"Mother?" Blair croaks, leaning back into her pillows as she answers the ringing cellphone. Blearily, she flutters her eyes open and checks the clock on the dresser beside her. "It's barely even eight AM, and it's the holidays. What could you possibly want to talk to me about this early?"
"Good, you're awake." Eleanor greets brusquely, marching into the lobby and dragging a small girl with her, scowling as said girl stops to aim a kick at the brand new leather sofa that was beside her. "Madeleine, stop that this instant!" She shoots the frowning doorman an apologetic glance and tugs Madeleine closer to her.
Blair frowns, "Mom? Who're you talking to?"
"It's a long story," Eleanor sighs, pressing her fingers to her temples as Madeleine proceeds to push every button in the elevator in order to prolong their journey. "One I will explain in full when I reach the penthouse in a moment. Well," she corrects, glaring at the beaming child as the elevator comes to a halt on the first floor, "it may be a little longer than a moment. Just come downstairs."
Blair groans as she hears the dialtone that signals her mother has ended the call, and slips on her robe as she stumbles out of bed, gasping as she sees the appearance of her hair in the mirror. She struggles with her hairbrush for a few minutes, before abandoning the effort in favor of cleaning her teeth and removing all of her excess makeup that she had not bothered to remove last night. She takes two aspirin, and prays that her hangover won't last long.
Hearing the tell-tale chime of the elevator, she braces herself for what is likely to follow and makes her way downstairs, shivering at the unseemly cold that has somehow creeped in during the night. Pulling her robe tighter around herself, she blinks as she turns in the directing of the elevator and the pair that were awaiting her.
"Hi!"
A small pair of arms envelope her small waist and pull so that Blair's robe slips down her shoulders and she feels the cool air on her bare skin.
"You must be my cousin Blair!"
"Oh, no." Blair says, quickly grasping the situation for what it is as she gazes in horror at the child who is smiling up at her, even as she pinches Blair's arms and stamps on her slipper-clad foot. "No, no, no, no, no."
"I'm desperate." Eleanor pleads, looking wearier than Blair has ever seen her before. "Cyrus somehow managed to volunteer me to watch his niece while he and his sister visit their mother in Rhode Island, and I stupidly agreed. But now Laurel's just called with some emergency down at the atelier, and I still have all that paperwork to sign about opening a new branch in Paris... and please, darling, it's just for a few hours."
"No, way." Blair shakes her head adamantly, trying to pry the girl's claws off of her arms. "Mother, it's the holidays. I have things that I want to do, what am I supposed to do with a child all day. It's cold and it's snowing and I'm exhausted--"
"You look it." Eleanor interrupts, eying her hair with distaste.
Blair glowers, shoving the little girl away with more force than is strictly necessary, and nearly snarls at her mother. "I'm. Busy."
"Postpone." Eleanor tells her, quickly retreating toward the elevator, looking grateful as Madeleine once again throws her arms around Blair so that she is frozen in place.
"Mother!" Blair yells after her, struggling in vain to get free. "Mother, don't you dare!"
"I'll be back to pick her up later! Love you!"
Blair nearly screams as the elevator doors close and she is left alone with the child who is still grinning up at her.
--
"I'm Madeleine."
Once Blair finally succeeds in freeing herself of Madeleine, she practically sprints upstairs to the haven that is her room. She sits the girl down on her bed, and instructs her not to touch anything. Madeleine nods, one hand reaching out to undo the knot in Blair's robe and revealing Blair in her slip.
"I like your nightie."
Blair stifles a laugh, "It's a slip, sweetie. Not a nightie."
"What's the difference?"
Blair moves around her room in search of her toiletries. "Well, a nightie is what little girls wear to bed. It can be as plain as you like, because you've no one to impress. But, when you get older, you wear things like slips to bed because they're comfortable, while still being sexy. Understand?"
"Not really."
"Trust me, you will when you grow up. Speaking of which," Blair shoots the girl a piercing look, "how old are you? Seven, eight?"
