I own nothing but guitar picks and my baby guitar. Oh and the shiny penny sitting next to me. I do not own Gilmore Girls, nor am I affiliated with them at all.

T – PG13


Many, many thanks to curlyk03 for being a super beta and letting complain about inconclusive research I did for this story. Hehe, she's wonderful!

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I take my thick black Sharpie and make an X through yet another day.

Today is day 57.

I take a cleansing breath and turn towards my mirror. I smooth down my uniform for the 3rd time this week. It's been just under a month that I've been back in school and I can't say I'm comfortable here still. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I was rap—was forced to do something I didn't want to do.

My cheeks have gotten some color back, but I still look empty. I look at a photo that was taken of my mom and I a few years back, before any of this started, and the difference is startling. My cheeks are plump and red, my eyes are bright and alluring. Looking at myself now, my cheeks are sallow and a funny mixture of yellow and the red that is starting to return. My eyes—swirls of worry and despair. I have never felt something as physically exhausting as not being allowed to drink alcohol.

I walk to the kitchen and see a cup of hot coffee waiting on the table for me. It's something my mom swears by. I used to also…before I threw myself off the deep end. I bring the mug to my lips and inhale the strong aroma. It feels good on my dry throat. A little hot, but it feels good.

As I'm almost pouring the liquid down my throat, my mom walks into the kitchen. I give her a small smile against the mug and watch her pour her own cup.

"Getting a late start?" She asks.

"Just trying to get into my normal routine again, I guess. It's hard to remember what it was like." And it is. I don't even remember most of my mornings—at least I hadn't before. I was too wasted to know anything.

"Rory, I just…I'm proud of you, okay?" She catches my attention. "I know I've done most of this wrong and for that I apologize. But I will never regret pulling you temporarily out of Chilton and putting you in that rehab program."

I furrow my eyebrows. Has she gone insane? I was at my worst when both of those things took place. True, I still attend meetings every so often to keep on track, but now I've escaped the worst part—the withdrawal—mostly.

"Have you found my secret stash and loaded up so I didn't have to?" She scowls at me. "To soon to joke? Okay. I don't know what you mean."

She pats a chair. I look from the chair to her and back again.

"Mom, I don't have time to sit and chat. Remember? I have to get into college still."

"This won't take long." I sigh and roll my eyes. Nothing ever takes a short amount of time when it comes to her.

"No, I have to go. As you said, I'm already getting a late start. I'll see you later mom!" I put my empty mug in the sink and start to leave the kitchen.

"I don't regret it because it caused you to meet Tristan." I stop at her words. "He has done more for you than I ever have—in all of your 18 plus years of living." I turn and smile, happy with my mother's words. I give a small wave and leave.

It's mid morning when I enter my health class. They think since seniors are getting ready for college, now is the appropriate time to talk about the effects of drugs and sex and any consequences that may come with it.

I sit next to Paris and sigh, taking out my notebook. There's going to be a test at the end. If you fail the test, you fail the course. Not sure what they would do if you fail, though, seeing as you will have already graduated by the time they can do anything about it. I look to the side. Not even Paris is taking notes. Weird. I have definitely missed a lot.

Students fill the rest of the seats and soon after the teacher—well she's actually one of the crotchety gym teachers—enters and calls us to order.

"Alright, class! Today you're going to see a film about drinking." I freeze. A movie all about alcohol? I hadn't been anticipating this. "Mr. Swanson, take that iPod out of your ears immediately! You know the rules!" Like a cliché, we all turn to him to watch him take out his ear buds with a sour look on his face. "I would suggest you take notes. This will be on your examination, Mr. Swanson. I can see your mouth moving." She continues on for a few more moments before the room goes black.

I shakily raise my hand. "Ms. Plait?"

"Yes, Miss. Gilmore?"

"Would it be alright if we left a light on?" I shrink in my chair as I watch her face contort into some ugly, unrecognizable shape. Without the alcohol, I don't feel my usual confidence against teachers.

"It's a movie, Miss. Gilmore. When was the last time you went to the movie theater and watched a movie with the lights on?"

"Never, but—"

"Ah ah, you're holding up the movie. There will be enough light from the film to see your notes." She halts what would be my next question; without the light, I can't see what I'm writing in my notes. I sulk into my chair and bite my lip. This could only end badly.

The film starts and within seconds, blurry images of teens drinking and partying comes onto the screen. I swallow loudly.

