Author Note: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I always appreciate when you take the time to drop a line. It warms my heart that there are still Trory readers out there. There aren't enough Trory fics around here these days.
2.1: June 9, 2014
Rory was sitting at her desk Monday morning, typing away, when her phone rang. "Newsroom," she answered, still concentrating on her screen.
"Homicide," Tristan said.
Rory grinned. "How's your first day back?"
"I'm bored," he whined.
She glanced down at the time in the corner of her monitor. "It's only nine o'clock."
"I know. Desk duty sucks."
"It's only for two weeks."
"Yeah," he scoffed. "The first hour has just flown by."
"What are they making you do?"
"Paperwork."
"Don't you do paperwork anyway?"
"Yeah, but for two weeks it's what I have to do all day," he said before pausing a beat. "Maybe I'll go upstairs and tell Jacobs how he should do his job."
"That doesn't sound very nice."
"But it'll be less mind numbing than this. We could discuss trial strategy."
"You guys could discuss? Are you sure you won't just criticize?"
"Is there a difference?"
"Yes. One sounds constructive and the other sounds like you're just planning on being an ass."
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Mary?" he reprimanded.
"Nope, just you."
"Oh, well, I don't mind so much. But really, I could provide litigation support. I might even play nice. As long as he takes all of my advice without question."
"Well, as long as you have reasonable stipulations."
"Mm-hmm. What are you doing for lunch?"
"Probably eating in the cafeteria downstairs."
"That sounds exciting. Can I come?"
"That would be nice," Rory said, looking up and spotting her editor. He was walking to his office. "I should go talk to Jimmy first though."
"Why?"
"I still have to tell him why I'm such a good crime reporter."
"Because you're annoyingly nosy? He probably knows that already."
"Yes, but if he sees you here, he will not assume you're a boyfriend here for lunch. He will assume the cops are here to take someone to jail."
"Oh I see. You have to go fess up to being a bad girl," Tristan leered.
"More or less."
"It's not like they can fire you, can they?"
"No. They might discourage the relationship."
"Then they must not know you already tried to discourage yourself. If you couldn't talk yourself out of it, no one can."
"Seriously. I think the worst case scenario would be me getting assigned to a different beat. But I think I can talk Jimmy out of letting that happen."
"Good luck."
"Thanks. I'll see you later. I'll either be the reporter up in the newsroom or the unemployed reporter on the front steps with a box of my personal effects."
"That-a way to be dramatic," Tristan said. "I'll be waiting with bated breath to see which one it is," he said before they both hung up.
Rory stood up and walked past her other colleagues until she reached James's office. She knocked before entering.
"Come on in," he told her when he looked up.
Rory did so, and she closed the door before she took a seat across from her editor. "I was wondering if we could talk."
"Shoot," he answered.
"So, you know how you usually say that I'm a pretty good reporter?"
"Sure."
"Could you maybe not do that anymore?"
"Why? Are you going to start writing subpar reports?"
"No, it's not that. I just don't think my colleagues will like you singing my praises. It just won't seem fair—considering."
"Considering what?"
"Well, you see, it's a funny story, really. Remember the other week when there was a cop here to see me?"
"Yeah."
"Did you get a good look at the guy?"
"Good enough, why?"
"That was actually my boyfriend," she said.
James paused for a beat before commenting. "He looked like he was an employee of the NYPD."
"You caught on to that, huh?"
"The badge and the gun tipped me off."
"Right, that usually does it. So, there you go. I write police reports and date a detective. That's not going to be a problem, is it?"
James thought for a second. He asked, "Would he happen to be your police source?"
"Why ask? You know I don't reveal my sources."
"Then why come to ask for permission?"
"I'm not asking permission. It's just that some people might see it as a conflict of interest. So I thought it would be best if it was out in the open," Rory explained. "And I want to assure you that it won't be an issue."
"It will be if your articles are slanted in the NYPD's favor."
"Can you think of any that have been so far?"
"How far do I need to think back?"
"Autumn of last year."
He raised a brow. "Aren't you the sneaky one?" he said. He blew out a breath and sat back in his chair. "No, I can't recall any of your articles being biased. Except for that one piece I put in the editorial section last week."
"Right, but other than that?"
"I haven't noticed any prejudice, no. And I suppose I have to admit your obvious 'in' at the department has been beneficial."
"See? It's not a problem. And it'll continue to not be a problem," Rory insisted. "So we're done here?"
"Seems that way." Rory opened the door, but James spoke again, "Oh, and Gilmore?"
"What?" she asked, turning to face him.
"If any of the higher ups catch wind of this, tell them I gave you a slap on the wrist."
"Sure, it's the least I could do," she said before walking out.
2.2: June 21, 2014
"Now these are lovely," Tristan commented pleasantly, looking down at the mug shots in front of him. He took a sip of Luke's coffee as he picked up the picture.
"I know," Lorelai agreed. "And she doesn't let me display them on the refrigerator anymore."
'She' was sitting at the kitchen table with the other two, glaring at them.
"Well that's just a shame," Tristan said. "They really look good, Rory. You should let your mom hang them up."
"You're quite the kiss-ass today, aren't you?" Rory observed.
"I like to think of myself as charming."
"I'm sure you like to think of yourself as a lot of things."
He nodded and grinned cunningly.
Lorelai slid two more photos across the table. "And here are my mother's."
"Now what did she do to get busted?" he asked, frowning down at the elder Gilmore girl's mug shots.
"Initially, she was pulled over for talking on her cell phone while driving," Lorelai answered.
Tristan made a tsk-tsk sound with his tongue and shook his head. "That's not allowed in this state. But it's not worth an arrest."
"Oh no. That came after she refused to blow into a breathalyzer device."
He smiled. "Well that makes sense. There's nothing dignified about a breathalyzer test."
"I would have loved to have seen that poor police officer ask her to do it, though," Lorelai said with a dreamy expression on her face.
Paul Anka scampered into the kitchen then. Lorelai patted an empty chair and he jumped up on it.
