Disclaimer: I don't won anything.
All those arrows you threw, you threw them away
You kept falling in love, then one day
When you fell, you fell towards me
When you crashed in the clouds, you found me
Oh, please don't go
I want you so
I can't let go
For I lose control
-Barcelona "Please Don't Go"
When the first October breeze sets in, the wind is crisp and biting as it flows in and out of the population's hair. It is becoming too cool for pencil skirts, but it is not cold enough for peacoats, so Blair settles for something in between. There is nothing here that she has not seen before, nothing that excites her.
She combs her hair quietly as Georgina sleeps soundly in her bed, that ever present smirk still plastered on her face. If this was any other day, she would be longing for Chuck's company, but finding the latest generic blonde had been the last straw. She is almost done being made a fool.
It would have been better to blissfully pretend with Nate. As she finishes her routine with two coats of matte red lipstick, she blinks twice to make sure the girl in the mirror is still her. It is and she's not satisfied, but she will embrace the world with what is left of her, because it is all she can ever do.
Long talks over cocktails with Serena are no longer an option because she wrongly blames Blair of being the other woman in her relationship. Blair almost rolls her eyes at Serena when her (former) best friend accuses her of stealing Carter Baizen.
Serena hisses, her blue eyes wide with fright. "He said he was in love with you."
Blair doesn't even look at Serena when she pushes her black American Express toward the bartender and casually replies. "That's news to me. You should talk to him about it."
She wants to say she hasn't been this cold to Serena for weeks now, but she is just so easy to manipulate that she can't bring herself to be concerned. Knowing Serena, they would be back to their usual selves within a month. Blair can handle a month of loneliness. After all, she's lived it enough times to count.
When Georgina brings coke into their room (of the non Coca-Cola variety) and gets expelled for the mass amount, Blair takes the opportunity to move into the classic white walkup on Greene Street. SoHo is a far cry from who she used to be, but sometimes downtown is nice because these people are just as pretentious as her. They just go about it in a different manner.
With this new knowledge fresh on her shoulders, she forgoes the hand-braided leather sandals she finds in the far corner of Bergdorf Goodman in favor of her prized ruffled Louboutins that make her almost as tall as Serena. She stands proud and tall as she walks by passing strangers, not pausing long enough to glance at them.
One day, she roams further south than she ever has before and stumbles into a smoky joint that is straight out of another era. There are the typical few hipsters that look like generic NYU students and several men plucked straight off Wall Street.
She pays neither any mind when she easily slides onto a barstool to order Ketel One and tonic.
The booming voice of a man calls her out of her reverie. "I had you pegged as a gin girl."
Blair turns to her right to see a man sitting by himself next to the window. He looks roughly thirty, with dark hair and dark eyes in a dark suit that looks straight from Milan. There's the obligatory glass of scotch in his hands, but in no way does she want to think of Chuck right now.
She closes her eyes for just a second to think before speaking. "It's my usual, but my usual hasn't been working for me lately. I needed a modification."
There is no laughter threatening to dance across his piercing eyes before he responds. "You don't look like you need to change anything."
It's not flirting or a compliment, only an observation, which is what allows Blair to let him continue. She knows she can put a stop to this whenever she likes. That power digs something deep out of her that she hasn't felt since that very first time. Again her thoughts drift to something she would rather not reminisce about, so she forces her thoughts to be about this new stranger in this new place with her new liquor.
In a move that surprises even her, Blair rapidly flees as the handsome stranger pays their bill. She flees into the night and grabs the first cab in sight. She decides she's already tired of downtown with the short time has been there and heads to her mother's empty penthouse.
Eleanor is predictably in Paris and Cyrus doesn't bother her as she lays in the confines of her childhood bedroom. She has had both good and bad memories here, but right now she dwells only on the bad. The walls are suffocating so she escapes once more, taking the elevator down.
Predictably, Chuck tries to get back into her good graces, but Blair has none of it (finally) as she makes him exit her apartment. She's not stupid enough to ask how he gets the address. Chuck is almost better than Bart when it comes to keeping tabs on the ones he wants to, which is everyone.