The images start to become crisper as the camera focuses on bottles and bottles of alcohol. Tequila, vodka, beer, everything. My eyes focus on the raspberry Smirnoff bottle. Fuck. Immediately my foot starts to shake as a need washes over me. I take a deep breath. In. Out. In. Out.

"Ms. Plait?" I struggle.

She looks deadpanned. "Now what?"

"I don't feel well, may I go to the nurse?"

"No, you'll be fine just sitting there. There's only 30 minutes left."

30 minutes.

30 minutes of constant alcohol tempting.


I feel Paris' gaze on me and shut my eyes tightly, trying to monitor my breathing like I've done with Tristan so many times before. I feel Paris' hand cover mine and squeeze it gently. I sing songs in my head, but nothing makes the movie sounds go away and nothing can calm my new insatiable need.

I fist a clump of my hair in exasperation as the voice drones on. I feel a few strands get pulled loose from my scalp.

Alcohol this, alcohol that.

Oh how I want it. So, so badly. I hardly notice when the lights flicker on. Only do I look up from my palms when Ms. Plait speaks.

"On Thursday we'll be learning about sex! Don't forget to bring your bananas!" Ugh, gross. How can she be excited about that? I pay her no mind as I rush to get out, tripping over my own shoe. I hit the doorframe with my shoulder on my way out, but I don't pause to investigate my pulsing shoulder.

I run to the bathroom getting many dirty looks from passerby's. Fuck them. I turn on the faucet and wash my face, hoping to dilute my head from the images that have just scarred me. It does nothing. I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Tristan.


I hope he gets it soon. I brace myself on the wall as I walk out. I have 45 minutes until lunch. I slowly make my way next door into my Calculus class. But not even the logarithms and complicated numbers can pry me away from my funk.

It doesn't help that I'm imagining the liquid gliding down my throat causing my throat to feel that oh so familiar burn. That warm feeling that spreads throughout your body. My throat begs for the warmth, my brain for the depressant.

When the bell rings, I catapult myself out of my seat and race towards the cafeteria. Maybe if I drink some coffee that will settle this. I keep my head ducked and walk quickly, bumping into people on my way, murmuring apologies to unsuspecting students.

One catches my arm in his hand and pulls me back. I turn to yell.

"Let go!" I look up and go wide-eyed. Tristan is standing there holding a plastic bag. I let out a deep breath of relief when I see his concerned eyes and launch into his arms. He hugs me tight.

"It's okay." Her murmurs into my hair as I squeeze my body against his. I don't notice the staring students passing us. When I can move my muscles again, I pull away. "Come on, let's go talk." He says somewhat softly. I nod and lace my fingers through his as we walk outside to the courtyard. We sit on a bench and I curl into his chest as his arm wraps around me.

"Wanna talk about it?" I shake my head.

"Maybe in a little bit." He nods and hands me a pill. I close my eyes in relief. I have never been so happy to see drugs. He pulls out a bottle of Coke and uncaps it for me. I take a swig of the soda and down the barbiturate. First time in 3 weeks that I've needed one. Major progress.

"Are you hungry? I brought you a hamburger. I figured you'd be okay in class, but I knew I had to get here for your lunch." He knows me too well. I nod and shakily take the sandwich from him. He watches me take a few bites from it. It tastes good and semi distracts me as the pill takes effect.

"Talk to me, please." I say softly, through a mouthful.

"I'm not sure if this is the time to bring this up, but I think you should know." He starts. My stomach drops as I freeze with my hamburger midway to my mouth. He shakes his head immediately at my frozen state. "It's not bad, I promise. I think you'll actually be happy."

I give him a confused look. "Will I choke if I continue eating this?" I ask. He laughs.

"No, Rory. It's nothing shocking or…anything like that. I'm just thinking about going back to school."

His words startle me. "School? Like high school?"

"High school? No, silly. My teachers would faint if they saw me again. You know how teachers always say, 'come back and visit'? Well mine basically said, 'stay away'." He grins at me. I can't help but smile and take another bite.

"So college then?"

"Yea. Drugs just consumed me I guess. After winter break last year, I just had no desire to do anything else so I dropped out."

"Then why do you have the desire now?"

He takes a deep breath. "Do you remember the first time I kissed you? At the fair?" I nod. "You told me I made you want to be better and get better. You've had a similar effect on me as well. Except LSD is a little easier to get over." I look at him in awe. "Don't give me that look! You did the same thing. You even admitted it before we started dating." I smile at the truth in his words. I crumple up the empty wrapper from my burger and stick it in the bag on the ground.

