Runaway Train
By Ducks
Disclaimer: The characters that are from Gilmore Girls are not mine
Author's Note: Though this story is based on 'Runaway Bride' it does not follow the movie completely.
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"Hey Tristan!" Paris called as he entered her office.
"Hey sweetie," he said as he walked over to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Why did you call me in here?"
"I just wanted to say hi. I haven't seen you all week. I missed you."
"Aw, isn't that so very nice of you. I missed you too but I have been busy doing what I do best- being the best writer you have or that anyone else has ever seen. How are you doing?" Tristan paused and realized with whom he was talking. "Whoa, wait a minute," Tristan looked around Paris' office, looking under her desk in confusion. "Who are you and what have you done with my ex-wife, a.k.a the one obsessed with work and never ever asks me anything personal in the workplace, especially since my ex is my editor?"
"You are just so funny. I am thoroughly amused. I actually just walked into this office, looking at the name plate on the door and the pictures realizing that I look a lot like this Paris woman, a beautiful woman at that, deciding to take Paris' place."
"Yet again I am confused. Paris never jokes at work. Hmmmm." Tristan began walking around the office with his thumb and fore finger on his chin, the fore finger tapping against his face as he was caught in a thought. " I think I should ask you a few questions to see if you are really Paris. When did we meet? What high school did we go to? How many boyfriends have you had?"
Paris looked at him, starting to get mad because he was getting out of hand, "I am not going to answer any of your asinine questions. You know who I am. I was just trying to lighten things up a bit. You are just too infuriating."
"I see now. You are trying to get on my good side by being very uncharacteristically nice and not saying Paris-like-things during the hours of nine to five on a weekday. You want something or you are firing me or you are telling me that you or I have some incurable disease and that one of us is dying." Tristan mentioned in a sarcastic tone.
"Oh you really think that I am trying to manipulate you? How dare you? I am so honest and real with you. Ugh. Fine. I am going to cut the niceties, I was trying a new tactic with you to see if you would respond better to a new way of my handling your work but no." Paris harrumphed.
"Cut the act sweetheart. Not only have I known you all of my life but I also married you. I know the way you work. You are up to something. Just be straight with me, the act won't make me more sympathetic towards you or what you have to say. I can smell your acts a mile away."
"I don't know if I like that you know me so well, especially since I am your editor. Fine, I wanted to discuss your column with you."
"Okay," Tristan said as he sat down in a chair opposite Paris, with his feet up on her desk, "shoot."
"You know that you are one of the most popular writers on staff. People are very interested in what you have to say about anything and everything, especially if they don't agree with you. You also are the writer who has the most letters to the editor written against your articles." Paris sighed.
Tristan shook his head, "Why are you telling me things that I already know?
Paris continued, "I don't understand why you have such a loyal following, especially with women. But that following has started to dwindle. Your jaded and archaic view of women is hurting the popularity of the newspaper. And you would think after being married to me, you would respect women more in your writing, but no. You alienate your female audience by disrespecting them and devaluing them in your writing. You are very obtuse about women and it shows very strongly in your writing."
"You have a very interesting way of giving me criticism. First you semi stroke my ego and then BOOM. You need to work on your people skills but you are handling me better than you did when we were on the Franklin together in high school. Wow you were such a tyrant then, everything had to go your way, I'm still glad that I quit."
"Oh yeah, you quit was because I am always right and you are always wrong, but then again you never did really grasp that notion- there was no tyranny involved." Paris smiled at her employee slash ex-husband slash best friend. (Oh what a tangled web we weave she thought.) "Anyway I want you to take a less aggressive stance towards women in your upcoming articles because you are really estranging some of our long time readers from us who happen to be women. Wait, I'm your editor, I order you to be more woman-friendly in your articles. The power is great fun. But you need to realize that without women, this newspaper probably would not have lasted as long as it has or been as successful."
"Paris come on. We work at the lofty New York Times. I highly doubt that JUST women kept this newspaper in business. Men can and do read you know. But get this: we can write well too. And I am living proof to that testament."
"But women still read this paper and they complain about you more than any other writer that I know about at such a liberal newspaper. I want your next piece to show that under that conservative and Neanderthal exterior is a softy who cries at sad movies and reads romance novels." Tristan shakes his head emphatically. Paris, with her puppy-dog face, which she has perfected over the years because of her close relationship with her friends- the dynamic mother and daughter duo who have adopted her as their own- pleads, "Come on Tris. I know you want to do this because it will make your editor and boss and best friend happy. It will make me so happy that I might start to do a little jig right here. See, I just lifted my foot am I going to start dancing? Ok maybe not right now but if I ever do, I will tape it so you can see and mock me." She paused to think about the ramifications of what she just said.
