Title: Nine Months.
Author: Professional Scatterbrain
Rating: PG - 13
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.
Thank you to everyone that reviewed.
Chp 9: St Jude
After dropping Rory back home, Tristan drove aimlessly around. Arriving home after night had fallen, he examined the house that he had lived in all his life. It was overly expansive, and had an ever-changing beauty that allowed it to alter with the various fashions of the times. Parking his car in the large garage that housed his fathers other toys, Tristan ambled inside the house.
"Hey Soldier boy," called the mocking voice from the north wing of the mansion.
Only one person in his life had the ability to make this large house seem like a home. Abandoning the carefree walk towards his bedroom, Tristan almost sprinted into the unused ballroom his parents insisted to have built in the Victorian house. Moving in a way that contrasted harshly with the image he had created for himself in the outside world, Tristan almost forgot the reason he had that facade to reside in.
Seeing the tall, slate grey-eyed young woman sitting on the edge of the stage, Tristan smiled widely. "Elspeth,"
"Nice to know you still remember my name." She stated as she slipped down off the stage and pulled her brother into a tight hug.
He flinched a little, still not used to the 'family' thing she had going on. But she didn't seem to mind; with a flick of her hair, and a well placed grin, Elspeth was back to her persona; the flicker of regret covered up before the younger sibling could place it, and translate it. She wondered if it was her fault, if she should have protected him. For what she still couldn't articulate. He was bright; shimmering and addictive, dangerous and misplaced, drawing people closer and closer until they got burnt. He was fire and displaced, yet so in control of the world he had been born into, and the world he had long started adapting to fit him.
However it wasn't just Tristan how adapted the world for his needs not the other way around.
She forgot that sometimes.
She had never been as self aware as Tristan, a fact she hadn't comprehended until she saw him at Military School. Defiant and disinterested. He was everything untouchable; leaving people clutching at thin air every time they thought they got close to catching him. No one in that place had a hope in breaking him. What they didn't know, was, that he was broken already, shattered into irreconcilable pieces.
Defiant and Disinterested.
Holding a certain grace and charm unable to comprehend.
Yet, he smirked at her, double daring her to try and keep up with his mirth and hedonism.
"I thought you were still in Egypt," He stated, not questioned, relaxing into his surroundings, owning it in a manor she mirrored.
After all, they were DuGrey's.
DuGrey's never were anything other than in control, holding there power nonchalantly.
It was almost second nature now.
"Yeah, well, I managed to finish ahead of schedule much to everyone's amazement. I decided to come home early. Mother's been calling me consistently, annoying everyone in the office, and Daniel's been sending me all these pompous memos telling me to go home, so I decided to bow to there pressure." She explained with a roll of her. "Also, I though it might be nice to come see my bad seed brother fresh from Military School."
"Why thank you." Tristan leered, dancing eyes teasing and taunting her as he allowed her to throw an arm around his frame and leading him back to the stage where they could sit and talk without interruptions. "Do the parents know you're here?"
Elspeth's eyes gleamed with amusement, "It's a surprise for them."
"Meaning it gives mother no time to set you up with a darling wealthy young man from the country club?"
"Exactly." She nodded, her eyes sparkling with mirth that had once irritated him beyond belief, but now seemed fitting for her, "I was almost afraid I'd come home and find your stint in the teenager version of prison had turned you into Daniel or father."
"That doesn't seem likely. But I did manage to bump up my grades, and win a few medals in swimming and running." He retorted tonelessly, his eyes coving any emotions that might have shown his sister what was really going on inside his mind.
Elspeth was his sister, and somehow she had become a friend, but there were limits. She saw far more than he liked, and had an insight on his life that only another DuGrey could hold. Tristan knew she saw through his reply, but that didn't stop him from pretending she didn't. He wasn't his father, or his brother, But Tristan wondered how long that would last. How long could be himself, or had that too just become another façade. If he was truthful, he could admit, the illusion was one he wanted to believe in, one he needed to keep everything from falling apart.
"Show off." She told him sarcastically breaking the uneasy silence, "Now I'll look like the underachiever in the family."
There was a saying about people laughing so they wouldn't cry.
Something along those lines.
Tristan never remembered how exactly it went.
He didn't want to.
Some things hit too close to home.
So he nudged her, winking in a manor that made her snort without any of her usual grace, and she let the moment go, choosing to wait for his reply rather than dwell on what came before. She too had limits with there new found friendship. She was not a person that could be described as 'nice' or 'sweet,' or anything containing a similar bland sentiment.
