Disclaimer: Nothing's mine.

A/N: Big THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to review - you are amazing and I love you for your appreciation and support for this story and its characters!

Life took on a different course. Or maybe it was the same course, just its pace felt different. It was the same, yet it felt different. The same everyday stuff with a new glow to it. Like experiencing things for the first time along with the new person they had created and took home two days after she was born.

There was a new routine. A sleepless one. An endless night shift that had its bright and not so bright moments. They were learning what the different baby sounds meant, how full a full diaper actually is, how to laugh at their own lack of expertise when it came to changing a baby in three steps and realized the whole experience took them more than half an hour. They learned that no matter if they were Ivy League graduates, doctors who faced life and death situations on a daily basis and super intelligent people who had read more books than an average nerdy librarian spinster had, they were totally new to this. That parenthood thing took some nerve.

They realized, in their constant state of half slumber, that those days parenthood meant keeping your eyes half open while the baby was feeding, or needed a change, or a bath, or a nap. Evolution was strange, the way it created a human so helpless, the way human babies stayed helpless for months, years even. Every other species was more adapted to cope on their own. Not us humans. We just had to be nurtured and taken care of for years before we could do as much as peel a tangerine and eat it without choking on a seed. Years.

They learned the arithmetic of how long ten minutes of baby cry lasted - it was a whole forever shorter than thirty minutes of baby cry did. They learned that their bodies were a miracle - they had a whole new specter of stiffness and numbness, capable of dispositions they hadn't even suspected existed so far.

They learned a whole lot about the almost perfect moments in life. Because it wasn't often when you got everything going for you, moments of utter perfection were pretty rare. But there were those moments, the almost perfects, that happened every once in a while, and if you kept your eyes open you wouldn't miss them. Like the look you share with your almost husband while the baby burps and falls asleep on your shoulder with a content sloppy smile. And the sound of your almost wife slightly snoring with your daughter in her arms, the baby's mouth slightly gaping after being breastfed in the middle of the night. The reflected sunlight of the setting late June sun as you stood on a bench in the park next to each other, your half-closed eyes almost dozing but shining with a new kind of light while your three-week daughter was sleeping in her stroller by your side. The feeling of being your almost wife's superhero when you managed to lure your one-month daughter into sleep after hours of negotiation. The look in your almost husband's eyes when you caught him staring at you talking to your daughter, the pride in his usually stoic look almost unbearable. Life these days was full of almost perfects. And it felt right. Rewarding. Although not in the way they were used to.

Parenthood was rewarding on a very different scale of contentment, and they began to adapt to the newness and subtlety of this kind of happiness. It was a happiness caught in a glimpse between many in-betweens, a happiness that always had more to do and something waiting in store. Your kid was a project that was ever evolving, ever changing, ever demanding. There was not a single moment when you could say okay, now all that needed to be done is done.There was always something more to do. But they learned to catch those glimpses of almost perfectness. In between feeling exhausted, occasionally clueless and confused, in between double-guessing themselves and trusting their instincts, in between blaming their lack of expertise and learning to forgive themselves, there was a myriad of almost perfects unraveling before them. There was so much more to be learned, so much new stuff they were still facing for the first time and felt overwhelmed by. They learned in stride and tried not to be too hard on themselves when they failed at doing something for the first time. Probably because there was no energy to be wasted on self-blame, with so much else to do all the time. But it was okay. They had each other and now they had their daughter serving as a perfect proof that a life graced by a myriad of almost perfects was probably more than most people could bargain for.

'Tell me about you and Tristan,' Rory demanded.

'You look too good to have given birth a couple of weeks ago,' Paris narrowed her eyes suspiciously, trying to stall Rory's question. 'You're... glowing,' she said with what was supposed to sound like almost repulsion.

Rory smiled.

'You were glowing too, Paris.'

Paris huffed.

'Because emergency Caesarean does that to your skin complexion. Waking up from the anesthesia must have made me look like something puked out of a ghost, not to mention the pain in my gut. Is that how our patients feel? Medicine is such an obnoxious thing.'