"Maybe that was not such a good thing to promise since I see that evil look in your eyes. And I think I will stop talking right now. Wait, how about we make a little wager. If you honestly change your opinion of women and that change is reflected in your writing, then I will make a fool of myself dancing at the place of your choice. But if you don't fulfill your end of the wager then you will have to sing at the Christmas Party in front of everyone, serenading the woman of my choice."
"Paris, Paris, Paris. Do you honestly think that I will fall for your little puppy face routine. I write what I think. And if I think certain types of women or men are stupid or act in a stupid fashion then you know I will call them on it. Come on stop it with the face; we were married for a few years and I know you well enough to know how you get people to do what you want them to. But you doing a little jig, now that sounds interesting. Would that be clothed or not? Oh, I digress. A wager? You are really serious aren't you? I might take that bet."
"Will you ever grow up?" As Tristan opened his mouth to speak she held up her hand. "No, wait, I don't think I even want you to answer because it's not necessary. You will always be 7. But at least that's a step up from being 5. So you will be nicer to women in your pending articles, correct? Yes, I know I am pulling rank here but Tris you can't alienate readers who pay our salaries!"
"Lemme think about it. You know a gifted genius can't just force himself to think a certain way, it just happens." He blows on his knuckles and rubs them against his chest. "What can I say. I am a god."
"Yea, sure, Mr. God. Now get out of here and do some work. You know your deadline is in a few hours so get out of here to do work and so I can go out."
Tristan turns and is out the door when he turns back around and hangs on the door frame. "Out? With whom? Is this a date? Do I need to meet this young man to see if he has good intentions towards my ex-wife?"
"You don't need to meet whoever I am going to lunch with if I am even going with someone."
"Oh, so this best friend thing only works when you want something."
Paris stood with her mouth wide open and sarcastically said, "Now you understand me. It only took you what 25 years. Oh baby I want you."
"Wow, monotones and everything with that declaration of lust. You know how to stroke my ego."
Laughing Paris playfully shoves him, "You always know how to make me laugh even when I am trying to yell at you. Now get out of here so I can go out. And also write a female friendly article. PLEASE. Bye Tris." She gives him a kiss on the cheek as she is pushing him out the door.
Tristan walked out of Paris' office and sighed. (I can't believe that she is already going on a date. I mean come on. We have only been divorced for a few months.) A little voice inside his head reminded him that he had already been out on plenty of dates before now. (Alright, it is time for me to actually get some work done so I can go out tonight and have a fun time. Work work work. a day long, work work work, while I sing this song. Work work work. Hope I do real good. Work work work. Wait no, I want food. Alright, I think I am depraved. But that is due to the lack of food, and the fact that Paris is going out on her first date since our break-up.)
He got his jacket from his office and almost walked out of the New York Times building but turned around and went into Paris' office. She was on the phone and waved for him to leave. He just gave her an evil smile and said in a sly voice, "The bet is on and I will win."
He turned on his heel and went right out the way he came and ended up outside The Times building, which is right in the heart of Manhattan. He walked right by a street vendor when he turned on his heel and made a beeline to the vendor. (I want to check out my competition and see what's going on in the world. Maybe I will get some inspiration for my next "female friendly" article.) He bought one of all the newspapers that the vendor had. As he walked to his favorite deli, women passed him giving flirtatious smiles. They all know who I am and they still smile at me. (That is really weird because I totally do not present women in any good light whatsoever. I just must be very VERY good looking. Maybe even god- like. Yeah, sure. Uhuh. Me a god-like man. Well I know that I am smart.)
At that moment an elderly woman passed Tristan in a crosswalk and immediately recognized him. She grabbed her purse and hit him with it. Tristan was ripped out of his egotistical thoughts. "Ouch. Why did you go and do that?" he asked the woman. She just frowned and walked away. (Ok I am tired of old women doing that to me. I think they like hitting my right arm too. I have a permanent purse or "pocketbook" bruise on it.) He said out loud to anyone who would listen, "I am going to be nicer to women in my articles for my own health."
A.N. I re-released this chapter because I needed to change some stuff and added more dialogue and thoughts to make the story flow. I know Rory isn't in this chapter but I need to set up the story before I can go into the good stuff, as much as I want to but no, I have self control. Hope you like this chapter! And I am not sure when the next one will be up but hopefully soon.
