Title: Nine Months.
Author: Professional Scatterbrain
Rating: PG- 13 to R
Couple: R/T
Summary: Tristan returns to Chilton, and to the game, but Rory's not playing.
Note: Tristan left later on in Rory's first year at Chilton, so therefore the whole nine-month thing works (a little hint, it's a metaphor for the fic). After Tristan left Rory formed a fledgling friendship with Paris, Louise and Madeline, and by the time senior years rolls up there good friends, well, most of the time at least. Everything that happened with Dean and Jess happened except it happened all before senior year. At the end of the year before Rory told Jess she loved him, and he left suddenly straight afterwards.
I made Chilton darker, because I found the whole picture perfect school depicted on the show nice, yet unrealistic. I tried to model it around my High School, showing the competitiveness, the cruelty, and self delusion within my environment. I go to a girls school though, so the guy thing still might take me a while to work out. Suggestions would be nice as this is my first GG fic.
***
~ Chp 3 ~
***
The DuGrey house was elegant. It was grand and rose above the other mansions in the street to give birth to another tangible air of some unwritten ominous threat. It was some Victorian style Tristan guessed, and knowing his parents, it was probably designed by some notable person with a name that carried more power than talent. The estate had large sweeping grounds that were never used, and a garage filled with cars that were exchanged each time a new model was released. The place was like a showroom, only used to impress business partners, and intimidate rivals.
"So Tristan, enjoy your first day at school?" Aiden DuGrey asked, as he watched his son enter the large, echoing entrance hall. The booming sound of the older mans voice seemed to linger coldly across the marble floors, and high ceilings.
"Same as before," Tristan replied, his voice was even, and carefully pitched. Years of training dictated the way the two men interacted.
This was the way he and his family communicated. But they barely did. As a child he never noticed it, but he did now. The uncomfortable silence. They didn't talk, they just spoke to each other. No words ever meant anything really, it was all just filler. Stale conversations would perpetrate the air while they where in each other's presents, and until they could slip away each breath was uncomfortable as if in a bell jar.
"Did you get placed in the correct classes?" Aiden asked leading the conversation this time. Usually it was Tristan who played that role, but unlike his father, who obviously had a purpose, Tristan did only when the quiet became too much.
"Yes,"
Tristan let a small smile show, a glint of teeth, flash of conceit. He was like the cat that ate the canary, and Tristan rivaled in the power he held within his secret. It was petty, but he was a petty person he reasoned when once again he felt the need to get some attention. It was now so easy to play his parents, and Tristan wondered why he bothered, it wasn't like they meant anything to him. That was there fault, not his, and Tristan didn't plan on forgetting that anytime soon.
"Excellent, I was worried you'd be such with the original inadequate classes you were placed in." he said looking through the large pile of letters that one of the maids had left on the sideboard.
Not liking the vapid state of the conversation, which was currently focused on him, Tristan turned it around, and asked Aiden about his favourite topic, himself. "How's the business going?"
Smiling his charming smile that matched the one his son had gracing his face, Aiden replied, "Our insurance is getting too high, so I've started talks with GRN Insurance. Your Grandfather is good friends with the CEO of the company, Richard Gilmore, so it all should go well."
Tristan's smile slipped for a moment as he heard the name Gilmore.
"Richard's granddaughter goes to Chilton if I recall. You might know her," he said casually.
But Tristan knew what his father really meant. Befriend the girl, make her love you, make her family love you, just for security sake, just in case the deal wasn't as smooth as it sounded on paper. His fathers past words played out in his mind like some fucked up pantomime, 'do it for the family, do it for the DuGrey name, it's all worth it in the end, trust my word,' and Tristan felt suddenly too old for that shit.
"Apparently she's quite intelligent. Richard's very proud of her, spends most of his time boasting about her." he said, plainly leading somewhere.
"Don't see what this has to do with me." Tristan's voice had an edge.
"Nothing Tris," the older man shrugged, his tailored suit falling perfectly over his athletic frame. Returning his attention to the mail, he changed topics without a pause. "Your mother will be home soon. She wants to know if you're coming to the charity dinner. Some fund raiser she organised."
"When?" Tristan asked, the same detached tone back in his voice.
It wasn't like any of this mattered to him. He had gotten past the point of trying to avoid those sorts of gatherings. Now he just went, and played that part that was chosen for him.
"Next Friday. Most of your school friends will be present I believe."
"Good." Tristan answered, not really caring either way.
"Your brother should be coming, and Annabelle."
Daniel DuGrey. The oldest, the smartest, and the unofficial heir to the family empire. Daniel was more then ten years older than Tristan. They rarely saw each other, and when they did, it was only through events like these. His trophy wife Annabelle was a pretty thing. Only a year or two older then Tristan, not that Daniel minded. An ex Fijian model, with dark caramel skin, amber eyes, long shapely limbs. Daniel had met her on one of his many pointless business trips. She was apparently related to some political leader, a prized niece, and Daniel had fallen for her the moment he saw her. The rest was a long boring story leading to this point.
"Shall Elspeth be coming as well?" Tristan said referring to his other sibling.
Tristan had hated Elspeth for most of his life. He had never hated Daniel, just strongly disliked the clueless brother. But Elspeth, she had appeared so effortlessly perfect to him. She was respected without any bloodshed for power, and throughout high school and the rest of her life leading to this point she was always the ruler of the game, never having to act the part. She was just too bloody perfect for him to stand being around.
Then somewhere along the line, his perception of her shifted. It didn't happen after the perfect grades arrived home each semester, or during the intermission of when the handsome suitors that came in and out of her life like disposable play things. Nor did he feel any sympathy for her after the spectacular break down of her one real relationship, or after the many times Daniel was promoted instead of her. He didn't feel thankfulness for the times she and she alone, from his family came and visited him in Military School, and came back again even after he told her to fuck off. But somewhere amongst the mess that was his life, she stopped being the perfect older sibling he hated more than his parents and grandparents combined, and started being someone that he liked. Someone that he considered family.
"No, she's in Egypt this month, then she's going to Africa I believe. I wouldn't expect her back in America for several months." Aiden said, continuing the conversation in that inattentively tone Tristan had picked up somewhere along the line.
