Part 2

3.8: September 24, 2015

Rory was checking herself out in a full length mirror in Lucy and Olivia's apartment a week later. She twisted at her waist a little so the bottom of the dress she was wearing swished just below her knees. She was about to exchange the dress for her regular clothes when her cell phone rang from Lucy's dresser.

She took a step over to pick it up. "Hello?" she answered as she sat down at the edge of the bed.

"Hello," Tristan said. "How are you this evening?"

"Fine."

"And your feet?" he asked. "How are they?"

"My feet?" she asked with a frown. She straightened her legs out so she could see her feet. Then she caught on to his meaning and put her legs down. "Oh, they're fine too. Nice and toasty."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Because if they're at all cold, I can get you some wool socks."

"No need, they're just fine. How are you?"

"Fantastic. But I need your opinion."

"Okay, about what?"

"I have this thing to go to tomorrow and I'm not sure what to wear."

Rory smiled. "All right, well, is it business or casual?"

"Casual—I believe."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Maybe you should rethink that," Rory said while she traced some of the lace designs on her dress. "Just to be safe, I think you should wear a suit and tie."

"That works. I was going to wear that anyway."

Rory paused briefly before asking, "You did ask for the day off, right?"

Tristan hesitated. "Well, I'd already asked for vacation time next week. And I was going to be leaving early to make our flight, so . . ."

"So, what?" she asked evenly. "You didn't?"

"I just have to go in for a little while. You won't even notice."

Rory shook her head. "I can't believe you," she said flatly. "You better not be late."

"Hey, if someone's getting warned, it should be you."

"Why?"

"If you run, I will find you. I have the resources to conduct a manhunt . . . or woman-hunt. You can't hide from me."

"Noted," Rory said. "Did you and Mark go out for a drink after work?"

"Yes."

"Did he know why you extended the invitation?"

"He did not," Tristan answered. "He'll find out tomorrow. With the others."

"If you'd told him why you were going out, you could have gone to a strip club."

"I was already at one recently. For work, remember?"

"I do. But if you went for pleasure, you could have made it rain this time," she said with a grin.

He commented dryly, "I don't know, being backstage really takes the magic out of things."

"I see. So," Rory said, "where are we eating tomorrow? You forgot to tell me."

"I didn't forget. You'll see. And don't worry, you're going to love it."

"I could love it more and for a longer period of time if you just tell me now."

"Sure, sure. Come on over here and I'll whisper it in your ear," he said in a low voice. "I bet you could get it out of me if you really put in some honest effort."

She sighed. "I guess I can wait until tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Because I'm all alone here."

"Not for long," she said. "Are you packed?"

"Mostly."

"Well, I'll let you get to that. I need to take my dress off anyway and try to get some sleep."

"Dress?" he inquired.

"Yup."

Tristan quickly asked, "Do you need help taking it off?"

"Tomorrow I might," she answered. "I will see you at noon. I'll be the one in white."

3.9: The Wedding Day

Tristan parallel parked his car on the street and got out. His partner followed, but didn't know why they'd stopped. "What are we doing here?" Mark asked, looking around at the farmer's market.

"Running an errand," Tristan answered, walking up to a stand with an array of colorful fresh flowers. He picked up a few red roses to examine closer. "What do you think of these?" he asked.

"Not really my type."

"They aren't for you."

"Then why ask me?"

"Good point," Tristan said, setting the roses down. Instead, he picked out some calla lilies in shades of dark orange and white. "This is better. Fall colors, right?"

Mark shrugged. "Sure," he said indifferently.

Tristan handed over the flowers to the vendor so they could be tied together and the stems could be trimmed. He paid for the bouquet before he and Mark headed back to his car.

NNNNNNN

Meanwhile, Rory stepped out of a yellow taxi cab and pulled out a black garment bag with her. She turned to meet her and Tristan's grandparents on the steps of the New York City courthouse. She smiled at them and hugged her grandmother with one arm in greeting.

"I'm so glad you guys could make it for lunch today," Rory told them all.

"Are we just waiting for Tristan then?" Richard asked.

"Sort of. I mean, we are waiting for him," Rory answered hastily.

Emily asked, "Is he in court today?" She glanced toward the building as she said it.

"Not exactly," Rory answered. "This is just where we decided to meet. And we're not only waiting for Tristan. Mom and Luke are coming too. Plus Dad—and Lane."

"It's going to be a rather large group for lunch then, isn't it?" Janlen asked.

"Yeah, it'll be a decent sized gathering," Rory admitted, as her eyes nervously darted around, scanning the street.

In a concerned voice, Emily said, "I thought we were going to discuss the engagement party and wedding details. I brought the tiara you wanted to try on."

"Thanks. And I'm sure we'll discuss the wedding," Rory said, taking the sparkly tiara and biting her lip as she glanced around some more. She felt somewhat relieved when she saw her mother and Luke approaching them.

"Hi guys," Lorelai said in greeting. Luke exchanged pleasantries as well, before she told Rory, "Sookie made you a cake."

"Really?" Rory asked with a smile. She looked from her mother's empty hands to Luke's—also empty. "Where is it?"

"I can't say," Lorelai answered, somewhat apologetically.

Rory's shoulders dropped in disappointment.

"Hey, I can't help it. I'm under a gag order here." Lorelai pointed to the garment bag. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, let's go in." Rory told the others, "We'll be right back. Just wait here."

"What's going on, girls?" Richard asked with a frown.

