Chapter 14: In My Place

"I want you to have it, Rory. I want you to marry me."

She knew the words were coming, she had even thought about him asking her the question when she had first discovered she was pregnant. She had played out all the possible scenarios in her mind on how to tell him and one of the more elaborate sequences was where he'd get down on one knee and tell her that he loved her and wanted to be a family.

Never once had Rory ever imagined that he'd ask after they had another fight and he had left her in the apartment, crying.

"Why?" she asked softly, avoiding his gaze. Instead, she stared at the diamond winking back at her in the afternoon sunlight. It was such a beautiful ring; she imagined it would look even better on her finger.

"Why?" he repeated incredulously. "Because we're having a baby, Rory."

Don't cry, she ordered herself and swallowed back the lump in her throat. With a shaking hand, she took his hand and placed the small box in his palm and looked away. "I can't marry you, Tristan."

She stood up, leaving him there on the couch and the pain in her stomach returned. It was a swift, pulsing jab that almost left her breathless. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on her stomach, grateful that she wasn't facing Tristan so that he couldn't see her. Rory wanted him to leave her alone, in her pain.

There was a rustling behind her and then he cleared his throat. "Am I allowed to ask why you can't?"

"Don't do this Tristan. Not now."

"Why the hell not?" he asked, the tenderness completely gone and replaced by that famous temper. God, she knew she couldn't make it through another row. Before she could answer, the pain was back again, another quick blow and she doubled over just as he came to stand behind her. As quick as lightening, he grabbed her before she fell to her knees.

"Rory!" She heard him shout her name almost urgently over the sound of blood in her ears. "Rory, what's wrong?" He was leading her to the couch; the pain was almost blinding her. "Christ, baby, what's going on?"

"I don't know," she replied, her voice a strangled cry. She clutched the front of his shirt, staring at his panic-stricken face. Once again, he was right where she needed him to be. She cried from the pain and comfort of it. "Tristan, the baby. Something's wrong."

"He asked me to marry him," Rory told her mother as they sat on a patch of grass beside Richard's grave. She didn't know why but the words came out much easier here with Lorelai than they would have anywhere else, with someone else. She glanced sideways to gauge her mother's reaction and when she found none, she added, "Tristan did."

Lorelai expelled a breath and squinted her eyes against the afternoon sun. "I figured that much. And since I don't see a ring on your finger and considering how he so obligingly left Hartford, I'd wager you said no."

Rory examined her hand, pressing the thumb of her left to the ring finger of her right. "He didn't ask me this time. He asked when he found out I was pregnant."

"I feel a foreboding déjà vu coming on." Lorelai sighed and rubbed her temple. "You know, I always thought that if you were more like me you'd be better off. I guess I was wrong again. How'd he take the rejection?"  

"Like any man would, I guess." She shrugged and brought the base of her palms to her eyes, still sore from the crying jag. "He wanted to know why. I couldn't give him an answer."

Lorelai glanced at her sideways, studying her profile. "Why not?"

"I guess because deep down, I wanted to say yes." She let out a shaky breath, and studied her hands twisted together on her knees. Lorelai reached over and rested her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "It doesn't matter, anymore."

"Then why does it sound like it does?"

Rory let out a frustrated breath and pressed her palm to her eyes in exhaustion. "I don't know, Mom. I'm just tired of all of this. I'm tired of not knowing anything when it comes to him. I thought that after what happened, after I lost the baby that all ties were severed with him and that maybe he'd stay away. God, does that sound terrible?"  

Lorelai rubbed her daughter's back, gently. "No honey, it doesn't."

"I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered, resting her head against her mother's shoulder, amazed that the tears were starting to form again. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling, willed the pain to go away. "I miss him."

Her mother kissed her forehead, sighed, "I know you do, honey."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Tristan stared at his baby pictures on the mantel in his parent's bedroom, frowning as he tried to understand why his mother had dressed him up like some kind of porcelain doll when he was a toddler. Of course, back then, it was baby fashion and his mother was nothing if not a trend-setter.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Babies.

"Mr. DuGrey?" a nurse in sea-green scrubs said, tentatively as she approached him. He stopped staring at the hospital floor and quickly stood up, eager to know about Rory's condition. The condition of their child.