"I never knew you actually quit all of that stuff. I just figured you were being smarter about it." He cupped my cheek.

"I figured if you were going through all of that for me, I could go through it too. Especially when yours is a lifelong struggle." I lean toward him and kiss him. He smiles against my lips and pulls me closer, wrapping his arm around my waist. I feel him kiss my jaw and up to my ear. "I'm proud of you baby." He whispers. I melt against him, no will to let go. I feel his hand rubbing my back as I push against him to sit back up.

"I'm proud of you too. And for taking me in stride." He smirks.

"How're you feeling?" I take a moment and relax when I feel everything a little slower than normal.

"It's working." He nods at my approvingly.

"So you wanna tell me what happened today?"

"We watched a movie on drinking in health today."

"Shit." His eyebrows raise. "I guess that's something kind of unavoidable." He tucks my hair behind my ear.

"Yea, we're talking about sex next class." I give him a look.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm glad everyone in your school is innocent enough to stay virgins until at least senior prom." He says, deadpanned. I laugh at his sarcasm. "I mean, really…there's nothing like waiting till the last minute." There's a comfortable lull in our conversation. The barbiturate has started taking full effect and I suddenly feel a little drowsy. I take in Tristan's lean form, incredibly close to mine. His protective arms send a rush through me.

The topic of sex has never been broached. It has never come up without the mention of Greg. I'd have to be comatose to not feel that kind of attraction to Tristan, but it scares me.

The woman I've been talking to says it'll feel different if I do it with someone I love. Maybe…but at this point I'll be sober when doing it. That in itself scares me.

And seeing Tristan here, so willing to help me, has me falling in love with him all over again. Why do I feel so naked all the time?! Isn't love supposed to be mushy and protective?

Drunk Rory would know what to do. This Rory? She has no clue. I have no clue. No fucking clue and it scares me.

"Rory?" He waves his hand in front of my face. What was I even rambling on about anyway?


"Are you okay?"

"Yea, just thinking."

"What about?"

I blush. Having sex with you. "Things." I answer evasively.

"Alcohol?" He's tentative with his answer.

"For once I can honestly say I wasn't thinking about that." He waits. "I was thinking about you."


"You're a guy."

"Uh huh." He looks at me for a moment. "You know, most girls would have gotten over that fact when the relationship started."

I ignore him. "Isn't there some kind of statistic that men think about sex every seven seconds or something?"

He blinks. "Are you trying to set me up or something?"

"No, I just…you haven't thought about it with me?" His eyes widen at my implications.

His mouth opens and closes a couple of times. "Of course I've thought about it, but it hasn't been a priority really."

"But you want too?" I hate this tentativeness. Blunt used to be so easy and…right.

"Are you actually present when we make out? I thought my hard on after some of those sessions would have made it obvious to you." Duh, Rory.

"I want to give you that—me—I'm just not ready. Okay?"

"I know, which is why I haven't pushed it. Take it easy…it's been a tough time going for you."

"You don't have to answer this, but I thought since you knew my…history, I should be able to know yours."

He looked at me for awhile. "Yes, I have."

"How many times?"

"Times or people?" He cringed after he realized what he said. I bite my lip.

"Uhm, both?"

"Are you sure you want to know this, babe?"

"No, but now that I asked I don't think I could forget that I asked."

He sighed. "Don't know how many times, but with 5 girls." I try my hardest not to react outwardly. That's a…higher number for a 19 year old.


"That's it? You're not going to ask anymore questions?"

"Isn't asking about past relationships somewhere near the top of dating 'no-no's' in Cosmo?"

"I don't know, I've never read Cosmo." He teases. The warning bell signaling the end of lunch rings over the school. I let out a huff of air. "You have to go now?"

"Yea, that was the warning bell. 4 minutes to get to your next class." I stand up, lethargically. He holds my hands in his and pulls me close.

"How're you feeling?"

"Better. Thank you for coming. I'm not sure what I would've done without you." I admit. Admittance was the first thing my therapist had me confront. Let's just say those were a couple of explicative-filled sessions. He leans his head down and I meet him in the middle kissing him softly. I untangle a hand and place it on his neck pulling him closer.

He massages my lips and pulls away, kissing me again quickly. "I'll see you later, okay?" I nod.

"I love you."

"Love you too, baby."

"And with the whole sex thing, just give me time okay?" He nods, sincerely.