Aiden's favourite had always been Daniel, resulting in Elspeth being forgotten in his eyes. No matter how brilliant, or how many deals she made, or millions she saved for the company she was just a girl compared to Daniel. Another view Aiden had inherited from Janlan.
"She said she might be coming home for Christmas." Tristan stated looking away as if bored.
"That would be nice. Frances has been worrying about her. She wants me to transfer Elspeth to a desk job,"
Elspeth was the only girl in the family, and had the misfortune of being have a socially useless form of intelligence that was abstract, and often- left people confused when she exhibited it. She had a time bomb sort of image with suitors, and none of them lasted to long, this of course worried Tristan's mother Frances. Frances wanted her only daughter to be married, and had forever sent wealthy, powerful men her way.
"She's quit if you do. Hamilton industries is after her. They think she could kick start their Eastern European take over of the government medical program." Tristan stated as he flipped through his mail.
Elspeth wasn't the unofficial heir to the family business, but she played a major part in it. Even Daniel knew she could easily take the reins of the cooperation, or any other company if she chose to. But she didn't. Elspeth preferred . . . well Tristan didn't know what she wanted, and he'd guess she didn't either. She was extremely valued, and Tristan knew if she was born a male Jaylen DuGrey would have handed over the empire to her instead of Daniel leaving her no room to debate the decision. But of course the old bastard hated detested women, so Elspeth was left working on accounts when she should have been running the company years ago.
Aiden looked up, a proud grin was on his face at the mention of his youngest child talking about the Business world. "How'd you know about Rupert Hamilton head hunting our little Elspeth?" he said referring to Giles Hamilton's father Rupert.
"Elspeth likes to keep in touch."
"Ah, that's my girl." He said showing some semblance of pride towards his only daughter for some unknowing reason. Looking down at his watch he groaned when he saw the time. The conversation was over. Time was money, and Tristan came second in that debate. "I'll let you get back to your homework."
"Yes father." Tristan commented, as he listen to the older mans footsteps as he walked further and further away.
The house seemed colder now, larger and more unwelcoming. Occasionally a maid or butler would scatter past him, smiling a fake smile, giving out a cellophane greeting. Most of them were new, and must have been hired in his absents. Tristan idly wondered how long each of them would last. His mother was very picky, and she controlled her house much like the army sergeants controlled him at Military School.
Finding his way past the many unused, but expensively furnished rooms; the formal dinning room, the drawing rooms, the sun rooms, the expansive new library, the showing ball room, and his fathers study, Tristan made his way to his room. It was at the back of the house, the original library converted into a bedroom. He was an unplanned child, and his room had not originally fitted the description of a child. But he had grown into it. High ceilings, polished marble floors, with a elegant diamond pattern. Two walls still retained the original floor to ceiling bookshelves but Tristan liked them. His room was the only place in the house he felt somewhat relaxed.
"Mr. DuGrey," A nameless maid called after a few hours, knocking on the door. "Your mother has just called, your parents will be unable to had dinner with you tonight,"
"Thank you." Tristan's face was devoid of emotions, and the maid quickly left his sight after he spoke.
Turning to the window he looked out to see the grand garden greet his view. Extensive grounds, all beautifully tended, and restored was a pinnacle feature of the Victoria house his parents had bought all those years ago when they had married. Aiden and Frances Dugrey, the beautiful couple that had there wedding pictures in every vogue colume around the world of society.
As his eyes trailed over the newly landscaped entertaining area, the Olympic sized swimming pool caught his attention, and Tristan had the urge to forget everything and go for a swim. It helped him think, from a young age he had excelled in the sport. In Military school he was in the senior squad, and competed with the school team. Now back at Chilton he had been placed in their school team, but for some reason he was wary about it. It was better for him to stay out of that, but his parents liked the recognition of having a son that broke records and won medals. For now, it would do, he could put up with it.
Signing he pulled out his homework. He didn't have much, and he finished it quickly. Pulling out the thick folder of notes Rory had lent him early that day, Tristan was assaulted by a feeling of lust for some reason. Flipping through the intricate, and obviously coded in some form of speed writing, Tristan breathed in the remnants of her soft, old fashioned rose and gardenia perfume. It was light and airy, and fleeting just like she was. He couldn't understand half of what she'd written, but after a while he caught on to her unique code. It was boring project, and by the way Rory had researched the topic it was obvious she was aiming for the highest-grade possible. Not much had changed with her obviously.
He thought back to their meeting at school. She looked a little more relaxed, maybe that from making friends with Paris, Madeline, and Louise. The months they had been apart hadn't really changed her, and he was somewhat glad. He didn't know what to feel when he was with her. She got to him, and he hated it. Sometimes he wanted her more than anything, but most of the time she was just a challenge. It confused him the way his feelings rebounded from one polar to the other. Rory wasn't meant to mean anything to him, she was meant to be a conquest. She was the untouchable one, the one that brought the game to this entire new level, and he was meant to win, no matter what. He wanted her in the lowest ways possible, yet when he was with her, he felt true, and he detested how he felt when he realised this mistake in judgment.
Picking up his mobile he dialed her number. Got it from Louise, when she wasn't looking of course. Shit. The blonde vixen was a guard dog when it came to Rory for some reason. What was it with people protecting Gilmore? She had everyone wrapped around her little finger, and she acted so righteous and perfect. She believed in love, but Tristan, like many others who witnessed the Dean stunt at the end of school term all those months ago saw the slightly malicious, and manipulating undercurrent of Dean's actions. Listening to the phone ring, Tristan waited for someone to answer.
"Joe's taxidermy's you snuff em, we stuff em," came the peppy voice of the elder Gilmore.
"Hi, I was wondering if I could speak to Rory?" he questioned, a little off balance from the unique greeting he had received.
"Sorry, she's not home yet. You can leave a message in hopes that I remember to give it to her."
Something about Lorelei's tone irritated Tristan. Maybe it was the obvious trust she had for her daughter. Unquestionable believing the best about her. Should all parents think that? No, he didn't see any proof of that around his friendship circles. Lorelei was naïve like Rory, only in a different way that left Tristan wanting to laugh in her face or cry because it was all so unfamiliar to him. Did Rory deserve such trust? She was just a teenager, she wasn't perfect like her mother so clearly believed without any doubt.
