A/N: Alrighty guys! Thank you for the reviews! I'm so proud! Lol! Okay that web address that I tried to put up didn't work so I'll just say again that none of it was mine, it came from the International Forum for Neovedantins site (not that I know what that is!).

Okay, to Deeta: I know that it may be a little too soon for Rory to realize that she loves Tristan and I was worrying about that. I was considering doing a little 'Several months later' thing but it just seemed to screw up my ideas for the story. Plus there's also the fact that I'm leaving for Italy in less than 10 days and I want to get this story up and finished before then. And hey, Romeo and Juliet met, feel in love, got married, and died within a week! Lol!

And I know you may think of Tristan's actions as a bit wimpy when it came to the whole Dean thing but I tried to imagine what I would feel like if I were in his position. I couldn't bear to face his family and have them hate me for taking away their son. He tried looking for a cell phone and waited and made sure that someone came to help. Keep in mind that that happened just after his grandfather died, I mentioned that the funeral was the next day and that that was the last time he was ever seen in Hartford. Also bear in mind the crappy life he's had so far, you were right when you said he's very scared, numb, and hurt. You pegged him exactly. Dean's death convinced him to run away, it was the final issue that tipped the scale.

And to smile, don't worry, I absolutely love long reviews like yours! They make my day! And yes, Dean was the one who was killed in the car – if you reread the part right before the flashback, you'll understand.

And thanks to Cinnamon Angel for your super long review! I don't know when you're planning to post your story but if it's not up before I leave I would love to read it if you wouldn't mind e-mailing it to me! Your English is awesome – I couldn't even tell you're French! And thanks for understanding my Tristan so well! Merci beaucoup!

Here's the next chapter, I hope I'm not rushing things too much. It's just that I won't get back until September 7 and then I'll have school and work and music lessons, it'll be too much work to update often and I don't want to leave you guys hanging. I've still got at least four or five chapters left. Now, before my A/N becomes longer than this chapter…

Enjoy!

Chapter 11:

Anything

The sound of her heavy breathing filled her ears, the rhythmic beat of her footsteps pounding on the worn path rang out into the night. The evening air was cooler than it had been, cooler than usual for the last week of September but that only fueled Rory's determination. She knew how much Tristan hated the cold, how he regarded it as an unfortunate sign. The last tendrils of light veined through the dark sky were quickly fading, surrendering to the growing darkness, but her eyes looked straight ahead, never leaving their destination. She knew he would be here, she could feel it.

She had left Tristan's apartment with a terrible feeling gnawing at the bottom of her stomach and was desperate to find him. She knew that something horrible was about to happen, she didn't know how, she didn't know what, she just knew.

She ran faster, her shifting feet carrying her apprehensive body further and further down the well-worn path. He had told her that he went to the pond to think sometimes, that was where he would be.

Thoughts of getting to him had filled her head as Rory had raced up the stairs to her dorm room. She couldn't remember how to get to the park from Tristan's apartment but she was confident that she could find the entrance from Pandora's Box. As long as she could find the directions to Pandora's that Tristan had given her earlier that week.

They were there, on the refrigerator, where she had left them. She snatched them off and, scanning them quickly, she shoved them into her pocket.

Rory blew threw the small dorm, driven by her need to see him, to hold him, to tell herself that he was all right. Within seconds of entering the apartment she was at the door prepared to leave, but something caught her eye. On the end table in the corner of the room, a light was flashing on her answering machine. She had a message.

Hope blossomed in her chest as she rushed across the room. He had called. Regardless of what had happened before, Rory was thrilled by the thought of hearing his voice. A tiny bit of her endless guilt dissolved and she was praying that her apprehension of misfortune had been completely wrong.

But what if she was right? What if the message wasn't from him? What if something terrible had already happened to him and the police or the hospital were notifying her?

What if she was too late?

Leaning over, her shaking hand hit the button and she waited, both eager and dreading to hear the context of the message.

