Dedication: To Roxy and Priya because I promised. To Chris for her inspiring WSC dialogue. And to Susan, who gets a cameo.

Chapter 8: Leave Me Here To Burn

Louise Grant waved delicately from her seat to Paris and Rory as they entered the restaurant. Her companion, Madeline Lynn leaned forward a bit, her eyes fixed on the two women who were weaving around the other tables and customers. The brunette looked a little nervous as she confided, "She looks okay."

"She's not," Louise answered shortly. She pushed her chair back and stood up when Rory stopped in front of the table and quickly embraced her friend. "Hello Rory. I am so sorry. As soon as I heard, I took the first plane out of Venice."

Madeline stepped in between them. "Louise called me from Venice and I just got here this morning."

"Thank you," Rory replied quietly. It was nice to have familiar faces around her; it had been awhile since she had seen Louise and Madeline. She was just sorry that the circumstance that brought them here was so depressing.

The four women sat down and ordered lunch a few minutes later. They made small talk, the weather, and everyone's recent trips. Reluctantly they talked about work. Louise managed to make them laugh with one of her stories about inventory in her clothing shop.

They touched briefly on the subject of Richard's funeral but Rory quickly diverted the conversation back to something she could talk about. "So Madeline, how are the rug rats?"

"They're terrible. They're wonderful. They tire me out," she replied with a huge grin. She loved teaching and she loved children. Rory still found it hard to believe that Madeline Lynn had decided to become a kindergarten teacher. "I love my job."

"You're one of the few people who can say that, too," Paris cracked wryly.

The meal was finished and they ordered coffees and dessert, lingering at the table. 

"I'm getting married," Louise announced just as easily as she slid her fork into the pie in front of her.

Madeline sighed, Rory couldn't help but smile disbelievingly and Paris simply raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "And this is husband number four, Louise?" she asked and took a sip of her coffee.

"Oh, I thought it was five," Rory chimed in. "One every year since you turned twenty."

"Lorelai dear," Louise stated with a syrupy smile. "You're treading on thin ice. And if you must know, Matthew is only husband number three. Marriage is so much fun. Paris, I am so glad that you've decided to do so yourself."

"I expect to stay married to Jess."

"That's what you think now."

Rory chuckled. "Louise, don't you even care about any of these men?"

"I care about their check books and of course, their looks…Jared and I didn't work because he brought too many feelings into the whole ordeal," she stated with a dismissive wave of her hand and then sighed dramatically. "I just had to break free."

"Yes. God forbid you actually love the man you marry."

"Love doesn't bring anything but pain," she stated with a shrug. "I am surprised that all of you still believe in a knight in shining armor. I lost all those ideals with my virginity."

"Because you were too drunk to remember any of them," Paris countered.

Rory leaned back against her chair, contemplating Louise. She knew why Louise skipped from one man to another, changed boyfriends like she did clothes and married men who only mildly interested her. It was about control. About protecting her heart. About keeping everyone at arms length so that she couldn't get hurt.

Maybe you should learn from her, a voice jeered her. Letting him in again and again isn't getting you anywhere, is it?

She shook her head and remembered her resolve to not think about Tristan.

Louise started to describe her new fiancé, Anthony, prompting Rory to think of her first.

It was the classic story of heartbreak - Louise met Mark Channing in her second year of college. Mark was as smooth and charming as he was kind.  Everyone loved him, he was aspiring to become a lawyer and for once in her life, Louise was in love. Even though she knew they were young and he had a lot to accomplish before he would ever seriously consider it, she knew that they would get married one day. Rory hadn't doubted it, either.

Mark was killed in a car accident a week after the two had gotten engaged.

It had broken Louise completely and she was quite understandably, never the same again. When she got engaged again to Alex Ridgemont, a year later, everyone thought that she had moved on and was in fact, mending her heart. But one night, at Paris' birthday party, Louise was a little drunk and she had confided something to Rory that had completely contradicted everyone's belief.

"I don't love Alex. In fact, I pretty much cannot stand him."              

Rory had been so surprised; she had dismissed it as drunken ramblings. But then, the two had divorced in three months.

"Well," Madeline stated, snapping Rory back to the present. "I'm happy for you. I think."

Louise lifted her shoulder and let it drop. "It's okay. You don't have to be."

Rory smiled faintly. "It just looks like you're not. Happy that is."

"Happiness is another silly ideal," she stated cynically and then gave Rory a pointed look. "Especially when it comes to love. You of all people should know that, Gilmore."

Huh. Rory swallowed hard. No matter how much those words hurt, she knew Louise was right. Paris cleared her throat and expertly changed the subject as Rory leaned back against her chair, avoiding eye contact with Louise again.

So much for not thinking of Tristan.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Mr. DuGrey?"

Tristan blinked and stared at his secretary, dumbfounded. Was she still in his office? Was she still telling him something important? And if so, what was it? He shook his head and gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Alice. I'm not myself today."

She gave him a warm smile. "You've had a lot on your mind."

"I guess so."

She slipped a piece of paper over the desk. "I'll leave your schedule for tomorrow right here and you can look over it whenever. You had dinner plans with Mr. Hudson but he called to cancel."

He gave her a tired grin. "I heard that part. I wasn't in the mood, anyway. Why don't you take off, Alice?"

She looked puzzled. "But I have to fini- "

He waved it away. "Do it tomorrow. I'll be fine without you."