"Now Tristan," she started. "In your expert opinion, does Paul Anka have what it takes to be a police dog? I really think he could be a member of the K-9 Unit."
"Stars Hollow doesn't have a K-9 Unit," Rory reminded her.
"Minor detail," Lorelai said before turning back to Tristan. "How can we make this happen?"
"Does he have any skills?"
"Such as?"
"Has he found any dead bodies?"
"Gross, no."
"What about bombs?"
"Not that I know of."
"Can he sniff out drugs?"
"There aren't a lot of drugs in Stars Hollow. Probably due to the low levels of gang activity. Although, there was that one time with Jackson's field. But they got rid of it before Paul Anka found it. I bet he could have sniffed it out, though. I think he could be trained."
"You should stop," Rory told Tristan. "You're just giving her ideas."
Lorelai pet her dog on the head. "He's locked me out of my Jeep before."
"So his skills could be classified as esoteric," Tristan reasoned. "I could get a police shirt for him. If he's a dog who likes to wear clothes."
"That will work, he does," Lorelai said in triumph. "He's a dog's size medium."
"You know, when I said you couldn't hate Tristan, I didn't mean that you have to be so chummy," Rory said, eying her mother.
"That's not really fair," Tristan told Rory. "You can't tell other people not to hate me when you didn't even want to like me."
"Good point," Lorelai agreed.
"And I wouldn't have to suck up so much if you didn't keep me a secret for so long," he added.
"Well I'm sure I'll be paying for it for a long time," Rory said.
"That's my plan," Lorelai said. She turned to Tristan again. "So, the Rory building at Yale. Thoughts?"
Rory rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee.
2.3: July 10, 2014
Tristan and Mark were surveying the living room they were standing in. There were two dead bodies lying on the floor and blood splatter, well, everywhere. Tristan's phone rang for the fourth time in a half an hour. He knew who was calling, but he was occupied at the moment.
"I think she's going to keep calling until you answer," Stevenson commented.
Tristan sighed and took the phone out. "There'd better be an emergency," he answered shortly.
"You're busy, sorry," Rory said with a cringe on the other end.
"Well what is it?"
"It's just that my dad called me a little while ago. He's in town on business for a few hours today."
"And?"
"And he wants to have lunch with me and I was wondering if you wanted to come too," Rory rambled quickly. "To meet him."
Tristan sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm kind of in the middle of something. When does he want to do this?"
"In an hour," she said a bit apologetically. "You don't have to come. He'll probably be in the city another time. It can wait."
Tristan scratched the back of his head and looked around him before exhaling heavily. "No. I'll come."
"Are you sure? It's fine if you can't. It's really late notice."
"I'm sure. I can make it. Just tell me where," he said. Rory told him the name of the restaurant and he checked his watch, noting how long it would take to drive there—during the lunchtime rush hour, no less. "I'll see you in an hour," he said before hanging up and pocketing his phone.
"You're still going to be here in an hour," Mark told him, having listened to the conversation.
"Somehow I won't be," Tristan told him. "Rory's dad is in town. I'm meeting them for lunch."
"I bet you had no idea your day would be so much fun when you woke up this morning."
Tristan shook his head. "None whatsoever."
NNNNNNN
A little over an hour later, Tristan was driving around a parking garage and swearing at his inability to find a spot. He didn't have his siren on—anymore—but the blue light in the window was still flashing. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
He was on his third go round the garage when he saw a spot. Unfortunately, so did a guy in a Volvo. The other guy was closer and he technically had the right-of-way. But Tristan had been an aggressive New York driver for a few years, so he sped up and stole the spot from the guy in the Volvo. He shut off his car and jumped out, jogging to the door of the restaurant.
When inside, he quickly glanced around until he found Rory. Thankfully, she was still alone. He walked over to her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek and sat down across from her.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, taking a long drink of the iced water that was already sitting at his place on the table.
"It's okay, Dad isn't here yet," she said, checking her watch. "Maybe I should call him, make sure he didn't get lost or something." She took out her phone and dialed. While waiting for Christopher to pick up, she frowned at Tristan. "Is the gun necessary?"
He looked down. "Damn. I didn't mean to bring it in. I don't even have a jacket with me today to cover it up."
"Dad?" Rory said into the phone when he'd picked up. "Are you on your way? . . . Oh, okay," she said, glancing up at Tristan with a smile. "I'll see you soon." She hung up the phone and put it away. "He's here. He just had some trouble finding a parking spot."
"Oh, me too. Finding a spot in that garage was a bitch."
"Yeah. Dad said he found one but some jerk cop stole it."
Tristan's face fell. "What do you think the chances are of there being two of us here?"
"Slim," she answered. "I'm really impressed with you."
"Thank you. Why?"
"My dad is really easy going. I'm impressed that you were able to screw up at all, not to mention so soon."
"It's a gift."
"But I'm wondering how he would be able to tell it was a cop if it was you? You don't drive a police cruiser or a marked car."
Tristan looked guilty. "I may have had my light on. You know, the one that makes people think I'm important."
"I thought that was only for emergencies."
"Emergency is such a subjective term."
"I see," she said with a small smile. She looked up beyond Tristan and stood. "Dad, hi," she said, giving her father a hug.
Tristan stood up and turned around.
"Rory, hi. Sorry I'm late," Christopher said.
"It's no problem. In fact, you were both late," she said. "This is my boyfriend, Tristan."
Christopher frowned in recognition.
"Sir," Tristan said politely, putting his hand out. "I want to apologize for stealing your parking spot. I was late to meet my girlfriend and her father."
Christopher looked somewhat perplexed. "I'll accept your apology as long as you don't call me sir anymore."
Tristan nodded. "Done."
They all sat down then, Rory next to her father and Tristan across from them.
"So you work for the NYPD?" Christopher asked. He'd taken note of the tell tale signs on Tristan's belt.
"Yeah, I'm a homicide detective," Tristan explained. "Much to the dismay of my father."
"Oh, well, I've been there."
