My Brother

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

Setting: See first chapter

Thanks to: my wonderful beta, Lady Ilyre. There would be many mistakes in this chapter without her.

The rest of the evening passed serenely, Rose designing a new dress up in her study, William working on some paperwork that had to do with business at his desk, and the two brothers facing each other across the little glass table, trying to find something to say.

"So, Tristan, how's life at Chilton?" Robert asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Er…it's great. I mean, it's not really great, but it's alright; I mean, it's school, right, and how can school be great?" Tristan let out a nervous little laugh and ran his hand through his hair.

Robert nodded. "I see. And…do you fancy any particular girl there?"

Oh god. What was he supposed to answer to that? "Well, I did have some girlfriends…"

Robert raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his mint tea, which was, by now, a little cold. "Yes, well, that's good…"

Their pathetic attempts at conversation ended, Robert and Tristan looked around the living room for a while as though it were a great source of interest.

"Robert…" Tristan began, a question moistening his lips. "How much did you…like Lorelai?"

Robert looked at him, clearly startled. Slowly he eased back in his chair and brought the mug to his lips, though he didn't take another sip. "Well…at first I thought I was in love with her. There were lots of other girls in the school, but for me there was only her. I was blinded, I suppose, and that's why I didn't see Helga. But when we both left school abruptly, it was Helga who saw me off, who told me she would miss me, who shed a tear for me…I guess I was seeing her for the first time and realized that she was a decent girl where Lorelai was not, and would give me a calm, happy life, which was all I wanted when I came back from…school. It was then that I realized that I didn't love Lorelai…any more; she probably didn't even know my name anyway. And so when I came back from Mili-…from the school I was sent to, I knew it was Helga who I should marry. Is that explanation enough?"

Tristan nodded, though a far-off look was present in his blue eyes. "Yeah. And do you regret anything?"

Robert had a look of thoughtfulness in his eyes as he contemplated the question from all angles. Finally he replied, "No, I don't think so. Lorelai was such a wild girl, I think that if we had married she would have left me the next year, month, week... And with Helga I have a peaceful, calm, serene life…I like it. It's enough. And don't even ask me if I love my son; I love him more than my parents ever loved me. I make it a point to love little Will."

"Will? You named him after William? Our father?" Tristan asked incredulously. He'd thought that Robert and William hated each other.

"Er…well…" Robert looked a little uncomfortable. "It's all because of my father I am who I am now, you know, and if I hadn't been sent off then I would never have realized that Lorelai and I…so yes, I guess I did name my son after William. Though I also simply like the name."

Tristan nodded and they both went back to their drinks. After a while the doorbell buzzed and Tristan got up to open the door. When he opened it he took care to say, "Hello?" instead of his previous saying, the one which had caused him such intense mortification.

"Hello. Is this the DuGrey household? I have here some Chinese food ordered by one Robert DuGrey…" the speaker was a greasy-haired man holding out a steaming box. His white, baggy T-Shirt read, "The Red Dragon: Home of the Finest Chinese Cuisine".

"Hold on a second," Tristan directed the delivery boy, his head ducking back into the house. "Robert? Did you order Chinese food?" he called.

"Oh, yeah, I did." Robert appeared beside him and took the box from the delivery boy gratefully. "Thank you," he said, shutting the door.

"Wait, what about payment…?" the voice of the whiney delivery boy called out as the door was about to close.

"Prepaid!" Robert called, letting the door shut. Tristan and his brother watched the boy drive off on a cheap red bicycle, looking grumpy, and in that instant what had been said over and over suddenly hit them both with its full force: they were brothers. They shared a bond. They should be able to talk for hours on end. But somehow things just didn't work out that way.

(…)

The alarm clock rang with a ferocity that awoke him, heavy sleeper as he was, and Tristan was dressed and done brushing his hair and teeth in the course of eight minutes. He was careful not to disturb Robert, who was lodged in one of the numerous bedrooms, on his way down the stairs. He grabbed an apple and started up his car, on his way to school.

Once he got to the school, he kept his head down and decided to avoid everyone's curious glances. But one person's attention was hard to keep away from.

"Tristan? Is that man really your brother?" Paris Gellar asked him forcefully, trotting up to the boy she thought was Tristan. He let out a reluctant sigh, having no wish to talk to anyone right now, let alone Paris. Quickly Tristan made up a lame excuse.

"Yes, Paris, he is. Oh, is that Mr. Medina calling me? So sorry, have to go." Tristan dashed off before the amiable Paris Gellar could pursue him and question him farther. On the way to his English class he ran into someone else preferably avoided.

"Hey Trisha, just thought I might say hi," Bowman greeted him with a sneer, his plump face twisting to accommodate the greasy smile. "So, are you in on tomorrow? Wanna come with me and Duncan to that Rock Concert or are you too…chicken?"

"What Rock Concert? Oh, that one! Well, sorry Bowman but my brother Rob, a real rocker, jut bought tickets to this superb Rock Concert for tomorrow evening, and seeing two in one day would be way un-cool. So sorry, but no." Tristan hurried to his English class once more before the shocked Bowman could answer.

"DuGrey? May I ask why you're late?" Mr. Medina's scorning voice rang out harshly as Tristan took his seat. "Class starts at 8:05, and not whenever you choose to appear."

"Yeah well, it kind of starts whenever you get here, Medina, so pressure's on." Tristan smirked, his anger and frustration drained into that one disrespectful comment. Ah, it felt good to annoy the authorities sometimes.

"Out. I think Mr. Charleston will be interested to hear that, DuGrey," Mr. Medina told him frostily as Tristan voluntarily rose from his chair, leaving his heavy backpack behind. He could hear Rory's sharp intake of breath and wished he hadn't. He didn't want her pity. But he did want something from her; he wanted the same kind of feelings he harbored for her to be returned on her part. Not, he thought gloomily as he sat in Charleston's office, that would never happen. But he could hope.