After a moment, she smiled gratefully. "My boyfriend wanted to go see a movie and I had to cancel. I think we can still make it."

"Have fun. Say hi to Charlie for me."

"G'night Mr. DuGrey." She turned and made it halfway across the office when she stopped and let out a 'oops'. She whirled around and rushed back, a secret smile on her face. "I almost forgot. Susan called."

"She did?" he asked, surprised. He hadn't heard from Susan since they had broken up. "Is everything okay? What did she want?"

Alice cocked her head to the side; her blonde curls tumbling past her shoulder. "Well, she wasn't really calling to speak to you, sir. She said that she was missing a few items from her purse and wondered if she had left them in your office."

"Oh."

Alice's eyes brightened. "But they weren't here. If you ask me, I think it was just a ruse to check up on you. Maybe she hoped you were here when she called and that you would demand to speak to her."

Tristan shook his head, amused. "Or maybe she really did think she left her stuff here."

"I'm a woman, Mr. DuGrey. I know these things. The tone of her voice said it all. She really wanted to talk to you. The two of you made such a cute couple. Whatever's wrong I am sure you can fix it," she stated excitedly and then looked away, shamefaced when he looked at her oddly. "I'm sorry, sir. I overstepped my bounds, didn't I?"

"It's okay," he replied, a little uneasy. "G'night Alice."

When she left, he leaned back against his leather swivel chair and ran a hand over his face. Susan Richards had been in his life for the past five months and had easily become his most trusted confidant. They had met in a restaurant one night; he was there after dinner with a client and she was enjoying a martini at the bar after one of her friends had cancelled on her last minute. She was beautiful with her russet hair, almost translucent blue eyes and friendly smile as she chatted amiably with the bartender. He sat down next to her and bought her another drink, which she accepted after her initial wariness wore off.

Two days later, they were on a date.

But he had still been reeling from the yet another fight with Rory; probably the most important, most damaging one. Susan sensed that something was off and over coffee at her place, he had told her everything about his dysfunction relationship with Rory Gilmore.

He had started to think that admitting it to someone, talking about it with her would give him some kind of peace, some kind of closure. He was really beginning to believe that he was getting over Rory and that he and Susan could have a serious, long lasting relationship.

But she had proven him wrong.

He dropped his keys on the table and loosened his tie. In the dimness, he didn't notice that she was sitting on the couch, a small duffel bag by her feet. He smiled a little, although her brows drew together. "Hey."

"Hi," she said softly as he sat down beside her. "Your doorman let me in."

He kissed her cheek. "Good." She pulled away, smiling tightly. "What's wrong?"

"We need to talk."

He ran a hand through his hair. "It sounds serious."

"It is, in a way." She took a deep breath and then looked like she was coaching herself to say the words she wanted to without chickening out. "We have to break up." 

He tried to ignore the feeling of abandonment that seemed to settle over his heart. His voice came out strange, even to his own ears. " We have to? And why's that?"

She shook her head fiercely. "Don't do that."

"Be so calm about it."

"You are."

"I am not!" she retorted and her eyes welled with tears. "I am not calm about it. I'm acting calm about it but I'm not and you should know that! For crying out loud, Tristan, you should know me!"

But he didn't, according to her. He didn't take them time to get to know her. She knew more than she bargained for, more than she really wanted to know about him and his relationship with Rory and he didn't even know her favorite flower. Or the name of the perfume she wore. Or her lucky number.

After they fought, she sat down beside him on the sofa again, wearily. "It's not your fault, really. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. Not when it comes to us. But it is kind of your fault when it comes to her."

His head whipped up so fast, he was sure something might have cracked. "What are you talking about?"

"Rory," she answered gravely. "You're not over her. I don't think you can be."

He fought that notion with everything inside him. He so desperately wanted to believe that he was. "But I am. I'm doing so much better."

She smiled faintly, "You sound like you're a recovering alcoholic, Tristan."

"This isn't funny."

"Believe me," she stated with a violent shake of her head. "I know it's not. I don't find pleasure in the fact that I am involved with a man that is hung up on someone else."

"Susan - "

"My eyes are a shade lighter than hers," she stated sadly, cutting him off. "And my hair is a sandy brown instead of chocolate. If I were insecure, I'd say that I wasn't enough to meet whatever expectations you had. But this isn't about my shortcomings. I won't be the reason you don't have what you want and I won't be the woman you 'settle' for, Tristan. It won't be fair to either of us."

He knew she was right. Of course she was. He wasn't in love with her.  "I care about you, Susan. You've become my best friend."

"I wish all I wanted from you was friendship." She placed a hand on his cheek. "I will give you a piece of advice, though."

He grinned. "I knew that was coming."

"Go see her. Resolve any issues. Voice any feelings. You might think that you're moving on, Tristan, but you're not. Your past with her still rules your present; threatens your future."

"Easier said than done."

"Don't call me for at least a month. I would tell you not to call at all but I know you too well." She kissed him lightly on the lips, stood up before he could say anything else and walked out the door.

Well, resolving things with Rory had not gone as well as either of them hoped. He stared at the phone on his desk, wondering if he would be forgiven for calling in three weeks instead of four. He hand rested on the receiver as he debated with his conscience. Then he picked it up and dialed the number.

When had he ever listened to the voice of reason?