Title: Silk Lines
Chapter: Ten
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Rating: T
Ship(s): nate/blair, chuck/blair
Summary: It's them together, as it should be – as it should have been years ago.
Author's Note: Very long overdue, yes I know. This chapter is really just a catapult, some might say 'filler', because after all this time focusing on school, I've lost the mojo for this story and now I have to work my way in getting it back. Additionally, I hope no one is confused with what's going on, especially in terms of this chapter, because all the little seemingly random time frames other than 2010 and 2011 from before will start to come in play from now on.
–
Mid-Atlantic, 2014
Nate sits next to the window on the transcontinental flight because he likes the vague sense of privacy it gives him.
Somewhere over the vast ocean underneath him Nate falls asleep, but it's restless, and he squirms around in his seat because he can't get comfortable, and whether of not that's the fault of the recycled plane air or the dream, he's just not sure.
Flashes of things he doesn't know how to feel about anymore fill his head, and while these things loop in their figurative reel in Nate's mind, he's never felt bad about them until now.
Back at the wraparound porch, Chuck is smoking his cigarettes beside Nate, and even though the world is coming apart at his feet, Nate has never felt safer.
His eyes mist in his sleep and Nate feels like an idiot.
Now at Tripp's congratulatory party two years prior, Blair is looking at him like he is a stranger to her.
She's his rock, his tether to the universe, and she's gone. Nate is alone, here, somewhere over the Atlantic, wondering how the hell he made the split-second decision to get onto this plane.
A small bulb casts an eerie light that hits his face, and it's not cold but suddenly Nate feels like he's freezing, and if anyone can fix this, Blair can.
When Nate lands, he's kind of hoping things will be normal.
He expects himself to go back to normal.
Only what happens if he doesn't? What happens, if anything, it just gets worse? And to top it all, he doesn't even know what it is. Nate is only aware that something is not right in his life. Everything... it just feels wrong. Not empty, not unfulfilled, just wrong. Like college, and girls, and finally doing what he has wanted to do didn't set everything right.
It's almost as if all of it had missed something.
Jerking away, he's sweating and fumbling to turn off the light in the compartment overhead, and the first thing Nate sees is the stewardesses eyes on his face.
She stays silent even as his face grows red.
"Sorry," she mumbles, turning away to attend to another passenger, and just like that, Nate knows.
–
Burgundy, France; 2013
It's weird.
Blair hasn't really been celebrating New Years like she used for a couple of years now, and being surrounded by all these French people who Roman claims are here to see her, makes her want to drink as much champagne as she can until her stomach erupts and her head is inside a porcelain toilet just like it always used to be.
Although she loves her father and sometimes even Roman, when he isn't trying too hard to probe into her love life, Blair is having a hard time keeping up small talk with the couple's neighbours.
It may be easy in New York, where everyone gossips around the clock, but here all conversations are mostly always about weddings and new properties for sale in the area and tips on how to grow the best vineyard.
The sound of early explosions draw everyone towards the grand bay windows.
Stopping in her tracks, Blair feels a sense of déjà vu unlike any she has ever felt before; she lets her eyes rest on the brilliant colours that cascade over the dark sky overhead.
Her heart thuds painfully, and drops so far into her stomach, she's almost afraid that she won't be able to find it.
Her father comes up behind her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "What's the matter, Blair bear?"
"Huh?" Blair sniffs, looking up at him sheepishly, "oh nothing."
He doesn't say anything, but comments on how the local teenagers start the fireworks before the New Year actually begins.
She turns back towards the windows and feeling herself getting a little teary.
–
New York, New York; 2014
The moment he is back in the city after his long drive from Bridgeport, Nate walks across the Waldorf foyer, something he's done his entire life.
The entirety of the living room is covered with an assortment of fabrics, all ranging different hues of reds and oranges and somewhere amidst all of it he finds a disgruntled Eleanor.
"Tara, is that you? I called you a hour ago–"
Something tells Nate that his tired look and his wrinkly beach attire aren't going to score sympathy points with the stressed designer.
"Nathaniel," she pauses, pushing her thin glasses up the bridge of her nose, "what on Earth are you doing here?"
"El...– Mrs. Waldorf-Rose," he hastily corrects himself, knowing that he no longer has a reason to address this woman by her first name, "I just wanted to stop by and see Blair."
"She isn't here."
He knows.
"Can you tell me where she is?" asks Nate, getting seriously intimidated by the stern look on her face. "If you don't mind."
"I don't think that's a good idea," says Eleanor, turning back to her work and waving her hand at him in dismissal, "she's doing some work this summer and I'd hate to be the reason–"
"Please," he says, his voice barely coming out in a tone he'd be proud of.
Eleanor stops mid sentence, and it's almost seems as though he's given up his powers, and suddenly the older woman softens a little and stares at him with awe, maybe pride, and something inside Nate swells at the idea that he's done something right.
And as quickly as the look had come, it disappears.
An unfamiliar woman with an armload of bags comes rushing in from the elevator, apologizing that she's late, while Eleanor sighs and says that Blair is at her father's, in France, before shooing Nate away.
–
Burgundy, France; 2013
"I want you to meet a friend of mine," says Blair's father, guiding her away from the fireworks and towards a much older man. "Blair, this is François Tremblay, a colleague of mine at the institute."
Blair smiles, thankful that her memories have at least kept her in check so that she doesn't embarrass her father in front of his friend.
"Blair, your father... has told me so much about you." François greets, clearly struggling with his English. "He says you are... a very intelligent girl."
