AUTHOR: The Corruptor
RATING: PG with some mild swear words
CHARACTERS / PAIRING: Tristan and some other guy
SUMMARY: Tristan’s therapy sessions from GG: Season 1; 3rd person omniscient but mostly from the therapist’s POV
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Ok, here's "The Dissertation"! PROCEED WITH CAUTION... Very Long, Very Pro-Sympathetic-And-Complex Tristan Fic!! Just having some fun trying to sketch out Tristan’s character since we know so little about him. For those of you who might want to skip this (and there may be a couple of you. der!), the basic storyline for this fic is a rehashing of Tristan's thoughts and feelings about what's happened so far in Season One. And please… I’ve never been to a therapist before (though that’s really surprising) so I have no idea exactly how a session is supposed to be except for what I’ve gotten from TV and movies (great sources, if you ask me. D’oh). His main job here is only to help Tristan speak his mind. Also remember patient/doctor/reader confidentiality; since these are Tristan’s private sessions, some parts contain only short excerpts from each session, instead of the entire therapy session.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the clothes on my back, and that annoying shrink. The rest was borrowed from GG and the WB.

“I want you to understand something,” the man was saying, from his seat.

He watched as Tristan roamed the office, picking up various knick-knacks and putting them back down again. Or wandering towards the bookshelf and examining the book titles and pictures that adorned both shelf and walls. Tristan stood up from his bent position, where he had been reading book titles from the third to bottom shelf. He half-turned to make eye contact with the man. The man resisted the urge to ask whether or not the boy was paying attention. He knew that even though the boy looked unfocused, he was very there. And paying a lot of attention. He was like a dry sponge, soaking up everything, and quickly.

When he was certain he had the boy’s attention, he continued. “There are certain things you have no control over. I know how fond you are of being in control of what goes on in your life, dictating your actions and the actions of others. But you have to remember that.”

Tristan’s back went rigid. “You mean Rory.”

“Yes.”

“And Paris.”

“Yes.”

Tristan pursed his lips, thinking. He wandered to the window and was afforded an unobstructed view of downtown Hartford. “I get it.”

“Do you?” He didn’t sound convinced.

Tristan nodded once, eyes still focused outside. “I can’t help what happened with Paris. I can’t help what’s happened between Rory and Paris. And I can’t help what is happening between Rory and me.” He sounded unusually detached.

“Yes. I know you would like to be some kind of hero and solve everything. Make everything right. According to what you think you would like to happen. We would all love that power. But no one has that power.”

“I don’t want to…” Tristan started to object, turning to him.

“Yes,” he cut in. “Yes, you do. You said that you wished things could have worked out the way Rory had hoped it could and that Paris had hoped it would. So that you could make Rory proud, and so that Paris would stop hurting. And that you could stop hurting if you had just been able to fall for Paris and forget Rory.”

Tristan stared at him. The man offered a small but amused smile. “I thought you weren’t taking notes,” Tristan frowned.

“I’m not.”

“Oh, so now you have some sort of eidetic memory?” Make fun of him with a sarcastic remark and take the attention off of himself.

“Something like that,” he said, brushing it off. “I want you to understand that it’s okay to feel guilty about it not having worked out the way others would have liked it to. But you can’t dwell on it. You can’t…”

Tristan’s frown deepened. “I know, okay.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But it…”

