused at her description.
"Just because I don't read Austen, Bronte and Wilde doesn't mean I can't be in a book shop."
"Ahh, I know how you feel," Tristan nodded understandingly, "But I'm willing to bet that they've only read Shakespeare in school and that was the Cliff Notes version too. And I bet they think that Homer Simpson wrote the 'Iliad'."
"Exactly," Lorelai agreed, taking a gulp of her coffee.
"So what were you looking for?"
"It's embarrassing," Lorelai looked down guilty.
"Oh, come on," Tristan grinned cheekily, making him look like a little kid and his expression melted her maternal heart.
"Fine, I was looking for a self-help book," Lorelai relented.
"Serious?"
"I was hoping to find out a book on how-to-deal-with-your-daughter-getting-pregnant-and-you've-overreacted-and-you-can't-talk-to-her-anymore."
Tristan winced, listening to her.
"Why aren't you and Rory talking?"
"Long story, very long story," Lorelai sighed, "Fights, boys and a stolen yacht. Don't ask."
"Okay," Tristan replied, waiting patiently.
"When I was sixteen and found out I was pregnant, I was so lost," Lorelai explained, regret obvious in her voice, "I was rebellious, I couldn't stand the rules and expectations, but I never wanted to a teenage mother, but then I was. After Rory was born, I knew that I would never have that old life back, even just the bits that I had liked, so I decided to give it all to Rory. I wanted her to grow up in a place without all the pressure so that she could have the life I never did."
"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best for your child," Tristan replied soberly.
"And everything was perfect, I mean sometimes Rory would do things I didn't approve of, but we would work it out. Then over night, it all changed. Actually that's not true, I suppose it was changing slowly, I chose to pretend it wasn't happening and before I knew it, there was a huge rift between us."
"Lorelai, I would have killed for a mother like you," Tristan replied quite seriously, "You remember what the life was like, it was the life you left. Whatever you do for Rory, even if she doesn't realise it how lucky she is, it's more than she could hope to get from anyone in that life."
"Would you raise another man's child as your own?" Loralie asked the possible father.
Tristan mulled over the question.
"Honestly, I have no idea. Any child that I am the father to, even if it's not biologically mine, I would care for, but I've never been in that situation so I don't know."
"Fair answer," Lorelai accepted.
They sipped they coffees in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Tristan had made Lorelai realise more than ever that she needed to fix things between her and Rory. And she made him realise how difficult things must have be for Rory, without her own mother to support her.
"Tristan?" Lorelai asked after a moment.
"Hmm?"
"Why are those to girls giggling and pointing at us?"
Tristan turned to where Lorelai was staring and felt his stomach drop.
"Oh no," he breathed, glancing furtively for an escape route as the two girls marched over to where they were sitting.
"Groupies?" Lorelai joked.
"My sister and my girlfriend," Tristan replied quietly.
Lorelai could only gape as the taller of the two girls swooped down to kiss Tristan on the cheek.
"Hey, Trist," she greeted him with a wide smile, pulling out a chair, "I didn't know you were town."
"Here I am," Tristan replied with an uncomfortable smile.
"You should have called," the other girl, shoved Tristan in the arm, sliding into a spare seat.
"Ladies, I want you to meet Lorelai Gilmore. Lorelai, this is Ivory Lancaster, my girlfriend and Arabelle, my sister."
"Hi, how are you?" Ivory asked Lorelai, her eyes sparkling excitedly.
"Fine, thanks," Lorelai responded awkwardly.
"Wait, you said Gilmore right?" Ivory asked Tristan.
"Yeah, um, Lorelai is Rory's mother."
"Oh," Ivory blinked, "Well, it's lovely to meet you. Rory is a really sweet girl."
"That she is," Lorelai replied, glancing from Ivory to Tristan and back.
"So, when did you get in?" Arabelle demanded of her brother.
"A couple of hours ago."
"And you didn't call?"
"No, I was going to."
"Sure," Arabelle pouted.
"I brought you a present," Tristan added hastily, "It's in my car, I'll give to you later."
Arabelle face brightened immediately.
"So, what are you doing having coffee with Rory's mother?" Ivory asked, curious.
"We bumped into each," Tristan explained.
"Really?" Ivory replied, her doubt obvious.
"In a bookshop," Lorelai added.
"What are you doing this afternoon?" Arabelle asked, distracting Ivory.
"Uh, there's a couple of things I need to get done," Tristan replied vaguely, "After that I'm free."
"How long are you here for?" Ivory asked.
"A couple of days and then I go back to Stanford tomorrow night."
"Well, I should get going," Lorelai interrupted, standing up, "It was nice running into you, Tristan. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Ivory and Arabelle."
"Pleasure's all mine," Ivory replied with a warm smile.
"Bye," Arabelle and Tristan said in unison.