Paris paused, looking around, as if searching for another distraction to change topic. She was nervous, it was easy to tell.

Rory threw her an amused and slightly tired glance.

'Anyway, enough about being opened up and stitched back again, I'm glad you didn't have to go through that,' Paris smiled, nodding towards the one month baby in Rory's arms. 'She's gaining well.'

'Do you want to hold her?' Rory asked, her smile growing wider.

Paris opened her mouth and closed it, lost for words for a short moment.

'Here,' Rory leaned forward, sitting straighter in the rocking chair, giving Allison to Paris.

Paris took the baby into her arms and swayed her a little, looking down at her peaceful face. Paris bit on her lip, feeling her eyes give in to the impulse to... sweat. Yeah. Sweat.

'Hey,' she said. 'I'm aunt Paris...' she rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of her own words. 'We've met a couple of times before but your dad was always in the room and I didn't dare touch you given I almost made your mother reconsider having you. See, I have nothing against you, I just was a mess back then and my phrasing sucked. I know you're just a baby and probably can't understand a word I'm saying, but I feel like we have to start this on a clean slate. So, what I'm saying is, your dad is an overprotective loon who loves you and your mom beyond reason, and your mother is the best philanthropic, open-minded optimist who always gives people a second chance, beyond good reason. And I am aunt Paris - I am the good reason around. Your mother and father are very important to me and I guess you'll be important to me, too. So I want you to know this from the start - you can always count on me. I'm a difficult person but I'm an honest and hardworking one - so you can always count on me to call you on your mistakes and help you get out of a difficult situation.'

Paris let out a sharp pent-up sigh and gave Allison back to Rory.

'Okay,' she nodded to no one in particular. 'I think I'm done with introductions now.'

'So,' Rory said with a cunning smile, her fingers moving to caress Allison's insanely thick black hair, 'you and Tristan.'

'What about me and him,' Paris hummed distractedly, her eyes still set on the peaceful face of the baby in Rory's arms in an expression full of wonder.

'I'm waiting for the scoop.'

'He drove me here,' Paris shrugged noncommittally. 'He's probably tease-singing 'Like a Virgin' to Mariano.'

Rory rolled her eyes.

'Don't give me bullshit, Paris.'

'Oh, I do think he's teasing the hell out of him, given his unhealthy concern with your baby daddy's lack of sleep and supposed fresh parenthood-induced celibacy.'

'I want the story right here right now. Last thing I know, you were exchanging bodily fluids all over the place.'

'Interesting that you would be the one talking about expulsing bodily fluids.'

Rory suppressed a chuckle.

'Paris.'

'You're really interested in me and Dugray when your life has recently changed forever and you're experiencing the strongest emotions a woman can dream of?' Paris tried to scold, failing in the most part because Allison had a hypnotizing effect on her.

'I've been engaged in a very thrilling, very happy routine of breastfeeding and changing diapers of a newborn who happens to light my world, but it's been more than a month with no news from the hospital, no going out with friends and no worldly news whatsoever and yeah, Tristan is right, we've been revirginized in those couple of months - you hear me right,' Rory gave Paris a pointed look 'months, so believe me, I do wanna hear anything that doesn't concern some renown baby whisperer's secret to masterful baby sleep training.'

Rory shook her head at Paris' arched eyebrows in a silent 'Yes, I've been indulging into some unhealthy parenthood self-help literature and don't even get me into this conversation' gesture. Okay, so her friend was a happy overtly exhausted mother of a newborn. As exhilarating as that was, it tended to get monotonous at some point, especially given what Rory's everyday routine used to comprise when she was working extra shifts in the ER. Shifting gears from being an aspiring lady doctor to being a stay-at-home mom of a newborn would definitely require some adaptation. Paris remembered her own restlessness after Josh turned two months. She was back at work as soon as he turned six months. That's when the first arguments with Doyle had started. He never really understood what drove her to go back to work so early. Or maybe she never really took the time to try and explain.

