"The last time I saw Blair that freakishly calm..."

"Was when Serena left for boarding school."

"And you know as well as I do, the calm won't last. And when it breaks, there are going to be pieces of Blair all over the wall."

"Waldorf," Chuck called out, smirking. "Decided to stop playing hooky? I have to say, I'm surprised at you."

Like Blair Waldorf would ever play hooky. The last time she'd missed a single day of school had been when she was unwell (as it was referred to. Which it wasn't, of course).

So Chuck had noticed that she wasn't in school the other day; even Nate had.

Although Chuck had a sneaky suspicion the other boy had been relieved.

Surprisingly, though, his comment wasn't met with the amusing scowl he'd anticipated. Or the biting retort.

Instead, Blair smiled serenely. "Very funny, Chuck." Her tone was breezy. "I had a slight headache. Nothing some tylenol didn't fix."

She was still smiling.

Chuck glanced at Nate. But he hadn't noticed anything; he was still finding it hard to look at his girlfriend.

"Nate," she smiled again. "Did you book La Tasca, sweetie?"

"Uh, I actually meant to talk to you about that," Nate muttered, managing to glance at her. "My dad wants me to go sailing with him this weekend."

Chuck waited. This was their anniversary, after all.

But it didn't come.

He watched Blair, frowning now, as her smile didn't falter, just got brighter.

"Oh. Well, never mind."

At that, Nate did look up. He'd been preparing himself for the explosion too.

And Blair Waldorf never uttered the words never mind.

"Are you...sure, you're ok with this?" he asked hesitantly. Like he was waiting for her smile to disappear any second. While feeling a tad guilty about how relieved he was.

"Of course." Blair laughed, lightly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Nate looked to Chuck in confusion.

"Anyway," Blair went on briskly. "I need to go, gotta pick up the work I missed. See you after school?"

"I've got soccer practice..."

At least that one wasn't a lie.

Blair didn't miss a beat.

"Ok, well, enjoy!"

And with that, she disappeared.

Nate glanced at Chuck again, still confused.

"Well, that was...weird."

"Yeah," Chuck murmured, still watching her. "Have you seen Serena lately?" he asked thoughtfully, forgetting for just a second.

"What? Serena? Why are you asking me? How would I know?"

Chuck stopped, giving his friend a look.

Nate shifted uneasily, and Chuck rolled his eyes but let it lie.

The smiles continued, wider by the day. Blair had wrapped herself in a little bubble.

Serena's absence continued too. It was a toss-up, but eventually even Nate stopped thinking about that - long enough to realise he couldn't ignore Blair's apparent brightness towards his excuses and cancellations much longer.

He wouldn't dare ask her where Serena was himself, though. Not now.

People at school had started to notice - even though Serena so often skipped anyway, and there was always the promise of delicious gossip and scandal when she reappeared. The whispers and rumors started, which Blair calmly ignored. Her smile got even wider whenever Serena's name was mentioned.

And Chuck, watching, knew she was getting closer and closer to cracking. The bubble was going to burst.

It happened on the hockey field in the end.

Blair had learnt from her smallness that in order to survive a hockey match, you had to be twice as quick with your stick, twice as ruthless and twice as vicious. Because Blair Waldorf did not fail at anything.

The girls at Constance had learnt this the hard way from the tiny brunette.

Unfortunately, that did not stop opposing teams from other schools targeting the 'little one'.

In those instances, tall and leggy Serena generally came to the rescue.

Chuck had heard about it, with amusement; evidently Serena and Blair were a force to be reckoned with on the pitch. He didn't doubt it.

He got the blast when he and Nate were dodging health class for their customary smoke.

Chuck learned later that the opposing school had tried to double team her. Spent the whole match using their size against her, knocking her as much as possible.

Maybe it was that. Maybe, more likely, it was the comment. Where's blondie to save you now, Waldorf?

The blast had come with a caption, of course.

