168 Hours

It takes one week, one phone call, and one life-threatening illness for Blair to realize she can't hide her feelings for Dan forever.

Important to note: (Spoiler alert) This story takes place after Louis leaves and includes spec.

Friday

7:17 PM, the Loft

The room was silent as Dan sat at his desk, scribbling furiously on a yellow legal pad. He was in the midst of brainstorming characters for his next short story.

Stopping for a moment to retrieve a couple of Advil for his throbbing headache, Dan returned to his desk chair and went over his notes thus far.

Somewhere in between creating the protagonist and the protagonist's rich, athletic best friend, Dan had brainstormed the love interest to be Brooke, a feisty brunette with a dark secret. Immediately identifying the similarities to Blair, Dan ripped the page out and balled it in his fist.

Leaning back in the wooden chair, Dan sighed in frustration. He was annoyed that he wasn't making headway, and the fact that it felt like someone was jack-hammering his skull was not doing him any favors either.

The light from desk lamp piercing Dan's eyes like sharpened knives, he turned it off and rested his head in his hands.

Brainstorming would have to wait.

9:25 PM, Charles Place

"You are too sexy, Blair Waldorf, do you know that?" Chuck murmured against Blair's ear as he ran a hand under her nightgown. There was no denying that Chuck knew how to press all the right buttons to turn Blair on.

Blair arched her back as her lips met Chuck's. "You remind me every day," she purred.

As Chuck's hands toyed with the strap of her garter belt, Blair closed her eyes and relished in the sensation of the warm, calloused hands on her skin. Running her hands up defined arms and back down his slightly stubbled chest, Blair could almost feel herself melting into a puddle of want.

Wrapping her arms around Dan's neck, pulling him close, Blair tilted her head and let his teeth nip lightly at her collarbone. As Dan –

Dan? Uh-oh.

Suddenly aware of what was going on her mind, Blair's eyes shot open, her hands pushing at Chuck's hairy chest.

Chuck drew back, confused. "What's wrong?"

Blair felt the heat rush to her cheeks. "Wrong? Why would anything be wrong?" she asked defensively, words rushed and flustered.

"That's what I was wondering," Chuck muttered, eyeing Blair suspiciously before repositioning his untoned arms on either side her. "Ready to try this again?"

"Absolutely," Blair insisted firmly.

At least that was what she was telling herself.

Saturday

12:42 AM, the Loft

By now, Dan's headache had turned into an all-out assault on his senses.

The moonlight was blinding, drips from the faucet were excruciating, and forget about the churning sensation in his stomach that threatened to push bile back up his esophagus.

"Damn migraine," Dan mumbled to himself, downing another two Advil and chasing the pills with a glass of tap water.

Folding his arms on the cool tile of the island, Dan leaned forward and rested his head. All of this stress triggered by losing Blair was really putting a toll on him, seeing as how Dan couldn't even get through a brainstorming session without having her pop up somewhere in the process. Hell, now he was physically ill because of the situation (at least that was Dan's presumption).

Man up, Humphrey, he commanded himself, fighting back the urge to vomit.

Forcing himself to move, Dan trudged to the couch and collapsed on to the soft cushions. He let his head sink into his arms, willing sleep to head his way.

3:38 AM, the Palace

The moon's brilliant light shone through the sheer curtains of Blair's bedroom. Satin eye mask secured firmly over her lids, Blair rolled over and shrugged the heavy comforter over her sleeping form.

The corners of her lips pulled upwards into an unconscious smile as Blair dreamt - dreamt of Paris in the summer, of an ornate office with her name written on a gold plate, of kissing him while all of Manhattan watched in envy.

He was always in her dreams.

4:59 AM, the Loft

Dan awoke in a cold sweat on his couch, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Though his skin was scorching to the touch, Dan felt as if he'd been doused in ice water. He pushed himself upright in order to check the time.

"Fuck!" Dan shouted as he attempted to move his head. Shooting pains traveled up an extremely stiff neck. He attributed it to sleeping on the couch, a situation with which his father had been intimately experienced (and one which had cost Rufus much in chiropractor bills).

Still, when another intense wave of nausea crashed against his stomach walls, Dan knew he needed more than just a couple Advil and some water.

Come morning, he'd call in reinforcements.

7:30 AM, the Palace

"You're up early, B."

Blair smiled warmly at Serena before turning back to her vanity and applying a second coat of mascara. "I can say the same for you. Hot date so soon in the day?"

Leaning against the doorway between Blair's bedroom and the bathroom, Serena rolled her eyes with a grin. "Not exactly. Eric and I are going to visit my mom and then I'm supposed to have lunch with Nate. What's your excuse?"

Blair looked up at her friend with an innocent smile. "Who, me? I'm only going to meet Cynthia Rowley for a potential shot at becoming her new personal assistant. Nothing particularly earth-shattering."

"Wow, Cynthia Rowley? I'm thoroughly impressed," Serena remarked, coming up behind Blair and playing with her dark curls. "I'm sure you'll do great, B, but how'd you manage this?"

A guilty look crossed Blair's face, her tone audibly despondent. "Chuck," she admitted.

Serena dropped Blair's curls and put her hands on her hips. "What happened to the B who wanted to forge her own way?"

Blair crossed her arms defensively. "She's still here. What happened to the Serena who was going to see her poor, incarcerated mother?"

"Point taken."

Appraising herself in the mirror once more, Serena's words still echoed in her head.

Point taken.

9:17 AM, the Loft

Sunlight filtered through white blinds, shadows falling in horizontal lines across Dan's chest.

"Oh my god," he slurred as he drew his arm over his eyes.

The feeling of malaise was overwhelming. Dan's migraine was present ten-fold and his queasy stomach was doing nothing to help things. Resting supine on his mattress, Dan -

Wait.

Mattress?

Dan uncovered his eyes warily, darted a glance at his surroundings.

When did I go into my room?

No sooner than he wondered what the hell was going on, did his cell phone start vibrating. Dan reached out carefully, retrieving the device from the nightstand with a lead hand.

The cell looked alien in his palms as Dan examined it. "He-hello?" he answered with a confused stammer, closing his eyes yet again.

"Hey!" Rufus' cheery voice spoke through the telephone, the loudness causing Dan to wince, pained. "I was wondering if you wanted to go for breakfast, 'cause I'm dying for some Brooklyn beignets!"

Dan furrowed his brows, not quite comprehending what the voice was saying. "What - who is this?"

Rufus' tone suddenly grew concerned. "Dan, it's me," he said pointedly. "What's the matter with you?"

Try as he might, Dan couldn't focus on anything but how loud the person on the other end was talking.

"Jenny, would you be quiet?" Dan muttered, exhaustion creeping into his voice.

Rufus went silent.

Something was very, very wrong.

AN: I continue to be encouraged by everyone's reviews, so thanks so much! Anyways, there are some things I want to change that I've already written, so if things take a little longer getting up after the next chapter or two, that's why. Okay? Okay!