Paris considered Rory's words for a moment before she sighed, her shoulders sagging an inch.

'I think he's backing away.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah.'

'Why?'

'I don't know. I mean, I know and I don't.'

'Do you think he doesn't want to be in a relationship?'

Paris leaned back into her chair, her eyes roaming the room and setting on the half open nursery window behind Rory's back.

'Not exactly. I can tell he wants to, but he's getting panicky every fifteen minutes. He isn't emotionally unavailable. He's very present and he's committed. But when he realizes that he is, that's when he's getting restless. I think he has some relationship anxiety issues. Like... trying to master some emotional risk management and getting panicky as he fails.'

'You think he's not over his macho days?' Rory rose a skeptical brow.

'No,' Paris shook her head thoughtfully. 'I think his macho days were due to his relationship phobia in the first place.'

'Huh, I'd always thought that was what men used as an excuse to get rid of a girlfriend...' Rory stopped short as she met Paris' deathly stare. 'Not that this is the case with you and Tristan of course.'

'Of course.'

Rory narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

'You seem oddly at peace with the situation. I'd imagine you'd be plaguing him to tell you whether or not he's ready for a relationship with you, waving a two-hundred page relationship contract you've fleetly prepared in your lunch break.'

'Oh, he's not.'

'Eh?'

'He's not ready for a relationship. With me or with anybody else. But he's trying.'

'So... what now?'

'I think he's bailing on me in a couple of days.'

'And... you're okay with that?' Rory tried, her voice soaking with disbelief.

Paris let out a heavy sigh. She seemed like she had led this conversation with herself more than a couple of times lately.

'He's a good guy, Rory. Much more than good but don't tell him because he'll never let me get over it. What I mean is, he's really been there for me and we're...' she licked a lip, looking up at the ceiling as if she were debating over the right phrasing. 'We're friends,' she decided. 'And he's never done anything to make me believe he doesn't want what's best for me and Josh. He's scared out of his mind and I'm not gonna be the person who pushes him to do something he's not ready for.'

Rory blinked, trying to remind herself this was Paris she was talking to. Her nazi friend Paris. The Paris who can scare the lazy out of people. The Paris who could discipline terminally ill patients into living for a couple of days more.

'Paris, are you on crack?' Rory asked suspiciously.

'No.'

Rory blinked pensively, giving Paris a slow nod.

'Okay. Just checking.'

'I don't wanna lose him,' Paris shrugged, her voice slightly hoarse.

'So you're letting him go.'

Oh, Paris.

'Yeah,' Paris sighed with somber acceptance. 'I guess I am.'

Because Paris suspected that Tristan Dugray had never in his life been loved. And that single fact made all the difference. Now that he was.

'How was your meeting with the outside world?' Jess asked, resting back against his pillow after leaving a sleeping Allison in her crib.

'Good,' Rory smiled, turning on her side to face him, throwing an arm around his torso and bringing him closer. 'Mmm, you smell good.'

'Took a shower while you were feeding Allie.'

'Whoa,' Rory nuzzled his side, enjoying the feeling of his closeness. 'I must have dozed off, don't even remember when you came out of the bathroom.'

He smirked, caressing her arm with the hand he'd thrown over her shoulders.

'Yeah. You were both sleeping when I came out.'

'How is Tristan?' Rory asked sleepily.

'Obnoxious,' Jess answered closing his eyes, rubbing his itching eyelids with his free hand.

'I miss having inappropriately hot sex with you,' Rory sighed a little before she fell asleep.

Jess' thumb and forefinger paused over his closed eyelids and he slowly rested his hand down by his side, moving his head to look down at a sleeping Rory. Her cheek was resting over his chest, his tee slightly crumpled into her loose fist, her lips resting into a peaceful smile. He gently tucked her head under his chin and left a kiss on top of her head, careful not to wake her as he settled them into a more comfortable position to sleep into.

TBC