Tristan remembered Rory's sixteenth birthday party at her Grandparents. She seemed so utterly out of her depth. So perfect in the Gilmore's opinion, and then so faulted in their eyes when she, for the only time he could recall, voiced what she really wanted. She had her own double standards he realised with a start, then pushed the epiphany to the side. He couldn't think like that if he was to get her in the ways he wanted, to him she had to stay another girl he wanted, not a girl he understood in any way.
"No, it's okay, I'll see her at school."
The word 'school' seemed to spark something in Lorelei's mind, and with a remnant of the manners she would have been forced to learn she asked, "Whom may I ask, am I speaking to?"
"Tristan DuGrey." He answered hesitantly, sensing an edge to the carefully pitched voice on the other end of the line.
"Ah . . ." she replied knowingly, "I'll tell Rory you called."
As the dial tone greeted Tristan's ears, he wondered what Lorelei so knowingly knew about him. Rory must have told her about him; a thought that was quite disconcerting. The older Gilmore girl was from his world, although she had moved on, she still know what the life was like. Tristan knew she'd want to protect Rory from it and most unluckily for Tristan, Lorelei would probable want to protect her daughter from him.
But the interesting thing about that short, and rather abrupt conversation was that Rory wasn't home. In fact, if Tristan recalled correctly, she hadn't returned home at all. Not straight after school like he expected she would. Like the good little girl she is, Tristan assumed his Mary would run home to mummy and Stars Hollow the moment the bell rung at Chilton. But not tonight. Tonight she hadn't gone home the moment she could. But what really intrigued Tristan was that she'd hadn't followed the pattern he had imagined for her, that was an expected hurdle. He just wondered where she was.
***
The long weedy grass reached her shoulder, and if she were standing, it probable would have gone past her knees. Hugging her knees to her chest Rory sobbed soundlessly. It was like a weight being lifted off her shoulder. She refused to let anyone see her cry ever. If they knew or saw, well, they'd see she wasn't as strong as they thought. She had to act strong, because it was her that had to keep everything together. If she broke, everyone else would break as well. Everything would come crashing down around her, and that could never happen, never, if it did she'd be left with nothing, and that felt like death to her.
Her long hair whipped around her face, dancing in wind. Looking up, she stared at the old, abandoned house. It was falling down, dark, desolate, and sinister. The red bricks had long ago been tainted with moss, and mold. Parts of the roof had fallen in, and the wooden floors had rotted away. Rory never when inside though, she preferred to stay outside. The house was the only thing about this place Rory hated.
This place.
Her place.
The place Rory when to when the world got that little to hard to bare, and things got to sad for her to take.
She found it on when she was driving aimlessly. Two hours, and sixteen and a half minutes from Chilton exactly. It was out in the countryside, with so much space between the end of the property line Rory was sure no one would ever find her. She could only afford to come out here once or twice a month, but it was enough to keep her sane. She couldn't let anyone find out about her, and the only place in the world that she had to herself.
Rotating her shoulder, she hissed as she felt bolts of pain shooting through her body. Pulling her blazer off her shoulders she bit her lip to stop crying out. People managed to hurt her far too easily, she managed to process. Shock had worn off, and she was starting to feel the effects of the incident. Unbuttoning her school shirt, she pulled it away from her shoulder, and look to inspect the damage.
"Shit . . ." she mumbled.
Rory bruised easily. This fact she had known all her life, and as result of her clumsiness she was always sporting a bruised mark or cut. But this . . . Well she couldn't hide this with a Band-Aid, or cover up. Her entire left shoulder and an upper arm was coloured black blue. She could tell by tomorrow it'd be even worse than it was now. Shivering as the air turned cold she refused to leave the calm safety of her place.
Carefully pulling her clothes back on, Rory left the flat ground near the car, and started towards the back of the property. It was there, under the tall lush leafy trees, over grown ivy, a few sparely growing wild flowers, leaving Rory feeling like she was in another world. It was gentler there, and it showed remnants of the last garden friendly owner. None of the plants were natives, Rory had learnt after reading some boring books, and it was surprising that they flourished. It just added to the feelings of security she felt, it made her feel like she was untouchable here, just for a few moments she didn't have to think about anything, she could just be.
Darkness was falling, and the sensible part of her mind told her Lorelei would be getting worried, and even though her mother put up with her monthly disappearances she would not be happy with her only daughter not returning home until the early hours of the morning.
Her mother was so proud that her daughter got into Chilton. Rory could never tell her what really when on there. Rory wouldn't let her mother know how hard it was, or how much she wanted to go back to Stars Hollow High. She missed the easy, carefree nature of that place, they way it didn't matter if she had no friends, the way no one paid her attention or mocked her . . . or hurt her. In reality Rory knew she was remembering her old High School with rose coloured glasses. She all too easily remembered how people passed a subject merely by turning up for a majority of class. Or how she was called frigid behind her back. Was Chilton that much better? Sure the classes kept her interested most of the time, but the people, the society it fostered that was what she couldn't manage. But Chilton would get her to Harvard, and that would set her up for life.
Sacrifice.
That's what it all came down to. Dean gave her up to find someone that wouldn't hurt him. Jess ran so he wouldn't have to deal with her. Which hurt worse Rory could decided, maybe it was seeing Dean smiling at Lindsey, or maybe it was not seeing Jess, and knowing he didn't want to see her. She wished she'd just kept her feelings to herself, she'd rather have a friendship than nothing. She missed both of them, yet at the same time couldn't imagine them back in her life, as if nothing had happened.
"I have to move forward . . ." Rory mumbled coming to an epiphany of sorts.
A weight lifted of her shoulders, she felt free of her lust, her want, and her need, of the two men that had made her feel so much hurt. She also felt free of some of the guilt that she held in reference to her treatment to them. It wasn't over, Rory knew that, and she understood that she might feel free of her feelings at this moment, but she wasn't past that stage of her life.
Picking herself up, she let out a hiss of pain as her shoulder twisted painfully.