"Nine." Madeleine tells her emphatically. "And a half. Almost."
Blair nods absently, scowling as she examines the dark circles under her eyes and her sallow complexion. "I never should have let Serena talk me into having that last shot last night. Gossip Girl is probably having a field day with photographs of our drunken debauchery."
"Who's Serena? What's Gossip Girl?" Madeleine asks rapidly, looking at the older girl in curiosity. "And what does debauchery mean?"
Blair quickly calculates in her head exactly how much she knew about life when she was nine years old – discounting everything that she had learned from Chuck Bass that she most certainly should not have known at that age – and comes to the realization that she has to be very careful what she says in front of Madeleine so as not to taint her innocent mind.
"Nothing," she eventually tells the eager child, "I was just rambling. Nothing you need concern yourself with.
Madeleine looks far from appeased, but decides not to press the subject for which Blair is entirely grateful.
"Good girl," she mutters.
"So," Madeleine begins, swinging her feet to and fro over the edge of the bed, "what are we going to do?"
"I," Blair informs her, walking over to her closet, "am going to take a shower, and you are going to sit quietly over there until I'm finished. Understood?" She inspects a navy blouse before quickly discarding it in favor of a red version of the same.
Madeleine's eyes widen at the sight of all of the clothing and she rushes to join the older girl in the hunt for a suitable outfit, fingering the array of silks and satins admiringly. "Can I pick your outfit out? Please."
Blair mulls it over, before relenting. "Fine. But, make sure you don't crease anything... and stay away from my party dresses."
–
Some twenty minutes later, Blair re-enters her bedroom dressed once again in her robe. Her mouth drops open as she sees what has happened to her room since she has left and she lets out a shriek of anguish. "Madeleine!"
She picks up her brand new Manolos from where they lay discarded on the floor, one heel broken, and she nearly has an aneurysm when she spies her favorite black dress thrown haphazardly over a chair, dozens more pairs of shoes heaped on top of it as well as a mountain of other – extremely expensive – clothing.
Fuming, she follows the trail of destruction and chaos into her walk-in-wardrobe, ready to murder the nine-year-old who she knows is responsible for the massacre.
She's just opened her mouth to yell when the girl come into view, numerous articles of clothing in her hands, and looking so impossibly eager that the harsh words and the threats die on Blair's lips. Taking a deep breath, she musters all of the calm that she can and asks in a clipped voice; "What have you done to my closet!?"
Madeleine's smile falters, and she looks around seemingly for the first time. "Oops?"
Blair eyes her darkly, sighing as she takes the girl's innocence as the truth. "Show me the clothes," is all she says in the end, mentally praying that Dorota could fix the damage that Madeleine had unconsciously wreaked.
She carefully examines the articles of clothing that the girl hands her, trying not to hold a grudge as she has to step over a custom Valentino to reach her; a full, velvety green skirt that barely grazed her thighs, paired with a white scoop-necked cashmere jumper and green heels.
"Not bad," she says slowly, "but I need tights."
Moving like a flash, Madeleine races to Blair's armoire and rifles through the drawers until she finds a pair of sheer black tights, she hands them to Blair with a shy smile and Blair can't help but smile back as she accepts them. She moves to the same armoire and takes out some undergarments – taking care not to let the young girl see the contents of the drawer, lest her mind be tainted forever – and walks back to the bathroom, calling over her shoulder;
"Accessories."
When she returns, she finds the girl gaping at the large collection of headbands that were housed in the back of Blair's wardrobe. Wordlessly, she hands Blair a simple black velvet band, eyes not moving from the display that she was so fixated upon.
"I don't wear those anymore," Blair informs her, returning the headband to it's rightful place.
Madeleine's eyes flit to Blair's in surprise, "Why?"
Blair shifts, uncomfortable under the girl's scrutiny. "I'm nineteen, and in college. Headbands don't suit my new lifestyle."