By Ducks
Disclaimer: The characters that are from Gilmore Girls are not mine
Author's Note: Though this story is based on 'Runaway Bride' it does not follow the movie completely.
********************************************************
"Hey Tristan!" Paris called as he entered her office.
"Hey sweetie," he said as he walked over to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Why did you call me in here?"
"I just wanted to say hi. I haven't seen you all week. I missed you."
"Aw, isn't that so very nice of you. I missed you too but I have been busy doing what I do best- being the best writer you have or that anyone else has ever seen. How are you doing?" Tristan paused and realized with whom he was talking. "Whoa, wait a minute," Tristan looked around Paris' office, looking under her desk in confusion. "Who are you and what have you done with my ex-wife, a.k.a the one obsessed with work and never ever asks me anything personal in the workplace, especially since my ex is my editor?"
"You are just so funny. I am thoroughly amused. I actually just walked into this office, looking at the name plate on the door and the pictures realizing that I look a lot like this Paris woman, a beautiful woman at that, deciding to take Paris' place."
"Yet again I am confused. Paris never jokes at work. Hmmmm." Tristan began walking around the office with his thumb and fore finger on his chin, the fore finger tapping against his face as he was caught in a thought. " I think I should ask you a few questions to see if you are really Paris. When did we meet? What high school did we go to? How many boyfriends have you had?"
Paris looked at him, starting to get mad because he was getting out of hand, "I am not going to answer any of your asinine questions. You know who I am. I was just trying to lighten things up a bit. You are just too infuriating."
"I see now. You are trying to get on my good side by being very uncharacteristically nice and not saying Paris-like-things during the hours of nine to five on a weekday. You want something or you are firing me or you are telling me that you or I have some incurable disease and that one of us is dying." Tristan mentioned in a sarcastic tone.
"Oh you really think that I am trying to manipulate you? How dare you? I am so honest and real with you. Ugh. Fine. I am going to cut the niceties, I was trying a new tactic with you to see if you would respond better to a new way of my handling your work but no." Paris harrumphed.
"Cut the act sweetheart. Not only have I known you all of my life but I also married you. I know the way you work. You are up to something. Just be straight with me, the act won't make me more sympathetic towards you or what you have to say. I can smell your acts a mile away."
"I don't know if I like that you know me so well, especially since I am your editor. Fine, I wanted to discuss your column with you."
"Okay," Tristan said as he sat down in a chair opposite Paris, with his feet up on her desk, "shoot."
"You know that you are one of the most popular writers on staff. People are very interested in what you have to say about anything and everything, especially if they don't agree with you. You also are the writer who has the most letters to the editor written against your articles." Paris sighed.
Tristan shook his head, "Why are you telling me things that I already know?
Paris continued, "I don't understand why you have such a loyal following, especially with women. But that following has started to dwindle. Your jaded and archaic view of women is hurting the popularity of the newspaper. And you would think after being married to me, you would respect women more in your writing, but no. You alienate your female audience by disrespecting them and devaluing them in your writing. You are very obtuse about women and it shows very strongly in your writing."
"You have a very interesting way of giving me criticism. First you semi stroke my ego and then BOOM. You need to work on your people skills but you are handling me better than you did when we were on the Franklin together in high school. Wow you were such a tyrant then, everything had to go your way, I'm still glad that I quit."
"Oh yeah, you quit was because I am always right and you are always wrong, but then again you never did really grasp that notion- there was no tyranny involved." Paris smiled at her employee slash ex-husband slash best friend. (Oh what a tangled web we weave she thought.) "Anyway I want you to take a less aggressive stance towards women in your upcoming articles because you are really estranging some of our long time readers from us who happen to be women. Wait, I'm your editor, I order you to be more woman-friendly in your articles. The power is great fun. But you need to realize that without women, this newspaper probably would not have lasted as long as it has or been as successful."
"Paris come on. We work at the lofty New York Times. I highly doubt that JUST women kept this newspaper in business. Men can and do read you know. But get this: we can write well too. And I am living proof to that testament."
"But women still read this paper and they complain about you more than any other writer that I know about at such a liberal newspaper. I want your next piece to show that under that conservative and Neanderthal exterior is a softy who cries at sad movies and reads romance novels." Tristan shakes his head emphatically. Paris, with her puppy-dog face, which she has perfected over the years because of her close relationship with her friends- the dynamic mother and daughter duo who have adopted her as their own- pleads, "Come on Tris. I know you want to do this because it will make your editor and boss and best friend happy. It will make me so happy that I might start to do a little jig right here. See, I just lifted my foot am I going to start dancing? Ok maybe not right now but if I ever do, I will tape it so you can see and mock me." She paused to think about the ramifications of what she just said.
