Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.
--W.H. Auden, SEPTEMBER 1, 1939
"Would you dance with me, Miss Waldorf?"
Serena saw her friend jump a little in her seat, saw her eyes move up slowly and try to focus on the hand being proffered. Her eyes continued their upward path, noted abstractedly that the hand was attached to an arm, and that the arm belonged to a young man. She closed her eyes briefly, as if too exhausted to keep them open. They looked bruised, so dark were the shadows around them. Serena winced.
"Yes, I suppose," came Blair's small voice.
"I think she's too tired right now—" began Serena.
"No," Blair stood up and shook out her curls, "I'm fine." She took his arm and followed him to the dance floor, leaving Serena alone to nurse her drink and sigh worriedly. She followed Blair's progress across the dance floor with her eyes, frowning as she observed how small and frail Blair looked in the arms of the stranger, her face wan and tearstained. She had wound her scarecrow arms around the man's back, as if he were all that was keeping her from falling over. He probably was.
Blair had always been able to mask her unhappiness with her trademark smile and fake laugh; she put up a façade that was a sort of armor against the world. Serena had always admired this ability. She herself couldn't help but wear her heart on her sleeve. But sometime in the past few months Blair had lost that self-possession and control, and her visible vulnerability frightened Serena perhaps more than anything ever had. "Oh, B, what am I going to do with you?" She asked herself sadly.
She toyed idly with the diamond bracelet she wore on her left wrist. It was very pretty, she thought, looking at it. She usually forgot to wear it out, but it went well with her dress today. Aaron had given it to her a few weeks ago as a sort of apology for the huge fight they had had over Blair. They argued about Blair a lot, about how Serena spent more time with her than she spent with Aaron. Blair comes first for me now, she thought fiercely, still fingering the bracelet. No boyfriend will ever get between my best friend and me ever again.
Her cell phone began to ring, shattering her train of thought. When she saw the name on the screen her eyes lit up in anger.
"Chuck. To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"
She heard laughter on the other line. "I just wanted to see how my favorite sister is doing."
"I thought you made it clear that you don't consider me to be family," Serena snapped.
"Oh no, I only ever wanted to disown Eric. He's so tedious. But I would never give up a hot sister."
"Ew, Chuck."
"You should be flattered, Serena."
"What? That's disgusting, and incestuous…"
"Anyway," Chuck cut in, "I was hoping you could tell me who precisely is that jackass Waldorf is practically having sex with on the dance floor."
"Her new boyfriend," returned Serena smugly. "Wait—you're here right now? Where are you?" She craned her neck, looking for him, and finally saw him seated at the bar. Of course. Sitting in his lap was a leggy blonde who appeared to be sticking her tongue in his ear. Chuck smirked at her across the room and raised a glass as if to toast her.
"Stupid asshole," Serena muttered.
"This new boyfriend seems exactly her type, don't you think?" drawled Chuck into the phone. "Smarmy, scrawny, pimply, probably a virgin—"
"Jealous?"
Chuck sniggered derisively. "I'm not jealous."
Serena shifted the phone to her other ear. "I see I should have bought you a dictionary for Christmas."
Chuck blithely ignored her. "'Jealousy' is hardly the word I would use to characterize my feelings on the subject. Perhaps 'disgust' or 'revulsion' or 'nausea'…"
"There's nothing revolting about him," said Serena irritably, "He's a very good-looking boy."
"It seems you're the one who needs a dictionary."
"Ha."
"You'll find 'dumb blonde' in the 'D' section I believe. That comes after 'C', which is the third letter in the alphabet, in case you were confused."
"Fuck you, Chuck. "
"Oh, Serena, I love it when we banter."
"Ugh!" Serena threw her arms up in the air. "I can't even talk to you! I'm seriously fighting the urge to go over to that bar right now and throttle you with my bare hands."
"I love it when you get so angry and passionate, sis. It gives me a tingly, warm feeling right in my—"
Serena hung up the phone. She pointedly turned her back so she could not see Chuck anymore and threw back the rest of her cocktail. Her lips twitched in anger as a bit of alcohol dribbled out of her mouth and she wiped it off with a napkin.
"Serena—" she felt a cool hand against her back.
