AUTHOR: The Tease
RATING: G
CHARACTERS / PAIRINGS: Umm.....guess. :P
SUMMARY: Hotass torturing himself as usual. :rolleyes:
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok people - here's something exceptionally sucky for you all. :P Just letting you know ahead of time you're not going to like the ending. Even I don't like the ending but I have no desire to finish it so oh well. (Which means, NO Pooh, there will be no other parts. Not unless I get amazingly bored.) A little explaination before you all begin. This story takes place after the end of Pooh's Catharsis: Addendum and before Second Impressions. After reading the end of Catharsis I got this idea to continue it but never finished. How wierd for me. :look: Anywho, I figured since it's been a while since we had an update and I probably won't ever be writing again, I might as well post this puppy and be rid of it. I want to thank Heidi for html'ing and proofing it for me and both her and Pooh for helping with some sentence issues I was having back when I was writing it. Also, it's very short. And I guess that's it - enjoy! Or not....
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing - der.

The street was alive, people crossing occasionally between the hurried cars of midday traffic. The many inhabitants of the small town filled the sidewalks, stopping every so often to exchange pleasantries with each other. A solemn man stood on the corner strumming a guitar singing, the words muffled by the commotion of his surroundings. Across the street people entered the hardware store and instead of exiting with bags full of tools and appliances, the left grasping cups of coffee or eating hamburgers.

It had been over an hour since he drove into the center of town and parked in the first available spot. He was clueless as to what had possessed him to drive there in the first place. He had fought with himself continuously, willing himself to stay away. He told himself he wouldn't say good-bye. Wouldn't allow her to cause him any more pain, even if it was done unintentionally. Yet after driving off that morning in the direction of the airport, the car packed full with his valuables and necessities, he found himself abruptly turning around and following the signs toward the town of Stars Hollow. No matter how many times he reasoned with himself that his departure was for the best, to try and regain some semblance of sanity and to show himself he was stronger than the grasp she held on him, on his heart, he simply could not leave without seeing her one last time.

He was pulled from his oppressive thoughts by something gleaming in the corner of his eye. A line of little girls paraded down the sidewalk across the street, one behind the other, marching in time to the beat of whatever soundless shared melody resonated through their heads. The were dressed in miniature tutu's with matching iridescent wings covering their petite backs. Little nymphs flitting through the town together, each outfit displayed a different color creating a beautiful rainbow. Their arms waved in synchronicity as the next part of their choreographed dance began. They had to have been no older than five years old.

An intrepid middle aged woman led them in their journey, shouting affirmations lightheartedly, every few moments tossing a glance over her shoulder, making sure all the girls were keeping the pace.

One of the sprites, the one in blue, suddenly tripped over her feet and fell forward, arms instinctively flying out in front of her to try and catch herself before smacking against the rough pavement. Her brunette locks fell into her eyes and her hands hit the ground hard, her knees the next to collide. His face fell at the sight and he automatically sat up in his seat, leaning forward to make sure she had not been seriously injured.

The girl paused for a moment, letting what had just occurred process in her mind and instead of crying, as any other child would have most likely done, she got herself right back up and regained her position in line behind the green fearie and before the purple. She brushed the gravel off of her hands and knees and caressed her hair back into it's proper place while not seeming to think twice about the big hole in her shimmery stockings or the red scratch that had appeared on her flawless skin. He smiled at her actions and gently leaned back into the comfortable leather apolostry of his seat, satisfied that she was indeed alright. She wouldn't allow something like a silly scraped knee to interfere with what she had set out to accomplish.

He envisioned a young Rory Gilmore dressed as a little ballerina, dancing with the other members of her class, concentrating intently on the delivering the correct steps. His smile grew wider at the thought, yet for some reason he had this nagging feeling that she had not been like all the other little girls and had passed on the ballet lessons, opting instead to participate in the children's story hour at the local library.

He contentedly watched the group continue on down the road when the door to the hardware store opened and the same young girl collided with two pairs of legs. She looked up at her assailants briefly as she kept marching, his eyes following the child's up to meet the person's face.

And it was her.