I have absolutely no idea where this story is going to go. But I like how I suddenly get inspired by it so, I decided to go with it. This is post 5x24. And it is not the dair fluff that I promised, but don't worry, the fluff is coming.

I'm rating M because I know myself way too well. And because a review mentioned it...this is not a thriller haha. I would suck so bad at writing thrillers.

Just tell me if it sparks some kind of interest in you. Bisous !

There was not one thing not to love about his life. At age twenty-three, Daniel Humphrey could say that he had achieved a writing career to be envied by many. He had stopped counting the awards after the fifth one, to try not to lose too much of modesty. But his second novel had just been reedited and his first one was becoming popular in Europe. The United States weren't the only country which had succumbed to his storytelling; he got seduced by the daughter of the Belgium ambassador just because she knew he was "Dan Humphrey".

It was not a thing he had gotten accustomed to, his being popular with the female kind. Although he thought it would be insane not taking advantage of it, each time he woke up in a stranger's bed, he had a hard time finding that boy that any physical relation should be empowered by a wave of strong feelings.

Even though he hadn't published an actual novel in two years, the last one still had everyone on a tight leash. He was still solicited for interviews, talk shows, lectures and publishing reviews. Everyone always thought he was bright, smart, and funny, it seemed like his popularity would never stop growing.

Amongst all the fury of appreciation, Nate Archibald remained his only and true friend from his old life. And Dan himself remained Nate's only true friend. Neither of them had seen Serena, Chuck or Blair in two years. Not a phone call, not a card, not a letter, nothing. So they automatically grew back to each other. Their friendship was actually the only thing keeping Dan sane, sometimes. Whenever he lacked of inspiration, whenever he felt like he was going to drown under all the thoughts running through his mind, he called Nate. And Nate would always be there, no matter what.

Except that night, when Dan was sitting in a bar of Willemstad and Nate had stayed home with a food poisoning. There was only a certain amount of oysters he could ingurgitate. They had been in Curacao since the beginning of summer. It had been Nate's idea and Dan followed, hoping the sun, the sea and the rum would rekindle his stagnant inspiration. But all they had been doing was getting with the finest of Dutch and British society vacationing there with them. Everything had been a blur of idleness, alcoholic cocktails, gambling, sex and drugs.

They always went to the same bar at night, creating a sort of tradition they would always remember once they go back to New York. That night, Dan was alone, and watching the people dancing, ordering drinks, trying to find which one of them could provide him with a new trait of behavior for his newest character. He watched them shamelessly, because whenever he was creating, he felt invisible. The outside world ceased to exist. Life was actually the base of a whole new dimension that was taking form in his head.

Except he wasn't invisible. A girl had noticed him. When she approached him, he couldn't go on pretending he was in an unreachable crate. She was tall, blond, with blue eyes, dressed like a Vogue cover. Dan had seen this kind of girl before, Dan had fallen in love with this kind of girl before.

"Hi, can I buy you a drink?" she asked him with a confident smile.

"Wow. Bald. I don't normally get asked that" he had become used to talk to women. He still stuttered sometimes, but they usually found it adorable.

"I'm on vacation" she said with a shrug "Trying new things"

She told him her name at one point but Dan didn't care enough to remember it. The only thing that he found interesting about her was her deep cleavage. Sue him.

So he didn't bother ask any questions, and only answered hers.

"What do you do, when you're not on this island?"

"I write. I am a writer"

"Really?" she leaned closer and her cleavage gained in interest. "Anything I would have read?"

"Do you even read?" his tone was extremely condescending but he didn't even regret it. He was certain she knew she didn't strike as the intellectual type.

"I've just finished The Element of Life by Slacker. Completely overrated."

Dan leaned up, surprised. Never judge a book by its cover, Rufus had taught him that. He had never quite followed it though, and now he was taught that he had been wrong not to.

"Good" he said, clinking his glass with her "I've actually met the guy. Couldn't be more presumptuous."

She laughed and it sounded a bit like wind chimes.

"Now if you've met him, you've probably written something that I've read. What do you write about?" she said.

"About what I know"

"And what do you know?"

"People who pretend they are something they're not. People who think they can get away with anything just because they were born luckier than others. People who will use you shamelessly and throw you away once they are done with you. People who will reject their own pain on you, because they've never been taught how to handle it."

She looked at him, her brows frowned. Dan knew his answer didn't make sense to her, but it was the only thing that had come to his mind when he had heard the question. She leaned even closer, to the point where Dan could see the hem of her bra inside her dress.

"You're the one who wrote The Non-Judging Breakfast Club?" she asked with a low voice, and Dan was sure he could hear arousing in it. "You're Daniel Humphrey?"

"The one and only"

She gave him a light smile and started playing with her necklace, twirling it between two fingers, just above her breasts.