Fall comes and goes and winter springs up like her favorite season doesn't exist at all. She leaves her final exams feeling lighter than she has in years, because if there's one thing she excels at, it is school. Cyrus surprises with her with news of an internship in the summer, but she doesn't dwell on it too long because summer seems so far away.
It comes before she knows it and when she looks back on it, she wishes she had time to prepare for the heartache that always seems to follow her everywhere she goes.
Gotham is a cool two hours away from New York and yet another two from Washington, so Blair steels herself for the warm summer she is not quite eagerly anticipating. It's still technically the northeast, but nothing about this place looks welcoming or picturesque in the slightest.
She's never been to Jersey, but she assumes this place fits in with that state more than the rest of the area she likes to call home. She supposes the Puritans had it right when they only conquered New England.
Blair turns her nose up at businessmen not quite as nice looking as the ones in New York and politicians even more ruthless than the ones found in Washington. She's not even a big fan of Washington, but she knows she prefers it over this dismal, glooming city.
She walks into Wayne Enterprises in a gray tweed suit and her pointiest black pumps when the secretary on the first floor buzzes her through the security gate. The secretary points at the elevator and holds up two fingers, then four, so Blair merely nods as she heads up. She punches in twenty four on the elevator's keypad, hoping for the best.
When she steps out, the dismal skyline of Gotham awaits her. There is another secretary that looks just like the first one, sitting behind a half moon desk as well. She ushers Blair into an expansive hallway that leads to a corner office where she has her sit down. They haven't even exchanged words before the girl leaves and Blair sits seemingly alone in this office, with no idea what to do.
A dark-skinned man in a dark plaid suit comes in and speaks. "You're Blair Waldorf, I presume. I'm Lucius Fox. You'll be shadowing me this summer."
Blair nods politely before answering. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Fox, but I'm afraid Cyrus hasn't told me all that much about you."
Lucius laughs, grinning. "That man. Cyrus and I met at Harvard. Did he tell you that?"
When Blair shakes her head, he continues. "He mentioned you wanted to get into corporate law, is that right?"
This time Blair nods, responding to Lucius. "Yes, sir. Obviously Cyrus is a lawyer. So is my father. It only seemed natural for me to go into the field."
Lucius points out a fact. "But your mother is a fashion designer."
Blair waves her hand airily and announces to him. "I'm good at proving a point. I'm not good at making clothes."
Lucius gives her a knowing smile. "You seem to be good at buying them."
Blair gets along with Lucius much better than the other people in her life. He's a better father figure than Cyrus (even though he went to Harvard, but Blair begrudgingly reminds herself that she does not go to Yale), a better cook than Dorota, and a much better listener than Serena.
Honestly, even Nate is a better listener than Serena, a fact that makes Blair light up in this dull, gray environment. Wayne Enterprises is a bustling company always on the verge of several new inventions. Patents go through this company like missiles fly through North Korea, no one paying them any mind because the atmosphere is so commonplace.
The crime rate in Gotham is high, but Blair teaches herself to not leave the four block radius around her short term leased apartment on the Gotham Expressway. It's peculiar to her that the majority of the city resembles the Bronx (or so she assumes, because she has never been there), while only a few streets look like her beloved tiny area of Manhattan.
These streets definitely aren't as nice as the Upper East Side, because the area wasn't developed until afterward, but Blair can appreciate the architecture all the same.
Blair almost chokes on her martini (gin, she's changed back) when she meets the elusive CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Mr. Bruce Wayne himself. She is taken back to New York's financial district and smoky bars and vodka somethings when he draws her out of her reverie.
He doesn't seem to hate her or anything (which she is glad for, but she has no idea why) when he casually speaks, sending uncertainty up her spine. "I always know a gin girl when I see one."