"Oh, I wouldn't say... – "
"Oh Pish Posh! Don't be uhh ... how do you say ... average?"
"I believe you meant to say modest," she corrects, finding this conversation to be the most fun she has had all evening.
"Of course," he chuckles loudly, startling her. "I was wondering uhh ... with your father's recommendation ... if you would be so kind as to teach at the institute this summer."
Teaching? Blair wonderingly glances up at her father who merely shrugs and starts a conversation with a nearby woman.
She thinks of her NYU major, but immediately doubts that is what needs to be taught at the French law school her father currently works at.
"What subject would you like me to teach? And to whom?"
"English, and a small class ... of night students, mon chérie. God knows I need to be in that class," the old man laughs again, this time the sound echos patronizingly once they enter her ears.
But there are no eye rolls on Blair's part. She would definitely have a more fun summer flying across Europe like she usually does, maybe inviting Serena along with her, and shopping all day while relaxing and having dinner at a fancy restaurant every night.
Does she want things to change? Does she want to be here in a couple of months, most likely boarding with her father and Roman? Blair is not sure. There is a novelty in doing something like teaching, something she's never though seriously about or put into perspective because it is so improbable to her. The thought makes her feel like such a child, all inexperience and innocence despite it all.
Tonight feels like high school to her.
"Perhaps you should think about it, yes?" François nods, biding her a farewell and then disappearing into the rest of the party as the clock counts down till the next year.
–
Burgundy, France; 2014
Again, Nate nearly falls asleep as the train begins to slowly move.
It funny, he thinks, because pursuing Blair like this, seeking her out without a word, is a lot like a train pulling out of its station. It could head back, but why would it?
It's course has already been set.
He's always disliked that about his earlier life, but now the knowledge of seeing Blair again, happy or disgruntled with his arrival, prevents Nate from taking the next flight back to JFK.
The porter announces 20 minutes before they pull into Nate's designated station. Nate's groggy, looking out into the bright afternoon, the sun cascades beams of bright light into the empty seat beside him.
He waits for a taxi at the station which is full of city people coming out to summer homes. He tells a driver the address where he hopes to find Blair. They only get lost twice before a gardener at a neighbouring house directs them towards the correct lane.
The manor is a haven, all white siding against a bright green hill backdrop, with wild flowers framing the stone driveway. The gate to a vast vineyard behind the house is only just visible from where Nate stands now, looking like a dot on the plants in the distance.
Nate closes his eyes and tries to picture the time, years ago, when he had promised Blair he'd come here with her to visit her father.
The memory causes a shiver to run down his spine as he audibly gulps. Nate tells the driver to wait but keep the gas and meter running because knowing Blair, if they manage to speak, their talk won't be long.
With his heart in his throat, Nate shoves his hands deep into his pockets and climbs the orange stone steps to the white front doors. He takes a deep breath, willing his nerves to settle. If there's a any chance whatsoever of having a close to normal reunion with Blair as possible, he just needs to calm down.
"Nate?"
And then he sees her.
The pulse in Nate's neck twitches, he feels the tickling muscles in his chest come to life.
It's a pleasant shock to see how much Blair has aged in the past four years. Her hair is almost entirely several shades lighter, or maybe it just looks that way due to the sunlight. Blair's skin is a milky tanned colour under her yellow cotton dress. But she still has that same expression of surprise that he always knew she had.
Suddenly he has a terrifying thought, as he looks at Blair watching him like he's grown two heads, that maybe she's not comfortable for the reason he thinks.
"What are you doing here?" Blair asks, making her way towards the steps from the backyard gate she has just sprung from.
Clearing his throat and absorbing the heat from the French countryside afternoon, Nate begins to cautiously unravel his guarded thoughts. Perhaps if he keeps silent, he can mask the terror erupting in his stomach, the possibilities of what could happen here if he isn't careful with his words.
He doesn't think he has ever worked this hard to maintain himself in front of anyone.
Aside from realizing a few key details about the past five years during Chuck's visit, Nate has also understood his future.
He also knows that when all this other wooing tactics fail, he astonishingly still has his words to rely on, so before Blair can slip inside the house and slam the door on his face like he did to her a few years ago, Nate falls back on them one last time.
"I was wrong you know," he says vaguely and finds it kind of funny that when it comes to the two of them, he could be referring to many things.
"What about?" Blair questions instinctively, her demeanor instantly tenses.
"She's perfect. She's exactly who I want to be around."
"About whom I wanted to be around – "
"Nate," she warns, her eyes narrowing when he interrupts.
Because he sees her behind her stoic front.
"It's you," whispers Nate, his voice breaking abruptly, "I want to be with you."
"Nate, please..." Blair looks desperate to make him stop but he's already too close to the surface to give up.
"No. I know I've screwed up with you, and had no right to call you out for not having feelings for me," he pauses, watching Blair's bewildered eyes finally focus on him, "what we did ... I know it put you in a difficult position and I'm sorry. I won't ever do it again."
He steps forward and squeezes her soft hand lightly, not to scare her.
"Is that it? Is that why you came out all the way here?" Blair asks breathlessly as she starts to slip her hand away from his grasp. "Is that all you wanted to say?"
"I don't know, you tell me," he replies, fully letting go and walking down the pathway towards the cab.
However, midway he stops and turn around, sees her still standing in a speechless daze at the top of the front steps, staring blankly after him.
"I'll wait however long it takes," he shouts, almost like it's a heroic gesture, before closing his eyes and stepping into the taxi.
She has never made it very easy to stay.
But, that's all right. He has never been very good at walking away.
–