That was a bigger problem at the moment.
Getting her mind back into order, Rory tried to form some sort of rational plan. All she knew for sure, was that Lorelei could never know, and neither could anyone else. Slowly she ambled back to the car, and eased her way into the drivers' seat. Starting the car she looked into the mirror was the reflection staring back at her looked so surreal, and strangely spooky Rory had to force herself not to look away. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks were tear stained. Her skin was pale and sickly, making her look tired, old and frail. She wanted to be a child again, she wanted to feel free again. But that was impossible, and the only thing she felt like was a caged animal.
It was a bad day. She knew this as she started the engine and stalled the jeep once or twice. Rory just hoped tomorrow would be better, she needed it to be.
***
Tristan stalked through the halls of Chilton. He would have been late to class, but there was an assembly going on so he was safe. Turning the corner, he happened to glance into the coordinators' office, and as he did, he was shocked to see the slight form of Rory Gilmore. Fiddling with the beautiful watch on her right wrist it glinted and caught the light.
He couldn't hear what was going on, but he saw her flinching as a sheet of paper was put in front of her. Red marks were all over it, and Tristan could tell it wasn't good news. As she stuffed the offending object into her bag Tristan had the sense to move, knowing she wouldn't be happy to find him watching her. Storming out of the room, Rory looked too dangerous and unstable for a second, but within an instant she had covered it with a sweet, bored look that she must had learnt from Louise.
Something was wrong.
Really wrong with her.
***
Today wasn't a better day. She'd had a couple of them over the weekend. Locked up in a house watching reruns of crappy movies she felt like she was stuck, and if she didn't do something quickly that's all her life would add up too. Her mother with her bright smiles and affectionate actions only make her feel worse. How could she hurt her mother by feeling this? Lorelei gave up everything to give her something that she as a child never had. Rory was meant to love her life, the town, the way she lived. Why couldn't she anymore? What was wrong with her?
Sitting in the English classroom, Rory could feel her friends' eyes on her, watching her. Fury was running through her veins, she couldn't control it, and she was scared by the intensity. When she was called to the coordinators' office she hadn't known what to think. Part of her knew that James and Giles would be too proud to tell anyone about her breaking James's nose, but another part of her knew they wanted to show Rory her place in this society.
She was on academic suspension in Philosophy instead, that's what had happened. Apparently the last D had taken her below the grade point average that was stipulated she maintained in each class in order to keep her scholarship. She was given another lector about how she had to work hard and live up to Chilton's expectations. She felt numb as the coordinators when on and on about how she had to work hard and keep up with the other more advance students. They knew nothing about her, they saw only numbers and words from files when they looked at her, why should she care what they said. But Rory did, it was weak and showed her dependence on some form of acceptances from Chilton, and she hated herself for it.
As time ticked past her, she sat mindlessly copying down notes, and listening to Paris recite another essay form answer on the text she felt detached and out of her mind watching as if she was a bystander. Rory normally loved English, she had the best teacher in the Humanities department, and everyone in the class knew it as well. But today she couldn't think, or concentrate on the discussion of Cabaret. All she could think about was how much she wanted to disappear.
As the bell sounded, Rory mechanically packed her books away, shuffling the loose papers neatly into her folder, she walked out of the room. In an instant she was flanked by Madeline, Paris, and Louise.
"Bathroom. Now." Paris hissed, dragging Rory with a death grip into the nearest restroom.
Curtly Louise forced all the other girls apart from her three friends out of the bathroom, and pulling out a heavy set of keys she locked the door from the inside. For a second Rory wondered where Louise got the set school keys, but knowing Louise, and all her 'flings' it could be anyone.
"Madeline told us." Paris stated.
Shooting the jet haired girl a death glare, Rory snapped, "It's nothing."
"Sorry Ror," Madeline said apologetically. "I had to tell them."
"Show us the damage." Louise said advancing on Rory.
"I told you it's nothing,"
"If it's nothing, then show us." Louise ordered, then more gently she tried again, "You've seen me at my worst Rory, I let you see me at my worst. Let us help you. I'm guessing you haven't told anyone about what happened, and you weren't going to tell us either. That's okay Ror, but that's not how it works with friends." Louise recited, her voice telling Rory to trust her even though her words seemed to scream the opposite.
"I didn't ask you to be my friend. I'm fine by myself." Rory said harshly, but everyone in the room knew she was lying.
"You're not fine Rory. I would have thought you'd be the exact opposite of fine at this present moment." Paris said quietly.
"I'll be okay, I bruise easily, it's nothing. Trust me."
The three teenage girls stared down at Rory, there eyes each pleading different things to her, emotions that she didn't was to read or even see directed at her. When had she become so helpless, when had it stopped just being her and started being a friendship group? Signing to herself, Rory very reluctantly gave in. She knew Paris could be like dog with a bone when she wanted to know something and the other two could be just as worse.
"Promise you won't tell anyone."
"Promise." Paris snapped impatiently, speaking for the other two girls who waited along side her.
Wincing, Rory pulled her slightly ill fitting blazer off her shoulders, and unbuttoned the crisp white school shirt. The pure white seemed to contrast like positive and negative, clashing with the dark bruising on her pale skin. It struck a discord between the image that her friends had always perceived and the person she really was, Louise was the first to recover.
"Shit . . ." the blonde whispered dangerously. "James and Giles did this?"
"I'm going to kill them . . ." Paris spat out.
"No!" Rory yelled as the blonde moved towards the exist. "No, no one can know. If Lorelei finds out she'll pull me out of Chilton, and bring legal charges up against them, and then I'll spend all of this year stuck in a school where must of the people are drop kicks, and in court watching two dickheads get praised as model citizens and get out of all trouble. Then as I go through some second rate college cause I won't get into Harvard, I'll be know at the girl who cried wolf and then when I starting writing I'll be known as-"
"Breath Ror, breath." Paris said in a concerned voice, "We won't say anything for now, but if anything else happens . . ."
"Nothing will." Rory stated defiantly.
***
A huge thank you for Belle for being my beta, a talented writer and a patient person who managed to read this fic with spelling mistakes and all.