She doesn't even have the time to give a witty reply when he's gone in under four seconds and she has to wonder where he's disappeared to. She spends the rest of the party drowning in a sea of alcohol, only stopping when Lucius looks on disapprovingly. She's never thought much about impressing a parent-like figure before, but she thinks she will try because she respects this man very much.
Later, when she lies in bed in her blood red La Perla lingerie and has the television on near mute, there will be a clip from earlier in the evening showing the Batman keeping masked intruders out of the Wayne Enterprises company party. She shudders when she thinks she could have been a part of that whole mess, but this just reassures her that Gotham is not the place it appears to be in the light, open space of her apartment.
It's nearing the end of the summer when she finally sees him again. This time, there's a name to go along with the face, so this time, she greets him first. He's not surprised (unless he hides it well), merely intrigued as she waits for him to open the door for her.
Like clockwork, he is a gentleman. Just as precisely, she shuts her eyes, willing herself to fall. She seems to be so good at falling. This time is no different and she doesn't mean for it to happen. As always, it just does.
They go from Wayne Enterprises to his Lamborghini to a bar so exclusive they are two of six patrons in a secluded section overlooking the bright lights of the city. He doesn't hesitate to order her a double Tanqueray and tonic and she doesn't show reluctance to accept. As usual, she is unable to say no to urbane manners.
She might be in trouble, but between Chuck and Carter and Chuck again (and again and again), she thinks she might like it.
There is a week of lust which could turn into something more, but nothing substantial really happens when Bruce is called away to Shanghai. She is still unsure what the big deal is with Asia, when Serena calls and tries her best to apologize.
They meet on Bleeker, two blocks south of American Apparel (Serena is trying out the ribbed tank dress look this week) when the blonde begins speaking. It's about Nate and not Carter, so when she begins to ramble off stories in rapid succession, Blair calmly asks her to slow down.
Serena looks panicky with anxiety when asked this, but she tries her best to comply. She's never been one for doing things slowly, but Blair supposes no one on the Upper East Side ever did.
There are whispers of summer, Nate, and something else entirely, but this isn't Easthampton the summer before senior year. It's not the last summer of their old lives, rather the first summer of their new ones.
Serena puts her head down, but Blair figures it's about time to bottle up old feelings. "I didn't mean to, B. I swear."
This time Blair shrugs for the first time regarding the matter. "He was never really mine."
In a move that surprises everyone, but mostly just her, Blair decides to stick it out at NYU. Her sophomore year is spent studying a flurry of English and history electives, because she is pretty sure she will stick it out for law school.
NYU is not Yale, but this Blair is not the Blair from two years ago, so she subconsciously decides to make the best of what she's got. She's pretty sure that's what Whitney from Western Civilization told the redhead during class, anyway.
Life kind of passes her by until finals. It's the second before she steps out of her last one (she's very ready to be on break) that an arm steadies her so she can't leave. She looks on with puzzlement as the boy that sits in the corner of the room gently pulls her outside to talk to her.
There's a smirk on his face that rivals a certain Bass's, but there's also a little hesitancy that reminds her of Nate. She gives him the benefit of the doubt. "I don't mean to sound creepy, but I've been watching you all semester."
She gives him a little look and just laughs it off. She feels eerily like Serena. "You're right. That does sound creepy."
He sighs a little, but he hasn't let go of her hand. "Sorry, let me start again. Hi, I'm Caleb."
She smiles, because instead of a devil on her shoulder, she has Serena's sun kissed face smirking down at her. "I'm Blair, but I think you might already know that."
He nods. She lets him take her to coffee (she ignores the images of Dan and Vanessa in her head in order to stomach the caffeine) and enjoys herself surprisingly enough.
Blair lets Caleb take her home to Ipswich following her sophomore year. It's the summer before his senior year and he should be heading to Boston for his internship, but he wants to show her off to his friends before he leaves.
She doesn't mind (not really), because it's nice to feel this wanted when she hasn't in such a long time. His friends' names are Pogue, Reid, and Tyler, and they poke fun at Caleb when he shows her around his neck of the woods.
