Dan can't sleep.
He spends most nights tossing and turning until he gives in to the insomnia. He usually picks up a book and a scotch and settles into the couch for the few hours until dawn.
Tonight he can't concentrate on a book. His mind is preoccupied with her.
He doesn't think about her too much anymore, or at least he tries not to. She is happier without him and he's better off without her. Besides, she's married, and he's in a relationship so any fleeting thoughts of torrid affairs are fruitless.
She's also positively infuriating and someone who turns him into the worst version of himself so why bother thinking about her anyway?
But tonight she consumes his thoughts. He recalls the way her heart shaped lips would pinch together when she was angry with him and how all he had to do was tell her not to smile and she would be laughing. His mind wanders to her shape, the curves he used to run his fingers along until she begged him to make love to her. He remembers her large, doe like eyes that despite her best efforts betrayed sadness when they filled with tears. She was sad quite a bit, come to think of it.
That day in the hospital was the worst of that particular brand.
She had just woken up from surgery to find him slumped over in a chair next to her bed. Their fingers were clasped together in an awkward knot. The first few moments of lucidness were filled with explanations and reassurances, but after she understood where she was and how she had gotten there, the tough questions came.
"And the baby?"
Dan's face said it all. Her despair was heartbreaking and he pledged in that hospital room to take care of her, no matter what. He never wanted her to feel that way again.
It's funny how much time and distance can change things.
He opens his laptop and begins to type. Old habits die hard and Blair Waldorf is his vice. His fingers fly across the keyboard recording wishes unfulfilled and thoughts unspoken. She is corrupt and he abhors her and he worships her for it.
Alessandra calls to him in the dark from his bed, but he waves her off in favor of his work.
In the wee hours of the morning he is awakened by the chirp of his cell phone. He lifts his face from the keyboard and chuckles at having fallen asleep on the 'F' key. His screen is filled with a modest man's profanity and he finds it humorous. His mood is short-lived, however, because when he looks at his phone, the caller is Chuck Bass.
"Hello?"
"Humphrey, I'm sorry to call at such a ridiculous hour but I didn't know what else to do."
Dan's mind reels as he waits for the words that he knows are coming. There is only one reason why Chuck Bass would phone him.
"It's Blair."
...
Blair can't sleep.
Well, it's not so much that she can't sleep, but she won't sleep for if she does the dreams come.
When she first noticed them she brushed them off, just a weird side effect from the stress of being newly married. Are newlyweds supposed to be stressed? It was just a fluke.
But it's been a year now and they lingered and began to pester and then bother and now they are just...torturous. She can't concentrate on the simplest of tasks. She can't hold up a conversation and more often than not, she doesn't care to anyway. Dorota has moved in temporarily to "help her adjust" but she functions more like a babysitter than anything else.
Dorota tells Chuck there is something wrong with Miss Blair, she found her hiding this morning and she was crying. She wasn't making sense and it took her thirty minutes to talk her out from under the bed. This is not normal, she tells him. This is not healthy. Miss Blair is not herself. Chuck waves her away and blames it on the fact that she's tired and she doesn't like things to be out of order. Then he reprimands her for bringing her children to work with her.
She's been awake for nearly 48 hours and her mind is wandering aimlessly. She has no control over it. She just wants it to stop so she can grab two hours of uninterrupted sleep. She just wants to sleep, to drift off and dream away the past...
She's walking down a dark hall toward a door that she's never seen before. She opens the door and sees a large basket in the corner. No, it's not a basket, it's a bassinet which means there is a baby inside of it. A soft, sweet smelling, baby boy. As she approaches the corner, something begins to gnaw at her and anxiousness sets in. It feels awful. Scary. She doesn't know if she should continue, but the gnawing will chew away at her regardless so she walks on. She lifts the delicate fabric and the horror underneath evokes a guttural sound from the pit of her lungs that travels up and out of her throat so that the dead are awakened and the living cower in fear.
She is screaming and she can't stop. She hasn't regained control even though the dream is over.
