It was a little before midnight when Rory heard the knock on the door. She opened her sleepy eyes and wearily got out of bed. The quiet knocking continued until she aproached the door. She glanced over at Paris's bed and saw it empty.
"Uh..." she groaned. She was going to kill Paris for waking her up. She unlocked the door and a pair of lips crashed onto hers. Her eyes opened in shock. Tristan was kissing her. She leaned in and his hands cupped her face. His thumb gently brushed the edge of her jaw.
Suddenly she pulled him inside and closed the door.
"Tristan! I thought you were gone for good! I missed you so much."
"Never." he replied, smiling a little.
"How? After Marty..." she stopped, realizing that this might not be the best conversation to have at midnight. After all, people would have a hard time sleeping with Tristan shouting down the rafters. His face was already clouding.
"I...I don't know what to do about him yet." He sighed. Rory decided a new topic would lighten the mood.
"How did you get in here? They took you away on a plane!"
"Hey, give me some credit. I've got some heavy connections around this place." Rory grinned and leaned in for another kiss. Finally she pulled away, and rested her forehead on his.
"Tristan..." she said, growing somber. "What are you doing here? If anyone catches you..."
"I...had to come." he cut her off. He stroked her cheek tenderly and his breath caught. "You make me forget how to breath." Rory blushed. A smile broke forth onto her face, lighting up her features. It wasn't a smile of anything in particular, just the portrayal of the happiness she felt bubbling up from within her. She kissed him again, this time deeper.
His tongue ran lightly along the inside of her lip, and she opened up to him. He gently tilted her head back, supporting her neck and tracing circles along the back of her neck.
"So..." she said against his mouth, "where are you going to sleep tonight?"
"I hadn't thought that far ahead," he admitted, and kissed her again.
"Spend the night here." she offered.
"Sweet, Mare, but I won't get much sleep if I'm in the same room as you."
"We don't need to sleep."
-
Rumpled clothing littered the floor around the bed where the content couple lay together. Tristan lay behind Rory, his arms encircling her waist and his head rested on her shoulder. Rory paused, catching her breath and coming back to the real world.
"Holy shit!" she squealed. Tristan grinned. "But like, Holy Shit! Why have I never done that before!" he laughed openly.
"Coming over to thee dark side, Mary?"
"Let's do it again!"
"Right now?"
Rory sat up and turned her head, looking behind her. "Yess!"
Tristan laughed again. Then he reached his head up and kissed her shoulder blades in turn. "Cool it just a minute, I'm still not back yet." Rory turned around and lay down once more, her face resting on his chest.
"Mmmphloogapop." She mumbled.
"What?" Tristan asked in amusement.
"Just...trying to find words." she said. He tucked her hair behind one ear.
"Mmmphloogapop." he agreed.
They were woken from their reverie by the crashing sound of the door flinging open. Marty stepped into the room, drenched in sweat.
"You didn't come out, man!" he cried.
"You didn't lock the door?" Tristan asked Rory.
"I wasn't thinking about the door!" she protested.
"I was waiting for you! I was waiting for you to come out, man, but you never did!" the end of his outburst rose several octaves, until he was squeaking.
"Marty," Tristan started, "I've already--"
"Shut up!" Marty shouted. Suddenly his arm disappeared into his coat pocket and he pulled out a handgun.
"Jesus!" Tristan cried out, caught off guard.
"I said shut UP!" the flustered boy shrieked. Rory reached out to the bedpost beside her.
"Marty," she said, "I'm just putting on my robe. Okay?"
"Why did you do it, man?" The curly haired boy asked Tristan. Tristan ran a hand through his tousled hair, his blue eyes quinting in perplexion.
"Do what?"
"YOU...you spoiled her...she was innocent...perfect..."
"So you were waiting for me to to come out of her room to shoot me?" Tristan roared, sitting up. Marty cocked the gun.
"I'm warning you, man!" he waid sharply, pointing the gun at Tristan. Rory tied the robe closed and slowly stood up, her hands in the air.
"Don't move!" Marty shouted shrilly, moving the gun from Rory to Tristan. Rory ignored him, walking slowly towards him and speaking in a low voice.
"Marty, don't do this. You don't want to hurt anybody. You don't have to do this, Marty, you can still get out of here. Just leave Tristan and I alone, Marty, please..."
"Don't move!" he cried. Tears streamed openly down his face, contorted in anguish. "Back up! against the wall!" Rory moved to where he said. Now he was between her and Tristan.
"Why, man, now it's too late!" he said once again to the boy in the bed, his voice cracking. "Now I have to..." he shook the gun at Tristan.
"No, Marty, you don't..." Rory softly put in.
"Yes I do! I will!" he cried.
Suddenly Tristan tried a new tactic. He smirked. "No, Marty, you won't. If you were going to you would have done it already."
Marty stared at him.
"Do you think that if you shoot me you'll get away from all of this? Do you want a persons death on you hands? Even if all of that works out. Lets just say it miraculously does. Do you think there is any chance Mary wont despise you?"
-
Marty tried to keep his hand from shaking. He was way in over his head. He needed Rory, that was all. This was the only way.
"Marty, I'm your friend. You're not going to kill me." Tristan said. Marty wiped sweat from his brow. Tristan was no friend of his. Tristan was his enemy. Tristan took Rory.
"You know what Marty? Go ahead. Do it. I dare you." Tristan said, staring into Marty's eyes. They both knew the truth already. Marty knew he couldn't do it.
-
Rory trembled against the wall. Tristan had just dared Marty to shoot him. Was he out of his mind? She had to do something. Marty was still holding the gun. She didn't know very much about firearms, but she knew that he had made the gun make 'the clicky noise that bad guys in movies always make their guns make.' The next step would come with a bullet.
She couldn't let Tristan die. She loved him. He couldn't die. She would die from heartbreak, corny as she knew that sounded. She inched slightly to her left, and picked up a heavy brass vase from an end table. She silently tip toed up behind Marty.
Neither of the boys noticed her, they were trapped in a staring match. A battle of the wills. It made it that much more surprising when Rory broke the tense silence, and slammed the vase down on the back of Marty's head. The action was awarded a sickening thud, and the boy crumpled onto the floor. Rory dropped the vase and hugged her arms around herself. She was shaking.
Tristan was suddenly there, hugging the trembling girl in a strong embrace. She didn't know how he'd gotten his boxers on so fast. She buried her head in his chest, and he rubbed her back with his arms. She'd felt so strong during the actual actions that she was surprised when she began sobbing violently into his arms.
"I love you I love you I love you I love you..." he murmured to her. After what had just happened, it felt good to just hold her. Unfortunately, it only lasted a couple minutes.
"What the hell?" an enraged Paris entered the dorm. Tristan and Rory were barely decent, crying in each other's arms. The floor was covered with clothing. Marty lay on the floor. A dark stream of blood had trickled down from his head, mingling with the water from the vase which lay near him. The result wasn't pretty.
"Paris..." Tristan said, ready to explain. He couldn't, though.
There were no words.
HAH!
Next chapter will be the absolute last one, the falling action, where everything gets resolved loose ends tied up blah blah blah.
Kay?
Ahh I'm so excited to have gtten this chapter out! I've been sitting on it since Chapter 1, and woowee!
R&R PLEASE, this is...yeah. PLEASE.