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: Thank you to everyone who read/reads this, but special thanks to my reviewers:
FairyGirl07
Rish
Mrmp
Tonje
TVHollywoodDiva
Lifeisconfusing
Fallen Heart: thanks for the reply to my slightly blonde question
GGluvr1987
LoVe23
Chapter 4
The house looked the same, yet different and she couldn't help but feel cheated. The place had been given a lick of paint and the garden looked loved and well tended. This was her home, the place that held all her childhood memories, but she felt like she was trespassing, just standing on the front porch. The muffled sounds of bare feet stomping on floorboards reached her ears, laughter and muffled voices followed.
Pull yourself together, she ordered herself, you can't run away forever. Mustering all her courage, she reached down to the doorknob, excepting it to twist open, unlocked as always, but it did not budge. No one locked their doors in Stars Hollow, or at least they didn't. She stared at the door, a lump forming in the back of her throat, she didn't have keys with her, she couldn't get into her own home.
The glint of gold in the morning sun caught her eye. A doorbell. The words, 'Gilmore-Danes' engraved neatly below it. Lifting a hand, zombie-like, she pressed lightly on the button and like a polyphonic ring tone, the 'Oompa-Lompa' song rang out. Tears pressed against the inside of her eyelids. Oh please, not the tears, she begged.
From inside the house, the thunder of footsteps grew.
"I'll get it," a childish voice called.
"I'm going to beat you," another voice, a woman, laughed.
"No, I'm faster!" exclaimed the first voice.
She could hear someone skid into the front door and before she knew it, the door was whipped open by a small boy, who stared wide-eyed up at her.
"Hello and welcome to the Gilmore-Danes House of Spa– "
A hand appeared, muffling the boy's greeting.
"Eh, sorry about that," a woman appeared in the doorway behind the boy, gazing down at him sternly, she looked flushed, "Can I help you?"
Rory stared, a little in shock, waiting for the recognition to hit the woman.
"Mum?" she whispered finally, the woman started, the boy's eyes grew wider.
"What are you doing here?" realisation finally dawned on the woman, the question came out quiet and suspicious.
"I need…" Rory began, but she trailed away.
What did she need? So many, too many things. Where to begin?
"You need what?" Lorelai demanded, her voice rising, anger filling her eyes.
"I – I don't know."
She stared at her mother, willing her mother to see the need in her daughter's eyes. Didn't the experts say that there was an invisible and inexplicable connection, between mothers and they children. That mothers always knew when their children when were in pain. Lorelai stared back, her gaze cool and guarded. Rory swallowed hard, had the distance between them grown too far?
"Mummy?" the little boy's voice broke through the tension, "Mummy?"
"Darling, why don't you go inside?" Lorelai's voice softened, squatting to be eyelevel with the boy, she gazed tenderly at him.
"What about the movie?" he asked.
"This won't take a minute," Lorelai didn't even glance at Rory, directing all her attention to the boy, "Why don't you go get started on the popcorn?"
The boy bounced off in the direction of the living room leaving the two women alone.
"He's grown so much," Rory murmured.
"I suppose he has," Lorelai granted her, "Seeing as the last time you saw him, he was a newborn."
Guilt overflowed inside her. Had it really been that long since she had seen her mother?
"I'm here now," she whispered.
"Apparently," Lorelai answered.
"I'm sorry."
"It might be too late."
"I'm trying," she pleaded.
"And you're certainly taking your time."
"You have no idea how hard this is."
"Because it was a breeze hearing my own daughter tell me I failed her," Lorelai scoffed, she stepped back slightly, her hand reaching for the door.
"No," Rory begged, "I need… you."
"Now you need me?" Lorelai laughed harshly, "Maybe you're right. I did fail you as a mother. I let you believe that you are the most important person in the world, that it is alright for you to hurt everyone again and again and again. That after everything you've put me through, I would still drop everything when you need me."
"I'm sorry," Rory repeated, "I've got nowhere else to go. No one else."
"What about your dream husband? Where is he now?" Lorelai demanded, "Oh that's right, he is staying at a fancy resort in the Swiss Alps."
"Logan loves me!" Rory exclaimed defensively.