"Hey honey, it's Mom…" Rory was disappointed but very relieved to hear Lorelai's voice. "Well, I know you're probably out with your dream guy but I'm at dinner with your grandparents and…I happened to stumble upon some unexpected information." Rory smiled sadly at the 'dream guy' comment but decided not to delve back into her feelings just yet. Instead she was focused on her mother's words and her tense, nervous tone. "I'm not sure how to say this, sweetie, and I'd rather tell you face to face but, here goes…I think I know what Tristan is hiding from you." Rory stopped breathing. Her family knew his secret? What was she going to do? "It turns out that he was part of Hartford's social elite and your grandparents know his family. I heard that his life wasn't too great at home and… well, the poor kid's grandfather died and we were supposed to go to the funeral but it was held the day after…the day after Dean died. That was the last anyone ever saw of him, until you. He ran away Rory…I'm not sure what else to say but I had to tell you. I think you should wait for him to bring it up but, don't worry, you'll do the right thing." Rory shut here eyes painfully at that. "I've got to go, call me later, sweetie. I love you. Bye."

Relief flooded her along with a thousand other emotions. They didn't know the whole story; Tristan was still safe. But she couldn't stop thinking about what her mother had said. 'You'll do the right thing.' But she hadn't, her mother had so much faith in her when she shouldn't have any at all. Rory had done the wrong thing, she had insulted him and shattered his hope, she had run from him and told him to stay away from her, and now she expected him to forgive her for everything and pretend it never happened.

She stood there, staring at the phone, absolutely still as a thousand thoughts whipped through her head. 'His life at home wasn't too great…poor kid's grandfather died…he ran away.' She became focused on those last two words. Ran away.

Had his life been so terrible, so painful that he had fled? Had the incredible power of the spirit's that haunted him chased him away? Or had it been a different power, more simple, like his parent's indifference, negligence, and hatred?

Rory had felt more tears of guilt and sympathy surge to the surface. Her grief was incredible. How could a person survive for eighteen years in such a horrible, frigid world? How could a person survive through the terror of experiencing death over and over again and still manage to get up and keep going the next morning?

And what was worse, how could she know how much that person was aching to be loved and shoot them down so viciously?

Again she was swarmed with an overwhelming need to find him. She tore out of the dorm and, starting from Pandora's, quickly made her way to the path where she was now.

The green leaves hung high from the treetops, their edges just beginning to surrender to the golden hues that would soon spread and dominate the park. But still they clung to their branches, resisting the urge to yield to the powerful wind that blew through them.

Just like those withering leaves, Rory refused to give up, refused to let go. She forged on, deeper and deeper into the forest, further down the path until she saw water up ahead.

He was there, she could see him. He stood, motionless, gazing out at the water, giving her a chance to study him when his guard was down. His posture spoke of extreme exhaustion and hopelessness, but something in the stubborn set of his shoulders revealed a weak, but enduring determination to survive. His face was pale and drawn, his jaw was set firmly and his lips had slipped down into a heavy frown. A blue ball cap rested on his head, hiding the tousled, golden hair and concealing his weary, exhausted face. Her eyes studied him, taking in his sunken eyes, noticing how he looked lost in the large jacket he was wearing.

From where she was standing, Rory could see Tristan gazing out at the calming waters, his blue, blue eyes focused but not really seeing anything.

When she had first met him, she had thought that that was how Tristan was: watching but never really seeing, listening but never actually hearing, touching but never quite feeling.

But now she realized that she was completely wrong. It was every body else, the rest of the world, who were certain that they knew everything, but always seemed to miss the point.

Tristan saw and heard so much more than everyone else. He was always in the back round, watching quietly, listening intently. The world was blissfully ignorant while he suffered, bearing his terrible cross, alone.

He looked so forlorn, so desolate but he stood ramrod straight, as if preparing himself for a furious storm.

Or maybe the storm had already begun, maybe it was raging within him.

"Tristan."

He turned, startled, and for the quickest moment Rory saw immense, overwhelming pain in his eyes. But as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Tristan was certain that the person standing in front of him wasn't real. They couldn't be. A thousand feelings ran through him, crashing over him, disorienting and blurring everything. He couldn't speak; he didn't know what to say. Why was she here? What was he supposed to do? He had to keep his distance, he had to keep her safe.

The sound of her voice and that hopeful, worried expression on her face almost dissolved his resolve.

He could never deny her anything, could never turn away from her when she needed help. He would do anything for her. Anything.

"Tristan?"

Tristan blinked and came crashing back to reality. No, he couldn't let her get to him again, he couldn't lose control like that. As much as it hurt, he had to stop this here, now.

