A/N: Crazy ramblings. Shush. I'm a month and a half into my holidays, I need something lol. The song is an old one from Page France called Chariot. You should listen to it .

Warning: ANGST. I went swimming and got really sunburnt and it totally hurts so now I write super sappy angsty stuff (but tomorrow I'll have a killer tan and write more OMG stuff).

Swing, like a chariot
At the trumpet call
When we're all unsaved

He reads the same report for the third time. His eyes travel slowly over lines he can't bring himself to understand let alone care about. He doesn't need to be working. He's not even certain he has a job to go back to. But the quiet loneliness of his office seems like a better option than sleep. Sleeping would lead him to bed, which would lead him to Maureen. His wife would smile at him exactly the same as she for their entire marriage, with sweetness and warmth and comfort.

And more lies then he could ever comprehend.

If she yelled, or screamed, or glared when he wasn't looking—that he could handle, but this never-ending charade of denial and I'll-make- ice-teas left soundless screams in the back of his throat.

He had left her.

And she wasn't even the one it had hurt to leave.

Swing,like a wrecking ball
Like the heart of god
What a mystery

He doesn't know why she chose him that night in an empty bar.

And there is no doubt in his mind that she chose him. The golden princess of Manhattan could have anyone. But she chose him with a smile and a flick of golden tendrils. And without a word he was hers.

For a short period of time he'd known what it was to be brave. His family, his career, his life—none of it had mattered, because she chose him.

But then he'd remembered the only thing he never left home without. His name. Without it he was nobody. Nothing.

And Serena would have figured that out sooner or later.

Filled with the wedding feast
For the snakes and beasts
With the angel teeth, swing

He can't remember that night very well and for that he's thankful.

He remembers her anger and a scream. He remembers waking up and how empty the car felt. Nothing had ever felt empty with Serena around. She was energy. She was real. Emptiness fled from Serena's smile.

When he'd seen her, all still and blonde and broken he couldn't think. Could barely breathe. Empty and thoughtless he'd called Maureen. Maureen could always think.

He hadn't wanted to move her. It made no sense. If Serena didn't wake up then it's wasn't like he'd go back to work. But he was tired and sore, and without her smile everything had seemed so damn blurry.

It was awkward trying to get her into his arms. She was cold and stiff, her long limbs limp. He choked when her head fell backwards and there was a sickening lack of reaction. He knows he whispered things into her ear the entire time, but he has no idea what they were.

He'd knelt in the snow, his hands clasped on her lap, his head bowed. He hadn't prayed.

No god would have hurt Serena.

Come and carry us
Come and marry us
To the blushing circus king

Maureen's fingers had dug into his shoulder; hard words had made his legs move.

He hadn't said a word to her in the car. How could he ask his wife if his girlfriend was going to be okay?

He'd failed Maureen, as surely as he'd failed Serena. She didn't look as broken as the blond, but she wouldn't be as easy to fix either.

Not that he'd be the one to put her back together. He didn't do that anymore.

Princes don't leave golden princesses alone in icy graves. They don't get punched by their little cousins outside hospitals either.

He stares at the phone on his desk, knowing he'll never call her. He isn't the prince. And he doesn't have that right anymore.

And dance like elephants as he comes to us
Through a fiery golden ring
With a violin and a song to sing
As he brings for us our wings

She doesn't know how it came to this. How she came to be lying in a hospital, with its too cold air, and too bright lights, and too clean smell. Everyone's there except the one person she really wants to see.

He doesn't come and she stops waiting for him. He doesn't call and she stops listening for the phone.

She feels like crying and not because she hurts (even though she does). She wants to cry because he left.

He left her.

He left her scared.

He left her scared and alone.

He left her scared and alone and hurting.

Now he's one of us
Plays the tambourine
Breaks the bread for us
And sings
Will you wait for us
Will you stay for us
Will you grace us everything


The next day Nate sits by her side for three hours.

It makes her want to cry even more.

He's the wrong blue eyes, the wrong van der Bilt. And he saw everything. He saw her with him and he saw her without.

Nate had loved her and she left him in the rain. A part of her wonders if that's how she ended up here. If she's screwed up so many times that even the rain and the roads and tires won't put up with her mistakes anymore.

For three hours she pretended to sleep.

She loves Nate, she really does. She's just not in love with him.

You're a wrecking ball
With a heart of gold
We will wait for it to

Swing,like a chariot


She thought she was once.

But it didn't matter how he looked at her, or how he touched her. He didn't want her. Not really.

She had him once. Because alcohol made him stupid and it made her better. More fun, more alive, just more.

And when they could have been together, he still hadn't wanted her. He wanted the untouchable golden princess. Not the fallen blonde.

It didn't even hurt, because they were alike, really. They wanted everything they couldn't (shouldn't) have, and nothing that they did.

Swing it low for us
Come and carry us away
So we will become a happy ending
So we will become a happy ending


She told Blair, she told Chuck, she told Nate, she told herself: it was nothing. She was over it. She was over him.

But Tripp had looked at her like she was precious, touched her like she was perfect. And he had wanted her—her, the fallen blonde with no job, no college, no father, no friends.

It wasn't an accident, or fear, or stupidity (though that was all there) that made her get in the car, even while Nate watched. She chose Tripp because she wanted him.

He wasn't the beautiful boyfriend of the best friend. And maybe he should have been just as untouchable, but he wasn't. Not for her anyway.

And he wasn't something she had to steal when he was young and dazed.

She lied. Because it wasn't nothing.

She hates him now, hates the way she isn't even close to over him.

Fire come and carry us
Make us shine or make us rust
Tell us that you care for us
We need to hear a word for us
Let your body stand with us
Or let our ribs return to dust
Chariot you swing for us
We think that you can carry all of us


They discharged her early because her mom didn't trust doctors outside of New York.

When Nate held her hand and brushed a kiss on her forehead, she smiled and bubbled and of course she was okay.

Somehow he ended up coming home with her. Her mom didn't comment and she didn't care.

With a smile and a finger to his lips she pulls him into her room. In the silence and dark his arms around her waist feel just right. One day she'll learn to forget that he doesn't bury his face in her hair, breathe her scent like it's the sweetest he's ever known.

The nightcap is as much for courage as it is unconsciousness. The first of which he'd never had without her and the second had become as unreachable as she was.

He doesn't bother turning on the lights as he crawls into bed, knowing there's nothing he cares to see anymore. If the feminine form doesn't flinch at his touch, neither does it relax.

He buries his face in silky curls. In the dark they could have been blonde. One day he'll learn to stop breathing and the scent of vanilla instead of strawberries won't matter quite so much.

So we will become a happy ending
So we will become a happy ending
So we will become a happy ending
So we will become a happy ending