"Yeah? How so?" Tristan asked, making conversation.
"My dad wanted me to go to Princeton and work for him at his law firm."
Tristan's eyebrows shot up and he looked at Rory. He leaned in slightly closer, in a conspiratorial way. "Suddenly I'm a little concerned that you have daddy issues."
She gave him a confused look and a half smile. "What? Why?"
He held a hand out toward Christopher. "We seem to have very similar paternal baggage."
"That's a coincidence. I never even thought about it before," she insisted and turned to Christopher. "Dad, what did you do instead?"
"I got my girlfriend pregnant at sixteen and didn't go to college at all. You?"
"I committed high treason by going to Harvard before Yale Law School," Tristan answered.
"See?" Rory said. "Completely different. No worries."
"I guess," Tristan said as the waiter came over to take their orders.
"So you drive a Camaro," Christopher commented. "That must go pretty fast."
"It gets me from point A to point B."
"Why don't you just say it goes from zero to sixty in under five seconds?" Rory asked dryly.
"Okay, it does that too," Tristan said with a grin. "We could go for a drive sometime," he added. "Just not today, I have a couple dead bodies to get back to."
"Two?" Rory asked.
Tristan nodded. "Blood everywhere."
Christopher made a face. "Do you two always talk about this kind of stuff before you eat?"
"Just sometimes," Rory answered.
"Serves me right. I shouldn't have asked you to lunch in the middle of the work day," Christopher said wryly.
2.4: August 15, 2014
Rory got out of the yellow cab and walked into the art gallery.
"Hey Olivia," she told her friend with a smile as she passed the counter on her way to the back stairwell. As she walked up the steps, she took out her phone and dialed her mother.
"Hello?" Lorelai answered on the second ring.
"Mom, hi. I have bad news," Rory said as she unlocked her apartment door.
"Uh-oh, what is it?"
"I'm not going to make it to Friday night dinner tomorrow night. Can you tell Grandma for me?"
"Why aren't you coming? She's going to need a really good reason."
"And I have an excellent one. I have a date."
"What?"
"A date. I have a date tomorrow night. Tell Grandma for me."
"That is not a good excuse."
"Sure it is. Make sure to tell her it's with Tristan."
"That doesn't make it a good reason."
"Yes it does. In fact, now that I think about it, she'll probably even encourage it," Rory said pleasantly. "You might even tell her that I haven't really decided if I even like him."
"Oh ha. You've been dating him for a long time now. I think you've made your decision. I should rat you out."
"I guess you could do that—tell Grandma the truth. Of course, then you'll have to tell her that you wanted to keep the secret alive, even though I wanted to disclose the whole truth."
"I can't believe this."
"I learned everything I know from you."
"I've created a monster."
"And now you have to deal with the consequences."
2.5: September 9, 2014
Tristan came out of the building where his latest crime scene had taken place. He scanned the small crowd that had formed at the yellow tape. He caught sight of Rory, who had her notebook out, talking to a uniformed officer.
Tristan thought the guy was smiling a bit too friendly, and he touched Rory on the arm. She smiled back grimly, but otherwise seemed to be ignoring the advances being made. Tristan walked over anyway.
"Do you need anything from me?" he asked when he was next to them.
Rory eyed him. "Depends, what are you offering?" she asked with an interested tone. "Can you tell me the victim's name?"
"No," he answered.
"Time of death?"
"The medical examiner isn't sure yet. I can tell you the cause of death."
"I already provided that information," the uniformed officer said.
Tristan and Rory both glanced at him briefly before looking back at each other.
"It looks like you don't have anything to offer," she said, the corners of her mouth curved slightly.
One of his eyebrows barely lifted in response—just enough that she noticed. "We'll see about that."
"I'm going to canvas the neighborhood. Drum up some witness accounts. Maybe you'll be more useful later."
Tristan watched her walk away before he turned his cold gaze to the uniformed officer. He read the name on the pin on his uniform. "Were you flirting with the reporter, Williams?" he asked, disapproving.
Officer Williams shrugged. "Sure. She wanted the details. Why not make her work for it?"
"Don't do that," Tristan advised.
"Just because you're on a higher pay grade doesn't mean you can tell me what to do."
"This isn't a work matter. Don't do it anymore."
"What's it to you anyway?" Williams asked, brows moving closer. Then his expression changed. "Oh I see. You and her—?" He nodded in Rory's direction and made a crude gesture with his fist to complete his question.
Mark approached them then, having heard—and seen—the tail end of the conversation. He also noted the look in Tristan's eyes.
"You should go," Mark told Williams.
"What?" The officer looked confused.
"Get gone. He's about to hit you," Mark said clearly. "I suggest running."
The officer took the advice given and left the two detectives.
"You shouldn't warn them," Tristan said, turning to his partner. "They'll never learn."
"I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble."
"Did you say 'get gone'?"
Mark shrugged. "I'm from the country."
2.6: October 18, 2014
Rory rested her head in her folded arms from her spot at her kitchen island. It was still dark out and she hadn't had any coffee yet. Tristan walked in and Rory lifted her head enough to look up at him.
"Can you carry me down to your car?" she asked, sleep still in her voice.
"You have legs, walk yourself," he answered, just as tired. "I told you we should have driven to Boston last night."
"You're the one who didn't want to stay with Paris and Doyle."
"Did you want to?"
Rory shrugged. "I've lived with them before, what's one more night?"
"I just don't like the idea of owing Paris favors. It seems dangerous."
"Well, it doesn't matter, it's too late now," Rory said. "Let's get this show on the road."
She stood up and went to put on her jacket and scarf. Before Tristan could put his jacket on, though, Rory stopped him. "What are you wearing?"
"Clothes."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What's under your shirt?"
Tristan looked down. The t-shirt he was wearing was gray and had Yale University written across it in big blue letters. He looked back up and shrugged.
Rory went to him and tried to look under his Yale shirt. He attempted to swat her hands away but she lifted the gray shirt. There was a crimson one under it.
