Author's Note: Thank you to all who have reviewed, you guys have really encouraged me to keep writing. Sorry about the long time between updates, but I hope this chapter is worth it. Let me know!

Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls or any of the characters.

Oh, dear…

April 21st didn't start out well for Rory. First, she'd overslept her alarm, which was always a forerunner of worse things to come. Then, as she was frantically trying to subdue her hair, which closely resembled Scary Spice's hairstyles early in her career, her power blew. After a fruitless call to her super, she finally tied her hair at the back of her neck.

And wouldn't you know that New York City decided today was the day to work on her subway route? She tried to hail a cab, but without a fetching hairstyle or a high-cut skirt, her success was nil. She was forced to walk the fourteen blocks to her office building in her heels.

By the time she got off the elevator to the Chronicle, she was not in a mood to play. She clipped determinedly to her desk, sat down stiffly and opened her computer. That day, many aspiring actors, directors and artists were heartbroken by the harsh and cutting write-ups Rory Gilmore did of their shows.

"Rory, what is wrong, girl?" Kat asked when she had decided it was safe to approach her. Rory had just downed her fifth coffee and was refilling her cup. "Bad day?"

Rory laughed harshly. "No, everything is peachy keen. It's just that my power blew while I was trying to tame this monstrosity that is my hair, I couldn't take the subway because they were working on it and no cab wanted to stop for me. So I had to walk fourteen blocks! And I hate exercise!" She glared at her friend as she laughed. "It's not funny!"

"Oh, no it is for me. And it will be for you too, but after you've had some time to space yourself from it. You know what you need? A night out on the town with the girls." Kat's eyes glimmered mischievously as she grinned. "Come out with me and hit the night spots. It'll do you a world of good, and you never come out anymore," she added when she saw Rory open her mouth to refuse.

"It's not that I don't want to go, but I have plans."

"Who with?"

"With whom, and Tristan. He's coming back tonight and he told me he'd take me out."

"Wait a minute," Kat said as she leaned towards Rory. "He told you he'd take you out? He didn't ask?"

A little unsure now, Rory nodded. Kat's red mouth widened into a smile that failed to hide the canary feather peeking out of one corner. Every good relationship needed hardships, she reasoned, and didn't she just love playing hardball.

"Rory, do you want to encourage him to act like a Neanderthal? And what if he doesn't show? You're just going to sit at the phone waiting for him to call and tell you that you're going to dinner on a certain night? Come out with me and the girls tonight and show him that you're an independent woman capable of making her own dates and plans. Show him you don't need a male to govern your life and if you did, you'd still be with Preston."

Rory slammed her cup down on the desk. "You're right. Screw Tristan-"

"Love to," Kat purred and laughed at the drop-dead look Rory shot her.

"Screw Tristan and his plans. I need this night and I'm taking it." She paused. "Can I come over to your apartment? I don't think the super will have fixed the power by the time we leave."

"Sure, do you want to borrow some of my clothes too? You're more than welcome to." Rory hesitated, as she knew Kat's clothes gleefully toed right up to the line between provocative and hooker. But Kat, looking at her with encouragement in her eyes shadowed with disappointment if she didn't live it up a bit, solidified her resolve.

"Okay, I'll borrow your clothes."

Gary, a furious look on his weathered face, marched up to the desk where Kat and Rory were making plans. "Ladies, is this Oprah or a newspaper office? McKenzie, where's that report on the murder-suicide in the lower west-end? Gilmore, I still don't have the article on Yighslive's new play."

"They're in your mailbox," the girls chimed. Thrown off his stride, Gary glared uncertainly at the two before striding away, mumbling under his breath about smart-aleck workers. Giggles followed him.

At the airport in Kuwait… 10:28 AM April 21st Kuwait time

"Come on, man! I'm supposed to be on that plane! I have to get back to the US by tonight!" Tristan argued, furious with himself for not being at the airport sooner.

"Look, it's not my fault you didn't get here on time. I told you, there's another plan leaving in four hours, you can take that one. Now, I'm going to ask you to step away and calm down before I call security." The young man was clearly not impressed by Tristan's anger. Fuming and unable to do anything, Tristan returned to his seat and tried again to use his cell phone. No service, go figure.

He looked around and spotted a payphone. He hurried over and pulled out his phone card. Then he paused. What time was it over in New York? Glancing at his watch, Tristan cursed. It was three in the morning and Rory wouldn't be intelligible much less gracious about his delayed flight. He slammed the phone back onto the cradle and returned to his seat. Hopefully a couple hours wouldn't make that much of a difference. Poor fool. Hell hath no fury like a woman having a bad day.

(AN: Just so the readers know, I'm having Tristan's flight leave Kuwait at 7 EST and the flight will take about 15 hours, so he'll arrive back in the US around 10 EST. There is a seven hour time difference between New York and Kuwait, so that explains the time length.)

Back in the US (specifically Kat's apartment)… 9:04 PM EST

"Kat, are you sure about this?" Rory tugged insistently on the mini she wore, but it did not magically lengthen the extra two inches to preserve her modesty. Neither did tugging on the neckline of her top heighten it.

"Of course I'm sure. Now will you stop tugging on those clothes? You'll ruin the lines." Kat pulled out her shoe organizer and proudly waved an arm over it. "I've worked years, suffered humiliation, scrapped pennies together and attended numerous sales to collect this amount of footwear. Now, I gladly share this with you."

It truly was a wondrous sight, the many pairs of flats, heels, platforms and wedges. Colors, styles and fabric abounded. Rory thought dryly her mother would be hyperventilating right now.

