A/N: I'm doing final assessment at the moment and needed an hour to throw out whatever stupid stuffs in my head. Takes place after the last ep. 3x22? Something like that.
Warning: Second half is MA for sexy stuff and mild rough play. Please don't read if you don't like.
They're so wrong.
Everything about this bludgeons her morals just a little further. And they're already bruised and hurting as it is. She built up walls, walls between right and wrong.
(Lines would never be enough.)
When she first came back the walls were strong and high and the only thing that kept her from spiralling. Now there are holes, huge chasms that Georgina ripped open with blood red nails; there are gaping doors where she slipped into the arms of a married politician.
Dan's kisses, Nate's weary gaze—these are just chinks.
Blair met the only straight fashion editor in France and promptly fell in love. Or so she said.
But Blair's always been better at pretend.
Thoughts of Dan and Nate and an uncharacteristic obligation to make things right send her running back to the New York.
She should know better than that by now.
She flies into Chuck's apartment, bright and so willing to change things. The blinds are pulled shut and the lights left off. She almost misses Chuck. He's covered by deep shadows, looking down onto the busy streets, a glass of liquor in hand.
"Chuck?" she questions hesitantly. Optimism flows through her body and she's not sure she's capable of handling him in his super villain mood.
Slowly he turns, expression bland and unreadable. "He's not here."
"What?"
"Nathaniel. He's gone," he spells it out as he would for a slow child or an untrained puppy. "Followed some perky redhead into the distant abyss of the heartlands."
For a second she doesn't believe him. Wants to slap him and call him a liar.
But Blair's always been better at pretend.
"He didn't wait." It's hollow and burns.
She looks like she's taken a blow, and even Chuck can feel pity.
"He'd already waited too long." Sometimes it's kinder to be cruel. He doesn't want her to cling to dreams and a love that's already abandoned her. Not like him.
She spins on her heel, eyes already blurring with tears. "Turn on some fucking lights!" she shouts the only coherent thought that springs into her mind.
XOXO
Like a masterless puppet she falls straight into Brooklyn.
Georgina opens the door to Dan's loft and greets with a calculating smile.
"S, it's so good to see you!"
She lets herself get pulled into swift hug, too surprised to shake off Georgina's arms. Curiously she looks at the bump under Georgina's shirt. It was actually comical how long it took her to put the pieces together.
"You're pregnant," she gasps, wide eyed and confused. Georgina and babies live in two different worlds: she can't quite imagine them in the same body.
A hint of a disparaging smile appears at the corner of Georgina's lips—she's laughing at Serena, laughing at herself, and not really laughing at all.
She launches into a well practiced spiel about how surprised she was and how good Dan has been. When she's finished a dark silence descends. Heavily pregnant, thousands of dollars of dead animal thrown carelessly over a chair, Georgina sits at a downtown breakfast bar and looks completely at home.
Serena stands awkwardly just inside the door.
The guileless expression on Georgina's face slips away, back into the fold of a hundred characters that live only on a whim.
"Where's Nathaniel? Trouble in paradise? Hmmn? I really didn't think that left on your own you'd fall for stupid and pretty."
That beautiful rolling voice sends a shiver down her spine. She wants to defend Nate. Wants to defend her and Nate, but the wounds are too fresh. "Why not?" she asks emptily. Isn't stupid and pretty kind of her thing? Everyone else seemed to think so.
"So dull. I thought better of you than that," is all she says. "I'm not sure if you playing for Dan is more interesting or not," she adds—her gaze distant, voice holding nothing but mild curiosity.
"I'm not—"
Georgina laughs low and real this time. "Please, S. Run your innocent-little-girl act somewhere else. I'm not buying it."
She feels desperate and frantic. Georgina always knew. And that knowing made her walls feel flimsy and transparent. The act was all she had left.
"Kind of like I'm not buying yours." She gestures to Georgina's stomach. Her chin juts out stubbornly and her arms cross.
Georgina just nods slowly. "So the cards are on the table."
You're the father was the oldest play in the woman's handbook, but poor Dan was still more Brooklyn than Upper East Sider and would never guess.
"Why are you here, G?"
Murky blue eyes flash dangerously. "You don't need to know that. You just need to stay the hell away from Dan."
"And let him fall into your trap?" She's too tired for this, but she doesn't really have a choice.
Georgina stands, stalking closer. It should have looked ridiculous with a pale hand cradling her latest acquisition, but Georgina had never been uncomfortable in her own skin and Serena always brought out the very best and very worst of what she was. "Yes, S, that's exactly what I want you to do. And if you don't..." She comes to stop directly in front of the blonde. In her five-inch boots there's not an inch between them. She's cornered and knows her gaze is swirling with dark, unspeakable things. "Did you suppose all your secrets died with Pete? Do you think Dan," she giggles, "or hell, even Blair and Nate, could handle all your skeletons?"
Serena's not surprised at the threat, but she pales anyway. "The worst did."
Georgina feels almost bad, but she really doesn't have the choice of sympathy. "But worst is rather relative, isn't it?"
