Author's Note at End Apologizing for the delay.

Disclaimer (which goes for the previous chapters): I do not own Dan or Blair or Gossip Girl. If I did, Dan and Blair would be together by now.

Blair felt oddly relaxed that next Wednesday morning. Though she had spent half the night bickering with Humphrey about what style his future room would embody, she awoke with a zesty Zen that had Dorota eyeing her with suspicion and checking her medicine cabinet for hard drugs.

Kissing her scowling maid on the cheek, she left the apartment for the monthly minion meeting at her favorite coffee shop. The night before, she decided she needed to be early for class and sent out a mass text to meet her half an hour earlier than originally planned. She had sent that text at two am.

She supposed it might be a bit mean to find the prospect of their panic hilarious, but she couldn't stop smiling. The faces of those wandering in late were just going to be priceless.

She strode purposefully into the shop, the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips, when she caught site of Nate and Chuck with two nameless girls in tow. Their state of the dress was disheveled at best, and the interlaced limbs and loud laughs painted the perfect picture of a night that never ended.

It wasn't too long until he spotted her. They locked eyes for a moment too long and suddenly they had the whole party's attention. She ordered quickly, then stood her ground and waited for them to approach her.

"Chuck," she said sharply, "Nate."

She could feel the intensity of his stare on her, raking her skin, trying to force a reaction. She refused to acknowledge it and instead focused her attention on Nate who was attempting to make introductions.

"Jackie, Olivia, I'd like to introduce you to Blair Waldorf. Blair, this is Jackie and –"

"Olivia, I'm guessing," she said coolly, offering a firm handshake to the badly dressed bimbos.

"So, you two are their new favorite flavor of the week. How does it feel to be entirely replaceable?" she asked sweetly.

"Actually, Blair, Jackie and I have been going out for three weeks," Chuck said, gathering Jackie to his side, eyes sparkling with spite, "Looks like it's you who's replaceable."

She would have died before she gave away how much that hurt. She chuckled darkly and said, "Well, I for one am glad I've been replaced in your eyes."

"Oh and why's that?" he spat.

She looked him square in the eyes now, boring into their dark brown depths. "I don't want to be at the end of your rage again," she said bluntly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her comment have the desired effect. Jackie began to fidget, eying Chuck with mistrust and searching for an exit. Nate was looking everywhere except at Blair, his body a billboard of shame and guilt. She didn't really give a fuck what Olivia did, but she noticed her stare pointedly at her friend Jackie with a look that said Danger Will Robinson.

Chuck's stare however was the most unsettling reaction. His whole body went rigid, but he did not break from her gaze. His expression was as unreadable and as cold as ever. Finally, she broke the stare and said, "Poor Jackie though. Sweetheart, I sure hope you have health coverage. Lord knows you'll need it with this one."

She heard her name called by the cashier and stepped away from the group. She was about to pick up her coffee when she felt a fierce grip on her wrist.

"I never meant to hurt you," he insisted.

She wrestled from his grip and spat, "Oh really? Well that changes everything."

"I was drunk and my father—"

She held up a hand, and interrupted him, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a fuck."

"Blair…"

"Chuck, stop talking. You will never convince me that you mean a word you say until you get help. See a doctor, check into rehab, do something differently. But you know what, even then, I still wouldn't go back to you."

"And why's that?"

"Because you sold me for a hotel! You sold me like I was a possession and not a person. And I don't think I'll ever forgive you for that."

She wished for a moment that she didn't know him so well. She could practically feel the rage and fury coursing through his veins as well as the hurt and loss and aching, twisted love. She watched the emotions fill him up, watched his hands form into fists to contain them.

She looked down significantly at his fists. He snarled, "So this is how we say good bye then? Really? After all this time."

She looked up and said, "Yes. Goodbye Chuck."

She grabbed her coffee and strode out of there as quickly as possible.

"Blair, wait!" she heard Nate call.

She did not stop walking. She was putting distance between herself and that shop.

"Blair! Blair!" he called, running up the street, finally reaching her side.