The man shook his head forcefully. “The initial catalyst might have been. You might have been wrong to have done what you did. I’m just saying that you can’t feel responsible for how they’re still feeling. You’re not responsible for making everyone happy. The first priority is you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I do.” Tristan met his eyes. “You’re right. I did wish I could make everything better. When I saw Paris’s face… her expression… heard her voice when she ripped into Rory… I wanted to explain, but I was too scared. And I knew it wouldn’t help. She didn’t deserve it. Neither of them did. But then Rory was upset, too, and…” He sighed, and almost whined that the man didn’t understand. But in reality, he knew that the man did. On some level. He was too tired to argue. It was so much easier to just give in. Say how he really felt. Stop thinking and overanalyzing. Just do. But he kept remembering that with truth came pain, and he didn’t think he was strong enough or tough enough, despite appearances, to handle that kind of misery. “Rory’s one of the nicest girls you’ll ever meet. She’s real. She’s not made up. She has no pretensions. And she’s… she’s only turned on me once before, and even then, it was out of frustration. With me. I thought I would have loved to see her angry with me again, like that. You know, because she was absolutely alive and beautiful. But when she confronted me after Paris… I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to explain, but I was upset with that look she gave me. Like I did something horribly wrong and disappointed her. I don’t want to disappoint her. Ever. And I didn’t want to believe that I deserved it. Her wrath. Because this time, I thought I had done everything right.” He paused. “She kept asking me why I didn’t try hard enough. Why I didn’t give it time. Why I was so ready to jump to conclusions about Paris and me. Why I was so closed off about a possible relationship with Paris. Why I wasn’t willing to give it a chance. So I guess in a way I did deserve it. And I wanted to tell her.” He stopped, unwilling to continue.

“Tell her what?” he prodded, gently.

“That I’m not like some people.” He pursed his lips. “I don’t necessarily need a million dates to figure out how I feel about a person. I’ve known Paris for a really long time. And yeah, I admit, I was pleasantly surprised by her during our date. It’s not what she thought, though. Pleasantly surprised like a person is when they find that someone they know has some new and unique talent. That’s it. But I tried, and friendship was all I could come up with.”

“Rory would probably tell you that it took you a long time to decide that you liked her.”

Tristan gave a weak grin. “Yeah. She probably would. But it wouldn’t be the truth. Not entirely, anyway.” He gave a half-shrug. “I liked her since the very first day I met her. I just didn’t let myself in on it. It just took me longer than usual to actually admit it to myself. And to admit just how much I do like her.”

“You know, it’s not up to you to try.”

“Sure it is. Because I’m the experienced one, and Paris isn’t. Because I’m supposed to know how these things go.” There was self-mocking. He shook his head. “It wasn’t up to me, but I did try. I do nothing but try for her.”

“For Rory,” the man elaborated, softly. Not for Paris, who should have been the one he tried for.

Tristan only averted his eyes. “I get it.”

“Do you?”

“You keep asking me that. I must not be if you keep doing that,” Tristan exclaimed frustrated.

“It’s not up to you to force yourself to do anything. You can’t try to fall for someone. You just do.”

“That’s a misconception,” Tristan noted wryly, because he knew that it was very possible to learn to love someone. But he wasn’t that kind of person. Even with Rory, it took him quite awhile to realize how he really felt about her. But he never had to learn it. He figured that he had always known, since the first time he laid eyes on her. His head had merely needed time to catch up to his heart. A long time. Because he didn’t have a lot of experience with real matters of the heart. Until now. “But that’s what Paris wanted. She wanted me to be wowed by her, maybe. To all of a sudden realize that I was in love with her the way she thinks she’s in love with me.”

“You don’t think she’s in love with you?” he raised a brow.

Tristan shook his head. “I can delude myself about a lot of things. I can delude myself into thinking that Rory and I will be able to live happily ever after. Or that everything will magically be all right, and we’ll be more than friends when I get to school tomorrow. Or that the next time she sees me, she’ll finally be able to see just how I feel about her, and realize just how she feels about me. But the one thing I don’t delude myself about is love. We say we fall in and out of love easily. But it’s not real love. Girls don’t love me for me. They love the idea of me. What I represent. To the school, to their friends, to their parents. And I admit, I don’t do the love thing with girls. I’ve never dated a girl before because I was in love with her. And frankly, nothing’s ever lasted long enough for me to even realize that I was in love with a girl.”

“But you love Rory,” he pointed out.

Tristan seemed to consider this. “Do I?” This question startled the man. “Maybe I’m just being an ass.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you really thought that,” the man reminded thoughtfully.

“Maybe I’m a sadist. Maybe I’m just trying to mess with your mind. Maybe I’m getting my kicks from being here.” He sighed. “I don’t know what I really think anymore. It hurts too much.”

“Then what doesn’t hurt?”

“Rory,” he answered honestly.

“Okay,” the man nodded. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m still playing some game. How do I know it’s love if I’ve never experienced it before? I like her. A lot. And that’s all I can honestly admit to right now.”

