Author Note: This was going to be a one shot. But I had an idea to keep it going. Now it's a short story. It's AU and each chapter jumps forward. Thanks to midnightandahalf for proofreading.

Chapter 1

Tristan rubbed the back of his head as he squinted in the mid-afternoon sunlight. He glanced around the small town, unfamiliar even though he'd been here a couple of times. The buildings had been cloaked in darkness, illuminated only by twinkle lights and a few open storefronts when he was here last. He could make out the small market in the distance, flowers cheering up the produce stand on the sidewalk. He should probably steer clear. He was just passing through, no need to get into a confrontation today.

He wondered if Rory still dated Dean. That would be crazy. No one in high school dated one person that long. Then again, she had said things were going well before Tristan was sent away, so she probably was.

"It's your carburetor. It has to be replaced." The woman bent over his car engine, the hood propped open. Her black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. The sign over the garage said 'Gypsy'. This, apparently, was the eponymous woman herself. "It'll be two to three hours."

"Great," Tristan said glumly, thrusting his hands in his pockets. "Is there anything to do here?"

Gypsy gave him a piteous look. "You're not from around here, huh?"

He shook his head. "Hartford. Though, currently, North Carolina."

"There's not much to this town, but we do enjoy our festivals and events. You got lucky today. It's Bid a Basket day over at the gazebo."

"What's that?" He glanced in the general direction she indicated.

"Women prepare picnic lunches that are auctioned off for charity. Men buy the baskets and have lunch with the basket maker."

Tristan stared at her for a moment. "Are you serious?"

"We do not kid about town events here. It's a time honored Stars Hollow tradition."

"Then why aren't you there?"

"It's obviously an antiquated tradition," Gypsy said.

"Well," Tristan said with a sigh, "I guess I could go watch if that's the only thing going on." He gave Gypsy his pager number and she gave him directions to the center of town–as though directions were necessary. Tristan joined the outer edges of a crowd gathered around the gazebo where a bearded man was at a lectern auctioning off the baskets.

"This next one is small," the man said, holding the basket up to inspect. "Shall we start the bidding at three dollars?"

"Five!" a teenaged boy bid.

Tristan's eyes scanned over the people until he found the person bidding. His heart sank when he caught sight of the Beav himself. That must be Rory's basket. Tristan wasn't sure how small this town was, or if she participated in this kind of stuff. But if Dean was bidding, it must be on Rory's basket.

Tristan had a strong urge to make a counter bid, but knew it would cause trouble. A lot of trouble. Rory would not welcome him to her town with open arms. She would not be impressed if Tristan outbid her boyfriend just because he could. He didn't have time to think much before another boy unexpectedly upped the bid. Tristan didn't know who he was looking for this time. It was when the guy doubled his own bid that Tristan spotted a dark haired boy his age wearing a tan jacket. Who the hell was he?

It was like the world had kept spinning when Tristan left and someone else took his place in antagonizing Dean. It wasn't right.

Tristan listened to the boys make competing bids as he scanned the crowd quickly. He spotted her. Rory was standing next to a tall brunette who must be her sister, looking surprised and uncomfortable. Dean was obviously mad. The other guy just looked smug, like he was playing a clever game and winning.

The bids increased from five dollar increments to ten, then the mysterious interloper jumped to seventy-five, apparently just because he could. He really wanted to have lunch with Rory.

This was getting out of hand.

Tristan glanced at Rory to see if she indicated what outcome she wanted. She was looking at Dean, concerned. They were up to eighty dollars. Dean hesitated. Tristan felt kind of bad for him. He reached for his own wallet in his back pocket. He shouldn't, she wouldn't be impressed. He opened his wallet to pull out the bills to see how much he had, then he quickly glanced at the other guy, trying to gauge how much more money he had on him. Tristan didn't want to play the game. He wanted to end it.

The bidding was up to ninety dollars. He really wanted to wipe the smirk off that guy's face.

"Going once, going twice. . ."