"Maybe that was not such a good thing to promise since I see that evil look in your eyes. And I think I will stop talking right now. Wait, how about we make a little wager. If you honestly change your opinion of women and that change is reflected in your writing, then I will make a fool of myself dancing at the place of your choice. But if you don't fulfill your end of the wager then you will have to sing at the Christmas Party in front of everyone, serenading the woman of my choice."
"Paris, Paris, Paris. Do you honestly think that I will fall for your little puppy face routine. I write what I think. And if I think certain types of women or men are stupid or act in a stupid fashion then you know I will call them on it. Come on stop it with the face; we were married for a few years and I know you well enough to know how you get people to do what you want them to. But you doing a little jig, now that sounds interesting. Would that be clothed or not? Oh, I digress. A wager? You are really serious aren't you? I might take that bet."
"Will you ever grow up?" As Tristan opened his mouth to speak she held up her hand. "No, wait, I don't think I even want you to answer because it's not necessary. You will always be 7. But at least that's a step up from being 5. So you will be nicer to women in your pending articles, correct? Yes, I know I am pulling rank here but Tris you can't alienate readers who pay our salaries!"
"Lemme think about it. You know a gifted genius can't just force himself to think a certain way, it just happens." He blows on his knuckles and rubs them against his chest. "What can I say. I am a god."
"Yea, sure, Mr. God. Now get out of here and do some work. You know your deadline is in a few hours so get out of here to do work and so I can go out."
Tristan turns and is out the door when he turns back around and hangs on the door frame. "Out? With whom? Is this a date? Do I need to meet this young man to see if he has good intentions towards my ex-wife?"
"You don't need to meet whoever I am going to lunch with if I am even going with someone."
"Oh, so this best friend thing only works when you want something."
Paris stood with her mouth wide open and sarcastically said, "Now you understand me. It only took you what 25 years. Oh baby I want you."
"Wow, monotones and everything with that declaration of lust. You know how to stroke my ego."
Laughing Paris playfully shoves him, "You always know how to make me laugh even when I am trying to yell at you. Now get out of here so I can go out. And also write a female friendly article. PLEASE. Bye Tris." She gives him a kiss on the cheek as she is pushing him out the door.
Tristan walked out of Paris' office and sighed. (I can't believe that she is already going on a date. I mean come on. We have only been divorced for a few months.) A little voice inside his head reminded him that he had already been out on plenty of dates before now. (Alright, it is time for me to actually get some work done so I can go out tonight and have a fun time. Work work work. a day long, work work work, while I sing this song. Work work work. Hope I do real good. Work work work. Wait no, I want food. Alright, I think I am depraved. But that is due to the lack of food, and the fact that Paris is going out on her first date since our break-up.)
He got his jacket from his office and almost walked out of the New York Times building but turned around and went into Paris' office. She was on the phone and waved for him to leave. He just gave her an evil smile and said in a sly voice, "The bet is on and I will win."
He turned on his heel and went right out the way he came and ended up outside The Times building, which is right in the heart of Manhattan. He walked right by a street vendor when he turned on his heel and made a beeline to the vendor. (I want to check out my competition and see what's going on in the world. Maybe I will get some inspiration for my next "female friendly" article.) He bought one of all the newspapers that the vendor had. As he walked to his favorite deli, women passed him giving flirtatious smiles. They all know who I am and they still smile at me. (That is really weird because I totally do not present women in any good light whatsoever. I just must be very VERY good looking. Maybe even god- like. Yeah, sure. Uhuh. Me a god-like man. Well I know that I am smart.)
At that moment an elderly woman passed Tristan in a crosswalk and immediately recognized him. She grabbed her purse and hit him with it. Tristan was ripped out of his egotistical thoughts. "Ouch. Why did you go and do that?" he asked the woman. She just frowned and walked away. (Ok I am tired of old women doing that to me. I think they like hitting my right arm too. I have a permanent purse or "pocketbook" bruise on it.) He said out loud to anyone who would listen, "I am going to be nicer to women in my articles for my own health."
A.N. I re-released this chapter because I needed to change some stuff and added more dialogue and thoughts to make the story flow. I know Rory isn't in this chapter but I need to set up the story before I can go into the good stuff, as much as I want to but no, I have self control. Hope you like this chapter! And I am not sure when the next one will be up but hopefully soon.