"We'll be right back," she repeated over her shoulder as she and Lorelai started up the stairs.

NNNNNNN

"Why are we at court?" Mark asked, looking up at the impressive building his partner had just parked next to.

"Because there's something I have to do," Tristan told him as he opened his car door. "Come on."

"Is there anything on your to-do list today that's work related?"

"Just get out," Tristan said. He took off the blue shirt he was wearing and traded it for a crisp white one that was hanging behind his seat. Then he put his suit jacket back on and removed his gun, indicating that Mark needed to do the same. He checked his jacket pocket, picked up the bouquet of flowers from the backseat, and headed for the courthouse entrance.

"Come on. I'm late," Tristan said. He shook his head and muttered under his breath, "She specifically told me to be on time."

"Late for what?" Mark asked at his side.

"Stop asking so many questions."

NNNNNNN

Lorelai and Rory came back outside and rejoined their group. Rory was wearing a dress, the lacy bottom of which ruffled against her legs in the early autumn breeze. She also had the tiara her grandmother had just loaned her affixed in her up do.

"Who are we still waiting for?" Lorelai asked, noting that Christopher and Lane had arrived while she and Rory were inside.

Rory scanned the small crowd. "Oh, just Tristan." She didn't have anything to check the time. "Is he late?"

"I'm sure he'll make it. Probably," Lorelai reasoned.

Emily noticed that the girls had returned and asked, "Rory, what on earth are you wearing?"

"A dress," Rory answered vaguely as she kept her eyes peeled.

"I see that," Emily went on. "It's a white dress."

"It looks amazing, Lorelai," Lane complimented, beaming at her best friend.

"Aw, thanks," Lorelai said. "And don't worry Mom. Loads of people wear white after Labor Day. It's a little rebellious, but that's the word that comes to mind when I think of Rory."

"There he is," Rory said, nodding towards her betrothed and his partner, who were walking in their direction.

They reached her after a few seconds. "Hi," Tristan greeted her. He scanned her up and down. "You look nice today. Just like Audrey Hepburn."

She pointedly grabbed his wrist and moved his sleeve back enough to see his watch. Then she turned stern eyes on him. "Some people took the day off to ensure that they'd get here on time."

"What were you going to do? Start without me?" he asked. "I had to stop to get these." He handed her the bouquet of flowers.

She looked down at them and smiled a little as she lifted her gaze back to him. "I see you opted for no tie."

He shrugged. "Casual Friday."

"I'm glad this day is so important to you," she said dryly. "I sure hope this little excursion isn't disrupting your day too much."

He grinned a little and shook his head. "Not at all."

She held her hand out to her mother, who took a new tie out of Rory's purse. She took it and lifted Tristan's collar.

As she went to work on the tie, Emily was taking in the scene with a growing sense of panic. "Really, what is this about?" she demanded of the couple. "What's going on here?"

"We're going to lunch. We just have to go in there first," Rory answered, tilting her head toward the courthouse.

"Why?"

Rory secured Tristan's tie and put his collar back down. Then she exhaled determinedly before turning to her grandmother to answer, "To get married."

"Married?" Emily asked, horrified.

Richard and Janlen both turned to them in surprise.

"We're eloping—sort of," Rory said as she took the bouquet from Tristan.

Mark looked sharply at Tristan. "What?"

He shrugged. "I'm very persuasive."

"You can't get married here," Emily said adamantly. "This is a courthouse. I expect this sort of thing from your mother, but not from you."

"I'm standing right here," Lorelai dryly pointed out.

"What will people think?" Emily asked. "I know what they'll think." Her eyes flashed to Tristan accusingly.

"Grandma," Rory interrupted calmly. "We just feel like getting married today. I know you would have given us a beautiful wedding. But don't you want me to be married when it's all over?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, then, he's going to need to be there," Rory said, pointing to Tristan as she said it. "I'm not so sure he'd show up to a big lavish wedding."

"She has a point, Emily," Janlen said grimly. "He's become quite ornery over the years."

"I'm standing right here," Tristan said.

Emily shot him a disgruntled look. She suddenly appeared less than thrilled about him marrying her granddaughter.

Lorelai jumped in, "I'm sure you would have given Will and Kate a run for their money. But as a compromise, Rory and Tristan can stand from a balcony and wave at the guests during the party you're throwing them."

"Don't joke about this, Lorelai," Emily said tersely. She turned her attention back to Rory. "This isn't how you do these things. Your wedding is supposed to be elegant, and proper. This won't be."

"It'll be legal," Tristan commented. "If that counts for anything." Emily glared at him again. "Apparently it doesn't," he conceded before he looked away.

Rory addressed her grandmother in earnest, "This is what we want to do. There won't be a big fuss and it'll be intimate." She used her best pleading voice and added, "I know it's a lot smaller than you pictured, but I still want you all to be here for it."

Christopher commented, "I'm just happy to get invited to an elopement."

Tristan muttered to Mark, "She doesn't really understand the concept of eloping."

"I hate you," Mark said sourly, shaking his head.

Feeling the need to put his two cents in, Richard told his wife, "I think this is a perfectly fine way to do things."

Emily, feeling like she was being outvoted, dismally said, "I'm not at all dressed for a wedding."

"What are you talking about?" Richard asked. "You look wonderful, as always."

"I concur," Janlen said in a charming tone.

"So can we go do this?" Tristan asked. "I'm getting hungry."

Rory glanced at him wearily.