--
The return to Tristan's grandfather's house was conducted in silence, a silence that stretched all afternoon. Ivory smiled and laughed, but she was burning with curiosity and it wasn't until they were seated for dinner that she finally had enough.
"You know, it's weird," Ivory said suddenly.
"What?" Tristan asked confused.
"I just didn't know you were the kind of guy who had coffee with the mothers of people you used to go to school with."
"Well, I do," Tristan replied awkwardly.
After leaving the shopping centre with Ivory and Arabelle, Tristan had been expecting and dreading this conversation.
"I mean you never even told me about Rory."
"I've never really told you about anyone from school," replied Tristan defensively.
"I didn't know about Rory either," Arabelle piped up, "Not until that party at her grandparents house."
"You were like ten years old then," Tristan exclaimed, annoyed that his girlfriend and sister were picking on him.
"I'll be honest, I don't really believe you and Lorelai just ran into each other and decided to have coffee," Ivory confessed.
"Well, that's exactly what happened, whether you believe it or not," Tristan tried not to loose his temper.
"So, how were you and Rory?" Arabelle asked, "You said you two went to Chilton together. If I ever bumped into the mother of a fellow student I'd be polite, but coffee's kind of pushing it."
"We were in the same classes for a while and we did a few group projects together," Tristan shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, "And you've heard the gossip, Lorelai isn't your average mother."
"Yeah, she started out early," Arabelle mumbled snidely.
"I heard that, Arabelle," Tristan warned.
"Oh my God!" cried Ivory suddenly, on the verge of tears, "You're having an affair with Lorelai Gilmore."
"What?" Tristan exclaimed, "For God's sake where did you get an idea like that?"
"Don't even bother denying it! Given your history, I was too naïve to expect that you've really changed."
Ivory stormed out of the house, Arabelle trailing after her, trying to placate her, while Tristan stood stunned at the turn of events.
"She's gone to the airport, to see if she can get an earlier flight back to LA," Arabelle informed her brother with a glare, "You really screwed up."
Sighing Tristan ran a hand through his hair.
"I'll call her," he said.
"Whatever," Arabelle replied, scowling, before leaving him alone again.
Needing to get out of there, Tristan grabbed his keys and headed to his car. He drove to an intersection, pulled over and sat there for ten minutes staring at the road. If he turned left, he would be at the airport in twenty minutes, begging his girlfriend to forgive him, even though he had not been cheating on her. On the other hand, he could turn right and in an hour he could be at Yale, paying Rory a visit as had been the original intention for his trip across the country. Putting the car back into drive, he hit the indicator. Right.
--
On the drive from Hartford to Yale, he practiced his apology, on the passenger seat beside him was a box of finest chocolates and an impressive bouquet of oriental lilies, both from an emergency stop at the shopping centre. He parked the car outside Rory's dorm building and made his way to suite she shared with Paris. As he walked, he could feel people watching him curiously, but he ignored them, focusing on the purpose of his visit. The more he thought about it the faster his heart pounded, he was never that great at expressing his emotions, but what guy was? Yet, Tristan had spent a lifetime hiding is true feelings, he would be thankful if he could make it to Rory's suite without having a heart attack. He barely had a chance to knock before the door was whipped open, reflexively he thrust the bouquet forward.
"Jeez, Du Gray, trying to kill me with flowers?" came the voice muffled by the bouquet, but distinctly not Rory's.
"Paris?" Tristan exclaimed, loosing all his confidence.
"No, actually I'm a figment of your imagination," Paris replied sarcastically, pushing the flowers to one side, "What are you doing here?"
"Is Rory here?"
"She doesn't want to see you," Paris replied shortly.
"That's not what I asked?"
"I know."
"Well? Is she here or not?"
"I don't speak to bastards."
"Hey, you can even write it on that," Tristan replied, nodding to the white board attached to the door, "I don't care how, just answer the question."
"Why should I?"
"Oh for goodness sake, Gellar. It's a simple question. Is Rory Gilmore here or not? Yes or no? I'm sorry it's not more complicated than that. If I'd known, I would have thought of two-thousand-word-essay question for you."
"Put him out of his misery!" a passer-by called.
"Mind your own business!" Paris shouted after the speaker, "Don't you have anything better to do than interrupt people having a conversation. Honestly!"
"Paris," Tristan said, partly amused, partly concerned.
"Fine, get in here," she moved aside, allowing Tristan into the suite.
"So," Tristan began slowly, looking at her expectantly.
"Rory's not here."
"Finally," sighed Tristan, annoyed at being kept waiting only to find it was a waste of time, "Do you know where I could find her?"
"She's in Boston, for a journalism workshop," Paris replied.
"Oh," Tristan replied, his face falling.
"Why don't you stay a while?" she suggested, "You've come a long way and we haven't talked in ages."
