Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Gilmore Girls.

Author's Note: I know this has been done before but I watched "Run Away, Little Boy" a few days ago and couldn't resist having a go. One shot for the moment but let me know if you want more- I have a few ideas for where it might go. And if any of you have read "Changes", my other trory, it will be updated soon. Promise!

"I might kiss you good bye, but, uh, your boyfriend's watching. Take care of yourself, Mary."

The irony wasn't lost on him when she smiled for the first time at that particular term of endearment. He was backing away, his eyes still locked on hers, dreading the moment when he'd have to break that final contact. She looked ridiculous in her Elizabethan costume, more Mary-like than usual if that was possible, but it was the look in her eyes that captivated him. She no longer looked as though she hated him.

She broke their gaze first and he sighed as he saw her turn towards the bagboy. It really was over. He turned away, trudging with leaden feet to where his father waited in the shadows.

"Tristan, wait!"

He swung round again and saw her moving towards him as quickly as the overblown dress would allow.

"I'm sorry, young lady, but we have to leave."

He was staring at the ground as his father spoke. Couldn't she just let him go? Goodbye was the one thing he'd managed to do right as far as she was concerned. He didn't like his chances of managing to repeat the performance without annoying her in some way. At least at present his last memory would be of her smiling. If he had to look at her again...

"Mr. DuGray? Sir, with respect, that's not fair."

His eyes shot up and locked again on her face, flushed, imploring.

"There are six of us in this group- at least, five without Brad- and we worked really hard on this. It's worth 50 of our final grade and Tristan is necessary. He's Romeo. We can't perform without him."

She paused for breath, not wanting to think about what means Paris might employ to make sure the show would go on.

"Whatever Tristan's done, it shouldn't affect the rest of us. I don't think Harvard accepts people who fail Shakespeare."

In desperation she was quoting Paris. If it didn't work, it would prove that she'd taken leave of her senses. Actually, she wasn't sure that proof was needed. She was pretty sure the leaving of the said senses had taken place sometime in the middle of his goodbye speech, when the hitherto endless needling had inexplicably ended and she'd realized she'd miss him. She was even babbling in her head to avoid facing that particular revelation. The last time she'd had a similiar epiphany- along the lines of "Maybe he's not all bad"- she'd kissed him and it had all ended in tears. This time she was sure it was going to end in tears too- she just wasn't quite clear where they'd be directed, given the unaccountable resentment bubbling up at Dean's presence and its prevention of the goodbye kiss.

Tristan's father- he was distinguished looking, as she'd expected, but kinder than she would have imagined- smiled wryly at her and she held her breath.

"You may have a point there. What's your name?"

Tristan's head snapped round in astonishment. Hope, too- though he hardly wanted to admit that as of now the greatest wish he had was to be allowed to appear on stage in tights, simply to have a few extra moments with her. This was a new low, possibly worse than dating Paris simply because Rory had asked him to. On the other hand, given his current situation, it really was the best he could hope for.

"Rory Gilmore."

"Well, Rory, I have no wish to punish the innocent with the guilty. Although if you're relying on Tristan to help your college application I think your faith may be a little misplaced." He turned to his son. "Go on, you'd better get this right. And then you're out of here. Understood?"

He nodded. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened, wasn't really surprised that Rory had managed to charm even his father. He just couldn't understand why she'd bother.

"Rory, hurry up!" Paris' not-so-dulcet tones reached them, apparently from some far-flung spot down the corridor.

"Thank you, sir," Rory said hurriedly, grabbing Tristan by his coat sleeve and pulling him away before his father could change his mind.

"Why, Mary, I didn't know you cared." He was smiling at her again, as unable to help the teasing remark as he was unable to believe his luck.

"I thought I made it perfectly clear that I care about my grade. And getting into Harvard." She was smiling too, though, unnaturally pleased at having delayed their goodbye, nothwithstanding the unflinching glare her boyfriend was sending in their direction.

"Quick, go and get changed before Paris makes both of us drink poison for real."

"Rory! NOW!"

"Coming, Paris! We've got Tristan back."

"Thank God for that," she heard Louise mutter with a reverence, however misplaced, that she hadn't known she possessed.

"Well, then, where is he?" Paris queried impatiently. "Places, people, we have no more time!" She clapped her hands, pushing them onto the stage.

Rory took her time arranging herself on the bench that was to be Juliet's deathbed, hoping to give him a few extra moments to get ready. She had nothing to worry about: he was there, a little breathless, but ready in record time. She squeezed his hand as he took his position, an unrehearsed gesture that made him smile at her. For the moment he didn't care what had driven her to force his participation. Every second spent with her was to be savoured, collected and filed away for reference in the wilderness of military school. For the duration of this scene he'd be the Romeo her Juliet deserved.

As soon as it began, they were conscious of it spinning fast to a conclusion. He'd never thought of himself as much of an actor, but it was as though he was just using someone else's words to express his own feelings at losing all that he held dear.

He leaned over her and suddenly his blue eyes took over her whole world. She was no longer conscious of Dean's presence, not even aware that Paris was not-so-subtly signalling her to close her eyes.

"Thus-" He was drawing the moment out, not wanting it to be over, causing her heart to beat faster in anticipation.

"With a kiss-" Her eyes at last fluttered closed as his lips brushed hers gently, slowly, in a way that left no doubt that this was more than a stage kiss.

"I die."

Her eyes opened again and she saw the tear, hidden from the audience, that rolled from his as he let his head fall slowly to her shoulder. Perhaps it should have fallen to her breast, but now that whatever could have been was over, he wasn't about to make her uncomfortable. So he was surprised when the curtain came down and her fingers tangled in his hair.

"I'm sorry."

