Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl. Yet.
A/N: This is the first fanfic I've ever written. It's an AU one-shot and completely unbetad, so please forgive the mistakes that may occur. As to become less confusing, the character around whom the plot revolves, generically called "She", is actually Blair. I tried to change several parts to make it sound a little bit more original. What is more, I took one aspect from the books. I honestly hope you will enjoy reading this.
Summary: When the whole world comes crashing down, what is one to do? Cope and move on or choose the easy path that leads to destruction?
Sheer Irony
Once upon a starry night, a girl was sitting on the edge of a cliff with nothing more than a bottle of scotch in her left hand and a shattered heart. It was easy to see, judging by her appearance, that it wasn't just the alcohol's fault her soul was tainted. Her clothes have been ripped furiously, maybe in an urge to forget. She had done it herself, with nothing more than her bare hands. Her hair was mussed and her glassy eyes seemed void of any feeling.
The sight bore resemblance to a scene in a past that seemed so long gone and then the exact thing she wanted desperately to avoid, remembrance, struck her awfully. Oh, how she wished to share with them nothing more than a disdainful look and a shrug of her now scratched shoulders.
Things have gone too far.
She wasn't one to quit to begin with, but she found out soon enough that there are certain things one cannot overcome. How she wished those waves would just take her away and leave her stranded on some deserted island only to starve to death. Then again, that would be an optimistic approach considering her real situation.
A year had passed since the horrid event that changed her life for ever. She was bound to have a family, a real one. Her parents had put their differences aside and they had been trying to create a positive family environment for her and her little brother, Tyler, who was only 6 years old at the time. She felt good, not to be part of a broken home as she had been for most of her life. She also had him, the guy who supposedly was the man of her dreams, with his blonde curly hair, vivacious blue eyes that bore with love into hers and with his inhuman power of understanding and support. She didn't even dare to wish for more. And then, she lost everything. Life is ironic, isn't it?
The day after the one she left for London in an exchange student programme a group of Islamic terrorists have struck, placing bombs exactly in the town her whole family, her whole life, was in, erasing it almost literally off the face of the Earth. And all had come so unexpected… she was trying to contact her mother to tell her of her great success in courses, but she was accompanied solely by a tone saying that the number she was trying to reach was out of service. The story repeated when she tried to call Nathan, her beloved boyfriend. Then, panicking, she turned on the TV only to watch in horror a slideshow of pictures from the by-gone town. Her stupefaction was so big, that she couldn't even cry, she just gasped in shock and covered her pallid face with her shaky hands hoping she would wake up from this horrid nightmare she clearly was in. When she noticed that nothing could wake her up, she went for her purse, in which she always kept a bottle of vodka when flying, she didn't even have time to take it out the day before. She took a glass from God knows where, but before she could even pour the stingy liquid in it, her cheeks were flooded with boiling tears. Her eyes were too glassy to even see what she's doing, so she spilt half of the quantity on the small counter. With shaky hands, she tried to lift the glass up, but she just couldn't do it. She just tumbled down in frustration and started pulling threads out of the fluffy white rug. She did that until she felt tired and fell asleep right there, on the floor.
Thankfully, the landlord always came in a general inspection, after a certain amount of time that he sought sufficient for the students to happily occupy their rooms, to try to solve the issues that may have arisen and making sure they have everything they need. After he knocked three times, he used his own key thinking that the girl was probably away, but he was surely in for a surprise when she found her lying on the rug that obviously seemed a mess. After that he noticed the little bottle, sure it wasn't enough to bring somebody in the state of coma, but nobody knows if she had taken some pills with it, maybe even drugs. He decided that the safest approach to this situation was to call an ambulance and so he did.
She woke up with a strong feeling of nausea, already sensing the taste of bile burning her dry throat. She needed a lot of self-restraint not to throw up right there, in that immaculate hospital bed. She gently touched her forehead trying to remember what brought her here in the first place. Where was she? Oh, right, in England, she came here for an exchange programme with Oxford, her parents must be so proud, and here she was, after doing something that surely wasn't good. Wait, her parents? Oh, no, she had no parents anymore, nor a little brother she used to adore, nor a boyfriend who didn't mind waiting for her while she was away, she didn't even have that stupid mutt of Tyler's she thoroughly despised. Wait, she didn't have anything. Okay, maybe except an excruciating headache.
After that, a period of fast-paced spiraling followed and she found herself homeless and on the verge of suicide. Thankfully, she was stopped before she even tried. It's a good thing that police officers patrol shabby parks, because, truthfully, cutting one's veins with a shard isn't the way anyone would like to die, especially being surrounded by drug addicts of all sorts. Soon afterwards she disappeared and rumour had it that she had fled the country, but she was just hiding in a small, yet picturesque village in the south of Wales. Sure, it was near Cardiff, so it wasn't as if she were isolated, but it was a positive change in her wretched lifestyle. She picked up milking and she was starting to grow on her fellow villagers as she was a mature educated girl extremely willing to work till dusk and that was the thing that made them appreciate her the most, the fact that she never rested, but even so she was as cheerful as a blossom caressed by the mild sunrays of spring. Little did they know she was projecting that image, lest she remember about the demons that were still fiercely haunting her.