"It's empty. Oh my god, it was empty."
The ceiling is caving in and there is nothing she can do about it. Chuck comes running and places his hands on her shoulders, but she shrugs them off and runs for the balcony. The drapes are ripped open, the door crashes in its frame and she throws her body against the thin railing that is the only thing separating her from the chasm that is the busy street below.
Chuck tries to grab her but the closer he gets to her, the further away from him she creeps and she's hysterical. He's shouting at her to come back inside and why is she doing this and oh my god please don't lean over the rails! He doesn't know what to do and he's starting to really panic now so he reaches for his phone and calls the only person who can help her.
"Humphrey, I'm sorry to call at such a ridiculous hour but I didn't know what else to do. It's Blair. She's...out of her mind. She's crying on the balcony and she won't let me near her. I'm worried she might do something."
"I'll be right there."
When he gets there, he doesn't see her at first and his stomach drops into the floor. But then he hears a faint voice singing some sort of lullaby, the words floating in the space between them like a beacon. He follows it until he finds the source. She's sitting with her back against the balcony, one arm trailing out between the railings, whose gaps look unusually large in this light. Chuck is seated just inside the door on their minimalist sofa with no back, his head resting in his hands.
He approaches her slowly so as not to startle her and his heart breaks at the realization that the great Blair Waldorf is in shambles. She spots him and her eyes fill again.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Dan. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm sorry."
He cautiously sits down beside her, wincing at the state of her. "Eh, I wasn't doing anything important." He releases a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"
"I think I must be losing my mind. I'm so tired, but I don't want to sleep because when I do, I see him. But I'm so tired."
"Well, you can get some sleep right now. If you'd like, I can stay here, just like this."
She has the presence of mind to glance into the apartment for Chuck, but he's no longer sitting on the sofa. He's nowhere in sight. She nods her head yes and falls fitfully to sleep against his shoulder. She talks in her sleep murmuring coos and sweet clucks and fidgeting every so often.
"I can't do that, what you did." Chuck's whisper startles Dan out of his dream and he is suddenly and acutely aware of his arm around Blair. She is practically sitting in his lap.
"You could if you tried. She needs you to try. I'm not the one who should be sitting here. I'm too damaging, too selfish. I've said things that I can't take back and she doesn't need me. She needs you."
Chuck doesn't look at Dan when he speaks. "You always were a good storyteller."
When she awakens, Dan is gone. He is not hers, after all.
...
Dan is falling apart.
It's been a week since the incident with Blair and he's had a drink everyday. He tells himself that she made him do it, that she brings out the worst in him. This time he doesn't even attempt to believe the lie.
He's gotten very good at blaming all of his problems on her. Alessandra is furious about his night with Blair. What is the drama this time, she asks. Why couldn't Chuck handle her, she says. Why is she always running back to you, she bellows.
Because we're good together. We help each other grow, he answers honestly. She doesn't like this and she threatens to leave him. He doesn't beg her to stay.
He calls Chuck to check up on her but he doesn't answer. He doesn't blame the guy. If Dan had a wife who was as connected to another man as he is to Blair, he would probably do the same thing.
Dorota is the one who spills the beans. She is shopping for groceries and Dan runs into her in the produce aisle.
"Have you been by to see Miss Blair yet? She is awfully lonely in her room. Only two visitors a day." She is casually sniffing a cantaloupe.
He briefly considers telling her the truth, that he has no idea what she is talking about, but decides that the best way to get information is to play along.
"No, I haven't been by, but I've been meaning to. What's her room number again?"
"325. And no need bring flowers. Room is too fragrant as is."
"Got it. You don't happen to have the address as well, do you?"
...
Blair is falling apart.
She cries when she wakes up, she thinks everyone is laughing at her behind her back.
She's plagued with worry about her mental state and wonders if she might be crazy. Bass women are not crazy. They might be eccentric or quirky even, but not crazy. They do not suffer from mental deficiencies. Chuck is expecting her to bounce back from this. Maybe not expecting, but hoping.