Their eyes meet and there are a million things Serena can say. If I've done it, you've done worse, but Georgina wouldn't care. Georgina lives quite happily with what she is. My friends know what I was, but knowing was a lot easier to bear than gritty details even Serena wishes she could forget.
She doesn't say any of it. For the first time she looks at Georgina and she really sees.
Desperate and frantic.
Serena doesn't owe her a thing. She owes Dan more than she could ever repay.
But Georgina is her imperfect reflection and she can't quite stand to leave her alone in a darkness of her own making.
And if anyone can make it light again, it's Dan.
So she leaves Brooklyn. For real this time.
XOXO
She ends up back at the Empire more out of habit than anything.
Chuck is hunched over papers in the dining room. His eyes are bloodshot, his skin an unhealthy shade of grey. He sways on his feet, but continues trying to make notes on his work.
He doesn't look up when she comes in and for some reason that hurts too.
"Can I stay?"
He looks at her, confused and a little incoherent. He can't think of a single reason she'd want to stay with him. No one else does.
"Do what you want. You will anyway."
She feels a little awkward. It's so quiet, and even with the lights on it feels...empty. She doesn't want to go into Nate's room. It wouldn't be right. So she grabs a comedy out of Nate's DVD collection and curls up on the lounge.
After half an hour Chuck trails quietly into the room, another glass of scotch in his hands. He sits on the floor in front of her and tilts his head back onto the lounge; he doesn't even pretend to watch the film.
It makes her smile sadly.
Even Chuck doesn't want to be alone in the dark.
A compulsion she doesn't want to understand makes her reach out, brush her hand through Chuck's hair. It's an odd feeling. The inky waves are coarser than she expects. They curl around her skin where Nate's baby-fine locks would fall through her fingers.
She expects a cutting remark, but his head just lolls into her touch. Sloe eyes watch her dully as she slides down beside him.
She doesn't want to look into his eyes. Her fingers slip over his face, tracing the edges of his lips. Cautiously she edges forward, presses her lips into his with childlike curiosity. She just wanted to see if they were as soft as they felt.
Chuck doesn't move, barely breathes, just cocks an eyebrow. "Even after all your hard-learned lessons, S?"
She gives him a wry smile. "Even so."
He captures her chin and forces his lips hard and demanding against hers. He tastes her like he used to imagine when they were barely teens. Her teeth bite sharply into his lips, they'll leave marks on his skin and he doesn't care.
He pulls away abruptly. Serena's eyes are blurry and her body's gone pliant and soft with wanting.
"I won't sleep with you," he says evenly.
Finally embarrassed she buries her face in her arms. "So you'll fuck Jenny, but not me?"
"Jenny's not half of what you are." Couldn't do a fraction of the damage. "What do you even want Serena?" He doesn't want to get caught up in another one of her whirlwinds, but he doesn't really have a choice and hasn't for a while.
"Nothing!"
He snatches her wrist before she can disappear in a swirl of angry golden threads.
"Good," he grinds out, crushing her wrist with bruising force, "because that's all I have to give."
She studies him carefully and he doesn't know what she's looking for, but something makes her relax against him. "You're hurting me."
"I know." He holds her even tighter, imagines he can feel the fragile bones of her wrist through her silky skin. He wants her to know exactly what he's offering.
Blair took the last of his softness.
Serena doesn't want kindness, has done nothing to deserve it. Maybe she wants to be punished a little too. She moves into him, presses a warm mouth against his chest. A shuddering sigh leaves his body and he lets go of her wrist so she can unbutton shirt. She nips at the pale skin of his chest, moves her hand through wiry chest hair that Nate doesn't have.
"This will kill her, you know?" he states mildly, plays devil's advocate with his usual skill.
He looks down at her and the sight makes him shiver. Long blonde hair is spread out over his lap and Serena's lost herself, he knows she barely remembers who he is. She's pressing her face against his cock, nudging him, licking him with firm strokes through his pants. The material is too rough and not nearly enough.
"She'll never know," she replies with conviction, unzipping him carefully.
He wants to laugh. Serena doesn't deserve to be this naive. But she swallows him tight and fast and he can't think past the melting wet heat of mouth. He wraps his hand around those golden waves, bundling it and pulling till she groans around him.
He traps her against him, not letting her move as he thrusts slow and cruel.
When he can think he's fascinated by the way her hands hold his hips. Her nails dig then gentle fingers smooth over the sharp pain.
He comes with a guttural moan and lets out a sharp cry when her lips release him into the cool air.
She stands and holds out a hand. He hasn't really recovered and takes it without thought. She helps him up and giggles when he stumbles after her into his bedroom.
He doesn't really think about the things they do. The two of them are messy and ugly. They're one of Van Gough's later works—fascinating and disturbing. And if he thinks about what they are too much he'll lose his mind.
He gets lost in golden tangles, suffocates himself with satin skin, dies just a little when she comes around him and calls out his name.
And it's still dark.
But it's still better than being alone.