He quickly said, "I mean, I want to get started on the matrimonial bliss. And you're starting to get that look in your eye that says you're coming to your senses."

She shook her head a little, but said, "The judge is probably waiting." She took Tristan's hand and headed up the stairs for a second time. Most of their guests followed, but Lorelai turned to Emily, who watched helplessly. A couple steps above her, Richard turned back as well.

"Come on, Mom," Lorelai said gently. She linked her arm with her mother's. "Rory is getting married. I know you don't want to miss that."

Emily nodded slowly and the two women headed up the stairs, Richard following behind them.

NNNNNNN

A half an hour later, the newly married couple was in Tristan's car as he came to a stop and took the key out of the ignition.

From the passenger side seat, Rory asked, "We're here?"

"What tipped you off?"

"We aren't moving. And we weren't driving very long, so we're probably still in Manhattan."

He leaned over closer to her. "You are such a good investigator. And you're right, we're in Midtown."

"Are we at your apartment?" she asked accusingly. "Because when we get to lunch last, everyone will know why."

"We aren't. But that doesn't sound like a horrible idea, and we aren't far."

"No, I want to know where we are. Can I open my eyes yet?"

"Just a minute," he answered. He traced the edge of her lacy off the shoulder sleeves. "Are you chilly in this pretty little dress?"

"Slightly. But back to my eyes, can I open them?"

"Hold on, don't move," Tristan replied before he got out and walked around to her side. He opened her door and helped her out. He removed his jacket and put it around her shoulders. After she put her arms through the sleeves, he led her down the sidewalk.

When they stopped, he took her hand and brushed her fingers along his lips. "Now, on the off chance that you don't like where we are, it isn't really grounds for divorce. Just so you know."

She nodded her head. "Got it."

"All right, open your eyes."

She did as she was told and looked up at an historic building that occupied two city blocks of Fifth Avenue. Two imposing stone lions sat guarding the building at each side of the stairway and columns adorned the grand entrance.

"We're at the library," she observed.

"Astute as always, Doll Face."

She looked at him, perplexed, but then eagerly asked, "Do you think I need more books to take on vacation?"

He shook his head. "I don't even know what you plan to do with the ones you packed."

"Read them of course." She looked up at the building again. "So why are we here?"

"For lunch," he explained. "I thought you knew where we were going."

"But we're at the library," she argued.

"I know. I arranged it."

"We're eating at the library?"

"We are," he answered. "You wanted your friends here today. And if I remember correctly, books were your friends when those snobby rich kids at your new school were mean to you."

"Those kids were so mean," she agreed.

"I hope you don't have any fines though," he said. "You can get arrested for that. I mean, I wouldn't be the one to do it, but it could happen. It wasn't just the plot point of an episode of Seinfeld."

She looked at the building again and back to Tristan. A smile spread across her face and she excitedly asked, "Our wedding reception is at the library?"

"Yup."

She inhaled dramatically. "You do love me."

He grinned and shrugged modestly.

She smiled at him and lifted herself on her toes so she could meet him for a kiss.

When she pulled away, he tugged on her hand and said, "Come on. I got us the room where they keep all the maps."

NNNNNNN

"It's funny, really," Paris said later, as they enjoyed the wedding cake, "that while Rory told me that I could do better than Tristan, she could not."

The guests wore perplexed expressions. Mark grinned a little and chuckled inaudibly at the story. He was a few chairs away from Paris and Doyle, at the table designated for friends.

"Thanks . . . Paris," Tristan said from a small table for two. He tilted his head closer to Rory. "Why did we invite Paris again?"

"She's our mutual friend?" she answered. She cringed a little. "Sorry."

From the family table, Janlen inquired, "Now why would Rory ever say a thing like that?" He raised a brow pointedly at this grandson.

"Uh, I'm ornery, remember?" Tristan answered.

Lorelai got her daughter's attention and said, "You know, I'd really like to hear the story about how you two met." She had a mischievous glint in her eye.

Rory regarded her mother wearily. "It was at Chilton, remember?"

"You know that, Lorelai," Emily said. "Weren't you listening to Paris just now?"

Lorelai shook her head. "No, not that time. I want to know about the other time they met."

Neither Tristan nor Rory said anything at first, as eyes turned to them expectantly. Tristan tried to be vague, "It was at—the thing."

At the same time, Rory said, "The party."

"I wouldn't call a crime scene a party," Lucy commented.

At her side, Mark shook his head, "It wasn't. I was there."

"What are you talking about?" Emily asked them. "It was last year. I introduced them at a party at our house."

"Huh," Mark said, amused.

Lorelai shook her head at her mother. "Rory didn't need to be introduced to any eligible bachelors. She already had one."

"Well he must not have been anything special," Richard scoffed. "She started dating Tristan soon after the party."

"Actually," Rory interjected. "It was Tristan. He was already my boyfriend when Grandma introduced us."

With knit brows, Emily asked, "What do you mean?"

Rory explained the true story to the last two people who didn't know, "I reported on a homicide that Tristan was investigating almost two years ago. We'd been dating for months before the party."

"Was that some sort of secret?" Olivia asked, perplexed. "I thought it was kind of obvious. He came over all the time."

"They thought they were sneaky," Mark explained. "Except I think they used the word discreet."

Emily frowned. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Well," Rory said guiltily, "as a beat reporter, I'm really not supposed to get too close to sources." She grabbed Tristan's wrist and held it up with her left hand, showing both of their wedding rings. "I think this is the definition of too close."