"Well," Rory looked down at her outfit to try and decide what would match. She was wearing a black mini that flirted with her thighs and a shimmering blue halter top that plunged dangerously low. Normally this wouldn't have been too major of a concern as she was not extremely gifted up top (unlike Kat) but a push-up bra worked wonders. "What about silver or blue? We can always go classic black."

Kat gave her a look that clearly said Duh! "Yes, but which ones?" Finally they simply piled all of the pairs that would match the outfit and Rory walked in them to decide which pair fitted her the most comfortably. She ended up decided on a black pair that gracefully strapped across her arched foot, but whose heels she could live with. After applying make-up and finishing her hair, she stared at herself in the mirror.

Kat had slicked Rory's lips with a dangerous red and smoked up her eyes. Her hair was tumbled artfully, with a clip holding it off her neck. The skirt plus the heels made her bare legs seem to climb straight to her waist. The fabric of the top shimmered and teased the viewer with brief outlines of Rory's improved bustline. She looked hot.

Rory then turned and looked at her friend. Kat had gone for the vixen look, leaving her spiral red curls falling down her back. She wore the quintessential little black dress, short in the skirt, low in the front and back, with such a close fit as to leave little to the imagination. Skyscraper heels in vicious red declared her intention to have fun tonight.

Rory met Kat's eyes in the mirror. "We're going to knock them on their butts tonight."

And they did just that. When they walked into the club Kat had chosen for their girl night out, several heads swiveled their way. Men stared with lust, women with irritation, a few with lust as well. The music was loud, steamy and sticky. Bodies gyrated on the floor, drinks in their hand. The two friends pushed through the crowd surrounding the bar. A ripped man in a white shirt and a sailor's hat yelled "What'll you have?"

For some strange reason this scene made Rory think of her mother. A smile quirking her lips she asked for a Shirley Temple Black, Kat for a White Russian. She winked as she accepted the drink from the bartender and then turned to scout the room.

"Not bad," she shouted to Rory. "Some good choices here tonight."

Rory again scanned the room, but felt less thrilled than she had expected to be at being here. "I don't usually do this," she yelled back at Kat.

"I know, which is why I thought you should. Come on, just stick it out for an hour, and then we'll go home." A sly look from the corner of her eye at a handsome man trying to catch her attention and Kat amended, "well, maybe you'll go home."

Rory laughed and resigned herself to trying to have a good time. She glanced at her watch. 10:43 PM EST. Was Tristan back yet, she wondered? He hadn't called, so maybe not. She glanced up at Kat's invitation to dance, then shrugged. If Tristan wanted to get a hold of her, too late. She needed a night of just girls'. He could wait.

And that's just what he was doing, back at her apartment. He had landed not thirty minutes earlier, half-hoping to see Rory standing amongst the anxious well-wishers at the gate. When he'd failed to spot her there, he'd reasoned that he'd never told her of what time he'd be landing, just that he was coming today.

He'd collected his battered duffel and waved down a taxi, an almost impossible feat to do at the airport. Tristan had heard himself giving the address for Rory's apartment with surprise, but he supposed it was just as well. He had a craving to see her, and he desperately wanted to test if that explosive kiss before he'd left had made any changes. He sure hoped so.

He paid the taxi driver and headed up the stairs to Rory's apartment. He was perplexed when no one answered. Glancing at his watch, Tristan confirmed that it was nearly eleven. She should be home by now, maybe even asleep.

Tristan froze as unpleasant suspicions arose in him. What if she'd gone out with that Jess fellow? Or some other guy? Sure, he'd asked her to leave this night open, but no man understood women. Even him.

No, she wouldn't have done that to him. Maybe she'd had some sort of a gala to go to, one that lasted late. His gut seized this thought with relief. Yeah, that was it, she was working. He'd just wait for her to return and surprise her.

Tristan decided if he was going to wait, he might as well be comfortable. He rummaged around in his duffel for the gift one of the soldiers had given him, smiling when he grasped it. He lifted the set of lock picks out and went to work on her door. Not two minutes later Tristan was inside her door and locking it behind him. Glancing at the watch again, he decided he might have enough time to grab a shower before she came back. That fifteen hour flight left him feeling grungy.

Rory was dancing and having fun, unaware that Tristan was making himself at home in her apartment. Finally, with her feet screaming for relief, she laughed off her dance partner's offer of a ride home, let Kat (who was sitting in the lap of the handsome stranger, whose name turned out to be Calvin) know she was heading home and poured herself into a taxi. She was still close to sober, the one drink being all she'd had, but she was tired.

Rory again found herself wondering about Tristan and where he was. It was almost midnight and she'd still not heard from him. Oh well, she had had fun and that was that.

Unlocking her door, Rory tested the lights and was grateful when they came on. Apparently the super had had them fixed sometime during the day. Tossing her purse on the table near the entranceway, she kicked off her borrowed shoes and headed into the living room. There, she paused. Was she mistaken, or was that a tattered duffel bag on her carpet?

Also, a pair of men's socks encasing a man's feet were propped up on her coffee table. She followed the strong and lean legs in jeans up to a solid chest and pair of shoulders, which connected to a tanned neck. This all led up to a clenched jaw, blazing blue eyes and slightly damp hair. Stunned, Rory couldn't think of what to say. But Tristan could.

"Good evening, Cinderella. Which prince did you skip out to tonight?" His voice was deep and even, but all the more intimidating for it. He folded strong arms across his chest and said, "I'm waiting."

Finally Rory managed to squeak something out. "Oh dear."

Author's Note: More to come! Sorry, I know it was a cliff hanger, but I think I made up for it in length. Let me know what you think! Thank you to all who have reviewed and please keep doing so!