Author: Lauren.

Rating: Rated M.

Character/Pairing: Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

Summary: Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

Disclaimer: GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

Author's Note: I probably could have split this into more than one chapter, but what the hell, I'm feeling generous. Let me know what you think.

"Look at those perfect little toes," Blair's whispering even though she isn't sure why "And her lashes. Pure Serena."

She and Nate are looking at the tiny bundle of joy through the window of the hospital ward and Blair can't stop gushing. Usually babies always looked so squished and annoyed to her, but this one, of course this one is gorgeous. I mean, all of those good genes had to end up somewhere right?

Serena was still sleeping off the sedatives in her room, drifting in and out of conciousness so they'd decided to go and coo at the new baby. Everything in the hospital felt so bleak but standing here, in front of a wall of tiny, fidgeting people, all she could feel was happy.

"Imagine when it's our tiny human," Nate whispered, lacing his fingers through hers "I feel like someone will stop us and say sorry you aren't old enough to take this little one home," he chuckles, not taking his eyes from the rows of cots "Imagine."

Blair looks at him with a long moment. Sweet, sweet Nate. So excited, so hopeful, so downright terrified. And rightly he should be, first time Dads deserved to be frightened. But he was being so sweet about it, she couldn't help but kiss his stubbly cheek. He needed a shave.

"I know. You have to promise that you won't let your Mother or mine into the apartment for at least 24 hours, I want to avoid their judgements as long as we can."

"Pinky promise," he replies, squashing her fingers between his.

Their first few hours in the hospital had been so fraught, doctors and nurses rushing in and out of the birthing suite, calling for complicated sounding medications, lights flashing, beeps beeping. They had alternated being in the room with her, mostly because she kept getting irritated and demanding someone else swap. Serena had been like a conductor, swirling her arms and asking for ice chips, for cold cloths, for someone to braid her hair back. That had been Blair's job obviously.

And then her little girl had arrived and time had slowed right down and all of the earlier stress and worry seemed to melt right away. Holding her Blair could feel her tiny heart beating and she curled her soft little fingers around Blair's and in that moment, she knew that she'd spend the rest of her life protecting this person. And her second realisation was that if she felt like this about her best friend's baby, how overwhelming would her feelings be about her own. Then she'd cried.

She was in the kitchen. She was in the kitchen, and the radio was telling her that New York was breezy today, with highs of six and a chance of rain.

The smell of bergamot from the freshly brewed Earl Grey she'd made fragranced the air. She was also making a pot of coffee because although she'd been trying to cut down on caffeine, Nate had been upping his intake.

And then suddenly her feet were wet. She looked down at her pedicured toes, for once she'd gone wild (wild for her) and chosen something other than nude or pale pink. What was this colour called? Her pedicurist had been surprised, had raised her perfectly threaded eyebrows but Blair had insisted. She'd chosen a sweet pale blue instead, what was it called? All of the OPI colours had such cute names, old Blair would never have admitted to liking them. I Am What A Amethyst, that was it.

She walked to the foot of the bed, Nate was still sleeping. For a second she'd considered not waking him, he'd been working so much lately, what with her due date sneaking up so fast and all. But she had to wake him.

"Nate," her voice started as a whisper and got slowly louder "Nate, honey, Nate."

He sat up in bed, hair ruffled, eyes unfocused. "Yes sweetheart?" he scrubbed at his face with a palm "What is it? What do you need?"

She could have melted just then, he was always asking what she wanted, what she needed. But she was trying to stay calm, trying to focus. "I didn't want to wake you but I think my waters just broke."

Six pounds seven ounces of pink, tiny perfection. Her body felt achy and broken and somehow, more whole than in her entire life. It was taking the last little dregs of energy she had just to hold him but here he was. Her son.

They hadn't argued about the name, like she'd thought they would. Months of lists and books and research. She'd scoured their family trees for inspiration, trying to find something that would fit. They both wanted something special, something perfect. And in the moment, she'd sighed and laid her head on Nate's shoulder and her hand had found his forearm, where he'd rolled up his Brooks Brothers shirt and she'd said it. "I think we should call him Fitzwilliam," his eyes were light on her face "Fitz."

And somehow, that was it. Little Fitzwilliam Harold Archibald.

Serena's marriage was over. She isn't even sad, just keeps telling Blair she's fine and that all she wants is a chilled glass of Pinot, wouldn't that be lovely?

But Blair didn't really believe her. Although this new hard edged Serena could pretend she was fine (God she hated that word) Blair knew her. Knew she hated to fail. And once Page Six got wind of this, it would all be real. But for right now, Serena and little Annabelle were staying at the Waldorf-Archibald residence in a safe bubble.

Swaddled in a Burberry ruffled dress and bloomers set, Serena's daughter gurgled in her arms and her Mother smoothed back her hair, which would no doubt be golden in a few years time. Born a week apart, their children would go to school together, play together and probably re enact their parents childhoods.

Dan had visited several times, standing awkwardly until Blair insisted he hold her son. And once seated, he'd settled right into it, making Fitz laugh and stroking his cheeks and ticking his toes.

Blair had started tennis lessons again, anything to get out of the house with a purpose other than wandering Fifth avenue with Fitz in a stroller. Nate had to return to work a week after the birth, although she suspected it was mainly because he was going stir crazy at home. And what with the frequent visits from her Mother, and having Dorota during the day and her Father popping up unexpectedly, the apartment had become a bit of a circus.

Then there was Serena and Annabelle and the Humphreys who seemed to be there on a rotating basis. What with all of that, their home had started to feel very small.

So somehow the even thwack sound that the ball made as it hit the court made Blair feel centred. As much as she resented some of the other players, mostly there to swish their skirts and not actually play.

She's in the dark place again. She doesn't know how it happened exactly, but here she is all the same. There's this gnawing feeling in her stomach, like when she was sixteen and she didn't eat for three days but somehow, somehow it's worse than that. That felt manageable in comparison to this.

Blair always wondered what the phrase bone tired meant but now she gets it. Exhausted, deep down in the very tissue of your cells, where it takes an unholy amount of effort just to raise your head. She's cold all of the time and no matter how many cappuccinos she threads her fingers around, the warmth never seems to seep in.

Dan comes over and he doesn't say anything, just passes her the coffee she hadn't asked for and settles himself beside her on the couch, the beautiful couch that her Mother helped her special order from Paris.

"Blair," his hand, his hand is so warm and it feels like sunshine on her fingertips "I'm here for you. I always have been."

And it's as if she's awake. As if the curtains have been drawn back and as if she's seeing him for the first time. "Yeah, you have, haven't you." It sounds like a question but they both know it isn't. She leans forward, all the way forward until their foreheads touch and she can feel his breath, hot on her lips. "Do you love me?"

His eyes, she'd expected shock but he softens and there's sadness there. "You know I do."

The baby is crying and he slides away from her "I'll go." And he does, he does go, to the sound of her child wailing.