"Still," her grandmother continued. "It was rude of us to not have him over for dinner."

"I didn't want you to freak him out," Rory protested.

"How would we do that?" Emily asked, offended by the suggestion.

"You'd probably ask him if he likes kids."

"I don't see anything wrong with that question," Emily said before shooting Tristan an expectant look that only Emily Gilmore could.

His eyes widened slightly. "Oh, uh, do you want, like, a number?" he asked. After a second, he answered, "Ten."

Rory looked at him sharply. "Ten what?"

He turned to look at her. "Kids. Ten kids. Preferably boys, like me."

She snorted. "You must be having most of those with your second wife."

He just shot her a grin.

"Well," Richard said resolutely, "they're married now, so all's well that ends well."

As they finished their cake, a server came around and started placing bowl-like mugs in front of everyone, starting with the bride and groom.

Rory picked hers up and held it in front of Tristan. "Is there going to be a soup course?"

He shook his head. "No, but there's going to be a coffee course."

She smiled. "This is gigantic. It'll hold a lot of coffee."

"I know," he said.

She glanced over at her parents. "Luke won't like it."

"Since I didn't marry Luke, I'm not really in the business of keeping him happy," Tristan reasoned. "So, I did well?"

She nodded and smiled again. "You did really well," she said and rewarded him with a kiss.

Mark stood then and walked over to Tristan and Rory's table. "I have to get back to work. I assume you're staying?"

Tristan glanced at Rory. "I think that would be wise."

She considered him for a moment. "You should go with him."

He raised a brow. "Trying to get rid of me already? That didn't take long."

She shook her head. "And here you had me convinced that you know me."

"I don't'?"

She deadpanned, "You brought me to one of the biggest libraries in the country and they're about to serve me a bowl full of coffee. I'm going to be here for a couple hours, at least. You might as well go squeeze in a little work before we have to be at the airport."

He didn't say anything at first, as he mulled this over. "Is this some kind of test?"

"No," she answered. She pulled on his tie to force him to come closer. When her lips brushed his ear, she whispered, "But if you aren't back by three o'clock, I'll catch a cab and go change out of my pretty little dress all by myself."

Tristan pulled away enough to look at her and shook his head. "I won't be late," he promised before he gave her a kiss. Then he stood to follow his partner.

Rory watched him go before she sat back in her chair to enjoy the large mug of coffee she'd just been poured.

3.10: October 4, 2015

Tristan and Rory walked down the hall with their luggage and stopped in front of the familiar door. Tristan sighed tiredly as he took his keys out of his pocket. Before he unlocked the door though, he paused and commented, "You know what we should get for the door?"

"What?" Rory asked, wishing he'd just open it so she could lay down for a nap.

"A sign," Tristan answered, spreading his hands out in front of him, envisioning said sign.

"What would it say? Do not disturb?"

He shook his head with a faint smile at her suggestion. "You know how, in olden times, people would be from the house of this or that? Like York—the House of York."

Rory shrugged. "Sure."

"We should get a sign for the door that says 'House of DuGrey'. That way, everyone would know."

She gave him a sidelong glance as she considered the idea. "There aren't many people who come up here. Those who do, already know who lives where," she argued. "Plus, you prefer to keep a low profile. Why would you want to advertise where we live? It seems counterproductive to all your prior efforts."

Tristan furrowed his brows ruefully. "You just have to ruin my fun, don't you?"

She shrugged again. "I think it's my job now."

"Hmm," he muttered as he proceeded to unlock the door. When he opened it, Rory started to grab her suitcase handle, but Tristan stopped her. "Wait, we're supposed to do something silly here." He lifted her off the ground and turned to his side so she wouldn't hit her head on the door frame. After he'd stepped into the apartment, he set her back down on her feet.

He turned to pull their luggage in as Rory turned on the light. "Whoa," she said as she looked around their refurbished home. "There's a dining room now," she said, observing the open room to her left. A long table with a large floral arrangement sat in front of a china cabinet. Frowning, she said, "I wonder where the laundry room is now."

Tristan sat their bags down and looked around too. "They kept the wall," he said, referring to the living room as he went over to inspect a new fireplace.

Skipping over the kitchen—which did have shiny new stainless steel appliances, Rory stopped near the hallway to admire a lighted aquarium that was built into the wall where two goldfish swam. "They sure have moved on up to the east side," she commented as her eyes followed one of the fish.

Tristan glanced over to her. "Emily must not know they get replaced after you kill them."

His wife shot him an indignant look. "I don't kill them! They die of natural causes."

"A likely story," he said as he walked over to join her. "You're just lucky I don't have the time to investigate further."

Rory shook her head and said, "Come on. Let's go look at the rest."

Tristan followed her and they stopped to peek into the bedroom on the right, but it didn't appear to be the master bedroom anymore. Instead, the guest room furniture had migrated there. And to their left, the wall had been knocked out, leaving an opening.

"Wow," she said, eyes widening at the sight of an unexpected addition. "Do we have an upstairs?" she asked, indicating the staircase that wrapped along the wall where the back wall of the guest bedroom used to be.

"Are you asking for my professional opinion? Because a second floor would be my only deduction," Tristan answered as he looked all around them at the remodeled space.

Shelves full of books lined the walls and a desk now sat in a nook under the stairs. What used to be a guest bedroom had been transformed into a study. Tristan went over to a second desk where a closet used to be and nodded at it. "I think this one is yours."

Rory stepped over to his side, asking, "How can you tell?"