"So? Make them fit." She marches into the closet and grabs the accessory again, handing it to Blair with a determined look on her little face. "Wear it."
Rolling her eyes, Blair acquiesces the demand, taking it with her as she plugs in her hair-dryer and sets to work on taming her curls. Madeleine watches in awe as Blair expertly glides the brush through, teasing and fixing every lock of hair until it sits perfectly in place. When she is finished, she places the headband atop her head, pretending not to notice just how familiar the gesture is or how much she has missed them.
"Happy?"
Madeleine just hands her her make-up bag in reply, moving to find Blair's jewelery box as the older girl sets about applying the make-up. Carefully searching through the delicate items until she finds a suitable necklace. Once again Blair accepts her decision without complaint or criticism, slipping the pearls around her neck easily and threading the matching earrings through her lobes. She hears a gasp, and turns to find Madeleine staring in awe at a single necklace that took pride of place in the box.
Corner of her mouth quirking upwards, Blair informs her easily, "It's an Erickson Beamon. My boyfriend got it for me for my seventeenth birthday." She takes the necklace out of the box and holds it up to her throat, playing with the diamonds fondly. "Gorgeous, isn't it?"
The girl just nods, saying almost breathlessly, "I love your stuff."
"As do I." Blair replaces the necklace, closing the lid of the box gently as she gets to her feet and finds her jacket and purse, taking one last sour look at the room after Hurricane Madeleine had crashed through, before turning to the force behind said hurricane. "Since it's obvious that you have an interest in fashion, we're going shopping." She announces, giving the girl a warning look, "But only if you promise to be good."
"I promise!"
And with that Blair finds herself being dragged down the stairs and into the elevator, nearly falling several times in the process.
"Now I know why you picked out the heels," Blair grumbles, righting herself as the doors closed.
She receives a toothy grin in reply.
–
"You're really buying all that?"
Blair turns in surprise as she hands a credit card to the clerk. "Yes. Why? Did you see anything else that you liked?"
Their entire morning had been spent moving steadily from one end of 5th Avenue to the other, entering almost every store in between and buying at least one item for either girl at every. It had been fun, for the most part, and Madeleine had been positively angelic all the while – the sight of all the luxurious clothes and jewelery stunning her into rare submission.
Their final stop had been Bendels, and Blair had gone all out on both male and female clothes in true Waldorf style; whatever she liked, she bought, no hesitation over price necessary.
Madeleine doesn't reply, instead viewing the male items with interest. "Who're they for? Uncle Cyrus?"
"No, they're for my boyfriend. Cyrus doesn't wear pastels." Blair accepts the bags that the clerk handed her, biting her lip as she struggles under the weight of her numerous purchases. They're just outside the shop front when Blair finally admits defeat, dropping the bags and handing Madeleine her cell-phone.
"Do you want me to call a taxi?" Madeleine volunteers, frowning slightly. "I thought that we were going to have lunch next?"
"We are," Blair assures her, picking up the bags again, "but not here. I already have a lunch date. Just press one and dial, I'll tell you what to say."
Madeleine does as told, eyes wide as an unfamiliar voice greets her at the other end.
"Hello, beautiful."
"H-- hi?" She ventures, looking at Blair nervously.
"You're not Blair."
Blair interrupts before she can reply to the statement. "Tell him we're outside Bendels, that he should send the limo."
She repeats the instructions, praying that the strange voice would pose no further questions. When he does, she merely holds the phone up to Blair's ear, standing on the tips of her toes to reach.
"Hello?" Blair says into the receiver, "Chuck? It's me. That was Madeleine, Cyrus' niece. My mom somehow roped me into babysitting." She listens for a few seconds, nodding. "Okay, I'll see you soon. Bye."
Madeleine moves the phone away from her ear, looking curiously at her quasi-cousin. "Was that your boyfriend?"
Blair nods, moving out of the way of a lady entering the store.
"He called you beautiful." Madeleine informs her matter-of-factly.