Suddenly his face was blank, eyes hard and empty, his lips drawn in a tight, thin line. And Rory knew that it was hopeless, that it would be impossible to reach him, but she tried again.

"Tristan, I'm –" But he cut her off. He spun angrily and demanded, "What do you want from me?"

Rory stared blankly. What had happened to that sweet, gentle Tristan? Where was the man she loved?

It hurt to hear those words coming out of his own mouth, to throw that angry tone at her and watch her face fall. He blinked back his pathetic tears; he was wrong. It wasn't hurting her, she hated him, she was afraid of him. And it didn't matter how much he was hurting, he had to keep up the act, keep his distance. He had to bury his true self deep inside, he had to rebuild the walls that had been so viciously torn down.

"Tristan, I just want –"

"Do you know what I want?" She was interrupted again, but she refused to let it get to her, refused to start fighting with him.

"What?" She asked in a small voice.

"I want you to stay away from me."

Rory stood completely still, stunned by the words that had just came out of his mouth. This must be a bad dream, but somehow the roles had been reversed and she found that she didn't know what her next line should be. But now she understood the pain that she had caused him this morning, she knew what it felt like to be pushed away, to be rejected and cast out.

Tristan had honestly meant what he said. She wasn't meant to be with him, nobody was, and by driving her away he was saving her from a world of pain, despair, and fear. It wasn't what he wanted, not even close, but it was the right thing to do, it would be better for both of them.

"You don't mean that." Rory refused to believe that. His blank, unrelenting expression almost made her accept what he said as the truth but, once again, his beautiful eyes gave him away. They were dark and stormy yet there was an infinite measure of pain in their blue depths. That wasn't what he wanted, she was sure of it.

"Yes, I do." It took a conscious effort to breathe after he had let those heavy words pass through his lips. Did she know that he was lying? He didn't know how much longer he could keep up this charade, it was killing him.

Rory let a small, hesitant smile capture her lips. "I can read you like an open book, Tristan."

Tristan's feelings at the moment were one big paradox. That was all he had ever wanted: someone to know him, completely, and still love him for who he was. That was it, that was all he had been praying for. But at the same time, she was wrong. Maybe she did know him well enough that she could tell he was lying, but she certainly didn't know him. No one did, no one ever would. There were things about him that Tristan didn't want anyone to know, there was too much to put on the line.

"Don't presume to know anything about me, Rory." He spoke angrily.

But Rory could see past his anger, she could see through and underneath his façade. He was like delicate glass wrapped up in a hard, outer shell. This morning, she had cracked that glass, she had thrown a hefty rock of pain and insecurity at him and that delicate glass had fractured dangerously. But he refused to crumble. That glass was trembling, shaking, resisting the urge to give up and fall away. And he was praying that nobody noticed, that nobody would bother to examine him closely, because if they did they would see that he was on the brink of falling apart.

"I know a lot more than you think." Rory noticed that her voice held a hint of anger but she couldn't help it, she was so frustrated. She had come here wanting to tell him that she didn't care about his secret, that he didn't have to be afraid to be with her. But here he was, shoving her away, trying to protect himself by hiding far within. "Tristan, I know that you're hurt and upset and you have every right to be."

He just scowled at her, not because he hated her, but because she was right. He was aching, he was unhappy.

"But I know something else. I know that you're afraid." Rory watched him closely, she watched his frown deepen and his brow furrow. "You're afraid to let me in, you're afraid to show me who you really are, you're afraid you'll get hurt again."

"No." Tristan muttered, shaking his head and turning back towards the water. "No." But even he thought he sounded like he was trying to convince himself that she was wrong.

Moving fast, Rory walked down the bank towards him. He was still turned away so she stepped in front of him, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Yes, you know I'm right, Tristan, just admit it. You're scared you'll get hurt, you're scared that I'll run away again, but you shouldn't be. You don't have to be! If you would just open you're eyes and see –" He shook his head furiously as she spoke and her voice had risen considerably as she continued, but now he cut her off with an angry wave of his hand.