"How is she?"

"Miss Gilmore is doing fine, she's been stabilized."

He tried to keep his voice from cracking. "And the baby?"

The look on her face said it all. She reached out and touched his arm, giving him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Mr. DuGrey. We tried but I'm afraid Miss Gilmore lost the baby."

He barely had enough time to get used to the idea that Rory was pregnant with his child; that his child existed and at that moment, it was all cruelly taken away from him. In one single moment. "Oh God."

"I'm sorry, Mr. DuGrey," she repeated kindly. Nodding dumbly, he clenched his fists to keep from lashing out at the nurse. The nurse offered a platitude he didn't hear and then asked, "Would you like to see her?"

"A penny for your thoughts," his mother said softly from behind him. He turned to see her standing in the middle of the bedroom, hands clasped in front of her. She looked perfect. She always looked perfect. A smile ghosted her lips and she angled her head to the side, studying him. "Although, it looks like they're worth more."

"Or maybe nothing at all," he stated dryly, resting one hand on the mantel. Arabella stepped closer, touched his elbow softly. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "I was thinking of Rory."

Instinctively, her grip tightened and she came to stand in front of him, resting her other hand on his cheek. "It looked like you were. What happened, darling?"

Tristan turned his face into her palm, seeking some kind of comfort she had never offered before. Comfort from her that he had never thought he needed before. "She was pregnant. She lost the baby."

"Oh sweetheart," Arabella said, throwing her arms around his neck. His own arms, slipped around her waist as something tore in him and snapped into two. He didn't know his mother had felt so soft; she'd always been too delicate to touch. He never thought she'd be safe, so female; he always imagined her to be cool and aloof. He was twenty-seven and he had never known the comfort of his mother's embrace until now. And that almost broke him.

He wasn't sure if the soft sob was his own but it didn't matter quite then. "Tristan, darling, you should have told me. How long? How long have you been holding this all in?"

"Four months," he managed to strangle out as he pulled away from her. "It happened in Boston when I went to visit her. We fought and she told me. I asked her to marry me and minutes later, I was taking her to the hospital."

"I'm so sorry," Arabella murmured, stroking his hair. "I should have known something was wrong, I should have felt it."

"How could you possibly?" he asked, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

"Some kind of maternal instinct," she muttered, pulling away. "Lord knows I've never been the ideal mother but I should have known. I felt it when we talked over the phone. Your voice sounded hollow and I just…I don't know, didn't know how to deal with it. It was selfish of me."

Tristan gently wiped the tears forming at the corner of her eyes but before he could say anything, someone cleared their throat from behind, causing mother and son to jump apart, startled.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted," William DuGrey apologized, looking a little concerned and surprised at the same time. "Tristan and I have dinner reservations."

"I'm coming," Tristan replied and then turned to his mother, "We'll talk later."

She rested her hand on his cheek and then stood on her tiptoes to kiss the other. "Alright. You have a good time."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Rory grinned over the rim of her wineglass. "Dean Forester, Mr. Mom. I would never have guessed it." 

Dean laughed as he wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "It was a temporary arrangement while Lindsay went to help her sister deliver. Lila was just starting school and I was between jobs, it seemed like the most natural thing."

"You two work well together."

He met her gaze, smiling slightly. "You doubted it."

"At eighteen, yeah, I did."

He studied her for a minute, and then leaned back against his chair. "You've changed somehow. It's subtle but it's there. I don't know how to pinpoint it exactly…"

She shifted, glancing around the posh dining room of one of Hartford's most elite restaurants and grinned. "But this is my natural habitat, don't you think?"

"Granted the Rory Gilmore I knew would never opt to dine in a fancy restaurant over scarfing down a pizza in front of the TV, watching sitcom reruns but it's something much more than your taste buds," he mused aloud, chuckling. "You always did fit in here perfectly."

"Much to my mother's disappointment."

"Lorelai's proud," Dean answered automatically and when she raised an eyebrow he clarified, "I ran into her at Doose's last night. Bought her coffee and she remembered why she liked me so much."