"What's this?" she asked in an accusatory tone of voice.
"Another shirt."
"I see that. It says Harvard."
"I know. I went there, remember?"
"Where are you planning on sitting at The Game today?"
"With you."
"Well, I'm sitting with my grandparents, and this is not going to fly with them."
"Come on, they know I went there, too. It's no big deal," Tristan insisted. "I promise, I'll keep the Yale shirt on over the Harvard one. Unless we're winning—which is what we're going to do. Just so you know."
"Grandma isn't going to make you a Bloody Mary. Or let you drink from the fun flask. Just so you know," Rory said as they both put their jackets on.
"That's okay. I have my own flask," he said, patting his pocket. "And fair warning, I'm not going to get very excited when Handsome Dan comes around—the live or stuffed version."
"I see you don't feel the need to suck up to Grandma and Grandpa."
"Don't have to. They think this was all their idea. I'm golden."
"Yeah, we'll see about that after they know where your true loyalties lie," Rory said as they both walked out of her apartment.
2.7: October 28, 2014
Tristan and Rory were finishing up their burgers and fries at the diner they usually frequented on Tuesdays. They continued their conversation after the waitress brought them a slice of pie and coffee.
"And when is this?" Tristan asked Rory.
"Friday."
"Friday," he repeated skeptically as Mark walked into the restaurant and sat down next to his partner.
"Oh good, you decided to drop by," Rory said to him.
"You should get out while you still can," Tristan warned.
"Why?"
"I wanted to extend an invitation to a Halloween party," she explained.
"Where?"
"Across the hall from my apartment. My friends, Lucy and Olivia, are throwing it."
Mark looked to Tristan. "What's so bad about that?"
"Their parties are always themed."
"What's wrong with a theme?" Rory asked, miffed.
"Themes involve a costume," Tristan answered. "I'm thirty. I'm too old to play dress up."
"Like I've ever managed to get you to wear a costume," she scoffed.
"There was that one time, the Twenties themed one," Tristan reminded her. "After Lucy was in Chicago."
"Well sure, you know a theater crowd is going to go all out," Rory pointed out.
Mark grinned at him. "What did you dress up as?"
Rory answered grimly. "He wore a trench coat and a fedora."
Mark nodded in appreciation. "Old time detective, nice."
"I thought so," Tristan said before turning back to Rory. "And it looked very nice next to you in your flapper. I'll wear that one again."
"Never mind how unoriginal it was," Rory said. "You just dressed up as yourself in a different time period."
"If I can wear a suit instead of a tux, I'll go as Double-Oh-Seven, Tristan offered.
"I had no idea you had a secret life of costume parties," Mark said with a smirk.
"It'll be loads of fun, you and Hannah should come," Rory continued.
"Hannah?"
"Yeah, you know, your girlfriend."
"I know who she is. She might be interested in a Halloween party," Mark said slowly. "Is there a theme?"
"Halloween is the theme, of course. It's this Friday night," Rory said.
"Friday?" Mark asked. He looked at Tristan. "We might have to work late Friday."
"I know. I was about to break the news when you walked in."
"But why?" she asked.
"Because it's Halloween," Tristan answered. "The crazies come out."
"They come out when there's a full moon, too," Mark added.
"And when it's hot," Tristan said.
"Plus, Hannah said her third graders go nuts when it rains."
"Are you comparing third graders to criminals?" Rory asked.
Mark tilted his head and raised a brow. "Sometimes they're similar."
"Well fine," she said. "Hannah should definitely come. She can come to my apartment before the party starts and we'll go over together. But you two are not off the hook. You still have to come when you get off work."
"Fine," both men muttered.
"I'm going back to the precinct," Mark said, getting up.
"I'll be right behind you," Tristan told him. He turned his attention back to Rory. Her forehead was scrunched up in concentration. "What are you thinking so hard about?"
"I just remembered something," she answered.
"What's that?"
"Are you doing anything tomorrow night?"
"Nope. Why?"
"I was thinking of inviting myself over to your place."
"Oh yeah? You have an itch that only I can scratch?" he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.
She patiently fought the urge to glare at him. "I thought we could order some pizza and watch Ghostbusters," she said and then cocked a brow. "And who knows, maybe this time you'll actually stay awake in case I do get an itch."
He grinned and winked at her in response.
2.8: November 22, 2014
Rory took the martini that Tristan brought back for her as he slid into the booth next to her. On the other side of the table, Mark did the same. His girlfriend, Hannah, was sitting across from Rory.
"So, any big plans for Thanksgiving next week?" Mark asked Rory and Tristan as Nelly's Hot in Herre started playing over the speakers at the bar.
"We're going home to Connecticut," Rory answered for both of them. She looked at Tristan. "Maybe I'll be able to sneak off to Hartford for a little while over the weekend."
"Good luck with that. I'm only staying for two days," Tristan said, then asked their companions, "What about you guys?"
"Hannah's coming out to Kansas with me," Mark answered.
"That reminds me, my class had our reward movie day yesterday," Hannah told the others.
"How did that remind you?" Mark asked.
"We watched The Wizard of Oz. You'd be amazed at the classic movies kids these days have never seen," she explained as she flipped some of her red hair over her shoulder. "Anyway, when the scarecrow was singing and dancing around, one of my students, Daquan, said, 'Albert Einstein was the smartest person in the world, and he didn't have a brain.'"
Across from her, Tristan and Rory looked perplexed by the student's statement.
Hannah nodded. "So I told him that yes, Einstein did have a brain. And then Daquan said, 'Not until they built him one.' I had no idea what he was talking about, but then another boy cleared things up by saying, 'That was Frankenstein.'"
The other three at the table smiled and laughed a little at the story.
"I don't know how you can spend your whole day with nine year olds," Mark said before he took a drink from his bottle of beer and glanced up at one of the television sets to check the score of a college football game being broadcasted.
"Patience is a virtue," his girlfriend told him.
Mark looked pointedly at Tristan. "Then again, maybe I do know what it's like," he said before changing the subject. "You know, if Hannah ever commits a crime, she'll never get away with it."
