Chapter Two: Hit Men

---Gilmore Girls---

He had no intentions of ever seeing her again. It'd been too much of a relief when he was finally shipped off to Military School in North Carolina, hundreds of miles away from her. From Chilton. From his parents. From his life. It'd been like some demented lock was released from around his lungs – he felt like he could finally breathe again, as corny and un-symbolic as that may seem.

He'd finally deemed himself happy when he arrived at Military School. The girls, although unflatteringly buff, were pleasant enough – not that he'd ever wanted to have a roll in the hay with any of them. The guys, though more muted with their lust for the female form, we're decent and trust worthy. He'd met a few lifetime friends at Military School.

"I thought you were destined for The Art Institute," he chided, stepping in line behind the worthy being at the coffee kiosk.

"I hardly believe you remember!" the person gasped, turning around and smacking Tristan lightly on the shoulder, "Tristan Dugrey! Well don't you look robust!"

"Cheyenne, it's always a pleasure." Tristan laughed, clapping his hand on Cheyenne's shoulder, "How've you been since graduation?"

Cheyenne sighed dramatically, tossing the back of his hand against his forehead radically, "Oh, you know how the windmill churns!" He said, clapping his hands together, "And mommy said no to Art school. Apparently wanting to become the next Dolce to Gabbana was too absurd for a Lennon."

"Sorry, man," Tristan told him, shaking his head, "I got shipped here from Vanderbilt. My father wanted me closer so he could teach me the ropes to being the next Gustave Eiffel."

Cheyenne nodded and stepped up to the counter of the kiosk, placing his order for a large cream and sugar coffee. Turning back to Tristan as he waited, he tilted his head, "Are you graduating here – or are you going to go to some Hartford community college so you can be even closer to your family?"

"I'm graduating from Yale."

"Great, I'll show you around – introduce you to my friends. I met this cute little brunette. I've taken her under my wing."

"A brunette? Huh, how great are her legs?"

"Darling," Cheyenne cooed, paying for his coffee, "Those legs," he continued taking said coffee in his hand, and draping an arm around Tristan's shoulders, guiding him away from the kiosk and towards one of the dorm buildings, "are Heaven sent. Her boyfriend just broke up with her last night."

"Harsh."

"And it was her birthday no less. I'm headed there right now, care to join me?"

"A leggy brunette, and she's vulnerable? Uh, thanks, but this is a new shirt and I don't want water works to break it in." he laughed, shrugging Cheyenne's arm off his shoulders, "I'll catch you around campus, okay?"

Cheyenne shrugged, and nodded, "Your call. Later."

"Later," Tristan snapped his fingers, pointing them in Cheyenne's direction, as he took backward steps back from the way they came.

Tristan did all sorts of women: tall women, short women, and skinny women, even women who were a little thick. He did leggy, big boobs, small boobs, blonde hair, brown hair, and red haired women. But the women he simply would not do: vulnerable women, or drunk women. Psychotic women, and old women. Sure, you could throw in a little jail bait here and there if they lied about their age – but Tristan was a man of dignity. He didn't want to go around saying he got laid; but only because the woman had just had her heart broken.

Running a hand through his blonde hair, he sighed. Cheyenne always had a thing for pulling leggy brunettes under his wing: Tristan had always noticed this. Cheyenne was gay, but man was he a sucker for a pretty woman.

---Gilmore Girls---

"He broke up with you?" Lorelai snapped into mother mode as soon as she looked at the saddened expression on her only daughter's face, "That jackass! I told you he wasn't any good for you."

"Can we save the, 'I-told-you-so', attitude for a time when I don't feel like I'm going to break into a million pieces at any given second. I know you warned me to stay away from Logan, but I just… I wasn't thinking."

"Aww, Ror," Lorelai's expression softened, and she pulled her daughter in a sympathetic, and motherly embrace. "I'm sorry he broke you."

"I'm not a toy," Rory mumbled, rubbing her T-zone with her hand, squinting her eyes closed, "I can't be broken. I can be severely hurt, but not broken."

"Need I remind you of the time Jess broke you?"

"With the help of a mechanic device, a furry thing and a tree."

"I hope the furry thing is alive."

"I'm pretty sure the furry thing was scared back into the woods."

"Good," Lorelai conceded, taking in a deep breath and giving her daughter a once over. "You do know your father will wring Logan's neck, right?"

"Can't say that I ever doubted he wouldn't."

"And then your grandfathers are simply going to go ballistic when they hear that their pride and joy, though conceived at a very bad time, was hurt on her own twenty first birthday? Gosh, I hope Limbo Boy has body guards. The Gilmore's and Hayden's are going to sic a lot of mean, grumpy fat men on him."

"Why are they going to be mean, grumpy and fat?"