"She's so easy," Rory replied with wry grin. "I'm just so sorry Lindsay couldn't make it."

"Well, we're used to last minute cancellations," he remarked. "Lila's cold just hit mid-afternoon and she's been cranky. But, Lin wanted me to ask you over for dinner tomorrow night or something. She really wants to catch up."

"That sounds…" Rory trailed off as she noticed two familiar figures standing right behind Dean's chair. Following her gaze, Dean turned as well and then looked back at her confused. Her heart hammering wildly in her chest, she managed to stammer, "William. Tristan."

"Lorelai," William greeted her with a kiss on her cheek as she stood up. "What a lovely surprise."

"Yes it is," she replied, feeling Tristan's eyes burn into her as she quickly looked away. "Dean, I'd like you to meet William DuGrey. William, Dean Forester a friend of mine from way back."

Dean stood up to shake William's hand and then turned to Tristan, offering his hand. This time, Rory did meet his gaze, hoping that he wouldn't cause a scene and rebuff Dean's friendly handshake. He tore his gaze away and accepted the other man's hand, smiling. "Dean."

"Well, we've kept Mr. Lowenstein waiting long enough, son," William stated, breaking the tense silence that followed. "Let's let Lorelai get back to dinner."

Tristan nodded gave her another piercing stare and then, walked away with his father.

"That was tense," Dean stated as they settled back into their chairs. "Tristan DuGrey? From Chilton?"

"Yeah," Rory answered, taking a sip of her wine to steady herself. She would not look back and see where they were sitting, she repeated to herself. She would not wonder what he was doing back in Hartford.

"I didn't know you two are in touch."

Oh, they were so much more than that. She sighed, forgetting etiquette and resting her elbow on the table. Suddenly, pizza in front of a TV sounded much more appetizing. "We're…"

"You don't have to explain," he interjected. "It's pretty obvious the way he keeps looking over here and sending me death glares."

She felt her cheeks flush. "I'm so sorry, Dean. He's got the wrong idea and he has a really bad temper…"

"I remember the dance we went to," Dean replied, grinning. "Why don't you go over there and explain. I'm sure he'll understand that - "

She almost laughed at the absurdity of explaining herself to Tristan. When had they ever been good with words? "It's a little more complicated than that. I didn't know he was back in town and it's just…confusing to see him."

"We could go," he offered, polishing off his wine. "We could get dessert somewhere else."

"No. That would be too obvious," she answered quietly, twisting her napkin between her fingers. "There's no need to ruin our dinner."

"Something tells me that your good mood has already evaporated," he countered, glancing over at Tristan. "I know that we haven't seen each other in a long time but I can sense that something is off. I don't wanna pry but -"

"We have a rocky history," she cut him off, understanding his attempt to help her. She laughed a little at her statement. "It's been like that ever since college and it gets worse every time I see him."

"I'm sorry."

Rory lifted her shoulder in a seemingly careless shrug. She had no idea why the words were coming out so easily with Dean Forester of all people. "It's not your fault. I've really begun to lose count of how many times I've told myself that it's no one's fault."

"If it's not working, there must be something wrong, something to blame."

"Maybe there is," she replied vaguely. "You have this perfect marriage, Dean."

"There's no such thing."

"You love Lindsay unconditionally," she stressed. "You've loved her since we were eighteen. You've been married ten years and you have a wonderful daughter."

"There were times when everything wasn't normal, Rory," he countered. "Lindsay and I almost got a divorce once. And I don't know how many times we've fought and hurt each other to the point I thought I couldn't stay with her anymore."

Mortified, Rory felt her cheeks flush again. "Oh Dean, I'm so sorry for jumping to conclusions or if I offended you in anyway."

He gestured dismissively and grinned. "Forget about it. I'm just saying love isn't perfect. It just is. It was easier at sixteen when we went to a dance and fell asleep at Miss Patty's but that was a different kind of love. A much less complicated version."

She heaved a sigh, dropped the napkin on her lap. "It didn't seem less complicated at the time. I was a terrible girlfriend."

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You were what I wanted. Love's funny like that."

She met his gaze over the candlelight and thought of Tristan. "Yeah, it is."