"I guess," Tristan replied half-heartedly, he didn't really want to back yet.
"Have a seat. Want something to drink? We have water, coffee, milk?"
"Water, thanks," Tristan replied sinking into the sofa.
"Bottled, mineral, flavoured – "
"Bottled is fine, Paris."
Paris handed him a bottle of water, opening one for herself, she sat down on the sofa, beside him. For sake of something to do, she flicked the tv on.
"So, how are you?" Tristan asked, making polite conversation.
"I'm good," Paris replied.
"You have emailed or called in a while."
"Been busy. I do have other things to do that talk to you. I have a life, you know."
"I never doubted it."
"Still, there is no reason why you couldn't have called or emailed."
"Paris, I did email, you didn't respond. In fact I think for the first time ever, I sent more emails than you."
"Like I said, I've been busy. Being a friend."
"Rory and I were never friends."
"You could have been if you weren't always asking her out."
"Sorry for being interested."
"Were you in love with her?"
"What?" Tristan choked on a gulp of water, barely stopping himself from spraying water everywhere.
"At Chilton, were you in love with Rory?" Paris clarified, she mocked his earlier statement, "It's a simple question. Yes or no?"
"Paris, you know that's not a simple question," Tristan replied with a bitter smile, "And the answer is yes and no. I was attracted to her, every guy at Chilton was, but I don't think I was in love with Rory. I could've loved her, if she had given me a chance."
Paris studied his face, for once there was no mask, no act, this was the truth. It hurt her to see him hurt. His life was a bed of roses complete with hundreds of thorns. He never let anyone close enough to see him, much less help him and on the few occasions he did open up to her, it terrified her to know how much he hid.
"I'm sorry, Tristan," Paris whispered.
"For what? Being my friend? I mean, you still are my friend, right?"
"I just felt that someone should say sorry to you. You always did grow up too fast. And of course I'm your friend."
She remembered the first time she saw him get drunk, he'd been thirteen, but anyone could tell it wasn't his first time. Everyone knew he'd lost his virginity at the time that most boys his age stopped worry about girl-germs and started looking at girls as being worth their time. Once she had wanted to the object of his attention, she had watched him lavish his time and father's money on so many girls that part of her was jealous. But after her mother informed her that, according to her star sign, she went after guys who were troubled, bad boys because she thought she could fix them, she thought better of it. After all, Tristan needed a friend more than he needed another girlfriend.
"When did you realise it was Rory?" Paris asked, it had been the issue she was most curious about after Rory had told her about the one-night-stand.
"In the morning after," Tristan replied knowing exactly what Paris was asking about, "That night she had been so assertive, so independent, so not Rory, at least not the way I remembered her. But in the morning, when she was sleeping, she looked like she did in Chilton, older, but still untouched…"
He fell silent remembering everything. As he'd sat there, at the little side table, composing the note, he'd watched Rory sleeping. He wished he could have stayed with her, at least until she had woken up, but he had to get to the airport. Also, he was afraid of what her reaction might be if she realised she had just slept with him, the guy she once said she hated.
"Rory, told me you have girlfriend," Paris prompted.
"Yeah, Ivory."
"How'd you meet her?"
"In a coffee shop at Stanford, actually it was the day after I got back from New York," Tristan smiled grimly, "When it rains, it pours."
"And you asked her out?" Paris prompted.
"No, not straight away. We kept running into each at really random places for about a week. Finally I figured, she's a beautiful girl, why not? So I asked her. Arabelle to an instant liking to her. And it was great."
"But?"
"But I don't know where we stand with each other any more."
"What happened?"
"She thinks I'm cheating on her with Lorelai."
"Lorelai, as in Rory's mother, Lorelai?"
"Uh huh, a case of wrong place, wrong time."
"She make you happy?"
"Yeah," Tristan replied softly, truth was he knew he could be happier, but he'd take what he got.
"Why do you stay with her?"
"Because what if what I think could be better isn't better or is even worse?"
"You won't know unless you try."
"Maybe I don't want to risk it," Tristan replied softly, before glancing at his watch, "I should get going, there's an earlier flight I might be able to get."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," he replied with a smile, "Here take these, I know there second hand gifts, but..."
He handed the flowers and chocolate to Paris.
"Thanks, Tristan."
He shrugged awkwardly, never comfortable with gratitude or compliments.
"Do you want me to tell Rory you were here?"
"No, no, it's okay," he shook his head, before shooting her one last smile, he left her alone.
--
She wished she hadn't had to lie to Paris about going to Boston, but to say the truth aloud had been too scary. But now, as she sat there alone, surrounded by the heady scent of disinfectant, she wished she had someone to hold her hand.
--
AN: Okay another chapter up… hmm, out of creative ways to ask you to review so… please review!