"I've got all the time in the world for you. Don't worry." I lean up to kiss him again and wrap my arms around his waist in a tight hug. I pull away after a moment and wave a farewell. He smiles and watches until I make it back inside.


"So, where would you like to start today?" I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to decide?" She smiles at me and shakes her head.

"Not always. If there's something in particular you feel like you need to talk about, then that takes priority over any topic I could come up with."

I lean back into the plush sofa. "I almost had a relapse a few days ago." She raises her eyebrows and leans forward.

"That seems like the perfect place to start. Tell me what happened." I relay my story to her in as much detail as I can without causing myself to remember how it made me feel. How weak I suddenly felt after such a trivial event.

I like how my therapist doesn't write anything down when I talk to her unless it's something very important. But even then, the only time I can really remember her taking her pen and putting it to paper is when I gave her my phone number and the first couple of sessions I had, just so she could get all of the details down concretely.

She keeps quiet until she's sure that I've finished telling her everything I think I need to. "It sounds like that was a scary moment."

"Not scary in the sense of horror, more in the way that I got scared I would have to go back to drinking again. I was scared to see the disappointment in both Tristan's and my mom's eyes again."

"Well you made a very wise choice when you called Tristan. He's really been proving your mom wrong, huh?" She smiles at me. Another thing that I like about her is that she always seems so nonjudgmental. Like nothing I say would faze her.

"Yea, she's even civil to him now!" She gasps humorously, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"The horror. The boyfriend and mother are friends!"

"Well I wouldn't go that far." She smiles and waits for a moment, just looking at me.

"You've come a long way, Rory." I don't say anything in return. "Reflecting back on your last few years…besides the alcoholism, what's one thing you would change if you could?"

My eyes go wide as I think, letting out a breath. "Could it be something that was caused by the alcohol?"


"As I've told you, I'm not very close with my dad. Not so long ago I cursed him out. I've just always wanted a relationship with him, and when he started to pay attention to me right as I was approaching rock bottom, I flipped out at him. I told him that he made himself nothing to me and that he would remain nothing to me." I stop to collect my thoughts. "He knew how testy I'd become, and he…pushed me, for lack of a better term. I do think it's partly his fault, but I'd just like to go back to the day where our relationship became nonexistent."

"That's something a lot of people feel regret about. They think a failed relationship with a parent is their fault, but most of the time, it's the parent's fault completely. I hate to say it, but I might even put a little blame on your mom. Involving your father only when she couldn't handle you and not a moment sooner was not the right thing for her to do. Now I'm not saying you should hold a grudge against your mom, but just remember, tomorrow is a whole new day. You're 18, you have full reign to start that relationship with your father, no matter how obscure and slight it may be." I nod, and quickly wipe away a tear. She immediately hands me the tissue box. We sit in silence for a while longer.

"Do you wanna play a game?" She asked, smiling brightly. A what?!


"Yea. We can play cards, or I have a few board games. I have Life, Sorry, Monopoly, and a couple others." I let out a deep breath and smile despite my best efforts not too.

"Could we play Life? I haven't played that in years." She nods, a hint of a smile still on her face. I watch her get up and come back with the board game. If you can't start from scratch in real life, why not start from scratch in a board game?


"Are ready to do this?" He holds my shaking hand in one hand while the other is running along my cheek.

"I've never been so unready in my life." I focus on Tristan's even breaths, trying to match mine to his. He leans forward and kisses my forehead. I let out a cry of fear, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Hey, hey. Look at me. You will be fine, you hear me? You will get past this, and it'll just be a distant memory. I'll be holding your hand the whole time, I promise." He sits me down on the hard bench and kneels between my legs.

"Always got someone between your legs, don't ya Gilmore? How…ironic." My head whips up at the voice, and I get trembles through my body as I look at the face that has haunted me for months. I watch Greg give me a wink before he is escorted into the courtroom by armed guards.

As the doors close behind him, I break down. Never in my life have I succumbed to such anxiety. "I wanna go, take me away." Tristan pulls me into a hug. "I wanna leave!" I cry against his shoulder.

"I know, baby." He says soothingly. I pull away from him.

"I can't stay here. I have to go. Drive me home." I push him back and stand, flailing my arms.


"No, stop." I bite my lip as another tremor rocks through me. "I can't do this. I'm not strong enough." My legs give out underneath me, and Tristan catches me just before I hit the ground. Sitting on the floor, he wraps his arms around me.

"Shh." He rocks with me. My cries have almost died off when we're interrupted by a guard coming out.