It's charming here (in that old money northeast kind of way) with the trees in the countryside, quaint but large Massachusetts houses, and Caleb's mysterious behavior, but it all begins to look very eerie one night when he leaves without a word and doesn't return until morning.
They're close, but not as close as she is to Chuck (or used to be) or even Carter, and she wonders about the etiquette in asking him where he's been.
She doesn't have to, when he volunteers the information on his own. "I'm sorry I was out late last night, Blair. I hope you weren't worried."
Blair half-smiles. She's used to this. "I was worried, of course. It's nothing."
The I'm sure you'll tell me when you're ready never leaves her mouth, even though they're the only words she thinks.
He breathes evenly, but answers. "It's not nothing. I didn't mean to worry you. Look, it was just a family matter at Pogue's, okay? Don't fret."
She remembers a conversation they had back when they first met, the one where he described his friends' lives in detail. She's pretty sure Pogue's the orphan, but she doesn't bring it up in the light of day.
It doesn't matter anyway, because this is over even before it ever really begins.
It is mid-November before Blair agrees to meet Serena and Nate at a bar so far north, she almost declines. Over the phone, Serena's cheery voice tells her it's really not that bad, but Blair's a native New Yorker.
Rather, she's a native Upper East Sider. She knows better than to venture into the streets with three digit numbers. However, she must be a better friend than she lets on, because she meets the amicable couple at a shabby establishment near Columbia University.
She takes one look at her surroundings and nearly hops back into her cab before Nate grabs her arms and pulls her in. "You're not going anywhere, Blair."
She's almost shell shocked. "You can't hold me captive up here. I'll sue."
Serena laughs at her best friend. "After all this time, you still haven't changed, B. I'm glad."
Blair frowns. "Why would I? To settle for this?" She waves an arm at their present environment and makes a grimace toward the wall. "This is absolutely disgusting."
It's no matter when they spend hours just catching up, Serena filling Blair in on the details of her life. Nate patiently sits at her side. Once in a while, his eyes catch Serena's in a way his never caught hers.
Finally, Blair is over it enough to realize that maybe they're right for each other. She wonders when she will ever find someone right enough for her.
When an artist emerges from Gotham with a new take on watercolors, the citizens of New York begin to worship the ground he walks on. It's something new for them, something different, so like always, Eleanor drags Blair to the exhibit on opening night.
Cyrus and Eleanor greet the elusive artist and spend half the night praising the Norwegian transplant on his awe inspiring work. Blair tries to find something to entertain herself with. When she spots champagne across the room, she's on it in fifteen seconds flat.
Someone beats her to it and grins like the cat that ate the canary. "Hello, Blair. How have you been?"
She smiles back, but only slightly. "Wonderful, Bruce. And yourself?"
When he pops a hors d'oeuvre into his mouth, it looks like sin and want all in one. "My night just got infinitely better."
When her smile turns into a smirk, she lifts an eyebrow in response. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should. You look unquestionably sinful in black." He pauses, looking down at her. "And those lips…"
The tips of his fingers graze hers in a way that makes her tingle. She hasn't felt this way in over a year and a half and she's damned if she lets it happen again.
She's probably damned if she doesn't let it happen again. He traces an index finger across the ruby of her lips (tonight she's wearing Dazzling by Chanel) and in seconds, his lips are on hers.
She doesn't hear the gasp across the room because she's too preoccupied losing oxygen (and her sanity, because the things this man could do to her with just his lips), but she hears the definite click of a camera when an overexcited photographer captures the image of the playboy billionaire roughly kissing the NYU socialite.
The next morning, Blair awakens naked with Bruce's arm hanging halfway across her midsection. The amount of text messages on her phone are nearing ridiculous, with Serena sending fourteen and Chuck sending eight.
At the door, there are copies of the New York Times, USA Today, and the Gotham Times. There are society sections in each (or something to the equivalent) and it doesn't surprise Blair in the slightest to see herself entangled in Bruce's arms each time she opens a new paper.
