The Best of You – Lucky Number Thirteen

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing…

Janlan Dugrey let out a blissful sigh of contentment and let a smile wander to his normally tight lips. Leaning his sore body against the comfort of his worn out leather armchair, he closed his eyes while he savored his fine Cuban cigar.

His smile widened slightly as his ears met nothing but silence. Wonderful, fantastic silence. His estate was rarely silent, but today he had given all of the maids a day off so he could have time for himself.

Suddenly, his thoughts drifted to his only grandson and it tampered with his blissful mood. Janlan opened his eyes and took the cigar from his mouth. It felt like déjà vu. First with his son and now with his grandson. He wondered if it was genetic… if DuGrey men were all meant to be egotistical, heartless bastards.

Yet, he knew that his grandson was not. He knew that there was more to Tristan then what was seen on the outside. And he was positive that there was something his grandson was not telling him… not that they were so close to the point where he told his grandfather everything but to Janlan, it was painfully obvious that something was going on in his life. With these thoughts, Janlan was determined to find the cause of his grandson's peculiar behavior.

"Where are we? Where are you taking me?"

Janlan's thoughts were so rudely interrupted by an unmistakable and unfamiliar female screech.

"Relax and just follow me."

"Where?"

"Are all these questions really necessary?"

"I think they are justified."

"Justified my ass… I'm trying to help you."

"And I told you, countless of times, that I don't need your help."

"You're sick Mare."

"No, I'm just –"

Much to Janlan's amusement, the unknown female began to cough, contradicting her statement to the fullest. Seconds had passed and the coughing fit was still going on, he could hear his grandson's are you okay's and holy shits and he could not help but smirk at his grandson's expense. Tristan could he so clueless at times.

-

"We're not at your house," Rory commented, taking a look around.

"You're very observant when you're sick. We've been here for what? Like ten minutes and you just notice now."

"Where are we?" Rory blatantly ignored his comment.

"Welcome to grandpa DuGrey's humble abode," Tristan chanted clearly, holding out his arms and turning full circle for effect.

"We're at your grandfather's house?" Rory exclaimed breathlessly.

"Actually, it is technically mines also since I live here now."

"I've never met – wait, you live here now? Why? Since when?"

Tristan shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips, "Few days ago. And cause I felt like it."

Rory half nodded as a familiar lightheaded feeling met her again full force. She fought hard to keep herself from staggering. So with a few deep breaths, she regained her composure and met Tristan's blue eyes with her own.

"Okay," Tristan started, noticing Rory's staggering body, "Let's find you somewhere to rest and then I'm going to call Helga to help take care of you."

"Helga?"

"She's a maid here… actually she's the maid in this household. She makes the best chicken noodle soup."

"That she does."

Both teens turned around at the sound of a deep voice. Rory bit her bottom lip subconsciously while Tristan merely nodded. He didn't know how to act knowing deep inside that he had just violated one of his grandfather's many rules.

"Hey gramps," he greeted casually.

"Tristan my boy, where are your manners? Introduce me to this lovely young lady," Janlan motioned to where Rory stood with the tip of his cigar.

"This is Rory Gilmore. Rory, this is Janlan DuGrey," the blonde formally introduced the two.

Janlan slowly proceeded to where the young brunette stood. He studied her firmly, noticing her pale, sweaty face immediately. "Pardon my rudeness, but are you ill?"

Rory responded by another one of her coughing sprees.

Janlan turned to Tristan; "I'll take that as a yes?"

Tristan nodded vehemently, "She has a fever and she didn't want to go home so I brought her here."

"And why did you bring her here? Richard and Emily are only a few blocks away."

"I wanted to actually give her some of Helga's chicken soup since that always worked for me when I was sick."

Janlan nodded as a couple of fond memories flashed before him, "Yes, Helga's soup is a miracle worker but I'm afraid Helga's not in today. I gave her the day off."