He pointed at two framed diplomas above the desk.

"Oh. Well, in that case," she said as she went over to the desk under the stairs, "this one must be yours."

Tristan glanced over and frowned. "I didn't even know where those were."

Rory looked at him like he was mildly crazy. "You didn't know where your diplomas were?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "No, why?"

She pointed at the diploma that had Yale University written across the top. "You didn't know where your diploma for law school was?" she asked in disbelief.

Tristan tilted his head and tapped it with his index finger a couple times. "It's all up here. I don't need a piece of paper to remind me."

Rory shook her head and turned to look at the full shelves. A large portion of the books were hers, though there was a section that held Tristan's legal books, as well.

Tristan went to examine the fine mahogany wood of the banister, and Rory came over to join him. She looked up at the stairs, covered in cream colored carpet. "What do you think is up there?" she asked.

"There's only one way to find out," he said as he started up the stairs. When they'd reached the top, they flipped a light switch and looked down a hallway. "I found the laundry room," he commented, peeking into the room on his right.

Across from it, Rory looked into an empty bedroom. They proceeded down the hall and turned the lights on to find another empty room and the apartment's second bathroom. They were left with one room when they'd reached the end of the hallway.

"There'd better be a bed in this one," Tristan complained as he turned on the light. There was a bed. It was brand new, and it had a welcoming deep blue comforter and pile of decorative pillows in monochromatic shades of blue.

Tristan sat down at the end of the bed and fell back with his legs hanging off. He sighed in contentment, having reached the destination he'd been dreaming about for hours.

Rory, however, continued the investigation. "Oh yeah, this is much better," she said, observing a large walk-in closet that already held all of their clothes. She walked back out and checked out a fireplace that occupied the wall to the right of the bed. On the opposite wall, there was a large window and a place to sit, cushion and pillows ready. She imagined sitting there with a book on sunny days. Or rainy days—she wasn't picky. It was always a good day to curl up with a good book.

From his place on the bed and with eyes closed, Tristan said, "Come lay down. We're tired, remember?"

But Rory wasn't finished inspecting the last room of the tour. "There's a big bathtub in here," she said in amazement, pointing to the room as she came back out to the bedroom. "And it has jets."

"Great," he said without opening his eyes or getting up to take a look.

Rory went over to a vanity, where she found an important looking document. "What's this?" she asked, taking it over to Tristan and sitting next to him.

He grudgingly sat up and took the papers that were stapled together. He skimmed through it. "It's the deed to the building." He flipped to the last page. "It's ours."

"What's ours?" she asked with knit brows.

"The building."

"The building is ours? The whole building?" She took the deed back and looked where Tristan had indicated, showing that the building had been transferred to their names. "The building is ours," she stated. "Is it a gift from Grandpa and Grandma?"

"I heard whisperings," Tristan said. "When we had lunch at the library. Some people—relatives of ours—wanted to buy it for us. They tend to get extravagant when giving gifts. They may have even argued about it a little. No one got to pay for a big wedding, after all."

"Who won?" she asked.

He tried to think a week back. "It may have ended up being a joint venture."

"And you're okay with that?" she asked doubtfully.

He shrugged. "Sure. We can buy another house somewhere else."

"A second home?"

He nodded as his answer.

"Where?"

"Wherever we want," he said as he sat the deed back on the vanity and returned to the bed, again lying down in his previous position.

"You're not afraid of random family members popping in unannounced?" Rory asked, considering that the possibility was a real threat now.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Tristan answered. "I'm getting all the locks changed first thing tomorrow."

3.11: October 2, 2015

Tristan was at the precinct, stalling before heading out for the weekend. He held his phone to his ear and was listening to the ringing as he waited.

"DuGrey," Rory answered.

He grinned at the greeting and said, "Oh hey, me too."

"Maybe we're related."

"In that case, my daydreams are pretty messed up," he said. "I have a question."

"And I have an answer," Rory said. "No."

Tristan turned a palm up in protest. "You didn't even wait to hear the question."

On the other end, she said, "I already know what it is. And I know the answer is no. Now get a move on. You need to come home and get ready."

Tristan leaned back in his chair and conceded saying, "Fine, I just have to do one thing first."

"Then hurry up and do it."

"Okay, I have to ask, can we get out of this thing?"

Rory sighed. "I'm hanging up now. Walk down to your car and head home."

"You're so bossy," he complained before disconnecting. Since getting out of the party wasn't an option, he turned his attention to the mess on his desk and started to get it cleared off before he left.

At the desk across from him, Mark looked over and asked, "Hey, so what should I wear to this thing tonight?"

"That's a judgment call you're going to have to make," Tristan said, barely glancing at his partner. "Clothes would be preferable."

"But this isn't just some party."

"Yes it is," he argued.

"Not for ordinary people," Mark pressed on. He waved the formal invitation with the elegant font. "There will be important people there."

Tristan shook his head, slightly amused as he opened his top drawer and swept a few writing utensils into it. "No there won't."

Mark countered, "They'll be rich."

"Rich doesn't mean important," Tristan said. Then he added quickly, "But don't tell them that. They just have money. It's not like the president will be there. But I can't speak for any former presidents."

"Please tell me you're joking."

"I probably am," Tristan said. "Just wear a suit and tie. Tuck in your shirt. Keep your overalls at home, Farmer John."

"You think all of Kansas is a farm, don't you?" Mark said dryly.