Lorelai shrugged, "It's just how I always pictured hit men."

"Oh," Rory nodded, curling her legs into her arm's embrace, "Wait – you've pictured hit men before?"

"When Dean broke up with you."

"Which time?"

"The first, second, and third time."

"I should have known."

"And then when Jess broke you."

"Uh huh."

"And then when you told me he kissed you."

"I kissed him."

"And then the time he left you."

"I get it." Rory sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"And then the time I caught you and Dean in the act—"

"Whoa, okay. Enough skipping down memory lane with hit men."

Lorelai laughed, and draped her arm over her daughter's shoulders, tugging her closer, "This is one of our last nights in this house together, Ror," she sighed, resting her head on Rory's shoulder, letting her eyes take in the ambiance of the living room. "In just a few weeks… your father will live here."

Rory grinned, "I'm so happy you and dad are working things out."

"Yeah, well, your grandparent's vow renewal was a wake up call. Walking in on you and Logan made me sick." Rory rose an eyebrow, and looked at her mom, willing her to continue. "I mean – that was something my parents would walk in on when me and Christopher were younger."

"Visual aids are not what I wanted to see!"

Lorelai shrugged sheepishly, and glanced at the on-going movie on their living room television. "I saw Jess." She said randomly, turning to look Rory in the eye, "And it was awkward."

Rory frowned, and nodded slowly, "Oh?"

"I said hi, he said hi. He left, I left. It was all very short."

"I see," she said, standing up, and stretching her arms over her head, letting her muscles crack, "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." Making her way out of the living room, she ran her hands over her face, taking in a deep breath of air. "Night."

"Rory," Lorelai called after her, bolting to her feet, and following, "Don't be mad at me! I didn't know he was going to be around – I would have told you!"

"Don't worry about it," she snapped, closing her door directly behind her as she entered her bedroom, clicking the lock into place.

---Gilmore Girls---

She was dreading the minute she'd have to walk into the Yale Daily News, confident that she'd see a now ex-boyfriend sitting leisurely at the desk across from hers. She had trepidations of having to be friendly to him, although he had been a little on the hostile side towards her when she'd allowed herself to let a small sob escape her lips when he'd broken up with her.

Rory braced herself, her hands clutching onto the satchel strap that rested against her breasts as she made short, anxious steps into the Daily News office. She closed her eyes, and made the familiar trek to her desk, sitting down in her familiar chair, and letting all of her things fall to the floor before she opened her eyes. She stared at the black computer screen, trying to convince herself to raise her eyes across the room towards another familiar desk.

She couldn't do it. She sighed, throwing her head into her hands, letting her eyes close against her palms. She sighed, letting a breath uneasily fall from her lips before reaching down, and turning the button on the tower on. She listened for the familiar beep of her computer starting, the rumble of the CD drive indicating it was loading all of her files, and saved documents.

She felt somewhat out of her element as she waited for her computer to load.

"Morning Gilmore." Paris said to her, as she took a seat on the corner of her desk, "I have an assignment for you."

"I haven't been in here for more then five minutes Paris, what could you of possibly thought of for me in that time frame?"

Paris rose an eyebrow, and rested her hands in her lap, "We live together, Gilmore. I'm always thinking of assignments."

"Fine, and the story you're going to make me research is?"

"Drum roll please," Paris deadpanned, handing Rory a sheet of paper.

Rory scanned her eyes over the preliminary research, and groaned, "You want me to research the men's soccer team?"

"It seems we may have an undefeated season with a few new additions to the team. I want you to put your witty twist on it, Gilmore. If anyone can make anything interesting: it's you."

"Great, just great, Paris. Have you forgotten something?"

"No.. what?"

"I hate sports!"

"Well set your hatred for physical exertion aside for a few weeks, and write the damn article. It'll probably be first page stuff – you get to go in and get the scoop of the guys that all the girls want to jump."

"Uh, I don't want to jump any of the guys on any of the sport's teams."

"Wasn't Logan the Tennis captain?"

"Well… yeah—"

"Then I just proved you wrong, now didn't I?" Paris taunted gleefully, standing, and resting her hands on her hips, "Deadlines November third. Can you handle it, Gilmore?"

"Yes, Paris."

"Great."

Rory stared after Paris as she walked away, shaking her head in woe. Sports, and Rory Gilmore never went together.

---Gilmore Girls---

Author Note: I don't give a lot of Author's Notes, but yet here I've written one.

As many ( more like all ) of you know, Straub Hayden ( Christopher's father ) died in season five. I, however, always wanting the elder Hayden's to partake in Rory's life, have disregarded that simple event – as well as the dinner at the Gilmore's when Rory was sixteen.

And I believe I enlightened you all on why Cheyenne is there, have I not?

--Bethany