- Chapter Six -

He jammed a bottle of water into her hands and when she simply stared at it, he opened it for her and forced her to take a few sips, guiding her hands with his. She finished the rest of the bottle on her own, lounging back against the wall. He'd led her off to a less crowded spot in one of the side rooms and found a place for them on the floor.

With one leg pulled up and bent at the knee and the other sprawled out in front of him, he too relaxed against the wall, eyes surveying the crowd. There was less people in here, some still moving to the music, others lying on couches or on the floor. Most seemed pretty out of it, various expressions on their faces.

Beside him, Rory stirred, dropping the empty plastic bottle to the floor and pulling her legs up underneath her.

"How are you feeling?" he questioned, turning his head to face her. She still had the same pained look on her face and her hands were trembling but she didn't seem in danger of collapsing.

"At least I'm not drunk this time, right?" she spoke softly, eyes dark.

Not knowing how to respond to her declaration, he chose instead to stare out into the crowd.

They sat in silence for several minutes, the air around them tense and uncomfortable.

"Should I take you back to your boyfriend?" he broke through and was surprised when she let out a bitter, high-pitched laugh.

"Jack's not my boyfriend."

"I thought…"

"You thought wrong," she interrupted, and he caught the acid in her tone. "He's just some guy I'm dating, nothing more."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, watching the excess and debauchery. This really was life in its most hedonistic form.

"I don't need a babysitter," a few minutes later, she broke through, bracing an arm against the back wall and slowly easing herself off the floor. "You can go now."

He also rose to his feet. "Say that again without swaying on your feet," he challenged as she rocked on her feet, leaning back against the wall for support. His instincts told him to help her but his pride held him back. He wasn't going to force his help on her.

"I'll be fine so leave me alone."

"Rory come on, you're about to collapse—"

"Why does that matter to you? You don't even know me."

"I'm trying to get to know you." Before they'd even had a chance to register, the words spilled out of his mouth.

Slowly, she turned to face him.

"Why?"

"Because I like you." Again, they fell from his lips, raw and honest. With her beautiful blue eyes on him, it was difficult to be anything but honest.

For an excruciating second, she simply stared up at him, eyes narrowed as if in anger. And then she was moving into him, crushing her body against his, lips parting against his.

He kissed her back, one hand securing her to him while the other wound its way into her hair.

They broke apart a few minutes later and he pulled in a much needed breath of air. Suddenly as knuckles collided with the side of his face, he found himself slammed against the wall before several well aimed kicks to the kidneys had him buckling to the ground.

Someone laughed as he regained his balance and tried to rise to his feet. But more kicks to the stomach had him on the floor again before an arm the size of a tree trunk took hold of his shoulder and pulled him up, slamming him against a wall, the concrete colliding painfully with the back of his head.

For a second, his vision blurred, little pops of white dancing before his eyes. He tried to shake off his captor, but found himself once again slammed against the wall, an arm coming up beneath his chin, across his upper torso, to further restrain him.

"Jack, tell him to stop!" The pained voice sounded like Rory's, but it sounded far away. He forced his eyes to cooperate, pushing against the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him, and caught sight of Jack, grinning. He had a hand around Rory's wrist, holding her back. To their right stood a guy Tristan recognized as a friend of Jack's from the night before. But he didn't recognize the two guys that held him. They didn't even look like they were in high school.

Jack made a move towards him, pushing Rory to his friend. She swayed dangerously on her feet before nearly collapsing against the unknown friend.

"I let your first little move on Rory slide Danes because…well because I'm a nice guy, and I didn't think you knew better," Jack grinned at Tristan before taking a fist to his stomach. Pain shot through his abdomen in spasm, but he muffled the groan that threatened to escape his lips. He wasn't going to give the coward the satisfaction.

Clearly enjoying his misery, Jack took another punch. With a muffled whoosh, the air was knocked out of him.

"But now I find you slobbering all over my girlfriend?" Jack continued, taking another punch, this time at Tristan's jaw. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt the blow vibrating through his skull but couldn't really think past the word 'girlfriend.'

"Stop it!" Rory screamed, straining at the arms that held her.

Tristan tried again to struggle free, but Jack's cronies forced him back, the concrete scraping against his spine.

Several people around them stared in bewilderment but most seemed too intoxicated to really care.

Jack threw another punch, this time a straight right hook, which was followed by a distinctive 'crunch.' As Tristan swayed, the soles of his feet scraping against the floor for support, he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

Someone whispered the words "last warning" in his ear before it all went black.

---

He couldn't move his limbs or open his eyes, but he could hear voices around him.