"Don't fuck with me, Chuck," she spat out, and whirled around. She found herself staring up at Dan Humphrey's shocked face.
"Oh, Dan," she said weakly. "I didn't know you were there."
"Apparently," said Dan. "You thought I was Chuck?"
"Sorry," smiled Serena awkwardly. "Anyways, how have you been lately? I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."
"Oh. Yeah." Dan avoided eye contact, staring at his shoes. "I guess it's sort of weird, now that you're with Aaron…"
"Dan—"
But Dan clearly didn't want to have this conversation, and hurriedly interrupted,
"Has Chuck been bothering you?"
"Yes—no; it doesn't matter. I'm used to it." She sighed and rubbed her face distractedly with her arm. "I'm just worried about Blair. And I hate him."
"What the hell happened between them, anyway?"
"God, I don't even know. When he came back from Bangkok he had this huge breakdown, and he must have been really awful to Blair, because she stopped trying to help him. As far as I know they haven't talked ever since."
"They haven't spoken at all, in three months?" asked Dan incredulously.
"No," Serena shook her head miserably. "And she's depressed, and weak, like nothing I've ever seen before."
"She's been through worse with Nate, Serena, hasn't she? I'm sure that comparatively this isn't that big a deal—"
"You don't know her like I do!" protested Serena, prodding him angrily in the chest. "She's worse now than she was when she wanted to run away to France and never show her face again in public!"
"But she's here at a fancy party, dancing with some blue-blood," pointed out Dan.
"I think she's just too weak to run away this time. She doesn't even have enough will-power to do that."
"Isn't there anything you could do to cheer her up?"
Serena snorted derisively. "You clearly don't understand the gravity of the situation."
Dan caught a glimpse of Blair on the dance floor; her lips were pale and cracked and trembling, her arms and legs much thinner than he remembered. She was bleary-eyed and her normally lustrous hair hung in limp, lifeless curls. She was still pretty, of course, objectively she always would be—but she had obviously changed. She was no longer the sparkling, vivacious girl he remembered, the one who sneered, who glared, who hurled insults at him energetically, who worked tirelessly on her appearance and moved with purpose. Dan had never liked her very much but he felt a sudden stab of pity, followed by a sharp anger towards Chuck that actually surprised him with its intensity.
He turned back to Serena, feeling very stupid. "I haven't been a good friend to you," he confessed. "I was mad at you for going to Buenos Aires with Aaron, and since then I haven't been paying attention—"
"It's ok, Dan," said Serena, "Blair isn't your problem."
"But she is your problem. And I care about you. I would help her if I could."
Serena sighed. "She needs to move on. But she can't do that, because the thing with Chuck still isn't resolved."
"I don't get it," protested Dan, "he doesn't talk to her, he flaunts other women in front of her—"
"I don't think that's enough to convince her fully that he doesn't care anymore."
"How could she possibly still think—"
"Chuck is…complicated. To be honest, I think he might still have feelings for her. But he's an emotionally stunted bastard and he'll never admit it again, not after this."
"So what the hell is Blair hoping will happen?"
"I don't know, Dan," sighed Serena, "the same thing that happened the first time. After the Tuscany disaster, when he apologized endlessly and chased her for months."
"I don't understand their relationship," muttered Dan darkly. "She must be a masochist."
Serena nodded tersely and put down her glass, which was now empty. She glanced over at Chuck, who was by now kissing the blonde who had been sitting in his lap before, his hand inching up under her dress. She glared at him, but of course he couldn't see her. She turned around and saw that sure enough, Blair was watching him too, with a dead look in her eyes. Serena felt a pang at her heart.
"This. Is. Bullshit." she ground out. She set off towards the bar, her eyes shooting off sparks, and Dan ran after her, yelling, "What are you doing?"
Serena marched right up to the bar, inches away from Chuck and the unknown woman, and slammed her drink down onto the table. Chuck detached himself from the girl's lips and looked up, startled.
"Could I have another drink, please?" she addressed the bartender.
"Sure," said the bartender nervously, "what would you like?"
"A Manhattan. Thanks."
"Serena," growled Chuck, his eyes narrowing, "if you wouldn't mind not invading my personal space…" He saw Dan and his eyes narrowed further. "Humphrey," he spat.