“And Paris still hates you because she thinks that she got one of Rory’s castoffs.”

Tristan looked distressed. But the truth was, he’d rather be a castoff than a nobody in Rory’s eyes. “But that’s not true. She thinks it’s because I want Rory, and Rory doesn’t want me. And that Rory pawned me off on her. She thinks that’s why I didn’t fall for her the way she wanted me to. That it was a set-up to humiliate her or something.”

“But isn’t that what happened? Doesn’t Rory not want you even though you want her? Didn’t she suggest that you go out with Paris?”

“It’s not like that,” Tristan insisted. He didn’t want the man to turn everything on Rory. Because it wasn’t her fault. And Tristan would take all the blame if the man would just leave her alone. He didn’t know her. He had no right to pass judgment on her. “She doesn’t understand. You can’t force someone to like you. That’s what Paris doesn’t understand. I wish I could like her back, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.” Pause to run his hand through his hair. “You can’t force yourself to like someone. I wish I could, but I can’t. I want to make myself fall for her. It would make everything so easy. But I know that’s not right. That’s what you want to hear, right?”

“I don’t want you to just spout out what you think I want to hear. I want to know what you believe. What you really feel. My thoughts really have nothing to do with this.”

“Neither do mine. It’s all in Rory’s corner. Her thoughts.” He sighed, frustrated. “Well, that’s how I feel.” But he knew immediately that he had stepped right into a trap. A large gaping hole. How had he missed that? He wanted to berate himself. When had he lost so much control over everything, that he couldn’t even see the huge trap looming ahead of him until it was too late?

“No, you can’t force yourself to like someone. And you can’t force someone to like you. It’s about being true to yourself,” the man agreed, nonchalantly, as if he weren’t about to throw a wrench into Tristan’s life.

“Yes,” Tristan agreed, slowly, cautiously. He was waiting, wouldn’t put it past the man to trip him up. He was used to it. Even when he tried to convince himself that others didn’t have it in for him, he knew that a little paranoia could go a long way. He was popular; he was wanted; he was rich. There were tons of guys who wanted what he had: his looks, his easy charm, his easy life, his status with girls, with teachers, and with other guys. If only they knew the real him.

“Tell me, isn’t that what you’re hoping will happen with Rory? Isn’t that what you’re expecting from her?”

Tristan’s face crumpled. The hole had just gotten bigger. And there was no way out. “It’s not how…” But it was. Kind of. And he didn’t finish. How was he supposed to explain it? There was no way to do so suitably. He didn’t want her to be forced into liking him. Forced into returning his feelings. And yet, he really didn’t want her to have any other choice but to choose him. Wasn’t that forcing her in a way? The man wouldn’t understand. He didn’t know her. And even if he kept saying that he understood, and would not judge, it was impossible for him to, and for him not to.

“But it is, isn’t it?”

“This is pointless,” Tristan exclaimed, frustrated, angrily. He wouldn’t be bullied into answering a question the man had no right to ask.

“Okay. So maybe it isn’t that way. I wouldn’t know. I don’t know her, except for what you’ve told me. And I don’t doubt that she’s as wonderful and flawless as you make her out to be.” Was that sarcasm? Was he playing the boy’s game, meeting him on his level?

“But she is flawed,” the boy insisted, as if the man had not been listening. “That’s what makes her so wonderful. She’s flawed and she knows it, and she does nothing to hide it. She accepts it. All the other girls… they’re all trying to hide it. It’s sick. It’s disgusting. She’s not. That’s never been her.”

“I’m not arguing with you, Tristan. I just want you to realize that your happiness isn’t dependent on her. You have to make yourself happy first. Make yourself the first priority. I don’t think you’re lacking in self-esteem and confidence.” He watched as Tristan gave a self-effacing nod of the head, as if he were embarrassed to hear the compliment, and wanted to move on because it didn’t matter to him. “But you need to set your priorities.” He paused and took a deep breath. “So tell me. What is your first priority? What makes you happy?” And he already knew the answer.

Tristan didn’t even hesitate. “Rory,” he said softly.