She picks up the phone to call Dan twelve times a day, just to thank him of course, but also to hear his voice, just a little bit. She dials the area code and the next six digits but can't bring herself to complete the number.
She's seeing a psychiatrist daily which is humiliating enough, but the fact that they have people watching her during all hours of the day, well, that is just crushing.
"I'm fine. Really. I've just been under a lot of stress." Day one.
"Look, I understand that it looked really bad, but Waldorf women are prone to the dramatic. It's nothing." Day two.
"Oh god, again? I don't mean to be rude but I feel like you've been asking me the same questions over and over. Can we just be done? I'm fine!" Day four.
"Get out of my room." Day six.
"I don't care who's here to see me, it's none of their business how I'm doing! Wait. Who did you say is here again?" Day seven.
Dan is at the front desk requesting to see her. Oh god. She thinks she will die if he sees her like this. He can't know how truly fucked up she is.
"Please tell him I'm not accepting visitors at this time."
He comes back the next day, and the next, and the day after that and each time she refuses to see him. The one person who knows how to soothe her soul wants to see her and she won't let him in. Warped logic. Except it's not so warped when she throws Chuck into the equation. How could she hurt him? He's stood by her through this nightmare. Letting Dan in would destroy him. So she refuses.
Her "Big Brothers", as she refers to them, are finally relieved of their duties and she starts to feel some semblance of normalcy. She still has to deal with "The Quack" who visits once daily but there are worse things, she supposes. She's not so bad anyway once you get past the polyester suits and cheap stockings. She's actually quite pleasant to talk to, that is, if you feel like talking.
And maybe she does feel like talking. She tried it a few days ago and it relieved some of the pressure weighing down on her skull. It doesn't mean anything, of course, but there's no harm in talking. It's just words and thoughts formed into coherent sentences and Blair is an excellent orator.
So they talk, and Blair talks, and The Quack talks, and they begin to understand each other. They're not friends, that's not possible for the lines would be blurred. They are patient and doctor and Blair begins to accept this turn of events. She has a psychiatrist. Blair Waldorf (Bass) has her very own shrink whom she sees regularly and talks to until she's blue in the face. She needs therapy and it is helping and one incredible day Blair has a breakthrough.
...
Dan is tired.
He's so very tired. He's spent the last couple of months trying to get his life in order and it's just exhausting.
His first step was to get a sponsor. A real sponsor who wouldn't put up with his bullshit and who'd tell him when he's being a dick, but most importantly would walk with him through sobriety. Because it sucks. His brain is no longer clouded and it's forcing him to view his life in clarity. The edges of who he is are razor sharp and cut those who attempt to get close to him, but he doesn't know how to soften them.
His next step is to stop blaming her for his unhappiness. He is faced with the difficult truth that he will never have the life he truly wants, or rather will never share that life with the person he truly desires to share it with. If he is to have any hope for a contented existence, he must move on. He must leave her behind and in order to do that, he must forgive her.
So he keeps trying to see her, even after she's been released. Even after Chuck has him thrown out of their foyer. Even after his sponsor tells him his behavior is not at all what he'd been advising and it is borderline obsessive.
"But, if I see her I can tell her that I'm sorry for what I said to her. I can tell that there's nothing wrong with her and I never should have blamed her. I can tell her that I just want her to be happy."
"I think you want to see her for the wrong reasons, Dan. You want more than just forgiveness. You want her to know how special she is to you. It's evident in the way you speak about her. You've got to look elsewhere for your own happiness otherwise you're just going to fall back into the same cycle of bad habits. You've got to get back that thing that makes you happiest. That thing that isn't her."
Dan nods his head up and down and wishes that people would stop trying to fix him.
...
Blair is tired.
She's tired of talking, of soul searching, of hearing the truth.
"You're not ready."
She gazes out the window of The Quack's office thoroughly spent from the endless analyzing. She's lazily chewing a piece of peppermint gum and bites her cheek and her hand flies to her face in response to the pain.