She was going to be so mad. Tristan wouldn't have to go back to military school at the end of the weekend because Dean was going to kill him today.

Tristan lifted his hand anyway. "One hundred and ninety."

A few spectators whispered and turned back to him. Some people closer to the lectern up front gawked to the back to see who bid.

"We have a new bidder," the bearded man said in surprise. He frowned deeply, questioning the sanity of all three of the teenage boys. "Can you see how tiny this basket is?"

In Tristan's peripheral, Dean turned his head sharply. Rory and her sister turned to stare in horror. The dark haired guy wasn't smirking anymore as he gave Tristan a dirty look.

"One-hundred and ninety dollars, going once, twice, three times. Sold to the deep pockets in the back."

XXXXX

"What is he doing here?" Dean seethed, pacing near a tree where Rory caught up with him. "I thought he got kicked out of Chilton. How long has he been back? You forgot to mention it."

"He isn't back," Rory said. "His parents sent him to military school."

"Well then what is he doing here, Rory?" Dean demanded. "First Jess is messing with me, just to make me crazy, and now this guy shows up and I'm supposed to believe he just popped up out of nowhere? Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No! I swear, he did just randomly show up," she said. "I have no idea what he's doing here. The last time I saw him was the last time you saw him. At Romeo and Juliet," Rory said. Just when she thought this day couldn't be any more of a disaster, Tristan Dugray showed up to prove her wrong. "I didn't think I'd ever see him again."

Tristan approached them then, carrying Rory's basket by the handle. She thought he looked unsure of himself at first, almost timid. But she must have imagined it, because he flashed a grin.

"We meet again."

Dean scowled at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was passing through and I had car trouble." He jerked his head back toward Gypsy's garage. "It'll be a few hours. Luckily there was some local entertainment," he said. "I'll even get lunch out of it. And right when I was getting hungry." He pointed a thumb where Jess had been. "Did you see that guy? The nerve. Who does he think he is?"

"Who do you think you are?" Dean said. "You got your lunch, now go eat it."

Tristan glanced at Rory and then addressed Dean again, "Gypsy said the buyer eats the lunch with the basket maker."

"You must be kidding."

"I don't kid about picnics."

"She's not going with you."

"Is that right?" Tristan asked. He had to tilt his head back to look up at Dean. The taller boy was towering over him. They at least weren't in each other's faces.

"It is."

Tristan looked at Rory again for confirmation or denial. He raised a brow.

"Well," Rory started.

Dean glared at her. "Well what?"

"It's tradition. Mom and I do this every year."

"Who cares?"

"Come on," Rory said. She reminded him of the time Taylor got mad at her for missing the turkey-calling contest.

"This isn't another school project where you two get paired up together," Dean argued.

"Don't make a big deal about this," Rory pleaded. "We'll eat, he'll go back to military school, and it'll go back to being like he doesn't exist. He doesn't exist!" she said. She couldn't see Tristan's shoulders drop a little.

"No."

Tristan cut in, "What do you think is going to happen? She had her chance with me, but she picked you."

Dean looked back at Rory. "Then pick me now."

"Dean!"

"Forget it," Dean relented, stalking off.

Rory mournfully watched him leave. "What are you doing here?" she said angrily, rounding on Tristan. He took a step back, he was so startled by the outburst. "You're supposed to be at military school."

"Like I said, I had car trouble," he said. "I was on my way home for the weekend. Gypsy told me about the basket auction. To be honest, I thought she was joking." He added, "I saw you looked panicked with two guys bidding on your basket."

She glared at him. "So you thought being a third would help?"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "I saved you."

"You think this is saving me?" she asked incredulously, gesturing with her arms out. "You made things a hundred times worse."

"I saw that guy bidding against Dean and it got my adrenaline pumping. I thought I'd shut them both down."

"Well excuse me if I don't thank you." She started walking and Tristan had to hurry to keep up. "You're supposed to be in military school. How could you show up in my town out of nowhere like this?"

