Yes. I know. I have been away for 50 bazillion years. Here is number 7, to which hints ever so SLIGHTLY to something of Rory's past, and which finally fixes some little problem I was having... :) Enjoy.

Looking at herself in the mirror brought a mixture of two things to Rory's mind.

One.

Pink did so not look good on her.

And two.

Neither did white.

She stood perfectly still, glaring at the mirror until her eyes hurt, tracing patterns along the awful flower prints of her dress.

She was wearing a summer dress. It wasn't even summer. It was bloody September for god sakes! She was going to freeze, die, and in the worst piece of clothing she had ever worn. And if she didn't die of the cold, then she most definitely would die of humiliation.

Why, oh why was she wearing this dress?

She had asked herself that question several times in the recent past. Most specifically 10 times within the minute.

It was ugly, and it showed too much skin, and it was way too small for her size.

'Way to ruin what was left of my existence, Emily Gilmore', she thought bitterly.

Because that was why she was wearing the dress. Emily Gilmore. Her grandmother. The owner of her pool house. She was hosting another party. Yes, another one. Today, of all days. Hadn't she just had one yesterday? And what was worse, instead of casting Rory aside, so as not to interfere and mingle with the guests and give them the wrong kind of impressions, she was making her actually attend!

What kind of sick punishment was this?

What had she done, so wrong? Stayed out of her way? Followed all her stupid rules while in the pool house?

Obviously, she had done something really bad. Except, you know… she actually hadn't.

"Rory, dear, are you ready?" Called Emily, from the other room.

She contemplated saying no and pretending to faint, but figured Emily wouldn't fall for it. Plus it would hurt.

"Yesss…." She mumbled, coming out of her bedroom, looking the perfect image of any Hartford society girl, except for the unappealing scowl on her face.

"Oh, don't look like I just cancelled Christmas! It's only a party, and you're always locked up in that pool house doing god know's what with god knows who, so if anything it will be doing you some good!"

Rory glared at her grandmother.

"And would you stop looking at me like that? For heaven's sake, Rory, you can't just go around moping and glaring and being a burden upon everything that comes in your presence!"

"Shut up, grandma," she said angrily, and pushed past her, heading straight for the door. She slammed it behind her, and stomped her way (as much as one could stomp in heels) to the back door of the house. Walking inside she realized the guests had already started arriving. They stared at her as if she didn't belong anywhere near them or her grandmothers house, not now, not ever.

Smiling with such a fake intensity she was sure the fake-fairy was going to come and hand her job over to her, she fixed her hair a bit, and pulled at her dress in a futile attempt to make it cover just the teensy bit more.

Everyone averted their gaze away from her, and the awkward moment passed, gone as if it had never been there in the first place.

She walked over to the bar and ordered the strongest drink they had. She didn't really have any idea what that was, but the bartender seemed to.

As she drank it down, slowly, hoping it would help her through this awful night, a woman with the blondest hair she'd ever seen came up to her, much to Rory's horror.

"Hello, darling, I don't believe we've met. Flora Birneese." She held out her hand, and Rory took it, hesitantly, hearing her grandma's threats of kicking her out on the street ring through her ears.

"And you are?"

"Rory. Gilmore." The woman smiled, and nodded, as if satisfied by something, though what was totally unknown to Rory.

"Well, nice to meet you, darling. I must be going, more people to see, but don't be a stranger." Rory nodded, and she walked away, heading towards some other lady who was wearing most probably too much make-up.

She turned back to the bartender and ordered another drink. Hopefully no one else would come up to talk to her.

"Mary."

Her eyes popped out of their sockets, and she spit out her drink all over the counter, much to the bartenders, and some of the guests disgust. She heard low laughing behind her, and whipped around to confirm her fears.

"Tristan?" She asked, incredulously. He smiled at her, taking a napkin and whipping some of her drink off her chin. She blushed, and swatted his hand away.