"Miss. Gilmore. We're ready for you now." Tristan nods for me.

"We'll be in, in a few minutes."

"No, I can't. Please don't make me." I whisper hoarsely. He kisses me hard and massages my tongue against his. I whimper into his mouth and pull myself closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. All I want to do is forget about the courtroom and stay wrapped in Tristan's warm arms. I feel his hand rubbing my back as he nips my lip and separates our mouths.

His eyes are filled with fire and it worries me. "If you don't go in there, you are letting him win. Think about Sara. She would do anything to get her innocence back. Stand up for her, stand up for yourself. Prove that asshole wrong. You, Rory Gilmore, are a powerful individual. You are well on your way to overcoming an alcohol addiction, you graduated high school on time after taking more than a month off, and you've let me love you. You are just about there, Rory. Jump, the other side is right there." I breathe into his neck.

"Do you promise to hold my hand?"

"I pinky swear." He holds his hand up for me. I twist my pinky around his and shake it.

"I look like a blotchy mess."

He smiles at me. "No, you look like someone who is about to go get a worthless piece of shit locked up in jail." I can't help the smile. He helps me up and we walk hand-in-hand into the courtroom. I breathe deeply as I feel Tristan squeeze my hand. I can do this. I can do this.

And I do.


I would never have guessed that by the age of 18, I would have almost died from liver failure, been an alcoholic, been a rape victim, and found my soul mate. But every single one of these things happened to me.

As of now, I've been sober for 7 years and I'm still counting. Even the aftermath of being raped hasn't been as brutal as getting over my addiction. It's just recently gotten to the point where I can be in the same room as it without feeling that everlasting burn in the back of my throat.

Looking down at my hands, I spin the rings on my left ring finger. The day I testified against Greg in court was the day I decided that I wouldn't let anything else be taken away from me without my full consent. My will to live and function in society had been stripped away from me before I could comprehend it, and I am just now finishing getting it back.

Ironically, I am now a therapist, working alongside the woman I saw for no less than 3 years. Her nonjudgmental attitude, I found out, came from her own addictions. She was the 1 in 10 that survives a heroin addiction. She says her body still hasn't repaired itself enough to always deal with pain the average person wouldn't feel.

My love of writing came back in these recent years as well, and everyone around me seems to be prompting me to write a book on my addiction and overcoming it. But to me, that just sounds silly. I will never overcome alcoholism. I'm not being a defeatist by saying that, I'm being honest. While I can push aside my need for the depressant, it will always be a present part of my life. I still go to meetings about once a week. Thankfully I've moved on from the failure that resembled Diana's group to something that would have helped me when I was a struggling teen.

"Rory?" My thoughts are broken as I turn my head to look at the man who literally turned my life around. It was heading for the ground, and right now I feel as if I'm heading for the sky.

"Yea?" I watch as he comes into my view. I eye him carefully as he hesitantly approaches me. He kneels onto the floor next to me.

"How are you doing?"

"Alright, enjoying my bath. Why the apprehension?"

"I just didn't know if you'd be okay with me being in here."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well you threw a pretty good tantrum earlier, making it clear that you were going to take a bath and no one was to bother you." I feel my stomach drop at his conflicted features. I move a wet hand to grab his, and hold it tightly in mine.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. You're always welcome to come keep me company." I smile at him. "I think it's mostly the hormones." He cracks a smile at my words.

"You can't blame everything on being pregnant, Rory."

"Blasphemy! You wouldn't understand, unlike me, you're not with child in this delicate state." I watch as he threads his fingers through mine and laughs disbelievingly.

"Delicate? You were asking me to be anything but delicate and gentle last night." I blush at his words. I was horny; it's not completely my fault…

He pulls my hand to my lips and kisses my knuckles.

"Has my mom left yet?"

"Yes, and so has Sara, and Ryan, and Paris, and their counterparts. The only person who's still here is your father." I nod minimally.

"Is he waiting for me?"

"No, he was cleaning up. He was just about finished when I came in here. He told me to say goodbye for him." I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

"Impressive." Tristan chuckles.

"Are you feeling a little less worked up?"

"Yes, I'm sorry I was such a mess at dinner."

"Don't worry about it. Sara was enjoying it very much, though. She's almost enjoying you being 'preggers', as she likes to say, as much as you are. Plus I thought your homemade desserts were delicious. They got far to much criticism," I manage a small smile of thanks. It's quiet for a few moments.

"Having my food criticized wasn't the only reason I became unhinged."