***
Author: Professional Scatterbrain
Rating: PG- 13 to R
Couple: R/T
Summary: Tristan returns to Chilton, and to the game, but Rory's not playing.
Note: Tristan left later on in Rory's first year at Chilton, so therefore the whole nine-month thing works (a little hint, it's a metaphor for the fic). After Tristan left Rory formed a fledgling friendship with Paris, Louise and Madeline, and by the time senior years rolls up there good friends, well, most of the time at least. Everything that happened with Dean and Jess happened except it happened all before senior year. At the end of the year before Rory told Jess she loved him, and he left suddenly straight afterwards.
I made Chilton darker, because I found the whole picture perfect school depicted on the show nice, yet unrealistic. I tried to model it around my High School, showing the competitiveness, the cruelty, and self delusion within my environment. I go to a girls school though, so the guy thing still might take me a while to work out. Suggestions would be nice as this is my first GG fic.
***
~ Chp 3 ~
***
The DuGrey house was elegant. It was grand and rose above the other mansions in the street to give birth to another tangible air of some unwritten ominous threat. It was some Victorian style Tristan guessed, and knowing his parents, it was probably designed by some notable person with a name that carried more power than talent. The estate had large sweeping grounds that were never used, and a garage filled with cars that were exchanged each time a new model was released. The place was like a showroom, only used to impress business partners, and intimidate rivals.
"So Tristan, enjoy your first day at school?" Aiden DuGrey asked, as he watched his son enter the large, echoing entrance hall. The booming sound of the older mans voice seemed to linger coldly across the marble floors, and high ceilings.
"Same as before," Tristan replied, his voice was even, and carefully pitched. Years of training dictated the way the two men interacted.
This was the way he and his family communicated. But they barely did. As a child he never noticed it, but he did now. The uncomfortable silence. They didn't talk, they just spoke to each other. No words ever meant anything really, it was all just filler. Stale conversations would perpetrate the air while they where in each other's presents, and until they could slip away each breath was uncomfortable as if in a bell jar.
"Did you get placed in the correct classes?" Aiden asked leading the conversation this time. Usually it was Tristan who played that role, but unlike his father, who obviously had a purpose, Tristan did only when the quiet became too much.
"Yes,"
Tristan let a small smile show, a glint of teeth, flash of conceit. He was like the cat that ate the canary, and Tristan rivaled in the power he held within his secret. It was petty, but he was a petty person he reasoned when once again he felt the need to get some attention. It was now so easy to play his parents, and Tristan wondered why he bothered, it wasn't like they meant anything to him. That was there fault, not his, and Tristan didn't plan on forgetting that anytime soon.
"Excellent, I was worried you'd be such with the original inadequate classes you were placed in." he said looking through the large pile of letters that one of the maids had left on the sideboard.
Not liking the vapid state of the conversation, which was currently focused on him, Tristan turned it around, and asked Aiden about his favourite topic, himself. "How's the business going?"
Smiling his charming smile that matched the one his son had gracing his face, Aiden replied, "Our insurance is getting too high, so I've started talks with GRN Insurance. Your Grandfather is good friends with the CEO of the company, Richard Gilmore, so it all should go well."
Tristan's smile slipped for a moment as he heard the name Gilmore.
"Richard's granddaughter goes to Chilton if I recall. You might know her," he said casually.
But Tristan knew what his father really meant. Befriend the girl, make her love you, make her family love you, just for security sake, just in case the deal wasn't as smooth as it sounded on paper. His fathers past words played out in his mind like some fucked up pantomime, 'do it for the family, do it for the DuGrey name, it's all worth it in the end, trust my word,' and Tristan felt suddenly too old for that shit.
"Apparently she's quite intelligent. Richard's very proud of her, spends most of his time boasting about her." he said, plainly leading somewhere.
"Don't see what this has to do with me." Tristan's voice had an edge.
"Nothing Tris," the older man shrugged, his tailored suit falling perfectly over his athletic frame. Returning his attention to the mail, he changed topics without a pause. "Your mother will be home soon. She wants to know if you're coming to the charity dinner. Some fund raiser she organised."
"When?" Tristan asked, the same detached tone back in his voice.
It wasn't like any of this mattered to him. He had gotten past the point of trying to avoid those sorts of gatherings. Now he just went, and played that part that was chosen for him.
"Next Friday. Most of your school friends will be present I believe."
"Good." Tristan answered, not really caring either way.
"Your brother should be coming, and Annabelle."
Daniel DuGrey. The oldest, the smartest, and the unofficial heir to the family empire. Daniel was more then ten years older than Tristan. They rarely saw each other, and when they did, it was only through events like these. His trophy wife Annabelle was a pretty thing. Only a year or two older then Tristan, not that Daniel minded. An ex Fijian model, with dark caramel skin, amber eyes, long shapely limbs. Daniel had met her on one of his many pointless business trips. She was apparently related to some political leader, a prized niece, and Daniel had fallen for her the moment he saw her. The rest was a long boring story leading to this point.
"Shall Elspeth be coming as well?" Tristan said referring to his other sibling.
Tristan had hated Elspeth for most of his life. He had never hated Daniel, just strongly disliked the clueless brother. But Elspeth, she had appeared so effortlessly perfect to him. She was respected without any bloodshed for power, and throughout high school and the rest of her life leading to this point she was always the ruler of the game, never having to act the part. She was just too bloody perfect for him to stand being around.
Then somewhere along the line, his perception of her shifted. It didn't happen after the perfect grades arrived home each semester, or during the intermission of when the handsome suitors that came in and out of her life like disposable play things. Nor did he feel any sympathy for her after the spectacular break down of her one real relationship, or after the many times Daniel was promoted instead of her. He didn't feel thankfulness for the times she and she alone, from his family came and visited him in Military School, and came back again even after he told her to fuck off. But somewhere amongst the mess that was his life, she stopped being the perfect older sibling he hated more than his parents and grandparents combined, and started being someone that he liked. Someone that he considered family.
"No, she's in Egypt this month, then she's going to Africa I believe. I wouldn't expect her back in America for several months." Aiden said, continuing the conversation in that inattentively tone Tristan had picked up somewhere along the line.