"My hotel isn't very far" she said "You can tell me all about what inspired you to write that brilliant piece over there, if you want"

Dan took a gulp of his whisky "No" he then said.

She looked taken aback and her smile faltered.

"My house is two blocks away and we can find something else to do than talking about my book."

Her smile was bright again, and she took his arm, following him to his insular castle. When they got there, Dan offered her a flute of champagne, then another one, then another again. She was drunk very fast and when Dan put music on, she kicked off her heels and started dancing on the coffee table.

Nate appeared, making his way to the kitchen. Dan followed him, leaving the girl in her inhibited bubble.

"See you're doing fine without me. She's hot." Nate told him, pouring himself a glass of water.

"She's a big fan of the NJBC" Dan said, leaning back against the counter "If we tell her you're one of them, she would be so in for a threesome."

"Ha man, don't tempt me" Nate said with a laugh "You know seeing you naked has always been one of my life goals."

"That's why I'm suggesting"

"Then I appreciate the offer, but maybe next time. These oysters are giving me a hard life. Have a good night though."

"Thanks"

They gave each other the manliest hug they could and Nate went back to his room while Dan joined his guest in the living room. He didn't take her long to land on his lap on the couch. From that moment, Dan turned off his brain. He let her unbutton his shirt, he let her unzip his pants and when she got down on her knees, he rested simply his hands on her shoulders.

As he watched her head dip in and the feeling was overtaking him, he didn't think of anything, except perhaps that little phrase Nate always said after inhaling a line of the finest powder.

Yeah, that's the stuff.

But then Dan isn't in Curacao anymore. Gone the palm trees, gone the turquoise sea, gone the open air markets and the fresh smell of papayas.

Somehow, he is back in New York. And not anywhere in New York. On one of his absolute favorite place in the city. Standing on steps, as the glorious building holding the finest pieces of art is erected behind him. And before him, she is standing.

She is wearing a long, pink, puffy dress and a furry white jacket. Somehow, cubic zirconia is set on her hair, but it doesn't seem to be what makes her look so confused.

Dan can hear himself say "I just thought you should get to feel like a princess one last time"

Then screams, bright colors, and a smile. The most grateful Dan has ever seen, the most loving. This smile makes him feel like he is the only one that matters, and motivates him to do anything to be able to see it again. She says "thank you" but she doesn't need to. The smile is more than enough.

Dan woke up, but didn't open his eyes right away. The longer he kept them shut, the more he could relive his dream, his memory.

It wasn't the first time he had dreamt about this particular time of his life. In two years, a hundred of those dreams had come back and haunt him. He eventually opened his eyes to see that the girl from last night was gone and that the sun was in the process of rising, leaving the dawn into a pure stillness, like the dream had left Dan's entire being into a numb state.

The emptiness he felt was paralyzing. At that moment, naked in his bed, he felt like nothing could ever feel good or at least appreciable again. He turned on his side, tried to shake the feeling out of his body. But as soon as his body stopped moving, it was there again.

So he got up, put pants on and went to Nate's room. He opened the door quietly, trying not to startle his friend out of his sleep. But Nate's bed was empty. When Dan stepped into the room, the chill air led him to look over at the balcony. Nate was sitting there, his feet propped up against the bars, a joint in his hands.

Dan joined him, taking seat on the second chair on the balcony.

"So early?" he said, pointing at the joint.

Nate shrugged "Is there ever a wrong time? What's up?"

Dan let the silence answer, because he knew Nate knew him well enough to understand. Indeed, Nate asked;

"Which dream was it this time?"

"The Met Steps"

"Classic"

Dan laughed at Nate's response. This dream was indeed one of the recurring ones. At the beginning, Dan couldn't figure out why this one and not the others. But after the seventh time, he got it. It was the smile. Even until that tropical morning, Dan had never seen such a smile; he had never felt in front of a smile what he had felt in front that one.

Nate passed him the joint and stretched a little.

"How about we go to the beach today? Storm season is coming and they've announced rain for the next three days."

"Sounds good" Dan simply answered, taking a drag. "We should find people to spend those rainy days with. And we're out of rum."

"I don't know, I was actually planning on staying quietly in. Get some work done."

Dan sighed, because he knew Nate was actually pretending to have work so Dan could stay home and write too. But there were times when Dan refused to force the words out of his brain, and he would patiently wait for some sort of literary epiphany.

"As you want, man" he told Nate, passing back the joint to him.

"But I'm still in for the rum" Nate said "We can even watch those Israeli movies of yours if you want. I'll bear it better once I'm wasted."

The two of them stayed on the balcony in silence, until the sea on the horizon had completely stopped hiding the sun.

The weather predictions had been truthful. Dan couldn't sleep that night, the racket of the wind against the window picturing the jumble of thoughts going through his mind. Dan was certain that if he fell asleep, he would dream of her again. He could never predict what dream he was going to have, but he could often predict when he was going to dream of her.