"Now don't be so upset, it's not that bad. You'll get there eventually."
Blair rolls her eyes and doesn't correct her mistake. She leans back into the sofa in her psychiatrist's office and wonders if she will ever feel like herself again.
"Blair, listen to me. You look fine. You sound fine. You may even believe you're fine, but you're just as miserable as the day I met you. That is the source of my concern. You have a lifetime of healing ahead of you and you have to face that fact. I want you to take some time and rediscover those things we talked about, those things that made you happy before the baby died."
Blair cringes at her blatant use of the 'd' word. It still sounds foreign to her ears, unrecognizable and muffled. But she understands its meaning now which is more than she could say two months ago.
"I will." Her voice is so quiet it is barely audible.
When she arrives home Chuck wants to know how it went. His concern is admirable but she always detects a hint of dread in his voice, as if he's afraid she'll actually answer honestly. So she tells him she's fine, she's making excellent progress, and the doctor (Quack) seems to think she'll be ready to go back to work very soon. She doesn't tell him about her list.
She had already started it in the car on the way home, nothing written down but it was in her head and it began with the small things. Visiting art museums, eating delicate French pastries with her father (well, doing just about anything with her father), getting up early to watch the sunrise with a steaming mug of French roast in hand (she's sensing a theme), the duck pond, disagreeing about films and actors and almost everything with Dan.
She'll have to forgo the last one.
She moves on to the bigger things. Feeling fulfilled, being powerful, loving and being loved, spending time with her family, spending even more time with her best friends...all of whom want nothing to do with her. Serena is bopping about town being fabulous, Nate is preoccupied with his "paper", and Dan is busy being Dan. She supposes she'll start with the smaller things. It doesn't matter anyway, the whole thing is stupid.
Dan is tired and Blair is tired and somehow they both end up in line at the same snack bar adjacent to the Kandinsky gallery at the Guggenheim. She sees him first and contemplates running in the other direction but the coffee smells so good and she is in need of caffeine. So she stays and waits until he notices her.
He sees her right after he's placed his order and is momentarily stunned. The cashier has to prompt him to pay. He fumbles with his wallet and with his composure before handing the disgruntled fellow a crumpled five dollar bill and telling him to keep the change.
"You a Kandinsky fan?" She breezes out as if everything is normal.
He blinks and thinks she must be joking. "Blair. How-how are you doing? And why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm doing well, thank you. I've been getting some help." The word is loaded with meaning. It's like when southerners say bless her heart but really mean something entirely different like what a slutty little whore, she deserves everything she gets. It's a very un-Blair like thing to say.
"What do you mean by help? Are you seeing someone about it? Are you taking something?" He is desperate to know and it is not lost on her. His eyes dart back and forth between her face and her bag as if he hopes to use x-ray vision to catch a glimpse of her bounty inside.
"I'm getting help, Dan. That's all I care to share with you. It's a private matter." She sounds cold even to her own ears and she cringes slightly at his distressed expression.
"Okay, but are you, I mean," He can feel himself losing his cool and its magnified by her put togetherness. "Are you gonna be okay? I'd just like to know, you know, because that night was...I'll never forget it."
She doesn't know if it's the concern in his voice or the way his foot is nervously tapping, or maybe it's just her own resolve melting, but she reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.
"I'm going to be fine, Dan. You don't have to worry about me anymore. You can," She falters a bit. "You can move on."
He sets his jaw firmly. "Easier said than done." He walks away from her not knowing if it will be the last time he sees her and the thought is devastating.
It's not the last time he sees her.
Dan isn't sure who is happier about it, him or Blair. She's having lunch with Serena, still mending fences and whatnot, when he shows up at the Van der Woodsen penthouse she now shares with Eric. Blair is an accomplished actress so it takes a skilled eye to perceive what's really going on in her head but Dan had discovered her tell years ago when he caught her sabotaging interns at W magazine. There's a split second before she pulls out her act in which her face reveals everything. He saw it as soon as he stepped through the door. It vanished within a breath but he's sure it was there, though he's not sure what to do with the information.