Aiden's favourite had always been Daniel, resulting in Elspeth being forgotten in his eyes. No matter how brilliant, or how many deals she made, or millions she saved for the company she was just a girl compared to Daniel. Another view Aiden had inherited from Janlan.
"She said she might be coming home for Christmas." Tristan stated looking away as if bored.
"That would be nice. Frances has been worrying about her. She wants me to transfer Elspeth to a desk job,"
Elspeth was the only girl in the family, and had the misfortune of being have a socially useless form of intelligence that was abstract, and often- left people confused when she exhibited it. She had a time bomb sort of image with suitors, and none of them lasted to long, this of course worried Tristan's mother Frances. Frances wanted her only daughter to be married, and had forever sent wealthy, powerful men her way.
"She's quit if you do. Hamilton industries is after her. They think she could kick start their Eastern European take over of the government medical program." Tristan stated as he flipped through his mail.
Elspeth wasn't the unofficial heir to the family business, but she played a major part in it. Even Daniel knew she could easily take the reins of the cooperation, or any other company if she chose to. But she didn't. Elspeth preferred . . . well Tristan didn't know what she wanted, and he'd guess she didn't either. She was extremely valued, and Tristan knew if she was born a male Jaylen DuGrey would have handed over the empire to her instead of Daniel leaving her no room to debate the decision. But of course the old bastard hated detested women, so Elspeth was left working on accounts when she should have been running the company years ago.
Aiden looked up, a proud grin was on his face at the mention of his youngest child talking about the Business world. "How'd you know about Rupert Hamilton head hunting our little Elspeth?" he said referring to Giles Hamilton's father Rupert.
"Elspeth likes to keep in touch."
"Ah, that's my girl." He said showing some semblance of pride towards his only daughter for some unknowing reason. Looking down at his watch he groaned when he saw the time. The conversation was over. Time was money, and Tristan came second in that debate. "I'll let you get back to your homework."
"Yes father." Tristan commented, as he listen to the older mans footsteps as he walked further and further away.
The house seemed colder now, larger and more unwelcoming. Occasionally a maid or butler would scatter past him, smiling a fake smile, giving out a cellophane greeting. Most of them were new, and must have been hired in his absents. Tristan idly wondered how long each of them would last. His mother was very picky, and she controlled her house much like the army sergeants controlled him at Military School.
Finding his way past the many unused, but expensively furnished rooms; the formal dinning room, the drawing rooms, the sun rooms, the expansive new library, the showing ball room, and his fathers study, Tristan made his way to his room. It was at the back of the house, the original library converted into a bedroom. He was an unplanned child, and his room had not originally fitted the description of a child. But he had grown into it. High ceilings, polished marble floors, with a elegant diamond pattern. Two walls still retained the original floor to ceiling bookshelves but Tristan liked them. His room was the only place in the house he felt somewhat relaxed.
"Mr. DuGrey," A nameless maid called after a few hours, knocking on the door. "Your mother has just called, your parents will be unable to had dinner with you tonight,"
"Thank you." Tristan's face was devoid of emotions, and the maid quickly left his sight after he spoke.
Turning to the window he looked out to see the grand garden greet his view. Extensive grounds, all beautifully tended, and restored was a pinnacle feature of the Victoria house his parents had bought all those years ago when they had married. Aiden and Frances Dugrey, the beautiful couple that had there wedding pictures in every vogue colume around the world of society.
As his eyes trailed over the newly landscaped entertaining area, the Olympic sized swimming pool caught his attention, and Tristan had the urge to forget everything and go for a swim. It helped him think, from a young age he had excelled in the sport. In Military school he was in the senior squad, and competed with the school team. Now back at Chilton he had been placed in their school team, but for some reason he was wary about it. It was better for him to stay out of that, but his parents liked the recognition of having a son that broke records and won medals. For now, it would do, he could put up with it.
Signing he pulled out his homework. He didn't have much, and he finished it quickly. Pulling out the thick folder of notes Rory had lent him early that day, Tristan was assaulted by a feeling of lust for some reason. Flipping through the intricate, and obviously coded in some form of speed writing, Tristan breathed in the remnants of her soft, old fashioned rose and gardenia perfume. It was light and airy, and fleeting just like she was. He couldn't understand half of what she'd written, but after a while he caught on to her unique code. It was boring project, and by the way Rory had researched the topic it was obvious she was aiming for the highest-grade possible. Not much had changed with her obviously.
He thought back to their meeting at school. She looked a little more relaxed, maybe that from making friends with Paris, Madeline, and Louise. The months they had been apart hadn't really changed her, and he was somewhat glad. He didn't know what to feel when he was with her. She got to him, and he hated it. Sometimes he wanted her more than anything, but most of the time she was just a challenge. It confused him the way his feelings rebounded from one polar to the other. Rory wasn't meant to mean anything to him, she was meant to be a conquest. She was the untouchable one, the one that brought the game to this entire new level, and he was meant to win, no matter what. He wanted her in the lowest ways possible, yet when he was with her, he felt true, and he detested how he felt when he realised this mistake in judgment.
Picking up his mobile he dialed her number. Got it from Louise, when she wasn't looking of course. Shit. The blonde vixen was a guard dog when it came to Rory for some reason. What was it with people protecting Gilmore? She had everyone wrapped around her little finger, and she acted so righteous and perfect. She believed in love, but Tristan, like many others who witnessed the Dean stunt at the end of school term all those months ago saw the slightly malicious, and manipulating undercurrent of Dean's actions. Listening to the phone ring, Tristan waited for someone to answer.
"Joe's taxidermy's you snuff em, we stuff em," came the peppy voice of the elder Gilmore.
"Hi, I was wondering if I could speak to Rory?" he questioned, a little off balance from the unique greeting he had received.
"Sorry, she's not home yet. You can leave a message in hopes that I remember to give it to her."
Something about Lorelei's tone irritated Tristan. Maybe it was the obvious trust she had for her daughter. Unquestionable believing the best about her. Should all parents think that? No, he didn't see any proof of that around his friendship circles. Lorelei was naïve like Rory, only in a different way that left Tristan wanting to laugh in her face or cry because it was all so unfamiliar to him. Did Rory deserve such trust? She was just a teenager, she wasn't perfect like her mother so clearly believed without any doubt.