"I'd explain the car trouble again, but it doesn't seem to be sinking in," he said. "Maybe I should have gotten a note from Gypsy to prove it. Trust me, I wasn't planning on getting stuck in this podunk town today. I was almost home."

"Gypsy can't fix your car soon enough." She was aimlessly storming off.

"So are we going to eat whatever's in this basket?" he asked, holding it up. "Dean is already mad at you for upholding a silly tradition–that you defended quite adamantly. So we might as well have lunch."

Rory exhaled, frustrated and defeated. "Fine." She beelined for an empty bench in a grassy area at the end of the town square. There were other couples spreading out blankets on the lawn. They all looked much happier about their companions than Rory.

"Who was that guy, anyway? The one bidding against Dean?" Tristan asked, sitting a respectable distance away from Rory on the bench, the basket between them.

Rory had her arms crossed, still hostile toward him. "Jess. He's Luke's nephew."

"I don't know who Luke is."

"He owns the diner. Luke's Diner," Rory said. "Jess was getting into trouble, so his mom sent him to Luke."

"Hmm, a troubled youth was sent away from home, where have I heard that before?" he asked wryly.

She frowned at him. At his pointed look, she said, "Oh. Right. Weird coincidence. And Stars Hollow isn't exactly military school." She said, "Jess lives here now, so I wish he and Dean would get along."

Tristan grinned at her. "You're kidding, right?"

She knit her brows. "No. Why?"

"Your boyfriend and the guy who's trying to steal you from him will never be friends," he said. "Dean wants to be friends with him as much as he wants to be friends with me."

"Jess isn't trying to steal me from Dean," she argued.

"Rory, you cannot be that naive." Tristan said, "Jess wants to be your boyfriend."

She looked at him for a moment, quietly letting it sink in. Then she shook her head. "He does not. He's just a friend."

"I'm kind of an authority on this, and he does," Tristan said. "He's not done."

She sobered. "Dean is my boyfriend. And he will always be my boyfriend. Forever."

"Not forever."

"Yes he will. I'm not going to date anyone else—not Jess, not you. Just Dean."

Tristan's eyes lingered on her for a moment but he didn't argue anymore. "Okay. For the record, I'm not trying to date you. I live in North Carolina. That's five states away. And with those two fighting over you in your hometown?" He shook his head. "I wouldn't want that kind of stress."

"Jess and Dean aren't fighting over me."

Tristan shrugged. "Okay. Seems like a jerk move though, to bid on another guy's girlfriend's basket."

"You bid on another guy's girlfriend's basket," Rory said. "What does that make you?"

"A jerk," he said simply. "It takes one to know one. I'm king of the jerks."

She eyed him warily. "Jess isn't a jerk." She admitted, "Okay, he doesn't get along with everyone, he doesn't like many people. But he isn't a jerk to me."

Tristan watched her. She fidgeted just a little under his gaze. He looked away and nodded in understanding. "Flattering."

"What?"

He turned back to her. "I can see how that would be flattering—to be liked by someone who doesn't like anyone else. Makes you feel kind of special, doesn't it?"

She scowled at him. "No. It isn't like that. You don't know the situation."

He just shrugged again. "If you say so."

"And Jess doesn't like me. We're just friends." Rory had to calm Dean, and persuade her mom to give Jess a chance. She did not need to defend her friendship with Jess to Tristan of all people.

"Again, the whole bidding on your basket to basically win a date with you suggests otherwise."

"This is not a date. You did not win me."

Tristan held up his hands in surrender. "Can you please pretend you're talking to someone else, and not me? Just for a minute? I don't live here anymore. I don't exist, remember? Just pretend like you're having a normal conversation with a normal person," he said. "I'm a neutral third party."

Rory considered this. Then, "We're just friends—me and Jess. We talk about books and music. That's it."

"Mm-hmm."

"We do," she insisted. "He makes good book recommendations. He's really smart, but he doesn't apply himself."

"Alright, fine. He's just a friend," Tristan relented, still sounding doubtful. They both sat in silent thought, giving up the argument.

