Around The World And Back Again
Summary: Serena's reflections about Carter and how he ties into her search for her father. Post 2.25, not utilizing spoilers.
Author's note: This is just a short little one-shot, because I'm not yet sure of how to write Serena and Carter or even if anything worthwhile is going to happen with them, but I really wanted to try them on for size. I don't own Gossip Girl, and Josh Schwartz is sadly not my bitch.
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She loves the way that he smells; it reminds her of far-off lands where she can run and hide, but also strangely makes her think of home. She doesn't know what home that would be, since she never really felt she had one – and she refuses to let herself think of him as anything like home. Even if, when she's searching, he's the one she finds, every time.
Every time she looks at him, she wonders if he still tastes the same. If he tastes like spices – Greek ones, to be exact – or if he's acquired something new in all those travels. She knows he's thinking the same thing about her, and it both thrills and terrifies her. She wants him to come closer so she can find out, but she can't let him. After all, they're on a mission.
A mission that seems to be getting her nowhere, one that with every missed encounter or false lead starts reminding her more and more of last time. She doesn't want to think about that, though; she knows how that story ends. A missing father who doesn't want to be found and a young girl – now woman – a complete mess in her would-be lover's arms. She wishes she could let him in enough to see her that way once again, to comfort her when need be, but she won't. After all, she knows what he's really like.
He's like a Lost Boy on a path to destruction, taking everyone down with him. And he's not going to change – not even for her. She tells herself this over and over again as she watches the way his eyes light up around her. As she winces, possibly from pleasure, when he wraps his arm around her protectively in the presence of some intrusive passersby. It's just a passing infatuation, she reminds herself. One that has spanned years and continents, but never mind that. She thinks that maybe it's just the chase, that once she gives in he'll move on to his next conquest – his next con. She hates the fact that thinking about what she'll do when he's gone hurts her.
What hurts her more than anything, though, is the idea that he might be just like him. She doesn't know what her father is like, actually, but she imagines they're somewhat similar: dashing cads with wandering eyes whose hearts are momentarily captured by troublesome blondes, but who ultimately have to be on their way because they just can't stay in one place for too long. She wants to let him in, but she knows he'll just leave. She thinks she probably has some severe daddy issues.
Daddy issues are the least of her worries, honestly. Even if he wasn't constantly on the verge of abandoning the UES for Dubai or St. Tropez, didn't he seduce her best friend at the lowest point in her life, and all as part of some twisted game he was playing with her step-brother? And wasn't he the one who stole some of Chuck's prized possessions and tried to cheat Nate out of so much money at a rigged poker game? His middle name was trouble and with her record, she didn't need any of it. Sure, he had flown around the world and back to help her on her (fruitless) quest. But knowing him, there was some devious ulterior motive. Just because he hasn't shown his cards yet doesn't mean there aren't any. She wants to believe him when he says he's doing it for her – when his eyes say he'd do anything for her – but she can't. Believing him is tantamount to loving him, and that is something she simply refuses to do. After all, loving him would be a whole new level of dangerous.
Dangerous is exactly the word that runs through her mind at a frenetic pace, as high-pitched and breathless as the voice in her head could possibly be, when he pulls her in close and tenderly places his left hand on her waist. His right hand cups her cheek, and part of her wants to stop him because it's too fast and it's wrong and it's dangerous. But the rest of her knows she wants him to keep going because it's been a long time coming. It's right and even necessary. Her eyes move slowly from the curve of his jaw, unwilling to close because that would make it all too real, in order to rest on his lips.
His lips touch hers and, for a brief moment, she forgets all about her father and her mission and her fears. After that moment passes, the sane part of her fights for control once more. He notices and breaks away.
"Don't worry," he whispers in her ear. When he pulls away and looks at her, she sees his crooked smile and the way it seems almost sad. She immediately wishes she knew what to do to make it better.
"You're not Dido," he says. "You're Aeneas."
Aeneas? It takes her a moment to remember all her Roman history, but once she recollects, she has to marvel once more at how well he knows her. She doesn't want to be Aeneas, either. She has a mission, and it might require her to wander as far as he did, but she doesn't want to do it alone.
So she reaches out and takes his hand in hers. "Let's go back to New York tomorrow," she announces with a confidence she hasn't felt in years. "We'll find a way to search from there."
His smile grows from crooked to genuine, and she can't help but grab him and pull him in for another kiss.
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