"No, you don't get it! I do see, I see more than you'll ever know, I've seen more than you've ever dreamed of! I'm not afraid of being hurt again! Do you know why? Because my whole life has been filled with nothing but pain and it's going to continue to be! I accept that, but now I have to keep other people from getting hurt. Being around me means living in fear and agony but if I can just keep everybody, even you, away I can save them from that! I know that, I finally understand that!" He was shouting at her, his lips forming loud, angry words until his breathing became uneven and erratic. But his eyes, his tortured blue eyes were full of tears, begging with her, pleading with her to understand. Rory barely flinched at his tone but her heart broke at the words he was saying and the tormented look on his face. He seemed to lose the energy that moved him to make the speech because his shoulders finally dropped and his voice grew softer. "And it's killing me, okay? It's killing me to know that I can't make anyone happy, that I can only cause pain and suffering."

Rory reached out to wrap her arms around his tired body but he took a step back. "You don't understand what it's like, Rory, and I hope you never do. I wouldn't ever wish that on you."

His head was down now, his face hidden completely by the ball cap, and Rory could hear nothing other than their breathing in the absolute silence that followed his touching, melancholy words.

Even in the midst of everything that had happened to him, Tristan could think only of protecting others, of making sure that those blissfully ignorant people stayed ignorant, of keeping her from getting hurt. He was utterly, completely selfless.

Rory's eyes began to water as she struggled to show him that she wanted to be with him, regardless of the hazard he thought he was. She took a step back, trying to collect her thoughts and form the right words.

Tristan surprised her by reaching out a hand and tugging gently on her sleeve, pulling her closer to him. She waited to see if he would try to pull her into his arms but he made no move to embrace her. She stared at him questioningly until he reluctantly met her gaze.

"Don't stand too close to the water, okay?" He asked softly, his hauntingly beautiful eyes squinting as he stared over her shoulder, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact.

He was watching out for her even though they were arguing, he was trying to protect her from the thing that scared him the most.

Rory took his hand and, although he was hesitant, pulled him up the bank, away from the ambiguous water. After a few moments she came to a halt and he stopped just behind her. She turned toward him and took his other hand, holding them with a tight, gentle grip.

"Tristan, I have something to say and I'm asking you to wait until I'm done to comment. Promise me you'll just listen, okay?" He watched her with alert, gentle eyes and nodded his head slowly, ready to give her anything she wanted. "Ever since we met that day in the coffee shop you've been one enticing, complex mystery that I've been dying to figure out. You're so sweet and charming, but at the same time so secretive and reserved. I loved being around you, I loved thinking about you and wondering what it was that made you so restrained. And then this morning, I found out and I have to admit that, yes, at first I was afraid." Tristan lowered his head in shame when she said that, but Rory put her hand under his chin and gently lifted his head, forcing him to look her in the eye. "I was afraid of the things I saw when…when we kissed but I need you to understand that I never was, and never will be, afraid of you."

Tristan attempted to speak, to ask her if she was speaking the truth but Rory tenderly lay her fingers on his lips, silencing him for the moment. She couldn't stop now, she couldn't be deterred. She had to tell him exactly what she felt, she wanted to tell him that he had become her everything.

"Tristan, I want to- no, I need to tell you…" Her eyes shone brightly and a smile lit up her face. This was it, she was going to tell him how she truly felt, how much she cared for him.

Tristan was lost in her eyes. Even in the dim light, he could see the lightest, purest shade of blue gazing up at him with such innocence and tenderness. Those eyes could knock him off his feet and whisk him up to heaven all in an instant and he completely forgot about his earlier resolution to keep his distance. He lived for those eyes, for that smile, and at that moment he wouldn't have noticed if all the stars collided and rained down from the sky.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you, Tristan. I'd do anything to make you smile again. And I want you to know," Rory felt his hands give hers a reassuring squeeze and was so happy that she thought she would burst. "that I honestly lo-"

Suddenly, there was something strong and tight wrapped around her throat and she couldn't manage to tell Tristan what she needed to say. The words were lost and, all at once, it was hard to breathe. It was than that she noticed the arm wrapped around her neck clad in a shirt that she had bought as a gift for someone almost a year ago. It was then that she noticed the familiar cologne drifting up to her nose.

Dean.

~~~~~~~~

There's the 11th installment. I know it's kind of short but the next three chapters will be vital, climatic, and adventure-filled.

Please review!

Madz.