Tentatively, Tristan changed the subject. "So you, uh, grew up with Dean then? In Stars Hollow?"

Rory looked at him strangely. No boy in town had ever looked at her twice before Dean. "No, he moved here right when Chilton accepted me. Actually, I almost didn't go to Chilton after I met him."

Surprised, Tristan said, "Really?"

She grinned at the memory. "Yeah. He saw me reading a book in the courtyard when this big chaotic scene broke out. I think someone got hit in the face by a ball or something. I didn't notice a thing. That's why Dean wanted to meet me."

"Mm," Tristan said with a nod. "Being new at school sucks."

"Oh really?" Rory said dryly.

"Yeah. Nobody knows you or even wants to know you."

"You don't say." Rory watched Tristan forlornly stare into the distance, completely lacking in self-awareness.

He looked at her, noticing her unsympathetic tone. "What?" He thought for a moment. "Oh. Right. Sorry. I apologized for that. And if it makes you feel any better, when the other guys found out I'm just some pampered rich kid from Connecticut, it did not endear me to them."

"Karma's a bitch, huh?"

He sighed heavily. "It seems so."

Rory peered at him thoughtfully. He really didn't exist in her world anymore. She never wondered how he was getting along at his new school. "Things with Paris have gotten better. I wouldn't call us friends, but sometimes she needs help studying and Madeline and Louise aren't her first choice." She added, "It helps that you aren't around."

"Oh. Well, you're welcome."

She asked, "Have you heard from any of your friends from Hartford since you've been gone?"

He shook his head slowly. "Nope." He hastily added, "But I didn't leave an address for anyone. They don't know how to find me, or I'm sure the letters would be pouring in."

Rory's eyes lingered on him. She didn't believe him. He didn't sound convincing. It must be hard, going from the most popular kid in the class to being a nobody. And on top of it, none of his old friends cared. She at least still had Lane and her mom to come home to. She never thought Tristan might be lonely, or have trouble fitting in.

He admitted, "Maybe they weren't really friends to begin with."

"Someone will give you a chance," she said encouragingly. "If you aren't a jerk."

"I'll work on that," he said self-deprecatingly.

"Really, you have a lot going for you."

He gave her a doubtful look. "Oh yeah? Like what?" he asked. "I'm calling your bluff. You're just trying to be nice."

"I never feel the need to be nice to you," she argued. She thought for a minute, and considered Paris's long-time crush. If someone as intense and driven and smart as Paris could like Tristan, there must be some good in him. "You're smart," Rory finally said. "I never saw you with a backpack and you barely took notes in class. But you still got good grades. I have to take meticulous notes and study for hours. How do you do that? Do you even study at all?"

"When I need to." He added, "I took notes. You just weren't paying attention to me."

"I wish I could say Chilton only let you in because your parents could afford it," she said. "But you deserved to be there. And you'll be accepted to a great college, where you'll probably make all kinds of friends. Better friends."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." She remembered something else. "Oh, you have soft skills. I can't make small talk to save my life. That's going to come in handy one day."

"I'm surprised you could come up with anything."

"Me too." She grinned at him and he smiled back.

They were quiet for a minute. Her initial anger had faded and they were able to contentedly sit in each other's company. Maybe he could be okay sometimes. Now she wondered if his family kept in contact much. Jess's mom didn't, but Jess at least had Luke. Tristan didn't have anyone in North Carolina. Rory couldn't even imagine living that far from Lorelai. Who were Tristan's other friends, besides Duncan and Bowman? She couldn't recall. Not that he needed to keep in touch with either of those two. It must be hard for someone as sociable as him to not have anyone to talk to.

Tristan finally opened the basket and took out a plastic container. He opened it and offered her some first. When she wrinkled her nose and jerked her head away, he asked, "What's wrong?" He smelled it and jerked his head away too. "What is this?"

"I'm not sure. It was in the refrigerator."

"This is what you brought for Dean?"