And that day, when all he had felt was the burden of a lingering loneliness, she had been all he could think of.

He wondered if he would ever see her again. He wanted to, so very much. Not because he missed her, although he did, but because he wanted to be sure it hadn't all been in his head, that it hadn't been just a silly dream of his. But then, if they were ever to cross path again, she would probably be holding the hand of another, the one she had left him for, when he would be standing, facing them, alone. Sometimes he would feel bipolar, when thinking of her. He could hate her with a burning passion one day and wish nothing but her happiness the next. Because two years after, he had come to terms with the fact that he would probably never get over her.

When morning came, Dan still wasn't sleeping and the intensity of the rain hadn't dropped for one bit. So he got out of bed and went to sit in front of his desk with an open notebook and a pencil. Nate was right, if they were to be confined in the house for two days, he might as well try to get further in his writing.

Once he started, he was actually able to get a good flow going. It wasn't his usual inspiration, but he could always go back to it later and work on the mediocre parts. The important was to have an outline good enough to occupy him for hours and prevent him to fall asleep. He couldn't bear the idea of another dream, and all the questions that it would bring along in his head. It didn't take long for him to get comfortable in his wooden chair, with the sound of the rain pouring over the trees behind the glass window and the on-and-off scratchy sound of the pencil on the paper.

He didn't know how long he had been at it when Nate knocked on the door. He didn't stop writing but told him to enter. Nate did so with a little smile when he saw Dan in front of the notebook.

"At least one of us is able to be productive, today" he said, dropping his entire body on Dan's bed. "It's the rain, isn't it? Puts you in an artsy mood."

Dan laughed, finally putting down his pencil.

"Yeah, probably. But it's getting annoying, really. I've been kinda forcing things lately"

"Huh. Well I'm still in for the rum and Eyes Wide Open, if you want"

Dan stretched "Are you actually suggesting we watch an independent Israeli movie? I thought it was just a joke"

"I never make empty promises. So, what do you say? Get in the shower and meet me in the living room?"

"Why do I have to shower only to get wasted in the middle of the day?" Dan groaned.

"Because we're the upper class, Dan. Even when we take a depraved road, we take it with class, Cece style."

Dan didn't flinch when Nate referred to the two of them as the upper class. He resigned to stop with the brooklynite act the last time he saw his bank account report. He was done pretending. Dan wanted to embrace whatever life wanted to give him.

They couldn't really watch the movie though. It was one of the finest pieces of cinematographic drama Dan had seen in his entire life, still Nate found a joke to make about it every thirty seconds. And since they had really gotten going on the rum, Dan couldn't help laughing.

At one point, he decided to teach Nate how to play chess, then realized they didn't own a chessboard. So they played Monopoly. It was the quietest time they had spent together since they had arrived in Curacao, and Dan liked it. He could see Nate was enjoying it too. They had stopped a long time ago to try not to think too much of their bromance. Now Dan could easily say that he could probably not live one day without Nate by his side.

Still, Dan had lost the comfortable feeling of a quiet time. There had always been something interesting going on in his life for the past two years and that day, the time had stopped still, leaving him in an unexpected anxiety. To him, it was just a moment before something as tumultuous as the storm outside was to hit their lives.

He had been right.

Nate had managed to get his little car on the prison case for the third time when heavy knocks on the front door dragged them out of their game. They both had the reflex to look at each other, before looking out the window at the pouring rain and back at each other.

"Did you invite someone?" Nate asked him.

Dan shook his head, and then watched Nate get up from the floor, and stagger to the front door. He saw him open the door carefully and the outside wind whistled loudly inside, bringing along a sudden chill. Nate was standing in front of the door, his clothes and hair messed up by the heavy blow, looking at something that Dan couldn't see. But judging on Nate's confused face, it couldn't be something good.

Nate eventually broke the eye contact with whatever he was looking at and turned to Dan.

"Dude. I…you…gotta see that"

Dan started to get up, hesitantly; the rum was hitting him harder than earlier. He went to stand next to Nate and the vision he got made him vow to stop drinking. He was probably getting hallucinations, and extremely bad ones.

Because what he was seeing couldn't be real.

But then, he looked at Nate, who seemed to be waiting for his reaction. Dan could see on Nate's face that they were asking themselves the same questions, and that was when he knew. There were no hallucinations, no dreams, and no bad effect of the rum. The vision was as true as the nausea that was overtaking him.

Blair was standing there, her eyes fixed on them, her left cheek purple, and she was holding the hand of Serena, standing next to her, an immensely swollen stomach under a green dress. They were both wet, they both had bags at their feet, and they both looked scared.

"We didn't know who else to turn to"

Blair's voice was what vindicated Dan's nausea. He could breathe better, but still could not register the extent of the situation. Serena was the next one to talk.

"Please, help us."