"Because you're such a good detective that you'd catch me?" she asked.
"She is so nice to him," Tristan told Rory, leaning in closer to her.
"Gosh he's lucky," Rory answered with an unsympathetic smile.
"Her fingerprints are already on file, since she's a teacher," Mark continued.
"Rory's are in the system, too," Tristan quipped with a grin. "She's a hardened criminal. In fact, I picked her up from Rikers Island. Our relationship is risky, but we make it work."
The martini glass in Rory's hand stopped before it reached her mouth. "Careful," she warned. "I haven't decided if we're having a sleepover tonight or not."
He smiled at her, not too concerned, and put an arm around her shoulders. He looked across the table and said, "Don't let her fool you. We're in love."
2.9: December 12, 2014
Tristan twirled Rory around and took her hand to continue dancing. They were at the annual policeman's ball that the NYPD put on before Christmas. The banquet hall was decorated with trees in the corners and twinkle lights lit everything up festively.
"You know what's weird?" Rory mused as her black dress swayed around her knees.
"What?" Tristan asked.
"Last year my dance card was full."
"Was it?"
"Yeah. Every time a song ended, someone else would ask me to dance."
"Well you're a lot less popular this year."
"I know. Maybe I've lost my touch."
"Or, I might have had something to do with it."
"What did you do? Threaten them all this year? Mark your 'territory'?" she asked. "That's pretty chauvinistic of you."
"That does sound like me, but no," he said. "It's just that last year, I may have encouraged some of the guys to ask you to dance."
"Did you have a reason?"
He shrugged. "You weren't here with me."
"Yes I was."
"Not officially. It wasn't public knowledge, anyway."
"But why send your colleagues my way?" she asked with brows knit in confusion.
"Let's just say I got sick pleasure out of seeing you dance with other people."
"What?"
"I was just making up for past hurts."
"Whatever," Rory said with a shake of her head.
"You don't believe me?" he asked. "There was a day that you wouldn't be caught dead with me anywhere, much less at a dance."
"That's true," she conceded. "I still don't know why you had other people dance with me. You didn't even ask me until the evening was almost over. What gives?"
Tristan grinned devilishly. "I knew it didn't matter who you danced with. At the end of the night, you were going to leave with me."
"Or five minutes before."
"Even better," he said with a smirk. "You were sneaking around with me."
Rory rolled her eyes and smiled a little. "You know, I've been coming to this thing for several years now. I never saw you here before last year."
"That's because I never came."
"Why not?"
He shrugged again. "Didn't seem like my scene."
"And now it does?"
"Now I have a pretty girl to dance with. And let's face it, the detective with the crime reporter? You're like the forbidden fruit. It's very good for my image to look like I don't give a damn," he explained. "Plus, we're obviously the 'it' couple around here."
"There are hundreds of people here. I doubt they all know us."
Their loss, we're delightful."
"And modesty is clearly our best quality," Rory said dryly.
2.10: December 18, 2014
Rory watched as Luke assembled the new toy her little brother had received from their grandparents. Tristan was seated in a chair, giving directions.
"Are those the manufacturer's instructions?" she asked.
"No," Tristan answered. "They're my instructions based on the picture. How hard can it be?"
"I guess we're going to find out," Rory said before turning her attention to her grandmother.
Lorelai had just handed her mother a gift.
Rory frowned. "I've seen that present before."
"Under our Christmas tree at home, maybe?" Lorelai suggested innocently.
"I don't think so," Rory said with a shake of her head. "Luke, have you seen that before?"
Luke looked up from his son's toy and looked at the gift in Emily's hands. "No, not at our house."
Rory looked at Tristan, his head was bent down in the instruction booklet. "I saw it at your apartment," she said in an accusatory tone.
"Why would Tristan have a Christmas present for Emily at his apartment?" Richard asked.
"Yeah Rory," Lorelai jumped in quickly. "That wouldn't make any sense."
"But it was the same box with the same wrapping paper," Rory argued.
"That's probably just a coincidence," Emily said.
"It had my name on it," Rory said.
"Not all presents are for you," Tristan said. "Other people get presents, too."
"Yeah," Lorelai agreed.
"Is it all right with everyone that I open my present?" Emily asked impatiently.
"Yeah Mom, go ahead," Lorelai prompted eagerly.
Rory looked from Lorelai to Tristan and back with furrowed brows. Then it hit her. "Grandma! Don't open that, it's a trick."
"Shhh," Lorelai hissed as she elbowed her daughter in the side.
Rory watched as her grandmother opened a box of Shake Weights. She shook her head dismally.
"I don't know why you were putting up such a fuss, Rory," Emily said as she opened the box. She took one of the weights out to test. "I just shake it?" she asked, doing so as she said it.
"Yes, just like that," Lorelai said.
"Ah, you'll get wonderful exercise for your arms, Emily," Richard said kindly.
Luke looked up and his eyes grew wide. He quickly looked back down.
Rory covered her mouth with her hand at the sight. She looked from Tristan—who was smiling down at the floor—to her mother, who was not hiding her giddy smile. "You remember when you two didn't know each other?" Rory asked them quietly. "I miss those days."
2.11: February 21, 2015
Paris listened intently as Tristan described a particularly interesting dead body at a crime scene he'd been to. Rory and Doyle were listening as well, though less enthusiastically. They were in her kitchen, chatting before going out to dinner.
"I would have loved to have seen that—from a medical standpoint," Paris said, a bit morbidly, Rory thought.
She leaned closer to Doyle. "I did see it, and I wish I hadn't."
"Tell me about it," he said grimly. "When she comes home and talks about her day, I always wish she'd use less details."
"An odd wish, for a journalist," Rory commented.
"Yeah. I guess it's good to know I'm not the only one who has to hear about blood and guts."
"Tristan is usually more concerned with how they got that way and who-done it, rather than the gruesome details."
"Lucky," Doyle said.
"Does it concern you at all that peoples' lives are in her hands?"