-

Tristan shut the guest bedroom door firmly and leaned his tired body against the cherry wood door. Closing his eyes briefly, he proceeded to where his grandfather was situated. He knocked softly, waiting to hear his grandfather's firm and cold voice greet him from the other side.

"Enter."

Tristan heaved a sigh before entering. "You gave Helga a day off."

Janlan smirked, thoroughly amused by his grandson. "She needed one… after working for me for almost twenty years, even you can't argue that she needs her rest sometimes."

"I know grandfather but-"

"But you've got yourself a sick girl in the guestroom and you don't know what to do?"

Tristan nodded, his head handing low. "I'm not a doctor."

"You're not stupid either. It's just a common cold boy!"

"I don't even know where to start – what if… what if I end up hurting her in some way?" Tristan half yelled, half whined.

Janlan opened his mouth to protest but stopped immediately after examining the look on his grandson's face. Were his aging eyes and ears deceiving him or was Tristan actually worried about the well being of another person?

With a groan, Janlan set down his half lit Cuban cigar and stood from his comfortable leather armchair. "Go downstairs, fix her some lemon tea and go to the medicine cabinet for a couple of Tylenols. Following that, fetch a humidifier from the spare room on the third floor."

Tristan turned to go follow his grandfather's instructions, but stopped and turned around. "Wait what? How do you make lemon tea? A humidifier? There's a third floor?"

"You'll have to figure those things out on your own. You got yourself in this mess boy and you're going to get yourself out of it!"

-

"Here, drink this," he cautiously held the teacup to where Rory lay comfortably.

"What is it?" she whispered, eyeing the hot drink curiously.

"It's lemon tea… well I think it is anyway," he cracked a smile.

Rory took a miniscule sip and her head turned away quickly. "No offence but this tastes like crap."

"Sorry," he apologized, scratching his head, "And I brought a humidifier."

Rory smiled despite her current state. "Thank you Tristan, that's really considerate of you."

Tristan shrugged, "I'm no help… I can't even make a decent cup of tea."

"If it helps any, I absolutely hate tea unless they've come up with coffee flavored tea but that would be pretty pointless right?"

Tristan fought back a smile and took a seat on the edge of the large satin sheet covered bed. "You ramble when you're sick Mary?"

Rory blushed, the color a welcoming change to her previously pale face. "Not when I'm sick."

"Then why are you rambling?" he teased.

"I usually ramble when I'm nervous," she cursed herself as soon as she completed her sentence.

"Mary, Mary, Mary… do you want to tell me why you're nervous?"

Rory twisted the fistful of satin that she held tightly, her insides churning and she wasn't sure if it was because of her sickness or something completely different.

"I'm tired," she whispered, choosing to ignore his question. "Would you mind it if I sleep for a while?"

Tristan nodded, "Not at all," he said, standing from the bed and walking toward the door.

"Tristan," Rory called, "Can you call my mom and tell her I'm here? I don't want her to worry."

Tristan only nodded in response.

--

"How did it go?" Janlan eagerly inquired as he watched his grandson enter his office with slumped shoulders.

Tristan answered his question with a snort, "She hated the tea."

"Then you didn't make it right."

"I did – she just… hates tea."

Taking a long sip of his whiskey, Janlan let the alcohol seep down his throat before responding. "You've got yourself a weird one, son."

"She's not mine gramps," he coughed.

"But you want her to be?"

The young man shrugged, "That's besides the point. She hates me."

"If she still hates you after what you've done today then she doesn't deserve you," Janlan replied, sincerity in his voice.

Tristan's eyes widened… he had actually received a compliment from his grandfather. "I hope your right."

"About what?"

"Her not hating me."

"Pish posh son… I know I'm right. I assume she's asleep?"

"Yes and I have to call her mother to tell her that she's here," he unknowingly cringed at the thought of the pending phone call.

"She Lorelai's girl?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"All of Hartford is well aware of Lorelai Gilmore Tristan. Don't worry… I'll call Lorelai for you."