She whirled around to face him. "And what exactly do you have to say for yourself?"

"Blair, what are you talking about? I wanted to make sure you were all right—"

She cut him off, "Oh really. Well, where were you after when you saw him do that to me? Where were you the day after? And the day after that?"

"I didn't…I mean I figured…You're just…You're always okay, Blair. You have people who love you. You have Serena. You have family. He doesn't…"

She barked a laugh. "Well, at least I know where I stand with you now. You know you were my friend once upon a time."

"I still am."

"No actually, as long as you stand by him and his self-destruction, you're really not."

"Blair…I—"

"See you around, Nate," she said, turning on her heel and strutting as far away from the coffee shop as humanly possible.

Her feet were screaming at her when she finally stopped. She ignored their shouts of pain, and calmly hailed herself a cab. When it stopped before her, a switch finally flipped and her poise was drained. Exhausted, she slumped easily into the back seat and held a hand to her head, willing her errant emotions to behave.

When she finally reached her flat, she slammed the door and gave Dorota a look. Without saying a word, Dorota threw her arms around Mrs. Blair, imparting every comfort she could. Blair thanked her quietly and demanded gently that she take the day off.

Dorota was about to protest when Blair took her hands and said, "I just need to be alone for a while. Queen Bee will be back up and running shortly I swear. Don't worry about me."

She laughed a little bitterly and repeated, "I'm always okay."

She didn't wait for Dorota to leave, but instead climbed up and up her spiral staircase. She entered her room slowly, and finally settled down in her comfy window nook overlooking the sea of sunny skyscrapers. She sighed. It was time to make a plan.

Logically, she knew that inevitably both Chuck and Nate were going to be in her life. They danced in the same circles all their lives and that was not about to change. Her little scene was about closure. She needed her grievances aired. She resolved to offer a thorny olive branch the next time she saw them.

Offhandedly, she mused about sabotaging the pair of them, in the same detached manner that most girls ponder which pair of shoes best match their outfit. She crossed her arms savagely across her chest when she decided she couldn't do it. She actually loved them both dearly, the bastards.

This was just a mild case of the blues. She would snap out of it. She would certainly snap out of it before she had to get to class.

She thought about skipping it, blowing it off. She'd seen enough of her peers do it. But then she had higher standards than the average American scholar. She was Blair Waldorf after all. Plus, she also knew that if Humphrey ever found out, he'd tease her about it until she was forced to beat him to death with one of her Manolos.

No, she would go to class and stop by Humphrey's later to see if he'd made any progress. She smiled softly. Thoughts mapped out and heart considerably lighter, Blair grabbed her things in a fabulous flurry and whisked herself out the flat.

The hours seemed to shrivel up quickly in the New York sun and Blair found herself considerably distracted by the time class was over.

She texted Humphrey a quick, "I'm coming over to do damage control."

He responded, "Fine. But you are not allowed to actually burn any purchases I made. I will exchange them if necessary."

"Burning them might be necessary," she typed before calling her secret car service and asking for another temp.

"There's no pleasing you, is there?" he responded.

"Now you're catching on."

When she knocked on his door, he opened it quickly with a stupid, over-exaggerated smile plastered on his face. She was instantly suspicious.

"What have you done?" she demanded.

"Me? Nothing…I just. I needed a comforter all right. I get cold at night."

She scowled. "That's the centerpiece of the room. I bet you just went out and bought the first one you could find at Kmart."

He hung his head a bit and said, "Target."

"I shouldn't even bo—"

"No, come on Blair. I just need some warmth ok. I will throw it out as soon as we get started on the room."

She gave him a look.

"I'm sorry once you get started on the room."

She smiled. Dogs are so easily trained. He sat down like a good boy, and asked, "So what's your plan?"

Without further ado, she launched into a tirade.

When she first agreed to the egregious task, she had begun by trying to incorporate what little she knew of Dan with everything she knew about good taste. It was daunting trying to force the two to intermingle, but she came up with a decent compromise.