"All the time."
"Oh please," Paris said impatiently, having heard their exchange. "Like we shouldn't all worry that someone gave him a gun." She jerked her head in Tristan's direction when she said it.
"Don't worry, I have good aim," Tristan said.
"Now I can sleep at night," Paris said.
"So, how's Columbia?" Doyle asked Rory, changing the subject.
"It's really good," she answered. "I thought I knew the ropes, but I'm learning a lot. And I'm making so many contacts. I cut back on my hours at work this semester, so I could focus on my classes more."
"When do you think you'll graduate?" Doyle asked her.
"Hopefully at the end of the summer. I think twelve months to do a ten month program is reasonable, considering I kept working the whole time."
"I keep thinking I should get around to getting my master's," Doyle said.
"I hear Harvard is a good school," Tristan said innocently.
"Well, Paris might get a job at another hospital once she's finished with her residency."
"And I told you," his wife said, "if you want to go to Harvard, go to Harvard. We can stay in Boston a couple more years."
"Where do you think you'll go next?" Rory asked.
"I'm not sure yet. I did some networking last year when I was at St. Vincent's."
"Wait," Tristan said. "That's where I was last year."
"Yeah, I know," Paris said. "That's why I was there. I met some of the doctors there and I didn't alienate the surgical team."
"Good job," Doyle complimented.
"Thanks. Anyway, I haven't decided where I want to go next," Paris said. "Or if I want to move at all." She checked her watch. "I think it's time to leave for the restaurant."
Paris and Doyle headed out of the kitchen, but Tristan grabbed Rory's arm before she could follow.
"If they move here, I'm blaming you."
"How will it be my fault?"
"You called her."
"And you were the one who got shot."
"I think your life has some weird curse where you can't get rid of her."
Rory eyed him pointedly. "You think she is my only curse?"
He nodded with a sarcastic look on his face. "I'm not helping them move."
2.12: March 31, 2015
Tristan was at his desk, stapling some paperwork together, having just finished filling it out. He placed it in the basket at the corner of his desk when his cell phone buzzed from his pocket. He pulled it out to answer.
"DuGrey."
"Tristan, are you busy?" Janlen asked.
"Yes. I'm working. What do you need?"
"I would like for you to come to dinner this weekend. Saturday night. And bring the lovely Miss Gilmore."
"Can't."
"Can't come? Or Rory can't come?"
"Both. Either."
"I think you can."
"Why do you think that?" Tristan asked as he focused his attention on the next item on his desk.
"Because if you can't make it, I might tell Richard and Emily your little secret."
"What secret?"
"That you've celebrated your anniversary."
"So? Who cares?" Tristan asked absentmindedly.
"So you have already?"
"Already what?"
"Already celebrated your anniversary. With Rory. It's been a year."
"Yeah."
"Good," Janlen said. "It's good that you've dated a nice, upstanding girl for so long."
"Uh, thanks?"
"You should celebrate your accomplishments."
"Already have. We're way ahead of you."
"So you don't deny it?"
"Obviously not. What is with you today?"
"She contacts you often, then, for her job?" Janlen asked, ignoring Tristan's question.
"Sure. Sometimes."
"Regularly?"
"Fairly. Why?"
"How often?"
"What?"
"How often?"
"I don't know, it depends. But every couple months or so, I guess. She has to go to crime scenes."
"Like you."
"Yes."
"Sometimes the same ones?"
"Yes." Tristan put his palm to his forehead, hoping this circular conversation would end soon.
"And she's done this as long as you've been in Manhattan?"
"Longer," Tristan answered. "Seriously, what's the deal with all the questions?"
"What day is it?"
"Tuesday."
"The date, what is the date?"
Tristan glanced at a calendar on his desk. "The thirty-first."
"Of what?"
"March."
"Exactly."
"Exactly what? Do I need to get you checked in somewhere? I'm getting really concerned about your mental health."
"Don't be. My mental health is excellent, as I'm about to demonstrate. You realize, of course, that you were shot last May."
"Yes. I have the scar to remind me."
"Tristan," Janlen said pointedly.
"Grandpa," Tristan said impatiently.
"You have not been seeing the Ms. Gilmore for a year."
"Yes I have. You were just congratulating me over it."
"It's March."
"I know. And tomorrow it'll be April. We've been through this already. I'm waiting for you to get to your point."
"You claim to have started dating her after your accident—we'll call it June. And you just claimed to have already dated her for a year—in March. How can both be true?"
Tristan looked up from his desk and stared forward. His grandfather's point hit him. He didn't say anything for a long minute. "What do you know?"
"I know how to do math," Janlen answered. "I'm apparently not bad at this interrogation thing, either. I can see why you like your job. It's fun to trick people and catch them in lies."
"I'm serious, what do you know?" Tristan pressed on.
"I know the two of you were quite friendly when you were in the hospital."
"How friendly do you think we were?"
"Friendlier than you'd be if you really had just reconnected the week before. I was quite surprised when I heard you talking. I have to confess, I was pretending to be asleep."
"What did you hear?" Tristan asked incredulously.
Well, it sounded as though you thought you'd fooled me. And you were pretty self-congratulatory about it. I wasn't sure what that meant at first. But before Rory left, she said something curious."
"What did she say?"
"I think you know."
"I really don't."
"She said she loved you."
"So? That doesn't prove anything. Maybe she was in love with me after a week."
"Do you find that likely?"
Tristan didn't say anything for a moment, and then grudgingly answered with, "No."
"I didn't think so, either, no offense."
"None taken."
"Do you remember what your response to her was?"
"Thank you?"
"No. You returned the sentiment. I was shocked by the entire exchange. Then the two of you kissed—for what didn't seem like the first time—and she left."
"It's coming back to me now," Tristan said flatly. "You woke up after she left. Wait, no. You pretended to wake up."
"Yes. And I asked if you'd give her a call. You said maybe."
"I said I'd think about it. And I did," Tristan said, trying to sound cool. "You kept this to yourself all the while?"