"I realized that a little after the fact."

"I wanted the Raspberry Smirnoff so badly, you know?" He nods. I sometimes forget how much he's been through with me. How we got married close to 2 years ago and how I almost left my own wedding because the caterer slipped up and passed out alcohol. They were supposed to keep it out of the way and under wraps so if someone really wanted it, they could. But it would be a pain in the butt to get. Even then, most guests knew of my history and chose not to consume anything out of respect for me.

"I'm sorry it was here. Paris told me that when she asked Doyle to pick up something for us, she wasn't thinking he'd bring alcohol." I nod and wipe away a tear. I hear Tristan sigh from beside me.

"I know it was unopened, but it was just sitting there." I see my pain reflected in his face. He moves his hand from mine and places it on my belly.

"If you have no willpower for yourself right now, just think about the baby, okay?" I nod quickly, wiping away another tear. I place my hand over his and squeeze it as he leans forward and kisses my forehead.

"I know I already went this week, but I think I'm gonna go to group again tomorrow. Get back on track."

"That sounds like a great idea." He pushes the hair back from my face. "Which group do you think you'll go to?"

"I have a break at work tomorrow from 1-4. I'll go during then."

"I'll meet you there."

"What? No, you have work."

"You are more important than anything else in this world. If you don't have your health, what else is there?"

I giggled. "Says the guy who used to do LSD and mushrooms regularly."

"Hey!" He pouted. I smile at him and come to a sitting up position, leaning against the tub edge.

"I'm sorry." I lean forward and kiss him gently.

He smiles against my lips and whispers, "No you're not."

I laugh against him. "Yea." I give him another peck and pull away. He looks at my face and groans.


"You want something." I mock gasp at his insinuation.

"How dare you assume something like that!?"

"So you don't want anything?"

"Well, there might be something…"

He smiles, "Well?"

"Will you massage my lower back after I'm out? It's been bugging me a little with the extra weight." I rest my hand on my growing tummy. At 5 months, I'm not huge yet, but I was up for most of the day preparing for this evening.

"Yea, baby, of course. You wanna stay in here a little longer?"

I shake my head. "No, I think I'm alright. At this point, I think the massage will be more beneficial." He nods in agreement and helps me stand up. He grabs my over sized bath towel and holds it open for me, wrapping it around me snuggly. He dutifully helps me out of the tub and wraps his arm around my waist, keeping pace with me as we walk towards our bed. I unwrap the back of my body and lie down on my side, holding the towel as a cushion in front of me. I feel the bed dip as Tristan comes behind me and I let out a small shiver as his hands lightly dance down my spine.

He wastes no time pressing his fingers into my back, making small circles and concentrating on the spots that warrant the most response from me. As his talented fingers work, he places soft kisses on my bare shoulder and neck. I close my eyes, wrapped up in the sensations, slowly drifting away from consciousness.

"Thank you." I murmur, contentedly. He carefully removes most of his clothes, careful not to jostle me. He kisses my neck again and wraps his arm around me, holding me to him.

"I love you, baby. You're incredible." I move closer to him, kissing the hand that's draped over my side.

"I love you too. Thank you for everything, I don't like admitting it, but I would not be alive if it weren't for you." He gives me a gentle squeeze.

And in those last few minutes of consciousness, my whole addiction to alcohol seems silly and ridiculous. Why would I want that when I have this? When I have a husband who has supported me without fail since I was eighteen, and a healthy baby on the way?

But from my years of therapy, I learned that alcohol was the only way I knew how to live. Everyone has some sort of addiction. It may be shopping, food, cleaning, reading…whatever it may be, and it can be a positive addiction, but everyone has one, in varying levels of seriousness. I learned to direct my addictiveness on something else, more specifically…Tristan. And he has been more than okay with that. As I asked him about seven years ago, he has become my alcohol. Providing me with just enough intoxication to not return to an old addiction. As they say, in the new, out with the old.

A/N: And that completes this story. I'm not greatly satisfied with the ending, in my opinion it's a little too happy, but it's okay. It still shows her troubles and how addiction is lifelong. Yea! So I hope this was good and you all enjoyed it. :] Sorry it took so long for this chapter also…it gave me a lot of grief. Rory just didn't have a whole lot of direction in her life after last chapter, so everything was up in the air.

So thank you EVERYONE, you are all wonderful and inspiring and beautiful people.

Peace and Love, Emilie.

P.S. Have an awesome holiday and new years! May all your resolutions stick. Hehe.