Tristan shrugged and answered, "Isn't it?" Mark shook his head at his partner's—hopefully feigned—ignorance. "Seriously, you aren't obligated to go to this thing," Tristan said, stacking up the last of the papers on his desk. He stood and grabbed the suit jacket from the back of his chair. As he put it on he added, "You should really take advantage of that."

Mark shook his head. "No, Hannah's been out shopping for a dress as soon as we got the invitation. She's really excited about it."

"Then she's the only one," Tristan said before he headed out of the squad room.

NNNNNN

Later that evening, Rory was gawking around at the remaining guests, her eyes narrowing when she found who she was looking for. Off in a corner of the banquet hall, her husband was talking with his mother-in-law. Each held a half full glass tumbler as they talked.

When Rory saw them smile and laugh, she muttered, "That's never good." She headed in their direction, weaving through the groups of guests. Before she reached them, she noticed that they were paying too much attention to a set of stairs at the opposite end of the large room.

When she was in front of them, they both looked up at her. Tristan assessed her with a quick once over. "Hi, you look pretty."

"Very pretty," Lorelai agreed with a nod. She tilted her head toward Tristan and added, "She gets her good looks from me."

"It hasn't gone unnoticed," he said. They clinked their glasses before taking a sip of their beverages.

Rory's face expressed her distaste at the two and she shook her head. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Collectively? Or as individuals?" he asked. "Because I can only speak for myself. I've had just enough to make the evening bearable."

"Did the Harvard theater department know about you? Because you have some serious dramatic talent that's been wasted," Rory told him. "What are you guys doing over here anyway?"

Lorelai answered, "Just chatting."

Rory crossed her arms. "Really? About what? You seemed especially interested in the staircase."

"We were appreciating the architecture," Lorelai supplied, "I've always felt that buildings with second stories are more mysterious. You know, because we're down here and we only get to see the boring first floor stuff. But the second floor is full of secrets. As a person who lives in a two story home and runs a two story inn, I'm very interested in the allure."

"Of an upstairs?" Rory asked dubiously.

"Yes."

Rory turned to Tristan. "Is that your excuse too?"

Without hesitation he shook his head and replied, "Oh no. I was trying to figure out an escape plan. And don't worry, I was going to run it by you first."

"This is our party," Rory said. "We should be working the room."

"Working the room?" Lorelai asked Rory with a raised brow. "Are you running for office?" She thought for a beat and added, "Actually, you probably raked in some hefty donations tonight."

"Which is why we should mingle with the people who were so generous," Rory reasoned.

"Look around," Tristan told her. "Whose guests are still here?"

Rory did glance around at the people interspersed among the tables.

Lorelai answered for her, "Those are Richard and Emily's guests."

Tristan nodded in agreement. "And Janlen's. Our guests already left—an hour ago."

Lorelai waved for Rory to come closer. "Why don't you just stay with us?"

Rory bit her lip. "Grandma will be upset if we spend our time talking to you."

"I'd be insulted if it weren't so true," Lorelai said. "Even still, you want to stay here, where it's fun."

Not wanting to take her own recommendation to mingle, Rory sighed and stopped arguing. "Fine. But if Grandma comes looking for us—"

"She'll correctly assume that we lured you over to the dark side," Lorelai interjected.

3.12: December 19, 2015

"So," Rory whispered to Tristan, who draped his arm on the pew behind his wife to lean in closer. "How exactly did you get out of being a groomsman?"

He glanced up to the front of the church to watch his tuxedo-clad partner and three of his relatives take their places in front of the altar. Tristan turned back to whisper in her ear. "Mark and Hannah felt sorry for me."

"Why?" Rory asked, eyebrows screwed up in confusion.

He paused before answering, so they could watch a bridesmaid wearing a long red dress and carrying a bouquet of white roses walked past their pew. "I accidently humiliated myself in front of you."

"What? When?"

Tristan nodded and continued, "I lost control of myself and gave you a plastic ring."

"Oh. That was pretty embarrassing," she agreed as the second bridesmaid went by.

"Mm-hmm," he muttered.

Rory leaned in toward Tristan again. "I feel kind of guilty about the girl that got fired from her bridesmaid position." The last attendant went by to join the others at the front of the church.

"Is it even that much fun being a bridesmaid?"

"Well . . . it depends on the bride," she said. "But still, I hope she didn't take it personally."

"I'm sure they'll be fine. Cutting down on the bridal party was the only compromise Hannah could make after Mark begged her to elope." Tristan glanced around at the other guests in the church. "Shouldn't we be standing?"

Rory shook her head and pointed down at the program in her hand. "There's a flower girl. And a ring bearer." They turned their attention to the narthex of the church, where they saw a young boy in a tuxedo crying and holding onto a well-dressed woman.

"Why do people do this?" Tristan asked.

"Hannah has a cute nephew?" Rory suggested. "Maybe they didn't bribe him with a toy."

Finally, the boy complied and took the hand of the flower girl, who was wearing a more conservative version of the bridesmaids' red dress. They made their way down the aisle, though the girl had no free hand to toss her flower pedals. Tristan and Rory could hear the boy sniffling as he and the girl walked by. Tristan smiled and guiltily put a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter.

"Are you laughing at a crying boy?" Rory asked incredulously.

"No," he answered. But a couple seconds later, "Yes."

The organist played the last strains of Canon in D and started Wagner's Bridal Chorus. The reverend gestured for the congregation to stand as the bride entered with her father. Rory snapped a couple pictures of Hannah in her long white wedding dress and they turned to the front of the church.

