Blair steps off the plane into the bright lights of the airport. She stops, her hand gripping the handle of her overnight bag and for a moment she can't remember where she is or how she got there. It's like a dream where she's standing still and everyone moves around her at warp speed, people stream around her, down the concourse, businessmen hurrying to meetings and parents dragging children with sticky hands and friends who are on vacation chattering away. She barely sees any of them. Blair just stands there until something startles her, a brush on her shoulder or some random thought, and she remembers why she's here, and she takes a step forward then another and another.

The air is cool and stale and the sun outside shines brightly on filtered glass, casting strange shapes across the modern art tile floor of the concourse floor that Blairs shoes click across. It looks hot and dusty outside and the horizon is lined with a brown haze, lines of brown dry hills extending forever.

She's not sure how she got here. The last twenty four hours were a blur.

She doesn't have any other luggage. Just the one bag she'd packed, and Dorota had stood in the doorway of her bedroom watching as tears streamed down Blair's face, just watching, knowing there was nothing she could do to help. There was nothing she could say, nothing that could make this better.

Blair found her way to the rental car counter and slapped a credit card down. The woman behind the counter had her hair swept up in a bun and her make-up looked nice and her company uniform of navy vest and slacks were neat and pressed. She said something about upgrading and maybe they could get her a convertible, and Blair just answered yes, not really caring about anything. Thirty minutes later she was strapped into a rental car that smelled of upholstery and sanitizer, squinting into the California sun and wishing she hadn't left her sunglasses in New York.

He was gone when she got to the loft. Blair's hands shook as she fumbled under the mat searching for the spare key, and when she finally found it, she could barely managed to insert it into the lock. She felt the heavy click of the ancient dead bolt then slowly pushed the door open.

"Dan?"

Her voice sounded hollow in the silence. She glanced around. The New York Times was lying open on the table. There was a half drunk mug of coffee next to it, almost like he was going to come walking down the hallway and sit down and start telling her about an interesting article in the arts section like nothing had happened, and Blair thought she would take the paper out of his hands and cover his face in kisses and tell her how sorry she was.

Blair heard the click of a door and her eyes darted to the office. The door swung open and she started to smile, to find the words to tell him that she didn't mean for it to happen, then her face fell when she saw it was Rufus standing in the doorway. He was looking at her with pity and sadness and that was when she felt the tears start to roll down her cheeks again.

"I'm so sorry, Blair." Rufus said softly. "He was gone when I got here."

She thinks she may have finally stopped crying somewhere over Kansas, after making the nice man next to her feel bad enough to hand her his handkerchief and being patted on the shoulder by an elderly woman who told her that it was going to be okay.

She was wrong. Nothing was going to be okay.

It had been raining earlier that day, and Blair had grabbed her raincoat when she got the text but she'd forgotten her umbrella, so by the time she reached the hotel her hair was soaking wet and plastered to her scalp. He was standing next to the bar, a glass of amber liquid gripped in his hand, and when she stepped off the elevator, rain dripping down her coat, he looked at her and smiled.

"Blair," Chuck said, stepping towards her, "you came."

Of course she did.

"Your text," Blair sputtered. "you said it was over, you said..."

She had visions of Chuck, dead, on the pavement, gunshot, and it had taken less than a split second for her to grab her coat and head toward the Empire. She'd been part of chuckandblairblairandchuck for so long that responding to his pain was almost a reflex, because she was the only person who had ever been allowed to see the scared, hurt boy that lurked underneath Chuck's carefully cultivated veneer. She knew how much he could hurt.

"The search for my mother."

Blair stared at him. She felt herself start to shake, partially with relief that Chuck was standing in front of her, walking slowly toward her, partially with rage that the smile across his face said he knew she still cared.

"Fuck you." Blair hissed. She was still shaking. "Go to hell," she said from between clenched teeth. "I hate you."

Blair will never know what happened next. Not with much clarity. She was full of clashing emotions; rage, relief, anger, love, and Chuck was getting closer and closer until she was in his arms and his lips were on hers and he was kissing her. Blair's hands came up to his chest and she pushed at him and twisted, until she broke away and found herself staring at someone she'd never expected to see at that moment.

Serena.

She was standing in the hallway, the elevator doors open behind her, her eyes wide, just staring at the two of them.

"S.," Blair started, then realized that Chuck's arms were wrapped around her. She pushed at him again and struggled to release herself from his embrace. "no, it's not..."

Serena's eyes narrowed and sparked.

"I know what it is, Blair."

"No."

"He loves you."

They both knew she wasn't talking about Chuck.

"I..." Blair sputtered.

"And I gave him up because I thought...I thought... I didn't fight for him, because..."

"Serena."

Serena wasn't listening any longer. She turned and stepped back into elevator and Blair could only stare as the doors slid shut.

"I'm going to fight now."

"Kill shot," Chuck laughed from behind her and Blair felt rage flood through her body.

It was just another game. Another move in the competition Chuck was having with Dan with Blair as the prize. It had been his plan all along, to have her come to the Empire and have Serena find them in an illicit clench. Blair's eyes narrowed and she took one step toward him, then another until she was standing just inches from his smug face.