"He wouldn't have eaten it."

Tristan put the container back in the basket. He wasn't interested in anything else from the basket. "Now I really am hungry. Is there somewhere we can go?"

"Usually I would say Luke's, but Jess might be there. I'd rather skip another confrontation," she said. "There's Al's Pancake World." She got up as she said it. "We could get a pizza."

"From a pancake place?" he asked, standing up to follow.

She waved a hand. "He serves all kinds of food. Come on." As they crossed the street to the sidewalk, she said, "I guess it is good you bought my basket."

Tristan frowned, surprised and confused. "Really? Why?"

"Because you'll disappear later. You'll be out of swinging distance," she said grimly.

XXXXX

Tristan plopped his tray down on the long table at lunch time. Everyone had assigned seats in the cafeteria at military school, which he would have hated at Chilton, but was actually grateful for here. It hid the fact that he wouldn't have anywhere to sit. He was just as thankful that there weren't cliquish groups, because he would not get an invitation to the cool table. So he didn't mind that he could sit and eat without anxiety that he was missing out.

He was getting to lunch late. For the third time in the few months he'd been here, one of his instructors pulled him aside to tell him he wasn't at prep school anymore–like he needed a reminder. Ten years at private school had ingrained an individualistic mindset. He didn't have to be out for himself, his teachers kept telling him. They said his schoolmates had his back, if he'd just have theirs. After his last pair of friends, it was hard for Tristan to believe. And these guys didn't know him. They had no reason to look out for him.

There were four long tables in the cafeteria, one for each grade. It was an all-boys school. That was actually the worst part of it here. His dad knew how to hit him where it counted. The structure and discipline he could adjust to. The uniform he was used to. But there were no girls in sight. He missed their pleated skirts that showed off their legs. He missed the creative ways they put effort into their hair and makeup—something they could control and show their personality even while wearing a uniform like all the other girls.

Tristan didn't have anyone to make out with between classes. He just . . . went to class. It was excruciating.

Sean, the boy who sat in the next seat, sat down and started eating without a word. He was pretty quiet, and didn't bother with pleasantries. Tristan supposed he was a bit shy. He wasn't sure how to break the ice with people who weren't sociable. Sean did talk to him on his first day though. He had compared the cafeteria to the dining hall at Hogwarts when Tristan first got here. Tristan didn't understand the reference. Sean said it was from Harry Potter.

Maybe Tristan should start reading Harry Potter. Then he'd have something to talk about with at least one person. They probably weren't the kinds of books that would impress Rory Gilmore. But she wasn't here to impress.

The cafeteria monitor was handing out mail to the students, as they usually did during lunch. It was a surprise when Tristan heard 'Dugray' called out. He reached for the single envelope and flipped it to the side with the address.

In the left hand corner, the return address said Rory Gilmore, with her Stars Hollow street address printed in neat, even handwriting. She wrote her address right there, like an open line of communication. It was addressed to the school, attention Tristan Dugray. He hadn't told her the name of the school. She must have looked it up, or asked the secretary at Chilton where his transcripts were sent. He set down his fork and turned the envelope to rip it open.
Dear Tristan, it started. I'm only writing to you because you're pathetic and I pity you. Tristan slowly grinned. I just wanted to reassure you that it's okay to not have a lot of school friends. A few months ago the school counselor ambushed me at lunch. She and Headmaster Charleston thought I was a loner, like the Unibomber or something. So I sat at a random table, with Francie Jarvis and her posse. Oh, no, that's not a random table. Don't sit there.

He continued to read, amazed that Rory had taken the time to share something about herself with him. She gave him a peek of her life with her mom in Stars Hollow, and her long time friend, Lane. He was starting to think the woman he saw Rory with at the basket auction was her mother, rather than a sister. Before he knew it, lunch was over and he'd only eaten half, as he pored over his letter instead. He gathered his things and picked up his tray. With a spring in his step, he headed to his next class, his head full of things he needed to tell her about in his response.