"Hey. I'm here to meet Eric. We're gonna catch a movie."
"Oh. Didn't he call you?" Serena pipes in. "My dad showed up this morning and whisked him off to Connecticut for some "bonding". Whatever. I think he was secretly excited about it though."
"Oh. Okay. I'll just head out then."
"Why don't I come with you?" The words are out in Waldorf fashion and she can't put them back in even though they are the very opposite of what she wants to say. Even though they are the exact words she wants to say.
He's surprised again and it's all over his face but he recovers much quicker this time around.
"Won't Serena mind? Aren't you two having lunch?"
"Oh, we've been together all morning. It's fine, you two go ahead." Serena has changed quite a bit in the last year or so and after this exchange Dan is filled with a rush of affection for her. He smiles at her.
Blair frowns at him. "Don't want to be late Humphrey, let's go."
Sitting in a darkened theater next to Blair Waldorf is sustenance for him. She comments the entire way through the film and doesn't let up after it's over. She blathers on about this actor's performance and that directorial choice and wasn't the lighting atrocious Humphrey?
The same thing happens a week later and the week after that and the week after that. They start planning to run into one another and it feels so familiar that Blair begins to wonder why she ever thought about crossing it off her list. It's so nice to have him here to talk to, to listen to, and to turn her desolate spirit into a blithe one. Even Chuck doesn't seem to mind. Chuck is a good actor too.
They go on like this for weeks, then months, and all the while Blair is rediscovering who she is, and who she was before her world caved in on her. They develop an easy dynamic between them and are regularly mistaken for a couple. When this happens, Blair is quick to correct and dismiss the offender. Sometimes, afterwards, she retreats into her dark place for a few days, but she always emerges, a little bit brighter than before.
It comes as no surprise when Dan's feelings for Blair return in full force. He had known this would happen, had been advised against it, yet some part of him values his time with her more than the pain that will come when she leaves him again.
They are sitting on a park bench by her pond, basking in each other's company, when the moment comes. She's run out of bread for the ducks and Dan offers to run to the market five long blocks and two short blocks away. She stops him from getting up by touching his shoulder, but she misjudges the distance or he moves and she ends up placing the palm of her hand against his cheek. His eyes close and his heart begins to race. They both know what's remained between them and what can't happen. They both know that as soon as they acknowledge it, this is over. The spell will be broken and Cinderfella will have to go back to Brooklyn empty handed and broken hearted. He settles into the bench and slumps over before either of them say a word.
"I don't want to go anymore. To the store." He glances her way, hoping she'll understand his meaning.
"You don't have to go, not for me."
"Oh, make no mistake, I'd be going for the ducks and only the ducks." His sad smile is echoed in his eyes, his posture, every bit of him. "Besides, I really need to make sure those ducks get taken care of. Who'll feed them if I don't get them some bread?"
The duck metaphor is absolutely abominable and it makes her chuckle. And it shatters her.
"The ducks will be just fine, Dan. Maybe they need to learn how to take care of themselves. Maybe they already have and we're just enabling their dependency on us."
"Maybe."
Then he takes her in his arms and crushes her to him, he can't help it. Her arms squeeze around his middle that is too skinny and why doesn't he eat more? Her tears stain his stupid plaid shirt and she can't be sure, but she thinks she feels wetness against her scalp where he has buried his face in her hair. This time it feels resolute. This time they are saying goodbye and actually mean it. This time, it's over.
"Blair, I don't know if I can say goodbye to you again." His breath hitches because he's about to cry and he can't stand the idea of her seeing him like this.
Her finger lifts his chin so that his eyes meet hers and he sees the sum of all that they mean to each other reflected in them. A single tear drips down her cheek.
"You can do anything. You're the strongest person I know."
"No, that's not true. I'm not at all what you think. I can't do it." He's embarrassed because he can't get his emotions under control so he looks away.
Her hands wipe tenderly at his wet face. "You're going to have to."
End of Part Two