She didn't know why she persisted with him, ignoring the cruel, sadistic knowing comments he threw at her each time she visited him at Military School. He mocked her gleefully, bringing her down, and slacking her onto the pavement with one carefully set trap of words, reminding her he was anything but a charity case. She was still learning how to act around him, how to be a friend, how to be a 'good' sister.
But some thing's were learnt too late, and as she looked into his eyes, with there alluding darkness swimming around the glacier irises, she wished she could be 'nice' and 'sweet' for him, so she could have saved him, or at least helped him.
But then he would have just reminded her he wasn't a charity case with his painfully perilous eyes.
But she wished she could have tried anyway.
He was a bright young thing, untouchable and probably purposefully ambiguous in nature. But there and then, in the deserted ballroom, he swept her up in his charm, unaware that she had done the same thing to him. They were alike, too alike, and maybe that was dangerous, but for now, he sat next to her and teased her beguilingly, his eyes burning brightly, amused and everything that could never be articulated perfectly.
"Twenty five and still not married." He quipped, sounding like their mother. "What a pity, Elspeth had so much potential and she wasted it all on pursuing her career."
A sad look flashed into her cold grey looking eyes, "Yes, well, career in the DuGrey business is important."
"Elspeth?" he questioned, worried. He didn't do worried, he had never had too until this point, but something in her tone worried him, and he refused to stay as a bystander watching her break once again.
She was quiet, with a sad sort of aura around her, she troubled her friends and family in a way they just couldn't quite put their finger on. She has a sad, ethereal beauty she inherited from their mother, while Tristan had the blonde, charismatic looks of his father, yet they were the same, it was just Tristan was better at acting than she was. Tristan never used to think much about her, all she used to be to him was a sister he wished that had never existed, but now that had all changed.
"I'm alright. You don't have to worry." She told him unconvincingly, "Fathers proud of the work I do, and Grandfathers is too."
"I'm proud of you, but not for closing some deal or winning some contract, just for being you." He told her after a minute of silence.
He hated the words the moment they left his mouth, but she smiled slightly, pausingly, and her eyes flickering over his face, making it worth the state of vulnerability he was left in. She didn't push it, nor did she do anything else; she too was as uncomfortable as he.
"Same for you." She told him smiling awkwardly, obviously unused to praise. "Moving on. How's your love life?"
"Ah, the question all singles hate." Tristan quoted.
"How's the girl? You asked her out yet?" she prompted knowingly.
There was always a girl Elspeth had learned early on. Tristan seemed to draw attention wherever he went. Elspeth, when she was younger used to sit, and watch him magnetise and allure everyone around him. Tristan could get people eating out of his palm then snap their necks when they weren't watching. He could make them feel safe then use them to the point they were unrecognisable. She remembered being afraid of what he was being allowed to become, but now she only understood she was seeing another version of herself in him. She too was aloud to become a person that she sometimes hated, but Tristan never seemed to see that in himself. He reviles in the power, and someday Elspeth knew he'd lose everything because of his addiction.
The downfall had, and looked like it would always be a girl named Rory Gilmore. Elspeth didn't know much about her. Rory was just a name to her, another girl from Chilton society, another Gilmore heir. But somehow she meant more than that to Tristan. To him, she was a puzzle he wanted to figure out but never could. To him, she was worth the risk of being a victim of her whims. To Tristan, Rory was his strength and his weakness, and in continuing his interest in her meant she could mean the world to him if she'd let him.
"How'd you know if I even like Rory still?" he questioned her, evenly.
He didn't get flustered, nor did he blush; merely he peered into her eyes, asking her, questioning her, defying her to continue with the line of conversation. Just to see if she had the cheek, the nerve to gamble on the limits they had put in place.
She leaned back, her hand resting on the stage, supporting her weight as she examined him, finally concluding something he was no where near realising for himself, "Tristan, I know you. Rory is the only girl that's ever gotten under your skin. You'll always have a thing for her, even when you're old and senile."
Then she laughed, shortly, allowing the noise to travel over the empty cavernous room.
This stopped Tristan from taking it seriously.
Or at least attempted too.
Instead he turned the conversation around on her; skilfully redirecting the line of fire, "Really. Do you have a guy like that?"
Looking away, she frowned for a second before slipping a mask back over her face, "Aiden Jude." She admitted, but it was what she left unsaid that Tristan understood more fully. Elspeth's serious gaze, told him what her words lacked, 'Luckily, although he may share the same first name as father dearest, he is nothing like the head of our little family.'