"Why? I thought you'd be pleased." He sat up to look at her again, was surprised when he saw the tears standing in her eyes. He was unable to help the edge that crept, unbidden, into his voice.

"After all, you hate me."

She sat up abruptly, noticing Madeleine and Louise still standing there, grinning. At least Paris had moved on. "Can we get a little privacy?" she asked in exasperation.

"Didn't know you needed it," Louise answered flippantly. "Come on, Madeleine!"

Rory shook her head as they sashayed off stage.

"I don't hate you."

His eyes questioned hers, finding their answer as he leaned towards her again, needing the kiss that he knew would have to grant them both closure. This time it was much more than a gentle brush of lip on lip: there was a crushing urgency that stole her breath and left no question as to his desire. She responded in kind, surprising them both still further.

"Rory? Rory, sweetie, Dean's looking for you." "I've sent him out front with Sookie but I doubt he'll stay there long."

Her mother's voice filtered from somewhere backstage and she thanked the theatre gods that Lorelai hadn't come searching more efficiently.

"Be right there," she called back, refusing to break eye contact with him.

He pushed a stray hair behind her ear, tracing the organ that had so entranced him in class with his finger.

"So all I had to do was commit a crime and tell you I was leaving, huh?" he whispered sadly.

"Timing's a bitch," she answered bitterly, tears again clouding her eyes.

He nodded. "You can say that again. I really have to go. Can't make the old man madder than he is already."

He stood up, taking her hand to help her from the bench. "Wish you didn't cry every time I kissed you, though."

"Not at all crying material," she mumbled, her actions belying the words. At least this time she wasn't the one running away, although running was hardly the applicable word for his leaving. She'd definitely subdued the running away reflex. Wanting to push him against her locker and kiss him until he begged for mercy seemed to have replaced it for now. Certianly the idea of relinquishing him in favour of Dean or to military school or any girl he chose was not to borne.

"This really is goodbye," he said as they reached the emptying hallway.

"Maybe not."

She'd spotted Lorelai with his father, hoped she could work some kind of miracle. Of course, first they'd have to pull off the miracle of telepathy, since the last time they'd talked she hadn't been Tristan's biggest fan. To the best of her knowledge, using the power of thought to communicate hadn't worked in the past despite their closeness. She couldn't remember needing it to, though. She hoped necessity improved their psychic powers.

"How?"

She silenced him with a look, pulling him into an empty classroom and pushing him against a door. He was astonished at her temerity, didn't want to question it.

"My mom's talking to your dad," she said quietly. "She might be able to change his mind."

"And then what?" he queried. "Your boyfriend's still out there."

"And there are three girls you're seeing."

She was quoting Paris again. This had to be the most surreal evening of her life.

She suppressed a squeal as he lifted her up and turned her around, pressing her into the door.

"Not any more," he said huskily, the steady look in his eyes affirming his sincerity. She pulled his head down to taste his lips again, her need for him as clear as his for her. The fear that their time was running out fuelled her urgency, led her hands to trace the muscles of his back in a way she'd never wanted with Dean. Every sense would hold its own memory of him if this was only to be a goodbye.

She heard him gasp as she allowed her hands to wander lower over his rear, pulling him closer as the encouragement let him trail his own over the curve of her breast. Even through the restrictive costume, the sensation caused her to sigh into his mouth. She forced herself to focus on the reality that was to divide them.

"We have to go back out there," she said reluctantly, resting her head on his chest.

He placed a kiss on her forehead, still holding her close. "I know."

She took his hand and pulled him out of the room into the path of Lorelai and his father.

"You did really well," Lorelai said brightly, trying not to dwell on her daughter's flushed and slightly dishevelled appearance.

"You did well, son," Mr. DuGray echoed hesitantly. "I'm glad to see you haven't been wasting all your time."

"No, sir," he said firmly.

"I hope he hasn't spoiled your grade."

"I don't believe he has," Rory smiled back, and he was struck by the starry innocence of her eyes as she smiled at his son.

"Mr. DuGray?" she continued uncertainly.

"Won't you reconsider? Military school? I know what Tristan did was stupid but he's sorry and Chilton offers a really good education."

She had started to babble again, the Gilmore tendency when nervous reasserting itself with force.

"He's more in need of discipline than education," his father said tightly.

"Can't he have both?" She was surprised at her own persistence.

This time he smiled. "That's something I'll have to consider. But not tonight. Anger tends to cloud one's judgement. As does disappointment. Don't push it Rory- your mother and I have had a long talk about my motives and the consequences of my decisions. There's a lot more to think about. Come on Tristan, get your things and we'll go home."

"Thank you," Rory said politely.

"No promises," he warned her. "This isn't over yet."

Even so she smiled as Tristan kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Mary."

The hope in both their eyes wasn't lost on his father. Whatever was going on here might actually be good for Tristan, he thought. Perhaps forcing him to stay and face his demons might be better than forcing him to run. It was an idea at least worthy of thought.

She glanced around as they left and saw the hurt on Dean's face. Tristan's father wasn't the only one who could be accused of punishing the innocent. She started towards him, but he shook his head, making some motion with his hands that signified despair.

"Honey? You want to tell me what happened here?"

She turned bewildered eyes on her mother.

"Tristan. Somehow Tristan happened."

"And will he be happening again?"

"I hope so."

Lorelai bit her lip distractedly. 'Oh, God. Where's Sookie? I'm going to need help with this."

Rory was staring into the distance again. Everything she'd feared and tried to avoid had happened anyway. She was ruined. Every other boy would be compared to him- and she couldn't imagine that the comparison would be favourable. He'd have to stay at Chilton- she didn't think they'd welcome her at military school.