"If he's dead, then we're tampering with a crime scene. That's a criminal offence and I'm too pretty to go to jail."

"Shut up Finn, he's not dead."

He heard the shuffling of feet and felt something soft being pressed under his nose. It felt like a towel or cloth of some sort.

"Well look at you all Florence-Nightingale…"

"For the last time Finn, shut the hell up before I give you a broken nose. This is serious."

"Remind me again why we're doing this?"

They were worsening the buzzing in his head.

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because I think he might the answer to our Jack problem."

The name was the trigger he needed. Anger fueled his body into action and coughing, he rolled to his side. Several seconds later, he struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the stabbing pain that followed every twitch of his muscles.

"Tristan," one of the voices called, and he struggled to see past the haze.

Three figures were huddled around him.

"You alright mate?" one of the figures inquired.

"Of course he's not alright, you moron. He's just been…"

"I'm fine," Tristan coughed out, despite feeling the complete opposite. Every inch of him hurt but not as much as his nose. Slowly, he moved a hand to survey the damage. It didn't feel broken so he did the only thing he could. Cupping his nose between his thumbs, he popped it back into place.

This earned a series of groans from the people around him.

Shaking his head to clear away the haze, he took in the people around him. He recognized Paris right away, and her friend Louise. But he couldn't place the guy kneeling next to them. But from the conversation he had overheard, he assumed the guy's name was Finn.

"Let's get you cleaned up shall we," Louise broke through after several seconds of awkward silence. Letting her help him, Tristan rose to his feet, as did Paris and Finn.

When Tristan teetered on his feet, Finn moved to his side for support and led him out of the club.

It was still dark out when they emerged from the building, a cathartic autumn breeze quick to greet them. Testing out his repaired nose, he took in large gulps of air, disregarding the pain in his abdomen as the muscles expanded and contracted.

Finn led them to a bench and helped Tristan ease onto it, before taking a seat beside him. Louise moved to Finn's other side, while Paris settled on pacing back and forth in front of them.

"Well…thanks," after several minutes of silence, Tristan put in feebly, unsure of how to take their sudden interest and help.

"Jack did this, right?" Paris, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in anger, questioned.

Blood had once again begun to pool in his mouth and he spat to the side before turning to address her. "A friend of yours?"

"Hardly," Paris laughed. "We only put up with him for Rory's sake.

Amidst the chaos, he'd completely forgotten about Rory.

"Is she okay?" he questioned Paris, rising from his feet.

"I'm sure she's fine," said Paris, and Tristan caught the resentment in her voice. "I'm sure she's off somewhere with him.

Relaxing, he sat back down again.

"You don't know that for sure," Finn piped in. "For all we know, she's at home, alone."

"Come on Finn," Paris turned on him, "we all know she's with Jack. She's always with Jack. Despite what he does or who he fucks, she's always with Jack."

"Paris…" Louise tried, but Paris turned on her.

"No Louise, I'm done making up excuses for her and pretending like everything is okay. Jack is an abusive ass and she's a moron for always going back to him."

Stunned into silence, he simply sat there, as did Finn and Louise.

As if in a move to regain composure, Paris squeezed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index fingers before whirling around and stalking off. She threw out that she would bring the car around before completely disappearing into the distance. Finn gave it a few seconds before running out after her.

The horizon was slowly becoming more distinct, a sheet of pale grey sky separating heaven and earth. He thought he caught the distant hum of traffic, borne down on the winds.

Louise was the first to break the silence.

"Paris thinks you like Rory."

Spitting to the side, he made a noncommittal sound in response. He was no longer certain of that fact.

"I think you'd be good for her," she ventured on, and from the corner of his eye, he caught that she had turned to face him.

"I doubt her boyfriend would see it that way," he mocked, leaning back against the bench. He knew he should have been pissed off, downright angry even. But somehow, he felt detached from the situation.

All he wanted to do now was get home and fall into bed. His screaming muscles seemed to be in agreement.

"Jack's not her boyfriend, not really anyways."

"What does that mean?" despite himself, the question slipped out.

Louise let out a soft sigh before also leaning back against the bench. "It's complicated…" she drifted off as a van pulled up in front of them.

"Get in," Paris called from the driver's seat.

---

His father was already asleep when he got home. So, trying to make as little noise as possible, he simply climbed into bed. He was too confused and in too much pain to do anything else.

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I'm already working on the next chapter so for those who've stuck by this story, updates will be much more frequent...and for the people who are reading this for the first time...um...updates will be frequent...the ta's at my university are on strike so i've got a lot of time on my hands...hope you guys enjoy it and take the time to review.