Tristan heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks."

"But first… we have something to discuss."

"We do?" Tristan's throat suddenly went dry.

"You violated one of my rules."

-

Her eyes were closed tight and she was exhausted but she could not sleep. The day's events plagued each and every one of her thoughts and these thoughts confused her even more. Her emotions were being toyed with and Rory Gilmore did not know what to do.

One day she would be sure of one thing but then another day she would be sure of another, completely opposite thing. One day she would know what to do but then the next day, she wouldn't.

And one day she would tell herself that she hated Tristan but then the next day… she would tell herself that he wasn't so bad.

These were one of these days.

Biting her lip, she opened her eyes only to shut them once again as soon as she heard the twisting of a doorknob.

She turned to her side, opposite of the now opening door and pretended to be fast asleep. She knew it was Tristan and she was absolutely mortified at the thought of facing him. Rory didn't exactly know why.

She could hear shuffling of feet and heavy breathing. Rory remained motionless and shut her eyes as tight as possible.

The heavy footsteps stopped and Rory fought with herself to keep her eyes closed. What was he doing just standing there?

Then it hit the brunette like a pile of bricks… it wasn't Tristan. It couldn't be… why wasn't he saying anything? Or better yet… why wouldn't he leave? Couldn't he see that she was fast asleep?

Suddenly frightened, Rory was about to open her eyes and make a sudden run for it but stopped at the sound of Janlan Dugrey's unusually soft voice.

"I know you're not asleep Miss. Gilmore and that's why I haven't left the room yet," he replied, "I just wanted to thank you in advance."

Slowly, Rory turned her exhausted body and opened her eyes, confusion written throughout her face. "What for? What did I do?"

"Nothing yet… I wanted to thank you for what you are about to do."

"And what am I about to do?" she could sense the seriousness of the conversation and it affected her voice as the question came out withered and weak.

"You're about to save my grandson from his own personal hell. Thank you."

And with that, he exited the room, leaving Rory alone to contemplate his words.

-

"Lorelai," Tristan replied shakily as he opened the front door. He cursed himself for answering the door before peaking to see who it was.

"Janlan Dugrey called and told me that Rory was here," Lorelai replied, her eyes averting the blonde's face.

"Did he also explain to you the situation?"

"That my daughter's sick? Yes he did."

"Um… good," he was at a loss for words.

Lorelai turned her head, her face emotionless and her eyes cold. "Can you lead me to where my daughter is or are we just going to stand here all day?"

Tristan quickly opened the door wider, letting Lorelai slip past him to the living room. He followed her quietly, and for a moment, he just watched Lorelai enter the living room only to begin pacing.

"But before you lead me to Rory… just answer one question."

"I'll try."

"Why is she here? And why didn't she call me to pick her up?"

"She… didn't want to go home. She wanted to stay in school but she was so sick that I was afraid she was going to collapse. This was the closest place."

Lorelai swallowed hard, "She didn't want to go home?"

Tristan shook his head, his eyes refusing to meet Lorelai's inquiring pair.

"I blame you."

His head shot up, "Pardon me?"

"I blame you," Lorelai repeated, her voice stern and ruthless.

"You blame me for what exactly?"

"For everything! You're the reason why we're fighting… you're the reason why she's skipping school and you're the reason why she's now sick."

"You're blaming me for all of this? That's bullshit!" his temper was now getting the best of him and he wasn't so sure if he could control it any longer.

"No it isn't… but you know what is? You! Stay away from my daughter Bible boy… if you know what's best for you. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to take my daughter home now."

--

Finally done this chapter. Woot! And it only took how long? A month (or more) to finish this. I apologize for the late update but I'm going to try to improve on my updating skills (or lack of).

Thank you ALL for the wonderful reviews and support. I love you guys and your kind words are well… too kind and GREATLY appreciated.

Keep reviewing! ;)