It was in that small village that she learned to breathe again, when she met Charlie. He was different from "the peasantry" as he would seldom mock his fellow villagers, joking, of course. He had finished high-school in Cardiff, but was bound to return to his natal lands, when his sick mother passed away. As he had no other family and no one would even consider buying an old house practically in the middle of nowhere, he decided to take over the responsibility and to struggle to make his living until a buyer appeared. It was hard readjusting to manual labour, as he was preparing for an indoors career. His childhood dream was to become a barrister, but faith usually meddles with our desires. Even though he relatively got used to the rural environment, the voracity for the urban one was starting to rip his soul apart. And then, he met her. It shouldn't come as a surprise that he was utterly mesmerised by her beautiful doe eyes and chocolate curls, that, to his disdain, were almost permanently tied up in a tight bun. Her petite figure astounded by its rapidity and care, but the most important point was the way she talked, now he could listen to her drawling over the silliest subjects for hours in a row.
Finally, what was bound to happen happened. They fell in love with each other, giving some sense to their pointless existences. Suddenly, the cry of the nightingales seemed less pungent, caressing their poor orphan hearts, as a mark of their eternal bond they should have fought for. Swallows were returning home, marking the start of spring, but they weren't even aware of anything else except themselves and the strong feeling that united them. Things were bound to change.
A potential buyer for Charlie's farm appeared and as much as she wanted him to pursue his aspirations, she couldn't stop having the feeling that she was going to lose an important piece of her heart along with him. He noticed the sadness in her eyes, but he was still smiling deviously, as if he was holding a certain secret. That hurt her, but she was fully aware that maybe she had been nothing more than an infatuation to the brunette man whom she passionately loved. That's the exact reason why she decided to let him follow his dreams, without trying to hold him back. After a day that aspired to their happiest ones ever he proposed. Of course, she was taken aback and even fainted, being a drama queen as she was, but the truth is that not even her had expected such a surprise. Therefore, they were bound to leave to Cardiff, where they were supposed to find work and a place to stay, before their economies have run out. The wedding was planned for that fall, before they both started college. Sure, it was bound to be hard, with the job and all and the University of Cardiff was no Oxford, but at that moment there was no better place in the world for her.
They were starting to readapt, living in a small house on the outskirts. She was working as a waitress in a diner that was quite close to their home and she was really pleased. Her employer, Vanessa, was a middle-aged woman, who passed through a lot of awful things through life. She had seen with her own eyes her only daughter dying by electrocution. It was a dreadful accident. Vanessa asked her to blow dry her hair, as the girl had a penchant for that, she had always wanted to become a worldly renowned hair-stylist. The drier suffered a malfunction, electrocuting the young girl. If she would have survived, she would have been the same age as her, that's why she didn't hesitate in adopting the poor girl. Vanessa never mentioned anything about a man in her life, but she accepted that and decided not to put improper questions. He, on the other hand, was working on a construction site. He didn't quite adjust to work, so when an opportunity appeared he decided to take it.
The couple then passed through a rough patch, as she couldn't bear the idea of him leaving to Iraq from September. It would have been the hardest period of her entire life, living a whole year without him, knowing the dangers he ought to face in that dreadful place, but he reassured her that everything would be alright and made her aware that this was the only way they were going to be able to pay their tuition fees and survive at the same time. With tears in her eyes and her heart in her hand, she whispered him goodbye, knowing deep inside that something awful was going to happen.
It was two months after that that she was announced that Charlie was part of the group of soldiers that was attacked three days before by the same terrorist organisation that murdered her family. When they gave up looking for survivors she took off to the bay, tearing her clothes apart and shouting in utter anger. She didn't even remember where from she took that bottle of scotch, but that was less important. Here she was, more broken than ever, on the verge of putting an end to this dreadful existence of hers. As she started to shiver facing the bone-drenching wind, she caught courage and prepared for the longest jump she had ever made. Thankfully, two steady hands got a grip of her and pulled her back. She wasn't even able to remonstrate, as Vanessa held her in a tight hug, telling her that Charlie appeared in a camp near Baghdad, wounded, but alive, and that he would be sent back to Cardiff during the following week. Listening to her in utter shock, the thin congested shadow of the woman Charlie used to love fell to her knees, thanking God for this extraordinary opportunity. Maybe part of the exaggerated reaction was due to her inebriated state, but, mainly, it was sheer happiness.
Charlie was given a good amount of money, due to his actions in Iraq, money that was well invested in their welfare and studies. They had their great wedding after all, well, maybe it wasn't so grand, but they couldn't be happier and succeeded into becoming the average British family, with 2.5 kids and living in a white picket fence house and a dog. To be honest, there only were two kids, but that's less important. What's of utmost importance is that they have lived happily ever after. What do you know? Maybe that's the irony of it all.