"That's why he took his entire family… except you," Lorelai replied, "What a catch."
"Logan needs time – "
"Oh don't defend him, I'm not interested," Lorelai shook her head, "And I've no interest in continuing this 'conversation' with you."
"Mum – " Rory began, but Lorelai shut the door anyway.
And then the tears came, blurring her vision of the cream, wood-panelled door with its bright gold doorbell. Turning, she fled her childhood home, he safe haven. She stumbled blindly, not caring who saw her and what they might think. Familiar landmarks brushed her peripheral vision as she passed them and each reignited memories of happier times. Finally, as she reached a secluded, wooded area, she found a spot that didn't send her mind reeling back into the past.
A small footbridge over a lake, ducks quacked as the glided over the murky water beneath her; there would be waterlilies in the summer. Sitting on the edge of the bridge, feet dangling over the edge, she waited until the tears subsided. She shouldn't have come back.
"Miss, can you help me? I'm here to see a lady about a tour?"
Her heart jumped at the voice and she turned warily.
"You?" she looked up in surprise at the blue eyes that had warmed her heart.
The man from the train.
"Yes, me," he grinned boyishly as he sat down next to her.
"You surprised me," Rory admitted.
"Yes, well, I sometimes surprise myself," his grin widened.
"And you found me," she hated how redundant she sounded.
"Apparently I did."
Where had her wit gone? Not long ago, she would have had a hundred intelligent, amusing things to say, but not any more.
"Rain check on the tour?" he asked, sensing her sadness.
"You don't have to do that," Rory shook her head slightly, trying to force the sad thoughts out of her mind, " I don't mind really."
"This town hasn't really changed much. I pretty much saw everything on the way in."
"And the new traffic lights?" Rory asked, remembering their conversation on the train.
"Reds at both and not a pedestrian in sight."
"So what do you want to do?" Rory asked.
"Well, how do you like your coffee beans?"
Rory's brow creased, unsure of what he meant.
"If anything in the world is going to cheer you up, it would have to be coffee."
"How do you know that?"
"It's a well known fact that Gilmore girls love their coffee."
"Wait, how did you know I'm a Gilmore?"
"I am a man knowledgable in many things," he replied cryptically with a magician's smile, "Let me astound you further with my great mind."
"Please."
"Your first boyfriend was Dean Forrester," her eyes widened with surprise as he spoke, "You went to Chilton, where you met Paris Gellar, who was your room-mate at Yale. And it was at Yale where you met Logan Huntzberger, your husband. So your name is Lorelai Leigh Gilmore-Huntzberger, but you go by Rory."
"And how do you know all this? I mean, how do you know me?"
"Your nickname is Ace, but it was once was Mary," he flashed her another cryptic smile.
"Tristan?" Rory asked, recognition finally dawning on her.
"The one and only," he replied with a grin tipping an imaginary hat, "Miss me?"
"I don't know what to say."
"Good grief, I've made you speechless! There was a time I would have paid good money to see that, even better to be the cause of it."
"I'm terribly sorry I didn't remember you. Please forgive me."
"It's an unusual situation, but I'm sure I can make an exception, just this once," he winked playfully.
"Did you know who I was on the train?"
"No," he shook his head slightly, "It has been over ten years since I left Chilton. But later that day, I remembered another time when a beautiful girl had cried in my presence and she looked an awful lot like the lady, you, on the train."
"And you find me once again, crying," Rory smiled sadly.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Tristan asked carefully.
"No, not really," she shook head slightly, "It's just too complicated."
"Well if you ever want to talk about whatever it is that is too complicated, I'm all ears," he said with a gently smile.
"Thanks," she returned his smile with a grateful one.
"You're welcome."
"Do you mind if we just sit here?" Rory asked after a minute, "I'd like the company."
"Sure," Tristan nodded.
He made a show of making himself comfortable, adjusting his coat, shifting about. Rory hid a smile watching him, realising it was all just for show and all for her.
"I'm ready now," Tristan grinned, before turning to study the ducks gliding below them.
"I hope I'll be ready one day too," Rory whispered to herself.
If Tristan heard her, he pretended not to and for that she was glad.
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