"Like St Jude, the saint that looks after the lost?" he questioned, his mind reminiscing back to the Sunday School classes he had been forced to attend at his Grandfathers command.
That had all stopped once Janlan had handed over power of the corporation to him son Aiden.
Aiden had got what he wanted, and he didn't bother keeping up the charade.
"Yeah." She muttered, absentmindedly running a hand through her hair, "Tall, green eyes, and dark black brown hair. Smart as a tack, and with a moral compass that matches it. Not very fond of the whole me working for a multi national corporation. But back to the subject at hand. I think you should ask Rory out."
"What makes you think she'll accept this time?" he questioned playfully, her logic his mind forming plans that could never exist with his heart beating them out as each breath left his lungs. "What makes you think I want to ask her out?"
She looked at him, answering the second question with an arched eyebrow, then articulating the first question carefully, "I don't know what she'll say if you ask, but you shouldn't give up after one rejection."
"I'm not." He replied, half wanting to tell her why he was going after Rory, half knowing she already knew that reason and was daring him to find another, awkwardly, he added, "I just think I have to become her friend first."
"Good for you." She retorted sarcastically, obviously knowing there were vast differences in his definition of 'friends' and an average person's definition. "Now, I better get going. Unfortunately this is only an overnight stop for little old me. I have to be in Milan tomorrow. I'll be leaving after the family dinner."
"Coming home for Christmas this year?"
Tristan was used to his sisters hectic work schedule. She had been working for the DuGrey Corporation since leaving University. It was expected of her. But it wasn't like she didn't deserve her position. She worked harder than anyone else, always having some need to prove herself to everyone. She didn't believe in breaks, and preferred to work constantly, moving from on project to another with always hastening speed.
In some ways, Aiden trusted her more than the perfect heir Daniel.
In some ways, even the chauvinistic Janlan trusted her more than the perfect heir Daniel.
But not all.
"Promise" she answered, then continuing with a goading tone, "And, the moment you ask Rory to come home and meet the family, I'll be on the first plane back no matter what. I'll have to meet this girl that's got you wound around her little finger." Her eyes twinkled, and Tristan recalled the way she used to draw guys to her without even knowing.
"I'm not whipped." He told her squarely, leaving no room for doubt.
"You so are boy."
The next few days inside the jail like walls of Chilton pasted without distinction. Tristan stayed with his friends, and Rory made herself at home in the library trying to study. It was during one of Rory's study sessions, Paris found her. Holed up surrounded by flashcards and tatty notes Rory looked like the average frazzled senior student.
"Stop being stupid." Paris stated matter of factually as she picked up a pile of flash cards examining them intently for a second, then dismissing them in a flourish.
"Hey! I'm not stupid, look at all the books. I learn." Rory muttered irritated.
Studying was good. Studying kept her out of trouble. Studying would take her far. All she had to do was keep her head in those books and past mistakes wouldn't be repeated. All sayings that she had heard over and over, like a broken record. But today, she knew she was just hiding. Hidden in forced hibernation, away from the slate eyed boy who was figuring out far too much about her. Paris noticed the pause in her friend, seeing everything Rory hid, and for a second Paris would have allowed Rory to stay in her self committed isolation, but only for a second. Girls like them weren't meant to hide from the world.
Why are you in here?" Paris asked, but it was one of those questions that she didn't expect an answer for, continuing she nailed her point in, "I had to spend lunch listening to Louise and Madeline talking about the tragic return of the off the shoulder shirt. Are you happy seeing me in pain?"
"I didn't feel like sitting with you and the extended 'it' group now Louise is dating Matt DuGrey." Rory replied, somewhat truthfully.
"Like it'll last." Paris snorted unladylike, then her face softened, "It's James and Giles isn't it?"
Squirming uncomfortable under Paris gaze, Rory tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. It wasn't just them, but she let Paris believe what she wanted. It saved Rory having to answer questions she didn't have answers for. A talent she had nurtured over the years of being the satirically 'saving grace' of the mistake her mother made on the balcony with the absent man that occasional took on the role as Rory's father.
Christopher.
They had the same eyes.
People thought she had the eyes of her mother, and most of the time the link could be believed, but when her father was around, it was a different matter. Cobalt eyes shared between generation. He might have been a good father. She might have been a father's girl for him instead of merely a mother's daughter. She wondered what might have been different if Lorelei ran away with the cobalt eyed boy eighteen years ago. She wondered what might have happened if Lorelei told him where she was going on that day the last name was put in the coffin of 'good' family relations. She wondered if she would have had another role to play, one not as a 'saving grace' but as a . . . she didn't know what other role she could have played. Maybe a just teenage girl; nothing extraordinary about her, just a teenage girl.