"I have to stop doing that…" she muttered, staring at the bar counter and looked back up to see him still staring at her. "What?" she snapped.

He put his hands up in mock surrender, "Relax, Mary, it's just a surprise to see you. A nice surprise."

Rory almost blushed again, and smiled at his comment.

"So what are you doing here?" She asked bluntly.

He raised his eyebrows at her, and took a seat at the bar counter. She followed suit.

"Well, it's a party, and people get invited, so they come, and have drinks, and…"

She slapped him on the shoulder, much to both their surprise, but smiled to show she was just being friendly.

"I know what a party is. What I mean is, last time I saw you…" she paused, and looked at him in the eyes to see him still staring at her. "Well, you were going to military school."

"Wow, Mary, you certainly get to the point."

Rory started to feel guilty, and seeing so, Tristan continued speaking.

"It's not a bad thing." She looked to see him smiling. "It's actually a nice change from all this boring small talk."

Taking another drink, she motioned for him to continue.

"Military school is over. It was a semi-empty threat. My dad pulled me back after a couple months, but sent me to live with my grandparents."

Rory started to say she was sorry, but he cut her off.

"Don't, it's not your fault. Besides, I'd pick my grandparents over my parents any day."

She smiled at him, and took another drink.

"Of course, I'd pick you over both, if I had that option…"

She almost spit out her drink again, and started blushing like mad once again.

"Still a Mary I see…" he said, smirking.

She swallowed.

"For your information, I haven't been a "Mary" since after Chilton." Immediately her hands flew to her mouth, and her eyes went wide. "I mean… What I meant, was… after Chilton, I was very… Well, stuff happened, and…" She stuttered, not knowing why she had told him that. Her heartbeat had started to pick up, and almost died of embarrassment when Tristan started to laugh, throwing his head back and catching the attention of a few people in the immediate viscinity.

Rory, now blushing profusely, glared at him all friendliness completely vanished. It wasn't his fault, really. If she hadn't opened her big, fat mouth she wouldn't be in this incredibly mortifying situation. But did he have to laugh like that?

She pushed herself off the stool, and stomped away into the living room to sit on the couch. God, this party sucked.

She fixed her gaze onto the centre piece of the coffee table, and her body radiated vibes of tremendous disgust and irritation so that no one even attempted to come and talk to her. Not that they would anyway. And then she felt someone sit beside her and she turned to give him a piece of her mind when she saw Tristan was there. She glared even harder into his blue eyes which were staring at her with no signs of laughter.

"I hate you," she said, and then turned forwards again.

"I already knew that." He replied, and she felt his eyes shift off of her, onto something else. This made her feel slightly less uncomfortable. "You made it very clear in Chilton."

Rory raised her eyebrows to the centerpiece, and thought back to when she had said those things, when she had been trying to get Dean back.

Dean...

The bastard.

She laughed bitterly in a way that sent shivers down Tristan's spine, and her eyes, if possible, turned even colder.

"I never hated you Tristan," she said, turning to look at him, but he was still facing the opposite wall. "In fact, I rather liked you. I was just a stupid teenager back then, who thought love was this big wide ocean of bunnies and unicorns and chocolate." She paused and looked at his face, really looked at it, noticing some changes but not being able to decipher exactly what they were. "I only said that because I didn't want Dean to take that away from me." She turned back and stared at the people mingling around the room, talking about the most boring interesting things.

A minute passed before he spoke, and it was very quietly.

"Did he?"

She looked at him once more, and he turned to face her as well.

"What?" She asked, crinkling her forehead.

"Did he take it away from you?" He answered, and his intense gaze almost made her look away. Two years earlier and she would have looked away.

"Yes," she whispered, and felt her eyes fill with tears with memories she had thought had been locked away forever. She looked down and brought a hand to wipe her eyes, then looked back up to see him still staring at her. She smiled.

"I still hate you."

His lips twitched with the ghost of a smile, and she saw and felt his eyes roam her face much the same way she had done before.