B goes psycho? Someone take this girl's hockey stick away!

Chuck showed it to Nate, and he froze, staring at the photo of his girlfriend completely losing it. In the middle of a pitch full of people.

Chuck was already on his feet, and Nate followed, wordlessly, though they both knew it was the last thing he wanted to do.

They went straight to the field, which was cleared of people by now.

Nate froze again as they saw her. She was huddled, now, a ball on the grass, a small jumble of knee socks and red skirt, wracked with sobs.

The teacher was at an equal loss of what to do; this was Blair Waldorf. He was patting the slight girl awkwardly, clumsy big hands almost afraid to touch her.

Chuck ignored the people standing around gawking, enthralled with the spectacle (had it been anyone else, he would've been in front of them) and, sensing Nate was still stuck to the same spot, scooped her up into his arms.

She didn't even struggle, just buried her head in his shoulder, tears soaking his blazer. He carried her out of the pitch, and the teacher looked quite glad. Nate snapped back into focus, and followed, looking way out of his depth and even guiltier for it.

Once they'd got far enough away, Chuck held her out for Nate to take, transferring her into his arms.

Nate held her, worry temporarily overcoming his guilt, rubbing her back, murmuring, "It's ok, Blair. It's ok," while his eyes helplessly sought Chuck's.

Chuck was already on his cell, instructing Arthur to bring the limo around.

They got her in, slid into the seat between the two boys.

Nate held her hand while he continued to shoot Chuck glances.

"What's wrong, Blair?" he asked at last, almost nervous.

Blair tried to cover her face, shaking her head, stiffening.

But Chuck tugged her hands away.

"Waldorf. What is it?"

She looked up, finally, brown eyes stained with tears, and whimpered,

"Serena's gone."

Nate blanched.

Chuck shot him the briefest warning glance, eyes on Blair.

"She's gone to boarding school in Connecticut," she sobbed, "And I don't think she's coming back. She's gone. She didn't - she didn't even tell me she was going, she just left, and when I rang Lily, she said - she said you didn't know?"

The little girl was breaking down, unravelling at the seams.

"And she hasn't called me, and she won't answer her phone, and I stopped calling because I didn't want to leave a thousand missed calls, and - and I don't understand what I did wrong."

And Nate couldn't do anything, couldn't say anything. Because he knew. And he knew it was his fault. And Serena had left him too.

"Blair," he muttered eventually, "I'm sure you didn't..."

But he couldn't even get the sentence out, the guilt was too much.

Chuck looked at him; Blair was still crying.

So, awkwardly, Nate wrapped an arm around his girlfriend, pulling her to his chest.

Her sobs eventually subdued as he held her. Luckily, she couldn't see his face, see the way he was biting his lip, or how rigid his arms were.

Nate didn't know how to deal with Blair breaking down. She never broke down in front of anyone, except maybe Serena.

She wasn't the one who did that.

And he especially didn't know how to deal with her after what he'd done.

The limo came to a stop outside the Palace.

"Come on," Chuck said, opening the door.

Blair looked up, seeing where they were.

"There's a scotch with my name on it," he answered, smirking faintly at her. "And I think you could do with a martini or two."

She smiled, very faintly, at that, protesting in a way that was more like her, and Nate laughed.

The next day, Constance had a rematch. Blair walked onto the pitch with her head held high, stick at the ready, trembles hidden.

But when the members of the opposing team, who had been looking decidedly nauseous as they'd come on, started throwing up before they'd even got to half time, she paused.

And then turned as she caught Chuck's smirk on the sidelines, a smirk of her own forming in realisation.

The girls insisted their water had been spiked with an emetic, and for the next several weeks all gossip and laughter was based around the vomiting team, and the gag jokes were endless.

And Blair's small breakdown was completely forgotten about, especially as there were rumors that the brilliant act had been her doing - now everyone knew. No one crossed Blair Waldorf.

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