Saviour from the Past

Chapter 2

Waking up with a foggy head and a mouth full of cotton, rolling over Rory was scared to open her eyes, she knew that the brightness of the day would hurt. The night before came flooding back to her, causing her to sit up in shock. She was in a bedroom that she didn't recognise, it didn't look like a hotel, there were piles of books and DVD's stacked around the room, along with a pile of laundry in a corner. Panicking, she looked down to check she was wearing clothes, hoping she wasn't naked, and that she didn't have company. Rory let out a breath of relief when she realized that she still had her dress from the night before on, and she was alone in the bed, so she hopefully hadn't done anything too extreme, but that didn't answer the question of where she was.

Rory swung her legs around on the bed so that her feet were touching the ground, she gingerly stood up, fully feeling the after effects of the previous night's tequila. She could hear noise from the other side of the door so she decided that she might as well grab the bull by the horns and see if she could work out where she was. Looking out she could see she was in an apartment, she could see a tall brunette man standing in front of the fridge moving things around in it, from this angle it wasn't anyone she recognised, and none of the belongings that she could see were giving her any clues.

"Morning," Rory started nervously. "I apologize for being rude but where am I?" The man in the kitchen turned around with a jump, but even with a full view of them, it wasn't someone that Rory recognized.

"DUDE, YOUR LITTLE FRIEND IS AWAKE!" he shouted, before turning around and resuming cooking without saying anything further to Rory.

"WHAT?" returned another male voice which came from behind a closed door, this voice sparked a sense of recognition but Rory was still struggling to place it.

"Oh hey Gilmore, you're awake!"

Rory almost broke her neck, turning to see if the voice was who she thought it was. "TRISTAN? What are you doing here?"

"I think a better question is what are you doing here, seeing as this is my apartment. I bumped into you last night. You don't remember, do you?" Tristan asked, as he walked further into the room, heading towards the coffee pot in the kitchen. "Would you like a cup?"

"Yes please, and no. I don't remember much about last night after the first few tequilas." Rory answered, gratefully accepting the cup of hot coffee.

"I found you in our local bar, pretty drunk, you recognized me and we had a chat. The barman asked me to take you home before you got yourself into trouble, but you passed out. I couldn't take an unconscious woman to a hotel without running the risk of getting arrested, so I brought you here and put you in my bed. I slept on the couch," he added hastily, pointing at the couch covered in blankets.

"Well thanks, I suppose for making sure I was safe. Sorry, this isn't exactly a situation I've ever been in before, so I don't mean to sound dismissive. I do completely appreciate you making sure that I was safe." Rory said, taking another gulp of her coffee. "You said we had a chat last night? How much did I say?"

"Enough that I know how you were supposed to spend yesterday evening, and roughly why you spent it the way that you did." Tristan answered, the sympathy obvious in his tone.

"Sorry about that, I'd appreciate it if- hang on what time is it?" Rory asked suddenly.

"930. Why?"

"Crap. I told Logan I was moving my stuff at 10am today. Shit. How far are we from the Plaza? Walk or Cab?" Rory asked, setting her cup down, and starting to pace in a panic.

"Walkable, but if you are in a hurry a cab. Go and wash your face before you do anything," Tristan said, gently but pointedly.

Rory walked into the bathroom, and after relieving herself she was washing her hands when she finally looked in the mirror and realized why Tristan had prompted her to wash her face. Her makeup was smeared and her eyes were red, whether that was from the alcohol or the tears she had spent the night before was up for debate, but the result was the same, she looked rough. Washing the makeup residue off her face, Rory thanked her mother for the good genes that meant she could look relatively fresh faced when makeup free, she finger combed her hair into submission, thankful that for once it wasn't crazy when she woke up. With a sigh Rory returned to the living room, prepared to thank Tristan for saving her, and then to get on her way.