She laughs wryly, "He's called me a lot of things in his time, not all of them as nice. Come on, let's move down the street. If we have to wait we might as well do it while looking at Tiffany's window display."
It's the wrong thing to say. Before she knows it, Madeleine is racing down the street, nearly decapitating several holiday shoppers as she races through the crowds. Blair swears loudly and somehow finds a surge of strength, hurrying down the street, shopping bags in hand, calling the disobedient girl's name loudly and furiously.
–
"Where are we now?" Madeleine asks eagerly as the driver helps her out of the limousine and onto the pavement.
"It's called the Empire." Blair tells her shortly, still angry about her impromptu marathon down 5th Avenue. She thanks the driver as another young man comes out from the entrance of the hotel and takes their bags out of the boot of the car for them. The limo pulls away, and Blair looks at her watch, "We have a half an hour before Chuck gets here, we might as well bring these upstairs."
She takes Madeleine's hand in hers firmly, nodding to the concierge as they move into the building confidently as if they own , and the staff all rush to accommodate Blair's wishes, treating her as though she does. Together, Madeleine knowing better than to kick up a fuss like she did with Eleanor, they move towards the private elevator that led only to the penthouse. Blair waits until the man carrying their bags enters the elevator behind them before allowing Madeleine to press the button, which she does with a relish that can only come with being nine years old.
"Wow, this place is cool!"
Blair laughs as the girl immediately begins to run around, looking at all the gadgets and toys that came with being the home of two very rich young men. She herself is no longer awe-stricken by the chic decor or the modern touches having helped picked out most of them herself, but acknowledges that it is very impressive for someone who had not been there before. She sets her purse and her coat down on the sofa and tries not to think about what Madeleine could possibly be doing in Nate's bedroom once she hears a tell-tale crash.
The man obediently leaves their bags in Chuck's room for them, well-versed in Blair's shopping habits from prior excursions.
The second that he leaves, Madeleine is beside her, tugging on her arm and pleading with her to allow her to play dress up again. Reluctantly, Blair agrees and sits back and watches as she dresses first Blair, and then herself, in outfits that were more than suitable for a lunch date.
"Like it?" Madeleine gave a twirl, her brand new blue Gucci dress bringing out the shine in her light brown hair and setting off her aqua eyes, and the teeny-tiny heels on her white shoes gave her an extra inch of height that she positively adored.
"Yes," Blair assures her, picking out a few extra items to add to it, "it will be lovely once you put on some tights and that new white trench-coat that I got you. It's the middle of December – you'll freeze."
Madeleine pouts, and grumbles as she slips off her shoes and pulls the white tights on under her dress. "You sound like my mother."
"I've met your mother, Madeleine, and let me assure you that I sound nothing like her." Blair snaps, placing a matching headband on top of the younger girl's head as per her request, before slipping a new headband atop her own head, once again as per Madeleine's request.
She grabs her own white trench-coat and puts it on over her yellow dress, rolling her eyes in the mirror when she realizes that they match perfectly.
"Come on, I'm starving!"
Showing a little more of her true colors, Madeleine stomps her foot, folds her arms across her chest, and looks about ready to throw a tantrum. Wearily, Blair just allows herself to be dragged to the elevator – again – and to the likely Hell that would follow.
"You know," Blair says, a tinge of annoyance to her voice, "one minute you can be the cutest little thing... and then the next you're a little Hellion!"
Madeleine smirks and taunts merrily, "You know you love me."
--
Disclaimer -- I do not own Gossip Girl or any of it's wonderful characters.
A/N -- A little three-parter that I was struck with while watching E! News. I saw a picture of little Suri Cruise and was automatically inspired for Madeleine. Their looks are relatively the same, though I set Madeleine as being quite a bit older as I wanted the maturity and intellect of an older child. Chuck should come into play a lot more in the second part, as will the time of year at hand, and you will see much more tantrums -- Madeleine actually rather tame in this first part!
Reviews are very much loved and appreciated