"I know how to bide my time. But you know what they say, the truth will out. So I'll see the both of you this Saturday, then?"
"I guess you will," Tristan answered reluctantly.
"What I couldn't fathom was why you kept it to yourself. She's the kind of girl I always hoped you'd find. You should have known I'd approve."
"Of course you would. And then you'd be really disappointed in me when I screwed it up."
"But you haven't."
"I know. That's what I can't fathom," Tristan said before hanging up. "Damn it." He shook his head as he dialed.
"Hello?" Rory answered.
"You have a big mouth," he said in greeting.
"Is that a compliment?"
"Not right now."
"Oh. What did I do?"
"He knows."
"Who knows?"
"Grandpa."
"He knows I have a big mouth?"
"He knows that we did not start dating last year."
"How does he know that?"
"Because of your big mouth."
"We keep coming back to that, but I'm still waiting to find out why."
"Last year. You told me you loved me when I was in the hospital."
"Do you want me to take it back?"
"What? —No. He heard."
"Oh."
"Yeah. And he didn't think you'd feel that way after a week."
"Do you think that I would?"
"Why does everyone keep asking that today?"
"What did he hear you say?" Rory asked.
"What?"
"What did he hear you say in response?"
"He heard me say it back."
"So. This is not just my fault. It's yours, too."
"I guess you could look at it like that."
"I will," she said. "So what did he do? Come right out and ask if we were already a couple when he visited you?"
"No. He used mind games and tricked me into admitting it."
"How?"
"I'd rather not say."
"Why?"
"Because . . . he just asked some questions. And I didn't have my story straight," Tristan said. "Rookie mistake, you hate to see it. He caught me off guard. I wasn't paying close enough attention."
"Aw, you like to be the trap setter, don't you?" she asked sympathetically.
"Yes," Tristan pouted. "I walked right into it. He threatened to tell your grandparents, too."
"He did? I'll tell you, the smallest bit of information in some people's hands is dangerous."
"Mm-hmm. So, we have to go to dinner at his house this Saturday."
"That's fine. I like him. He's nice to me."
"That's because you're an upstanding girl."
"Well, I tried to be down-sitting, but it just wasn't comfortable."
"Mmm. What time does your class get out tonight?"
"Nine-thirty."
"Oh yeah. That's late."
"Too late?"
"No. I'll see you later."
"Okay, bye."
"Bye."
2.13: April 17, 2015
Tristan and Rory walked down the sidewalk hand in hand, Mark and Hannah were a few strides ahead of them. They were taking a stroll through the city, working off their dinner.
"Ooh, ice cream!" Rory said happily, trying to hold Tristan back.
The couple in front of them stopped and turned back.
"Do you guys want some?" Tristan asked.
"Uh, no," Mark answered hastily. Then he looked at his girlfriend. "Oh, I mean, did you want some?"
"No, I'm fine," she answered.
"We're uh, going to keep going," Mark said, pointing down the sidewalk.
Tristan stared at him a moment. "Okay." Then he turned to Rory. "You won't be satisfied until you've succumbed to a diabetic coma, will you?"
"I will never be satisfied," she said with a smile and a glint in her eye.
Tristan just grinned a little and ordered them two ice cream cones at the open window. When they had their dessert, they continued down the sidewalk. But after a few steps, Tristan held his arm out in front of Rory to stop her.
"Whoa," she said. Her ice cream hit his arm and she licked it off.
He looked at her and then to his ice cream with brows furrowed. "Noted."
"Why did you do that?"
He silently nodded ahead in response.
Rory looked in the indicated direction and gasped. "Oh my God." She saw Mark on one knee in front of Hannah. He was pulling a small box out of his pocket. Rory quickly looked at Tristan. "Is he—"
"Looks like it."
"Did you know he was going to do that?"
"Not tonight. With us here."
"But you knew he was going to ask her?"
"Well, he had an open ring box sitting on his desk one day last week. He was just staring at it," Tristan explained. "And I didn't think it was for me. So yeah, I had an idea."
"Wow. I've never seen someone get proposed to before." Tristan frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it and shook his head. "I'm nervous for him. Were you nervous for him?" Rory asked.
"No."
"Why not? You're supposed to have empathy."
"I have empathy. I just don't get vicariously nervous for other people."
"Still, that's a big thing to ask someone. It has to be nerve wracking for a guy to put himself out there like that."
Tristan glanced at Rory and nodded. "Yeah, probably." He looked back over to his partner. "But she looks happy, she's smiling. That's a good sign, right? She'll probably say yes." Rory thought about it a moment while she looked at the couple in front of them, then she smiled a little contemplatively. "Yeah. She probably will."
They watched as Hannah nodded and Mark smiled up at her. He put the ring on her finger and stood up to hug her.
"See? He didn't have anything to worry about," Tristan reasoned.
The other couple walked back to Tristan and Rory.
"Look!" Hannah said, beaming as she held her left hand forward.
"Congratulations," Rory said and Tristan shook Mark's hand.
"We have to celebrate," Mark said happily.
"I could go for some ice cream now," Hannah said.
Tristan looked to Rory. "I guess you're ready for more?"
She smiled at him. "Well, we don't want to be rude, we're celebrating here. I'll have chocolate this time."
2.14: May 16, 2015
Rory was sitting at a table at Luke's with her mother and little brother one Saturday afternoon, when Tristan walked in and slunk in the chair next to her. He rested his forehead in his arms.
"How was it?" Rory asked. "Did you get the high score?"
"It's golf," Tristan answered.
"So?"
"So, you want a low score in golf."
"Oh. Did you get a low score then?"
"I did okay."
"What's wrong with him?" Luke asked when he came over to their table. He sat plates of food in front of the two women and his son.
"He just got back from golfing at the club with his grandfather," Rory answered.
"And my father," Lorelai added.
"Your father?" Luke asked.
"My father. You've met him. Tall. Bow tie."
"I know who your father is."
"Well, just checking."
"I'm sorry," Luke said to Tristan sympathetically.