"Whoa," Tristan said with a frown as the father of the bride gave his daughter away.

"What?" Rory said. The reverend indicated that they could sit back down.

"He's as white as a sheet," Tristan said, nodding at Mark.

She whispered, "He's just nervous. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"I've seen him in far more perilous situations than this, and he's never turned that color."

"Well, this is a pretty big moment for people."

"Did I look like that when we got married?"

"No, but not everyone knocks it out during lunch," she reasoned. "Oh, your hands were very cold."

"I didn't pass out though."

"He isn't going to pass out."

Tristan tore his eyes away from the bride and groom to glance at Rory, the corner of his mouth curved deviously. "How sure are you?"

NNNNNNN

A half an hour later, Tristan and Rory walked out of the church and were met by a gust of freezing cold wind. She wrapped her arms tightly around her wool pea coat as the receiving line moved closer to the newlyweds. When they reached the couple, Rory hugged and congratulated both of them. Behind her, her own husband hugged the bride and shook hands with the groom. He narrowed his eyes slightly in displeasure and informed his partner, "You lost me ten bucks."

3.13: April 14, 2016

Rory walked down the stairs of her apartment, adding a black cardigan to her outfit. When she got to the first floor, she found her husband at his desk under the stairs. He had a lamp on and was hunched over a document in front of him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stopping next to him.

"Filling out a government form."

"For work?"

"No," Tristan answered without looking up.

"Are those our taxes?" she asked incredulously, peaking at the top of the form.

"Yes."

"Those are due tomorrow!"

"I know, I'm a day early."

"I asked you about those two months ago."

"And I said that I would take care of it."

"I thought that meant you had someone do them two months ago."

He looked up at her then, patronizingly. "Rory, I went to Yale Law School, I think I can manage our income taxes." He turned back to the form.

"But it's a joint tax return this year. Plus we own the building now."

"I got it."

"What if you make a mistake?"

"I'll refer you again to my—technical—status as attorney."

"You're not a tax attorney though."

"Relax, I have everything under control."

She was about to leave his side, but he wrapped an arm around her legs tightly so she couldn't get away. "Wait." He handed her the pen he was using and pointed to a line. "I need your signature."

"What, you're not comfortable forging it?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. That's a felony, I could go down for that."

She glared at him briefly before signing. "Too bad," she muttered.

Tristan flipped the page. "And here."

She continued to sign until they got to the last page.

"Thank you, dear," he said nicely, letting her free.

She walked to the kitchen, where she had to make the coffee since Tristan had other chores to do today. After she had the machine started, he walked in with a large sealed envelope.

He handed it over. "Could you be a doll and mail this for me?"

Her expression still annoyed, she snatched the envelope from him.

"I appreciate it. I'd kiss you goodbye, but you look really mad at me right now."

"Mm-hmm," she mumbled.

"Then again, if I don't, you'll feel guilty because something bad could happen to me any time when I'm working."

Rory glanced down to his waist, where his gun already sat at his side. She looked back up at him. "Something bad could happen to you right here."

He grinned. "I will definitely keep that in mind."

"It's not fair to exploit your job."

"I know, I feel terrible about it. Did it work though?"

She exhaled heavily.

"Yes," he said with a smile. He leaned in and stopped when his lips were within an inch of hers. "Are you sure? I want your heart to be in it."

She rolled her eyes and lifted herself on her toes enough to meet him for the kiss. When she pulled away she said, "You don't get to use that one again for a month."

"Yes, ma'am." He reached up behind her to grab a mug out of the cabinet. He handed it to her. "Here you go. Have some coffee and I'll see you tonight." He snuck in another quick kiss before he turned to go.

3.14: July 17, 2016

Rory was sitting at the kitchen island, reading the paper late Sunday morning. Her husband was standing on the other side of the counter, frowning down at a slice of bread. Rory didn't pay him any attention as he dipped a knife into a jar of peanut butter and spread it on his bread. When he suddenly stopped, Rory watched him from the corner of her eye.

Tristan pointed the knife toward himself, eyes narrowed in concentration. "No," he said with an absentminded shake of his head. He returned to spreading the peanut butter over the bread, so Rory went back to the article she was reading in the Daily News. It was written by Kyle, and she had to admit he could write a good story when he put his mind to it.

Halfway through his second slice, Tristan stopped again. Rory picked up her cup of coffee and openly watched him.

"So he was facing this way," Tristan muttered, eyes narrowed in thought again. "Then he faced her and she grabbed the knife."

Rory took a sip as Tristan moved a few steps back and forth, acting out a narrative he'd no doubt heard in an interrogation room.

He shook his head. "That's not right." His eyes shot to Rory then, as though he just remembered she was in the room. "Can you come here for a minute?"

She sat up straight at attention, still cradling her coffee cup. "Do I get to be the murderer or the victim?"

"Just come here."

Rory sat her coffee down and walked around the island. Tristan quickly put his peanut butter sandwich together and flipped the knife around to hand to Rory. Before she could ask what to do, he snatched it back and turned it on her. He made like he was going to stab her in the stomach and she gasped.

"Yikes, death by butter knife. Was the murderer making a sandwich too?"

"No. And it wasn't a butter knife," he answered. "It was bigger. And sharper. Now do that again."

"What, hold a knife so you can grab it back? I can do so much more, just give me a chance."

"That's all I need you to do."

"Do I get any lines?"

"No."