That could have been nice.
It could have been her.
But it wasn't, so she turned her head down to her tattered copy of literature notes, acting flustered and shy, a mix of emotions she wasn't ready to show the original versions of. Paris could believe what she wanted to believe. They all could do that. But more often than not, Paris saw through the act, and Rory hoped today wasn't one of those days.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." Paris apologised, her composed face flickering with guilt and sadness as she thought of the girl Paris saw in that bathroom begging for her secret to be kept, "Are you doing alright, I mean, with everything?"
"My shoulders almost healed. It's not purple anymore, just a bluish colour."
Paris rolled her hazel eyes, "That's not what I asked."
Sighing, Rory knew it was easiest to tell Paris the truth. They both were too skilled in reveling only what they wished too, and redirecting conversations, to ever be able to deceive each other. In another time they might have hated each other for this, but now it only irritated them that they could see too much without permission.
"When did stuff get so screwed up? Last year I was doing fine, no suspensions, no scary prep school guys after my blood, no criminal activity, no rebellion to speak of, and teachers liked me." Rory found herself spilling out.
Calmly, Paris replied, "Do you remember last year, the whole Dean/Jess fiasco and how hurt you were? Then there was Chilton, and your mother's off again on again romance with the English teacher. You're not the only one with problems. Jamie and I broke up, my parents are yet again on another business trip and I'm stuck living with my Grand Aunt Bella, who spends her time ordering me around while flirting with the pool cleaner. Another awful cliché come to life just to annoy the hell out of me. But if you want to look at in retrospect, I think we're doing quite well this year."
"You know you could always stay with me or Madeline." Rory once again offered but Paris shock her head. Paris wouldn't accept anything she considered charity. Somehow staying with Rory or Madeline (staying with Louise was out of the question) fell into that box.
"Anyway, what's going on with you? If you don't tell me, I'll ask your mother, and you know how loose her tongue is after she gets the coffee," Paris mock warned.
"Promise you won't go psycho on me. I talked to Tristan." Rory told her, and then looked away, waiting for the fireworks to start.
"Why should that bother me? I'm over him, thus the whole Jamie thing happened, leaving me probably lusting after him not Tristan. Tristan is more a friend type for me, even if we were dating, it wouldn't work out, he needs someone other than me that sees through his bullshit," Paris said idly.
Rory looked into Paris eyes, she was speaking the truth, or at least what she really felt. Something about Paris seemed calmer, more in control since they had first meet back on Rory's horrid first day. Paris had changed, compared to everyone else inhabiting these hallowed halls she had already left the game, moving on to another phase of her life.
"Do you like him?" Paris asked, her eyes searching Rory's, trying to see past the obvious denial that the brunette used whenever things were hitting too close to home.
"No." Rory answered shortly. Her tone too abrupt and direct for her answer to be true.
"So what? Are you friends now?" Paris questioned, appeasing Rory for her sake.
"I don't know, I guess. It's weird, I trust him and I don't know why." Rory finally admitted.
Paris nodded knowingly, "People trust him, even when they shouldn't. Not that I'm saying you shouldn't, I mean he likes you, so it's not like he'll use it as part of his game."
"If I tell you something, you have to promise you won't laugh, or act like Lorelei." Rory said seriously,
Paris smiled, pretty sure she knew how her friend was talking about, "I can't promise you that!"
Smiling a secretive smile that Rory knew would annoy her friend, she replied, "Then I can't tell you."
"That's not fair."
"Life isn't fair."
Giving up finding out anything Rory didn't want to tell, Paris stood, "Come outside, I'll introduce to nature and sunshine." Rory gave Paris a weird look making the blonde grin roguishly, "God Ror, you've been spending way too much time inside."
"I can't believe you're the one saying that," Rory muttered as the girl in question dragged her outside.
Next Chp: Power play
"Of course it's your fault!" Rory cried nonsensically, "I don't normally act like this! You can't do this to me,"
"So you acting irrational is all because of me?" Tristan smirked assuredly, like a man who had the world at his feet, with endless options suddenly open to him.
The power shifted with his comment, and Rory wanted it back.
Belle, thank you yet again for helping with this fic and braving through my creative spelling and use of grammer ;)