Tristan remembered Rory's sixteenth birthday party at her Grandparents. She seemed so utterly out of her depth. So perfect in the Gilmore's opinion, and then so faulted in their eyes when she, for the only time he could recall, voiced what she really wanted. She had her own double standards he realised with a start, then pushed the epiphany to the side. He couldn't think like that if he was to get her in the ways he wanted, to him she had to stay another girl he wanted, not a girl he understood in any way.
"No, it's okay, I'll see her at school."
The word 'school' seemed to spark something in Lorelei's mind, and with a remnant of the manners she would have been forced to learn she asked, "Whom may I ask, am I speaking to?"
"Tristan DuGrey." He answered hesitantly, sensing an edge to the carefully pitched voice on the other end of the line.
"Ah . . ." she replied knowingly, "I'll tell Rory you called."
As the dial tone greeted Tristan's ears, he wondered what Lorelei so knowingly knew about him. Rory must have told her about him; a thought that was quite disconcerting. The older Gilmore girl was from his world, although she had moved on, she still know what the life was like. Tristan knew she'd want to protect Rory from it and most unluckily for Tristan, Lorelei would probable want to protect her daughter from him.
But the interesting thing about that short, and rather abrupt conversation was that Rory wasn't home. In fact, if Tristan recalled correctly, she hadn't returned home at all. Not straight after school like he expected she would. Like the good little girl she is, Tristan assumed his Mary would run home to mummy and Stars Hollow the moment the bell rung at Chilton. But not tonight. Tonight she hadn't gone home the moment she could. But what really intrigued Tristan was that she'd hadn't followed the pattern he had imagined for her, that was an expected hurdle. He just wondered where she was.
***
The long weedy grass reached her shoulder, and if she were standing, it probable would have gone past her knees. Hugging her knees to her chest Rory sobbed soundlessly. It was like a weight being lifted off her shoulder. She refused to let anyone see her cry ever. If they knew or saw, well, they'd see she wasn't as strong as they thought. She had to act strong, because it was her that had to keep everything together. If she broke, everyone else would break as well. Everything would come crashing down around her, and that could never happen, never, if it did she'd be left with nothing, and that felt like death to her.
Her long hair whipped around her face, dancing in wind. Looking up, she stared at the old, abandoned house. It was falling down, dark, desolate, and sinister. The red bricks had long ago been tainted with moss, and mold. Parts of the roof had fallen in, and the wooden floors had rotted away. Rory never when inside though, she preferred to stay outside. The house was the only thing about this place Rory hated.
This place.
Her place.
The place Rory when to when the world got that little to hard to bare, and things got to sad for her to take.
She found it on when she was driving aimlessly. Two hours, and sixteen and a half minutes from Chilton exactly. It was out in the countryside, with so much space between the end of the property line Rory was sure no one would ever find her. She could only afford to come out here once or twice a month, but it was enough to keep her sane. She couldn't let anyone find out about her, and the only place in the world that she had to herself.
Rotating her shoulder, she hissed as she felt bolts of pain shooting through her body. Pulling her blazer off her shoulders she bit her lip to stop crying out. People managed to hurt her far too easily, she managed to process. Shock had worn off, and she was starting to feel the effects of the incident. Unbuttoning her school shirt, she pulled it away from her shoulder, and look to inspect the damage.
"Shit . . ." she mumbled.
Rory bruised easily. This fact she had known all her life, and as result of her clumsiness she was always sporting a bruised mark or cut. But this . . . Well she couldn't hide this with a Band-Aid, or cover up. Her entire left shoulder and an upper arm was coloured black blue. She could tell by tomorrow it'd be even worse than it was now. Shivering as the air turned cold she refused to leave the calm safety of her place.
Carefully pulling her clothes back on, Rory left the flat ground near the car, and started towards the back of the property. It was there, under the tall lush leafy trees, over grown ivy, a few sparely growing wild flowers, leaving Rory feeling like she was in another world. It was gentler there, and it showed remnants of the last garden friendly owner. None of the plants were natives, Rory had learnt after reading some boring books, and it was surprising that they flourished. It just added to the feelings of security she felt, it made her feel like she was untouchable here, just for a few moments she didn't have to think about anything, she could just be.
Darkness was falling, and the sensible part of her mind told her Lorelei would be getting worried, and even though her mother put up with her monthly disappearances she would not be happy with her only daughter not returning home until the early hours of the morning.
Her mother was so proud that her daughter got into Chilton. Rory could never tell her what really when on there. Rory wouldn't let her mother know how hard it was, or how much she wanted to go back to Stars Hollow High. She missed the easy, carefree nature of that place, they way it didn't matter if she had no friends, the way no one paid her attention or mocked her . . . or hurt her. In reality Rory knew she was remembering her old High School with rose coloured glasses. She all too easily remembered how people passed a subject merely by turning up for a majority of class. Or how she was called frigid behind her back. Was Chilton that much better? Sure the classes kept her interested most of the time, but the people, the society it fostered that was what she couldn't manage. But Chilton would get her to Harvard, and that would set her up for life.
Sacrifice.
That's what it all came down to. Dean gave her up to find someone that wouldn't hurt him. Jess ran so he wouldn't have to deal with her. Which hurt worse Rory could decided, maybe it was seeing Dean smiling at Lindsey, or maybe it was not seeing Jess, and knowing he didn't want to see her. She wished she'd just kept her feelings to herself, she'd rather have a friendship than nothing. She missed both of them, yet at the same time couldn't imagine them back in her life, as if nothing had happened.
"I have to move forward . . ." Rory mumbled coming to an epiphany of sorts.
A weight lifted of her shoulders, she felt free of her lust, her want, and her need, of the two men that had made her feel so much hurt. She also felt free of some of the guilt that she held in reference to her treatment to them. It wasn't over, Rory knew that, and she understood that she might feel free of her feelings at this moment, but she wasn't past that stage of her life.
Picking herself up, she let out a hiss of pain as her shoulder twisted painfully.