"Are you sure? How about something like, 'I know you killed my sister'?"

"No talk, just action." He handed back the knife and went through the crime again. But he shook his head and tried another position. He maneuvered Rory around a bit and muttered to himself some more. He did the second scene a few more times and pointed the knife at her with eager eyes. "That's it, I've got it. We were looking at it all wrong. Let's do it one more time."

"Can I be the murderer this time?"

He eyed her suspiciously. "We're just acting, right?"

Rory blinked. "Right." She took the knife and turned it on him, as he'd done several times. When they were finished going through the motions, he nodded in satisfaction and took the knife back. Without a word, he headed out of the kitchen. Rory looked over at the peanut butter sandwich and shrugged, picking up the plate and going back to her coffee and paper. She cut the sandwich into triangles and helped herself to a half.

Ten minutes later, Tristan returned with his phone and the butter knife. He frowned at Rory indignantly. "Did you eat my sandwich?"

"Only half. The bread was getting dry."

He took his half and said, "Stevenson will be here in a little while. We're going to go over a case we're working on."

"The one I just helped solve?"

"We didn't solve it. I just thought of something that might help solve it."

"I'm pretty sure I solved it," Rory said confidently. "What about Mrs. Stevenson?"

"What about her?" Tristan asked, taking the empty plate to the sink to rinse it off.

"Is she coming too?"

"I didn't ask."

"Well, call him back and invite her. We can have a powwow while you two do detective stuff. Ooh, and we can order food for dinner."

"Fine. Are you going to put on pants?"

Roy looked down at her flannel shorts and back to her husband. "I think it's optional when it's your own house."

He shrugged. "Your choice. Everyone else will be wearing pants."

Rory sighed dramatically. "Fine," she said, taking her coffee cup and heading down the hall.

3.15: September 13, 2016

Sitting in front of the assistant district attorney's desk, Tristan picked up a sheet of paper and perused what it said. He frowned down at it and looked up to the red headed lawyer. "Should I put this into File Thirteen for you?" he offered, holding the sheet of paper over the trash can.

Jacobs stood up enough to reach across the desk and take the page. "No."

"It isn't a witness statement. It's hearsay. That won't hold up in court."

"I'm aware."

"Sometimes I don't think you are," Tristan said musingly. He looked at the framed diplomas on the wall. "You really got your law degree online, didn't you?"

Grimly, Jacobs said, "No." He stuck the sheet of paper into a file on his desk and turned around to put it in a cabinet. "I'll have the detectives on the case find a witness to collaborate." He leaned back in his swivel chair and narrowed his eyes slightly at Tristan. "I'm the one who's supposed to look over your shoulder, not the other way around."

"I just want to make sure you use that hard-won information effectively."

"I have a supervisor for that." Jacobs kept his eyes on Tristan. "You know what your problem is, DuGrey?"

Tristan grinned. "You."

"Too easy," Jacobs said dismissively. "Although you probably think you could prosecute better than me."

Tristan tapped his nose a few times and pointed at Jacobs as he continued to grin.

"Your bigger problem, detective, is that you chose to gather information."

"How is that my problem?"

"Because you also want to measure its value and decide how to use it in court. You've always wanted to and haven't done a good job of hiding it."

Tristan shrugged slightly. "Can't help it. It's what I was trained to do."

"Exactly," Jacobs said. "You can act like coming up to my office to 'help' is an extracurricular activity all you want. But you want to do what you were trained for."

No longer smiling, Tristan stared for a few seconds, unimpressed. "Thanks, but I can usually get the psychobabble from Stevenson."

The other man continued, "It must be mentally exhausting to force yourself into the black and white world cops live in." Without a word, Tristan stood and turned to the door. Jacobs asked, "That's all I had to say to get you out of here?"

Tristan ignored the attorney as he stepped out into the hall. To his surprise, he found his wife sitting in a chair, reading a book.

Rory glanced up and did a quick double take. "Hey."

"Hey," Tristan said. "What are you doing here?"

She nodded in the direction of the door he just exited. "I need to talk with him. Follow up. I guess he's annoyed now," she said as she put her book in her purse and traded it for a notebook and pen.

"Why?"

"Because he just got through with you."

"So?"

"So you annoy him. Usually on purpose."

"I just want to make sure he uses my evidence the right way."

"You mean your way."

"What does that mean?" Tristan asked with a twinge of impatience.

"You want to be in control when it's time to let it go," Rory said calmly, as though it was common knowledge. She put her purse strap over her shoulder as she stood.

"It doesn't mean anything. I just want the job to get done."

She lowered her brows sympathetically and patted his arm. "I know." She went on, "Are you guys still doing surveillance tonight?"

He exhaled heavily. "Yeah. I'll be in late."

"I'm going to take a bubble bath and read my book," she said with a small smile.

"Try to sound happier about it," he said.

She looked at him. "Don't worry, I love you. I just don't want to spend every second with you."

The office door opened then, and Jacobs looked out into the hall. He looked from Rory to Tristan. "I just got rid of a DuGrey." To no one, he said, "They all come here. How do they find me?"

"Do you have some time?" Rory asked. "I have a few questions for you."

Jacobs glanced down to his watch and back to Rory. "I have ten minutes I can give you." His eyes wandered over to Tristan and he smugly added, "I bet she tells you that all the time."

"Too easy," Tristan said. Before Rory disappeared into the office behind the lawyer, Tristan grabbed her arm to give her a kiss. "Just think about that when you're in your bubble bath tonight."