Dan was the nostalgic type. A typical writer, he built people, situations, and even time periods up to ridiculously standards in his mind. He deluded himself with dreams of golden ages with golden people. She knew that when it came to his room and work room, she would need to give it a classic, vintage feel.

She spouted off about her brilliant plan for about ten minutes. He finally stopped her when she started pulling out different magazines with furniture marked in them.

Laughing, he put his hands up in surrender and said, "Ok, ok. I trust you. But we can't get all that now. Why don't we just watch a movie tonight and start shopping this weekend?"

She contemplated eviscerating him for interrupting her dazzlingly detailed plan. But his stupid face was so soft and sincere, she yielded. "Fine," she said, sitting down on the couch. "But only because, it's been a long day."

He tried to hide a smile and Blair mused on how he was the least subtle human being she'd ever come across. He sat down next to her, turned on the tv, and went straight to his Netflix queue.

He scrolled down to The Philadelphia Story, and cast a sidelong glance for her approval. She nodded minutely and leaned back to get more comfortable.

"Long day, huh?" he asked her.

She yawned tactfully in her hand and nodded.

"Why?"

She cast him the patented we are not friends look and said, "Just watch the movie Humphrey."

She could feel him getting sullen until he finally snapped, "You could just tell me."

She rolled her eyes and laughed at the hurt expression on his face. She waited for him to laugh it off, but no, he decided to make this awkward. "Oh my god, I just…I ran into Chuck, all right."

She didn't look at him, and kept her eyes focused on the screen. She could feel his gaze and was reminded violently of Chuck. She turned and glared at him. He had the decency to look ashamed.

"That's got to be tough. Is it true about him and what's her face?" he asked gently.

She kept her eyes glued to Cary Grant's face and replied, "Yes. I actually met her today."

She kept her face still and expressionless. She refused to acknowledge his existence while he processed that.

Finally, he turned his body toward her, forcing her to shoot him a look that said big men swathed in white should stick you with needles and lock you away.

"Blair, I give you permission to be a horrible human being," he said like this was the most brilliant idea in the world.

"Excuse me? The number of charity galas I've started and donated to clearly indicate that my canonization should be coming through any day now."

"No, sorry I could have worded that better. I just…I give you permission to rip this girl apart, no judgment."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, cause I'm so concerned about your opinion of me."

"No, but you have that weird idea that you're superior to everyone and weirdly think insulting them behind their back is somehow cowardly."

"Why not do it to their face? You feel that angry about their existence you should share. Silence fixes nothing."

He rolled her eyes at her.

"Like right now. You're already judging me which frankly, I don't understand. How do you judge perfection? Especially when you're so—"

He cut her off, "Ok. I get it. I'm sorry. I was just trying to help."

She was a bit touched, not that he could tell. Her eyes still glued to the television set like it could save her from this sea of awkward.

"Well," she said, pausing, searching for the right words. "I suppose you are not a completely irredeemable human being, Humphrey."

She felt his gaze on her again. In moment of weakness, she turned to see that small, insipid smile on his face. She quickly turned away. "But you still have terrible taste."

He bumped her shoulder with his in a gesture she gathered was supposed to be affectionate. "Thank god I have Blair Waldorf to show me the error of my ways."

"Honestly, you were nearly beyond my help. Thank god you had sense enough to call in an expert."

"Indeed, thank god," he said quietly.

With that last thought, they settled into just watching the movie. Blair sank deep into the couch and let the familiar tones of Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant wash over her.

Before she knew it, the warmth and the darkness conspired against her, sprinkling sand in her eyes until she was fast asleep.

Author's Note:

AHHH you guys I am so sorry this was so delayed! School started this week and getting set up the week before drove me out of my mind. I love all the comments I've been getting I think you are all amazing. DARE TO DAIR PEOPLE. I swear I will try to update this at least once a week from now on. Hope you like this chapter. I tried to make it longer than normal because of the guilt at not posting. Love you all. Seriously. Let's get married in New York. I'll see you next Tuesday.