"It's his own fault," Rory said. "The stork left him on the doorstep of rich people. Now he has to hang out with them sometimes."
"Do you want some coffee?" Luke asked.
"Yes," Lorelai said eagerly.
"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to him."
Tristan propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. "I'll have some coffee. Thanks."
"What? No lecture about how bad it is?" Lorelai protested. "At least tell him that it will stunt his growth. Or that caffeine is a gateway drug."
"He was golfing with your father. He can have whatever he wants," Luke said before walking back to the counter.
"You should definitely milk this," Lorelai recommended.
"You didn't have to agree to go, you know. If you didn't want to," Rory said.
"I didn't have a choice. It was Grandpa's idea. You know he's blackmailing me."
"Don't you think that's a little dramatic?"
"Not at all. Oh, and speaking of rich people's doorsteps, my dad was there."
"At the club?"
"Yeah."
"Was he invited, too?"
Tristan shook his head. "No. He was there with the other partners from his firm."
"Did you talk to him?"
"Briefly. We were basically two ships passing in the night."
"How did that go?"
"We both escaped unscathed."
"So your gun was under the seat in your car?"
"Yes. We exchanged hellos. It wasn't too upsetting. Actually, the worst part of the whole day was me."
"What do you mean?" Rory asked.
"All morning I just kept saying things like, 'I can take a look at those papers for you, Richard. It's no trouble at all.' Plus, I kept calling him sir. I hate myself a little," Tristan complained. "And the whole time, Grandpa was shooting me these smug looks."
"Why?" Lorelai asked.
"I don't know. He was probably thinking, 'See? Good thing I told you to finish law school.'" Tristan snapped his finger. "That's it!"
"What's it?" Rory asked.
"That's why he's doing it."
"Doing what?"
"Blackmailing me. I don't owe him anymore for that last year of law school. He waited until I was finished paying him back. Now he has this to hang over my head. I'm completely at his mercy."
"Oh I see," Lorelai said. "One false move and he'll tell Mom and Dad that you were doinking their granddaughter for months without them knowing."
"Mm-hmm," Tristan confirmed.
Rory made a face. "Please don't say doink."
"I'll have to agree to every weekend golf outing for the rest of my life," Tristan said. "Or the rest of his life. Unless he outlives me. And he might try."
"Maybe you have to go," Rory reasoned. "But you don't have to suck up to my Grandpa. He already likes you."
"I know. But once I got started I couldn't stop myself."
Luke came back then with a mug for Tristan. "Do you want something to eat?" he asked as he poured coffee.
"No. I had lunch at the club."
"Did you go for a steam, too?" Rory asked with a smile. "It's a good way to release your toxins."
"I draw the line at the sauna," Tristan answered grimly.
"It's good to have boundaries," she said, patting him on the arm comfortingly.
2.15: July 9, 2015
Rory ripped off a piece of Scotch tape and carefully placed it on the wrapped box in front of her. Her cell phone rang from the coffee table, so she reached over to grab it.
"Hello?"
"Hey, are you busy?" Lorelai asked.
"Just a little."
"So the 5-0 is at the door and you don't have all the drugs flushed down the toilet yet?"
"Uh, no," Rory said slowly. "Tristan isn't here, either. If that's what you were really asking."
"Yeah, I was having some fun. So what are you doing?"
"Wrapping his present. His birthday is this Monday."
"Oh, cool."
"Yeah, I had to kick him out so I could get stuff ready. I told him I was studying."
"You really shouldn't lie to the police. It ruins your credibility."
"Well I needed him to get out for a little while. And I do have a test tonight," Rory said. "He has a class to go to over at John Jay tonight, anyway."
"He's taking a class?"
"Yeah. It's a summer course."
"Well that makes sense. I'm sure Harvard and Yale left some gaps to be filled."
"Quite understandable."
"Did your academic aspirations inspire him to continue his education?"
"No. He was just bored on the nights that I went to school. In fact, he picked a class based on what nights of the week it meets, not the subject."
"So, you always make him leave when you study, then?"
"No. He usually occupies himself without distracting me too much. But you know what? I'm not a good liar. I wonder why he didn't call me out on it tonight," Rory mused. She thought for a moment. "What did you call for?"
"To talk to you."
"About anything specific?"
"Not really. I just wanted to chat," Lorelai said. "So let's chat. What do you have planned for Tristan's birthday?"
"Why do you want to know?" Rory asked suspiciously.
"I'm just curious."
"About a birthday that isn't your own?"
"Yes."
Rory paused for a moment. "How long ago did he text you?"
"What?"
"How long ago did Tristan text you?" she asked evenly.
"What makes you think he texted me?"
"Because I got him to leave ten minutes ago. And then you called."
"Can't I just call my daughter?"
"Usually. Just not right now."
"Well, it's just a weird coincidence. Why would your boyfriend be texting me?"
"Because the two of you are evidently kindred spirits or something. And that's all fine . . . and weird. But did he want you to find out what I'm doing for his birthday?"
"Maybe."
"I cannot believe you! Or him! He's going to pay for this."
"Can I make a suggestion in that department?"
"Shoot."
"Are you going to dinner Monday night?"
"Yes."
"Have the wait staff come out and sing to him."
"Good idea. He'll hate that," Rory said.
"Yeah, Luke always hates it. It's why he refuses to go out to eat when it's his birthday."
"And I'm definitely going to spring for a cake delivered to the precinct. First thing in the morning—during the briefing. So everyone sees."
"Oh, and make sure there are candles on the cake."
"One for all of his thirty-one years. I like your thinking. I should withhold his present, too."
"Yeah, make him request a subpoena for it."
"Yes!" Rory stopped and paused a moment in thought. "I don't want to make him too mad, though. It will be his birthday after all."
"No worries. You can forgo underwear when you go to dinner. Maybe let him in on the secret after the singing waiters go back into the kitchen. Then he'll forget about it all."
"That's just the advice I wanted to hear from my mother."
"You had to hear it from someone."