"Bass," Dan returned coolly.
"I thought you were done slumming it in Brooklyn, Serena," sneered Chuck. "I guess I overestimated you."
"And who is your lovely friend, Chuck? I don't believe we've met?" inquired Dan.
Chuck, who had obviously forgotten her name, merely glowered.
The girl spun around in his arms to glare at him. "Ce-ci-li-a," she hissed.
"Cecilia," Chuck repeated, smirking a bit. Cecilia stood up and straightened her dress and left in a huff, her heels clicking angrily against the polished floor. Chuck barely seemed to notice, however. He was staring very hard at something beyond Dan and Serena, and he had risen to his feet. The two looked around and saw Blair, ashen-faced and hugging herself with her arms, approaching slowly.
"What's going on?" she asked faintly.
Dan felt a ringing in his ears. His senses sharpened in anticipation. The whole universe seemed to narrow down to Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck; Dan and Serena were only spectators. The bar, the dance floor, the music, the sound of voices, all melted away, all became irrelevant. Dan could only see Blair with her gray cheeks and her skeletal frame, Blair who was no longer an ice queen. Trembling in her blue dress as if before a harsh wind she resembled nothing so much as a flower caught in the first frost of winter. And there was Chuck, his eyes bright with malice, and perhaps with something else too. Dan saw him clench his fists and take a breath.
"I was about to fuck a hot girl, but your sidekick and her low-rent boyfriend interfered," he snarled.
Blair winced perceptively and stepped a bit closer. "Chuck, please, let's not do this anymore—"
"Not do what anymore?"
"Stop pretending to hate me! I know on some level you care—"
"You're delusional, Waldorf," said Chuck firmly. "I don't care. I never have, and I never will."
For a moment all four of them were silent.
"You once said to me," said Blair softly, hugging herself closer, "that you didn't want me anymore, and that you couldn't see why anyone would."
"I remember," nodded Chuck, not taking his eyes off her face. He continued slowly, deliberately. "Rode hard and put away wet. I haven't forgotten."
Serena gasped in horror.
"No, no." Blair pressed her palms against her eyes for a moment, hard. Her whole body was shaking by this point.
"You're just trying to push me away. You did want me. You almost told me you loved me—"
"I might have thought it was possible, for a while; but eventually I realized I only wanted you because you had been off-limits. Nate's girl. That's what made it exciting."
"I wasn't off-limits after Tuscany," whispered Blair. "Nate and I were ancient history by then."
Chuck shrugged. "I guess the thrill hadn't worn off yet. I like the chase. But I never really wanted the prize."
Blair's face crumpled, then, and she sank onto a barstool, finally looking away from him. Tears swam in her eyes.
Before Dan could stop her, Serena smacked Chuck across the face. Chuck didn't look surprised, only turned away and said, his back to Blair, "I hope we understand each other now." He massaged his stinging cheek while waiting for an answer.
Blair let out a small, choking sound from where she sat at the bar; Chuck seemed to hear it, because his shoulders tensed and he walked away without looking back.
"Oh, God, Blair—" Serena threw her arms around Blair, who was sobbing openly, huge, dry sobs that shook her to the core.
They stayed that way for a while; Serena, livid, holding the crying girl closely, Dan standing a few feet away, his face blank. He had never known Chuck could be capable of such cruelty. Why? He thought numbly, why would he say such things? Does he want her to stay away from him that badly? Can he really hate her so much? He remembered how Chuck's eyes had grown suspiciously bright when he said those terrible words, how his shoulders shook when he turned away. Somehow, he didn't think so.
"I will get him for this," said Serena wildly, staring at Dan over Blair's shoulder. "I will put an end to this if it's the last thing I do." She stomped her little foot and shook back her golden mane angrily, like a lioness hell-bent on protecting her young. Dan could not help but look at her admiringly, and a memory resurfaced, one of a time rather long ago when he was happy:
"I love you because you can be with someone like me, and still be best friends with someone like Blair."
"Yeah, well, I try to be…"
"I know you do. And that's not easy. But you never give up on her. That is how amazing you are."
Dan was very still for a couple of moments, and then he turned towards her and said, "Serena, I think I have an idea."