"We are done." Blair said quietly. He was no longer even her friend.

"We're never done, Blair," Chuck hissed, "Never."

Blair said nothing. She just turned and walked away. There was nothing left to say.

Blair managed to keep it all together until she was outside the Empire standing on the sidewalk and that's when the hyperventilating began, and she leaned against the rough brick wall, not even caring that it might snag her coat, and tried to catch her breath, tried to think, and that's when she realized what had happened.

Dan.

Serena.

Blair shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat and pulled out her phone. With a shaking finger she jabbed the speed dial number for Dan and listened to it ring. Once. Twice, and it went to his voicemail, and Blair left him a message, her voice shaking.

Call me. Please call me. Right now.

That was when she called for the car and she could barely buckle her seatbelt, she was shaking so badly, and her voice sounded choked and strange as she told the driver to go to Brooklyn.

"I don't know where he went. I would tell you if I did." Rufus said, his eyes watching Blair carefully. Blair wanted to go to Rufus, to let him fold her into his arms like she was his child, for him to rock her and tell her it would be okay because at this moment she was pretty sure nothing was going to be okay.

Blair had never had a parent like Rufus. Eleanor was busy with her business or with Cyrus and all she really cared about was that Blair kept her mess-ups private and cleaned up nicely for company. There would be no late-night outpourings of her dreams and fears to her mom and Blair often felt all alone in the world. She knew Dan would probably tell his dad everything, so she begged Rufus with her eyes to please, please be lying, please know where Dan went, please tell her...

"Please."

Blair didn't realize she'd actually uttered the word.

"Oh, Blair," Rufus said, and she she was in his arms and he was rocking her gently back and forth, and somehow this took the edge off the unbearable pain that was lodged somewhere near her heart.

"I need him. I can't...can't..." she murmurs into Rufus' shirt and he tells her that he knows.

"I don't know what's going on, Blair, but he loves you. I know this for sure. Dan loves you."

She pulls back and wipes the tears from her eyes. If he loved her, where was he. Why wasn't he standing in the middle of the loft, waiting for her? She could take his righteous indignation, his judgement, his anger. It was a burden she was willing to carry for him as long as he needed her to. He wouldn't be entirely wrong to hate her. She could tell him she was sorry, that if it mean losing him, she was going to let go of Chuck. Her choice was made. But him leaving. Walking away. That...that was something that twisted deep in her gut, and she knew that walking away was the only way she could possibly lose him.

"You really have no idea?" Blair asked, wanting this to be the moment Rufus reveals that he actually knows where Dan has gone and Blair will go there, find him, knock on the door of his hideout, throw herself at his mercy, tell him that no matter what, she now knows that she will love him the rest of her life, even if he doesn't love her. At least then he'll know.

Rufus kisses her on the forehead, a fatherly and sweet kiss, and suddenly Blair can see him being the father she never had, and she hopes that this is not something permanent but a bump in the road and she'll be experiencing her share of Humphrey brunches in the future, and she knows that if this is it, if this is the end, she's losing more than Dan.

"I'm sorry, Blair."

Blair leaves the loft and finds herself standing outside on the sidewalk. There has to be a way to find him, someone who might know where Dan has gone. Someone...

Then she knows. There is one person. Blair climbs into the back of the town car and tells the driver to head toward the Archibald residence. Now.

Nate has been visiting his mother but he doesn't look entirely surprised when Blair shows up on the doorstep. He doesn't say anything, just opens the door and she walks through, into the foyer.

"I'm sorry." Nate says softly, and his face is filled with so much concern that Blair feels the tears start again.

"Where," Blair starts then her voice cracks and falters. She swallows then starts to speak again, "where did he go?"

Nate swallows.

"Blair."

She wants to scream, to let all the anguish and pain of the last few hours out in a guttural, primal scream. She wants to beat on Nate's chest until her fists hurt and maybe that will make her feel better. But she doesn't. She just looks at him. Pleading.

"I've made a mistake." she says softly, "I need to be able to make it right."

"Blair," Nate says again. "I don't know..."

"I love him."

She's never said these words to Dan but now she says them to Nate as she's standing in the hallway of his mom's brownstone, and the words are out there, drifting between the two friends, and the truth of what she says is like a weight being lifted off her.

She loves him.

"Please," she begs. "Please tell me."

Nate steps back and runs a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, and Blair knows that he's torn between the two of them. Then he sighs and takes her hand in his.

"Okay," Nate says. Blair feels relief wash over her. She holds back the urge to throw her arms around Nate and kiss him, because now she can go find Dan and she can tell him she's sorry and that she's done with Chuck and she's all his, and they'll kiss and fuck and everything will be okay. She closes her eyes and exhales.

"Blair," Nate says, and she opens her eyes to see his looking at her intently, and a little sadly, and she knows there's something he's not telling her. "I'll tell you where he went, but you have to know..."

Blair doesn't like what Nate says next.

"Serena went with him."

TBC