Dear Fanfiction-readers,

I want thank you for following, reading and reviewing my story and I hope you aren't too impatient with me for updating as slowly as a slug passes a street. It means a lot, so thanks again!

Anyway, here we have the sixth chapter, ladies and gentlemen:

Chapter Seven. You and I


(Disclaimer: I own none of the characters except Eliot and none of the characters own me)

Suddenly clouds covered the sky and it started to rain heavily.

Nate had heard of these abrupt bursts of rain – they were typical for the jungle. But knowing that didn't make him like them any more; in less than a minute he was soaked to the skin and began to freeze.

On top of that the phone was ringing, Dan was bleeding and he felt like he had woken up from the worst hangover ever. He felt nauseas, his head was spinning and the damn rain didn't help his cause exactly.

He wondered if he should pick up the phone and answer. But he had no idea who was calling. It could be someone of help. But it could also be someone who was better off not knowing what they were doing with the phone in the first place. For all Nate knew, they could have crashed into a secret military facility and the phone was to be used only in classified missions.

But he couldn't let their perhaps single chance of getting out of here go to waste.

He pressed the green button and held the phone to his ear, listening intently.

"Hello?" He asked, a little uncertain.

No reply.

Nate heard only the whisper of the rain on the leaves, croaks of frogs and other jungle noises. But the caller was silent. And it didn't matter how long Nate waited – there was still nothing on the other side. After a while, the quiet began to creep him out, so he hurriedly pressed the red button and threw the phone as far away from himself as he could.

No help there, then.

He leaned his back against a palm tree and tried to recollect himself.

Eventually, the rain subsided and sunshine filtered through the dense leafwork above him. Heat returned to the jungle again and soon the air was of its original state – moist and warm.

He turned his attention to Dan, suddenly remembering a good friend of his was lying wounded next to him. The croc had bitten into Dan's calf, but fortunately not bitten it off or Nate would have had a really big problem on his hands. He was no doctor, not even close to it, but even he could tell by mere glance that Dan would survive this, even if the injury did look ugly.

Ripping the sleeves off his shirt, he wound the cloth around the bite as securely as he could after rubbing off the blood with a leaf, then picked Dan up from the ground and tried to half-carry, half-support him on their way back to camp.

On their way back – if rescue wouldn't come – home.


It was evening when Blair woke from a slumber she had slipped into while lying next to Chuck.

Chuck.

There finally seemed to be peace between them. And she liked it. She loved it.

Or more correctly, she loved him.

She looked at his face, stained by the light of the sunset. Asleep it was so calm and young and handsome. If only she could freeze this moment and stay with him forever on this beach, looking out over the ocean, holding hands and just being. But that was of course too much to ask for.

And if they were saved, things would change and probably for the worse. The atonement they had achieved would probably be forgotten and their usual drama would come back, the heartbreak she had gotten used to by now and the fire that at the same time sparked their relationship and scorched them.

Slowly, she got up and crept over the beach, past the slumbering Serena and the comatose Eliot, to the place where the sand met the jungle. There they stored all the goods from the plane and here was also her makeshift beds.

After digging through the bag of plane stuff, she found what she had been looking for.

A bottle of gasoline and a match box.

Someone had to start the bonfire that would draw the attention of passing planes, ships and copters. And that someone had to be her.

Somewhere along the way she had decided that she'd had enough of being old bitchy Blair who needed minions and admirers to feel like somebody. Her new self would draw strength from other sources. She would become a helluva strong woman and she felt she could start her journey to become that woman by starting a fire.

It took her a couple of hours to find enough firewood to build a heap of a decent size, but she was glad when she was done, even though her clothes were dirty and torn and her carefully painted fingernails broken.

She stood back and admired her work.

Nobody back in the real world would have believed that Blair Waldorf – the Blair Waldorf – had actually made this. With her own hands.

She poured the gasoline over the sticks and branches, wrinkling her nose at the strong odor.

She felt excited, elated even. Finally her life didn't seem to be orbiting around her mommy issues, Chuck or her friends and enemies. Finally she felt free and alive and badass.

Lighting a match, she looked at the tiny flame at the point of the match for a second. This used to be me, she thought.

Then she threw the match. The tiny flame made an arc in the darkening air and landed on top of the pile. With a hiss, it immediately consumed the gasoline and in less than a minute the whole pile was on fire, burning first blue, then bright, bright red.

And this is who I'll fight to become.

She stood in lee of the wind so that the smoke wouldn't come her way and choke her. A smile spread over her face.

Though if she would have known what consequences her little triumphant fire would have, she wouldn't have smiled at all.


That was all for today, people.

Please come back, leave a review or two, whether its hate mail, constructive criticism or a kind word, I'll welcome it all. Especially as the review section of this story is drying up like a desert in summer. And remember, authors are blind to their own mistakes, so I need all the help I can get. You up for it? ;)

Music: You and I (Ingrid Michaelson)

Have a lovely day!

Goodbye and good luck,

CheeseSwiss