Across the room, he wakes with a lazy grin. "Where'd you go, gorgeous?"
She responds. "I'm just across the room. Do you want anything?"
His grin gets wider. "Only you."
She smiles back at him because he's absurd. "Compliments won't get you anywhere, Bruce."
"Oh?" He scratches his head in thought. "I'm pretty sure it was a compliment that landed you here with me."
Blair laughs. "You're not citing your charm?"
When he shakes his head, he laughs too. "That was inevitable. Seriously, I've missed you. Will you come back to bed?"
He's irresistible and she's never been one to resist, so she closes her eyes and finally allows herself to be happy. He's the perfect mix of what she wants, plus a little something else that she wasn't even sure she needed.
The fourth October they're together is when everything comes into place. The Wayne estate (part deux, Bruce likes to joke) is finally complete, Blair is a third year law student at Harvard, and everything just feels right.
When the stress of midterms threatens to take hold, Blair returns to her apartment just off campus. She wants to leave for the weekend, because she needs a weekend at the Mandarin Oriental. She's about to call Serena for last minute facials and pedicures when she eyes her surroundings.
Blair likes to think she's a relatively neat person, but she's pretty sure she didn't leave her apartment like this in the morning. The hardwood floors are waxed, the kitchen is free of Thai takeout, and there are dozens upon dozens of hydrangeas lining the living room.
Bruce is standing in the middle of said room in a gray custom tailored Armani with the biggest bouquet of all and Blair rushes over to kiss him. "It took you long enough to notice I was here."
"Sorry." She kisses him again, although aggressively, taking his face in her hands until all she can feel is him. "Can I make it up to you?"
He grins. "I'm sure there's something you can do for me."
Blair practically moans at the suggestion. "Oh, thank God. I'm so stressed."
"Not that." Bruce wiggles his eyebrows. "Later. I have something I need to run by you first."
She wonders what it is whilst kissing up his neck. "Mm?"
"Damn it, Blair. I can't even think." This time Bruce moans, too, and lets Blair lead him to the bedroom. "I hope you know this is your entire fault."
Blair doesn't look phased as she continues dragging him by the arm. "And it always is."
They lie in bed entwined like always, when Blair snuggles against Bruce's chest and asks what he had in store for her earlier.
"Now you want to know?" Bruce chuckles. "Maybe I don't want to tell you."
She playfully shoves him and pouts. "That's rather immature."
Bruce grins down at her, lightly playing with her hair. "So is the pouting act."
"Is it working?" Blair smiles. "I think it's working."
Bruce sighs, shuffling to get out of bed. Blair's arm is gently holding onto his, but he makes her let go as he grabs for his pants. He pulls a box from the pocket and Blair knows it is Tiffany blue even before she sees it.
She's crying before she knows it and nodding all the same. "Yes! Yes! I say yes!"
Bruce laughs again. "I was slightly worried you would say no."
"Why would I say no?" Blair frowns. "I'm not stupid."
"No, no you're not." Bruce concedes. "Will you let me do this properly?"
Blair nods, but she can't help herself, because she plants her lips directly on his and scoops her body directly on top of his.
He continues anyway. "Blair Waldorf, you've captivated my attention ever since I saw you at Stone Street. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
When she's silent, he gently nudges her. She smiles. "What? I already answered."
When Bruce slides the solitaire sparkler on her left ring finger, it feels like coming home. She smiles at her contentment (at their contentment) about the inescapability of her becoming Mrs. Bruce Wayne.
One day when Blair is watching the Gotham news, Batman and the Joker have their last encounter. She's Team Batman (she always has been) and breathes a sigh of relief when the Joker's knife barely skims the throat of Batman's highly flexible suit.
When Bruce comes home that night, he seems wearier than usual, so Blair makes sure to be extra attentive to her husband. He smiles up at her at the dining room table, and she smiles back, but she goes into the kitchen to pretend to retrieve a little more food.
There's a thin red line across his neck, but it's slightly over six inches long, just like on the television.