DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything involving Gilmore Girls.

I just wanted to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews! I was very apprehensive about the last chapter and the plot twist in general, but you guys were all so awesome! I hope you continue to read and review!

After sitting in silence for over twenty minutes, Rory finally rose and turned to face Tristan. He was resting his head on the banister, desperately trying to look as though he felt okay. The truth was that he couldn't wait for Rory to leave so he could return to his position on the bathroom floor. He didn't wait to upset her, but maintaining composure for this long wasn't exactly easy. Rory stared down at him for a moment and then quietly said, "I'm going to let you get some rest. Do you need help upstairs?"

Tristan let out a weak laugh and said, "You don't have to worry about me. I pretty much have this routine down."

Tristan's attempt at being lighthearted only brought more uneasiness to Rory. The thought of him having a routine of being sick only made her already sympathy-filled face worse. Tristan could never stand seeing this look; the look people give as soon as they hear the 'c' word. He'd never asked for sympathy before, and he wasn't about to start. "Really, Rory, you should go. I'll probably be back in school in a few weeks."

"I'm going to come and see how you're doing after school." Rory said in an overly confident and strong voice.

Tristan sighed and said, "No, don't do that."

Not expecting his reply, Rory stepped back and said, "Why not?"

Tristan covered his face with his hands and shook his head. He had been afraid that this would happen. He knew that Rory would never be able to ignore something like this. She is the type of person that will offer help to anyone if she felt they needed it. At first, the idea of having Rory help him seemed perfect, but the more he thought about it, the more he began to despise the idea.

"I don't need you doting on me because I'm sick."

"You don't have to be so stubborn, Tristan. I don't mind doing it."

Tristan raised his voice as much as his body would allow and said, "Well I do."

Hurt and confusion immediately washed over Rory's face. She had no idea what was going on in Tristan's head. One minute he says he could get used to having her around, the next he is practically pushing her out of his door. Looking at the ground, she said, "Can I ask why not?"

"Do you have any idea what it's like to have someone go from hating you one second to pitying you the next? You would think that I would have done anything to get you to pay any real attention to me, but not this. I don't need any false kindness, Rory. It's the worst thing that you could ever give me."

Rory walked over to his place on the stairs and stooped in front of him, desperately trying to get Tristan to look at her. Tristan shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the delicately carved wood behind him. "It wouldn't be like that, Tristan. I honestly want to help you get through this."

Tristan felt his stomach wrenching and he wasn't exactly sure if it was from the poison coursing through his body or if it was because of Rory. He clutched his stomach as inconspicuously as he could and said, "Please just go home now. I really have to get back upstairs."

He slowly stood, grabbing the rail for support and Rory instinctively grabbed his other arm. Tristan tore his arm away from her and began walking up the stairs by himself. Rory watched as he slowly and clumsily made his way up the huge staircase. Once he was out of sight, she grabbed her car keys and walked outside to the Jeep. Tristan sat in the hallway at the top of the stairs, listening as the front door clicked close and she started her car. He sighed in relief as he bent over and threw up all over his mother's precious burgundy carpet. She wasn't there, so why should he care what she may think. He leaned against the wall to take a rest before he would try to make it back to the bathroom. Before he knew it, he had been there for over two hours, creating a circle of green stains around him.

Rory drove back to Chilton in a dazed fog. None of it felt real to her; Tristan was just playing some cruel joke on her. That's what she kept telling herself over and over again in her mind. She just couldn't bring herself to believe that he really was sick, because if he was, then there was absolutely nothing she could do to make it better. She glanced at the clock in the Jeep and realized that it was already third period. Paris was going to kill her, but right now she just couldn't bring herself to care.

"Gilmore, where the hell have you been? The project is due in two hours!" Paris shouted at Rory, who simply walked past her and continued on her way to her locker.

Of course, Paris quickly followed after her and watched as Rory gathered her books in her backpack. "And just where do you think you are going?"

"Home." Rory slammed her locker shut and walked towards the entrance of the school.

Rory vaguely recognized Paris screaming her name down the hallway, but she kept walking. She started the Jeep and drove the 45 minutes back to Stars Hollow. When she walked in the kitchen, her mother wasn't there as she expected. After all, it was only 12:00 and Lorelai would still be at work for hours. Rory started the coffeemaker and did the only thing she knew to do in this situation. She opened her laptop and logged on to the internet, typing 'Leukemia' into the search field.

After searching through numerous websites, Rory closed the laptop in defeat. The information that she found wasn't exactly calming her nerves. Despite the fact that she had no idea which type of Leukemia Tristan had, she did manage to learn that the cancer basically makes him open to all sorts of infections and complications. The treatment is long, painful and not always successful. The information on chemotherapy alone made her want to shudder. She now had a better idea of what he was going through, but it didn't ease her mind to think of him sitting alone in that empty house. The good news, however, was that there is a very hopeful success rate for chemotherapy patients. If only she could allow her mind to believe that after everything she had just finished reading.

Tristan had woken up to a maid gently tapping his shoulder. "Mr. DuGrey, would you like me to help you to your bed?"

Tristan was about to decline, but realized that the chances of him getting there alone were very slim. After all, this woman was paid to help, so why not accept it? "Yeah, thanks."

The heavyset maid was able to wrap her arms around Tristan and help him walk to his bedroom down the hall. Once he was settled, she returned with a bucket, which she placed on the other side of his huge king sized bed. Tristan quietly thanked her and she shut the door, leaving him alone to sleep. Tristan would periodically awake and roll over to the bucket, then return to his dream disturbed slumber. His dreams had begun in the 6th grade, during his first bout with cancer. He always awoke with a start, desperately trying to forget. Most of his dreams he could not remember, but the ones that he could made him wish that he didn't.

So, this is a little bit shorter and not a ton of dialogue. I just wanted to give you guys a little bit more information on what is going on in Tristan's body and mind. Please let me know what you think! Thanks!