"What's to hate, Mary?" He asked, smirking now, and Rory felt almost relieved that he still called her Mary even though she had told him of her real status. "I bet, if you gave me the chance, I could change your mind..." He trailed off, and she couldn't help but smirk herself.

"In your dreams, Bible Boy."

He laughed again, still staring at her.

"Your a heartbreaker, Mare."

She smiled, "I know. You should see the condition my last boyfriend is in. I heard they shipped him down to some secret facility because of the immense damage I inflicted upon him."

"Kinky."

She laughed and hit his shoulder, mock-glaring at him.

"You are incorrigible."

He trailed a finger down her cheek, a gesture that surprised and comforted her.

"You are beautiful." She was about to reply when he continued. "Too bad I've already got a girlfriend..."

Her eyes widened in shock as her mouth practically gaped open at him.

"You're kidding me."

"Nope." He smiled again, and took something out of his pocket, which she soon came to see was a picture of a girl. She was gorgeous, with long red hair, with a slim face, and green eyes.

"Amazing," Rory remarked, studying the photo. "I never thought I'd see the day when Tristan Dugrey settles down with a girlfriend."

He put the photo back in his pocket.

"Yeah, well... I met her after military school. She's a lot like you actually. I guess that's why I fell for her..." He looked at her again, and smirked. "What can I say? Bookworms turn me on."

Rory blushed, which resulted in Tristan laughing again.

"I'm happy for you," she said, when she had finally composed herself.

"Thanks," he replied, looking down at his hands. "It means a lot. I'm happy too. She's... perfect." He smiled a little dreamily to himself, and Rory wondered if that kind of love would ever happen to her. She looked around the room to see the elite of Hartford society wandering around, not realizing just how completely fake they looked. Or maybe they did? Maybe they had acccepted their lives? Would she ever accept this?

"So..." his voice snapped her out of her voice and she turned to look at him again.

"So..."

"Nice tattoo." Rory's eyes widened as she looked down at her arm to see the special concealer her grandmother had made her wear starting to fade away.

She stood up immediately, grabbing her arm. "Shit!" Then looking to see people staring she immediately sat back down, eyes wide.

" "BITE ME"?" He asked, amusement evident in his voice.

"Shut up!" She hissed fiercly, her fingers wrapping even tighter around her arm.

"Are you okay?" She heard Tristan ask and she looked at him with a nervous expression.

"My grandmother's going to kill me," she whispered, almost hysterically, her eyes darting anxiously from his face to the room on the lookout for Emily. "She doesn't want anyone to know I have a tattoo, and if people to find out, then she's going to find out they saw, and then I'm going to be kicked out!"

He stared at her a little concerned, and confused.

"Kick you out?"

"Yes! God, she is going to kill me..."

"Why don't you stay with me?"

Rory, who had been currently stretching her neck to see down the hallway, whipped her head back to face him, a disbelieving look gracing her features.

"What?"

"Stay with me. My girlfriend won't mind, we have an extra bedroom on the main floor."

"You live together?" She asked, completely dumbfounded. He certainly had a gift for skipping big details.

He smiled a bit, "Yes. Now stop clutching your arm so tight, or else you're going to stop the blood flow, which would not be good. You can stay with me. It's a great idea. So stop worrying."

She looked at him with a confused and surprised expression. A few minutes passed with her just staring at him, he looking at her expectently.

"Al... Alright..." she said, a bit unsure. "And you're positive you're girlfriend isn't going to try to chop my head off in the middle of the night, or poison my food when no one's looking?"

"No," he replied, laughing slightly.

Slowly letting her arm go, Rory sat back a little tensly against the couch, staring at the centerpiece once more, only with a whole different rainbow of emotions this time.

"So... you have an... apartment?" She asked the centerpiece quizically.

"Yes. And a coffee machine."

She smiled.

Rate, sure. I like the reviews more. I tried to make it a bit more longer. Hopefully it won't take me so long next time...