Just so you know, it's sort of a glimpse into Blair's future and what has happened in between. Not a new story, just a oneshot that I had to get out of my system.
Looking Back
Everything about Blair Waldorf was impeccable; her taste, her eloquence, her timing. Not a single hair was ever out of place. She revealed to the world her vulnerable side when she said in the New York Times, "I did always dream of a simple white wedding instead of the extravagant one my mother's been planning since I was seven, but don't tell her that." Blair was the epitome of grace and Upper East Side society. Everyone knew that.
Her husband, Nate Archibald, had been her husband since kindergarten. The plan was set in stone and no one would get in the way of that. Eleanor made sure of it. She wanted her daughter to have everything she never had. Because Eleanor's married life had bumps. It had ended up in something similar to a nuclear train wreck. Her husband left her for another man and soiled the name she'd connived so hard to obtain. But that was no matter, because in the Upper East Side, the best way to redeem one's poisoned reputation was to live vicariously though one's children. By "live vicariously" it is meant that Eleanor takes full control of her daughter's life.
Ergo, Blair was the willing pawn in her mother's partially arranged marriage to Nate. She'd followed the plan and, looking down at her thin fingers, she still felt a tiny sense of victory at the Vanderbilt ring.
Still, here she sat on the steps of the Lesley Heller gallery staring across the street at a rich burgundy building trimmed in stark white. It was nestled warmly between its surroundings but other than the rare passerby, the steps leading to the sidewalk below it were desolate. Blair sat with poise as her back was erect and parallel to the pillars of the building and her hands clasped lightly around a sidekick.
She'd aged, but not physically, just in her demeanor. Well, being twenty-seven and married and now an elite adult in the waspy neighborhood she'd grown up in had taught her a thing or too.
It was really the lessons she learned at seventeen that were the most impacting.
She glanced down at her phone to check for messages.
1 message from Nate.
But it wasn't really Nate; it was probably his secretary sending a message to cancel their reservation for tonight. Nevertheless, she ignored and resumed her watchful perch. Her eyes were fixated on the doors she used to waltz through every morning. There's something tragic about her today, but it's a familiar tragic, as if we've all seen it before. Her heart bleeds on her sleeve, unbeknownst to her.
She sits here because her marriage had bumps too. One of them, named Serena, came before the actual engagement. It was eventually resolved but it branded them; her and Nate.
She never really did believe Nate fell out of love with Serena. Oh well.
Shifting, the time ticked by painstakingly slow. Maybe it's just her. Everyone else seems to be begging for more time, but Blair can never get rid of it.
It was because of the bigger bump in her relationship that she sat here. He'd loved her more than his own father, it seemed. More than his best friend, that's for sure. She loved him too, more than she was ever willing to admit. Neither of them ever really defined what it was, or rather what it still is. She still visits him on occasion, but never to his home, or homes, rather. They always met somewhere beyond the white picket fence of Fifth Avenue. Their meetings when they were seventeen had been inside each others' homes and that had ended horribly. But the time in between had been ecstasy. The way his touch set her on fire more than Nate ever did. Reminiscing, Blair thought those meetings were so much better than the one's she counts down the days till now.
A muffled bell echoes from inside the building and Blair swallows the lump forming in her throat. She scoots closer to the edge of the concrete step she sat on, but that's as much movement she'll allow herself to make.
The large oak doors fly open and girls of all sizes tumble down the steps. Blair's eyes scan furiously through the crowd of plaid and white. She did this every month so she's gotten it down to an exact science.
Finally, a dark mess of curls bounces down the steps. Blair holds her breath and remains transfixed. She's got pastel skin and her curls are chocolate brown with a messy perfection about them. That's from him. His hair always was messy. Her cheekbones are small and round when she smiles and her red lips curl into a smile. Blair's smiles were always devious and hiding something, but the little girl was still young and innocent.
She joyously descended the steps with precision and dignity towards a sleek town car. The woman leaning against it didn't don a Prada suit or tote a Hermes handbag, but she still gave off an aura of elegance. But Blair knew that. Blair knew the woman was enough, if not more than what she wanted for her.
The woman opened her arms wide and gathered the girl up in a warm hug. Squealing loud enough for Blair to hear all the way across the street, the little girl clutched onto the woman affectionately.
This was the hardest moment for Blair. The tears threaten to fall and regret consumes her. That could be her. That should be her. But she had to follow the plan. This was never part of her mother's plan. So she gave up the one thing money can't buy. It was the most painful thing Blair had ever had to endure.
Still, Blair sat and watched with a tear or two sliding down her cheek. Her chin quivered as the little girl planted a light peck on the woman's cheek. She was so big now. She was becoming such a beautiful girl that Blair wished for even the slightest chance to take back this one act of selfishness, among many others, unfortunately.
Then when Blair sniffled, she swore the girl heard her for a pair of eyes was upon her. Blair looked straight back into the piercing stare of the little girl. Oh, god, she had his stare! His eyes! Blair couldn't look away, but she knew she had no choice. She didn't belong here anymore. The girl maintained the connection with curiosity as if she'd seen Blair before, vaguely, perhaps, in a twisted dream of sorts. Everything was so twisted. Breaking the gaze, Blair wiped her eyes briskly and gathered her things before standing up. She sighed as the girl hopped into the car that gleamed in the afternoon sun. The car pulled out smoothly onto the road and Blair started off in the opposite direction; her heels clicking solemnly on the concrete.
She never told him about her. It almost came up in a conversation over brunch one Sunday but Blair dodged it like a bullet. No one knew.
She thought about telling Nate about her, but it just seemed like bad idea no matter what angle she came from. Nate had even less of a place in her life than Blair did. It would just complicate the plan.
She did like the way the ring looked on her finger, after all.
But she would give it up in a heartbeat to be that woman. Her mother. She now understood why people say time is so fleeting.
She turned ten years old today.
A/N: You can probably guess who the little girl was and you can guess what happened. I love Blair's complexity and her ability to endure pain so well. I think this is very probable for her, because she is, after all, only human.