That was a bigger problem at the moment.
Getting her mind back into order, Rory tried to form some sort of rational plan. All she knew for sure, was that Lorelei could never know, and neither could anyone else. Slowly she ambled back to the car, and eased her way into the drivers' seat. Starting the car she looked into the mirror was the reflection staring back at her looked so surreal, and strangely spooky Rory had to force herself not to look away. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks were tear stained. Her skin was pale and sickly, making her look tired, old and frail. She wanted to be a child again, she wanted to feel free again. But that was impossible, and the only thing she felt like was a caged animal.
It was a bad day. She knew this as she started the engine and stalled the jeep once or twice. Rory just hoped tomorrow would be better, she needed it to be.
***
Tristan stalked through the halls of Chilton. He would have been late to class, but there was an assembly going on so he was safe. Turning the corner, he happened to glance into the coordinators' office, and as he did, he was shocked to see the slight form of Rory Gilmore. Fiddling with the beautiful watch on her right wrist it glinted and caught the light.
He couldn't hear what was going on, but he saw her flinching as a sheet of paper was put in front of her. Red marks were all over it, and Tristan could tell it wasn't good news. As she stuffed the offending object into her bag Tristan had the sense to move, knowing she wouldn't be happy to find him watching her. Storming out of the room, Rory looked too dangerous and unstable for a second, but within an instant she had covered it with a sweet, bored look that she must had learnt from Louise.
Something was wrong.
Really wrong with her.
***
Today wasn't a better day. She'd had a couple of them over the weekend. Locked up in a house watching reruns of crappy movies she felt like she was stuck, and if she didn't do something quickly that's all her life would add up too. Her mother with her bright smiles and affectionate actions only make her feel worse. How could she hurt her mother by feeling this? Lorelei gave up everything to give her something that she as a child never had. Rory was meant to love her life, the town, the way she lived. Why couldn't she anymore? What was wrong with her?
Sitting in the English classroom, Rory could feel her friends' eyes on her, watching her. Fury was running through her veins, she couldn't control it, and she was scared by the intensity. When she was called to the coordinators' office she hadn't known what to think. Part of her knew that James and Giles would be too proud to tell anyone about her breaking James's nose, but another part of her knew they wanted to show Rory her place in this society.
She was on academic suspension in Philosophy instead, that's what had happened. Apparently the last D had taken her below the grade point average that was stipulated she maintained in each class in order to keep her scholarship. She was given another lector about how she had to work hard and live up to Chilton's expectations. She felt numb as the coordinators when on and on about how she had to work hard and keep up with the other more advance students. They knew nothing about her, they saw only numbers and words from files when they looked at her, why should she care what they said. But Rory did, it was weak and showed her dependence on some form of acceptances from Chilton, and she hated herself for it.
As time ticked past her, she sat mindlessly copying down notes, and listening to Paris recite another essay form answer on the text she felt detached and out of her mind watching as if she was a bystander. Rory normally loved English, she had the best teacher in the Humanities department, and everyone in the class knew it as well. But today she couldn't think, or concentrate on the discussion of Cabaret. All she could think about was how much she wanted to disappear.
As the bell sounded, Rory mechanically packed her books away, shuffling the loose papers neatly into her folder, she walked out of the room. In an instant she was flanked by Madeline, Paris, and Louise.
"Bathroom. Now." Paris hissed, dragging Rory with a death grip into the nearest restroom.
Curtly Louise forced all the other girls apart from her three friends out of the bathroom, and pulling out a heavy set of keys she locked the door from the inside. For a second Rory wondered where Louise got the set school keys, but knowing Louise, and all her 'flings' it could be anyone.
"Madeline told us." Paris stated.
Shooting the jet haired girl a death glare, Rory snapped, "It's nothing."
"Sorry Ror," Madeline said apologetically. "I had to tell them."
"Show us the damage." Louise said advancing on Rory.
"I told you it's nothing,"
"If it's nothing, then show us." Louise ordered, then more gently she tried again, "You've seen me at my worst Rory, I let you see me at my worst. Let us help you. I'm guessing you haven't told anyone about what happened, and you weren't going to tell us either. That's okay Ror, but that's not how it works with friends." Louise recited, her voice telling Rory to trust her even though her words seemed to scream the opposite.
"I didn't ask you to be my friend. I'm fine by myself." Rory said harshly, but everyone in the room knew she was lying.
"You're not fine Rory. I would have thought you'd be the exact opposite of fine at this present moment." Paris said quietly.
"I'll be okay, I bruise easily, it's nothing. Trust me."
The three teenage girls stared down at Rory, there eyes each pleading different things to her, emotions that she didn't was to read or even see directed at her. When had she become so helpless, when had it stopped just being her and started being a friendship group? Signing to herself, Rory very reluctantly gave in. She knew Paris could be like dog with a bone when she wanted to know something and the other two could be just as worse.
"Promise you won't tell anyone."
"Promise." Paris snapped impatiently, speaking for the other two girls who waited along side her.
Wincing, Rory pulled her slightly ill fitting blazer off her shoulders, and unbuttoned the crisp white school shirt. The pure white seemed to contrast like positive and negative, clashing with the dark bruising on her pale skin. It struck a discord between the image that her friends had always perceived and the person she really was, Louise was the first to recover.
"Shit . . ." the blonde whispered dangerously. "James and Giles did this?"
"I'm going to kill them . . ." Paris spat out.
"No!" Rory yelled as the blonde moved towards the exist. "No, no one can know. If Lorelei finds out she'll pull me out of Chilton, and bring legal charges up against them, and then I'll spend all of this year stuck in a school where must of the people are drop kicks, and in court watching two dickheads get praised as model citizens and get out of all trouble. Then as I go through some second rate college cause I won't get into Harvard, I'll be know at the girl who cried wolf and then when I starting writing I'll be known as-"
"Breath Ror, breath." Paris said in a concerned voice, "We won't say anything for now, but if anything else happens . . ."
"Nothing will." Rory stated defiantly.
***
A huge thank you for Belle for being my beta, a talented writer and a patient person who managed to read this fic with spelling mistakes and all.
***
