"There are two sighs of relief every night in the life of an opera manager. The first comes when the curtain goes up. The second sigh of relief comes when the final curtain goes down without any disaster, and one realizes, gratefully, that the miracle has happened again."

~Rudolf Bing

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Blair woke up for the third week in a row to the sun glaring through her shades. It wasn't really bothering her anymore. In fact, she felt relief. Relief, and something else. Nate shifted next to her, but she barely felt it. He felt so far away from her. Or she felt so far away from him. Her shape barely made an indent on the bed, betraying the fact that she had barely eaten in awhile, and when she had, she had thrown it up immediately.

On mornings like this, she would spare no glance at Nate as she got up and dressed, leaving the apartment as he was just starting to stir. This morning, she sat and thought. She had refused to have sex with him. Again. Blair didn't exactly know why she kept refusing to have sex with Nate. Last week it was because she was tired. Thursday she was sick. And last night, she had barely given a reason at all. Nate didn't even ask her anymore. They just went to bed, opposite sides, not touching at all. Goodnight on both ends. Then, as if their minds were connected, the lights turned off simultaneously at 9:45 PM. It was a well-choreographed dance, a mark of her obedience in this hollow life. For god sakes, it was a mask. Nevertheless, it was a mask that, until two nights ago, Blair had refused to take off or even think about removing.

Maybe she just was comfortable living in her fairytale, with her prince in her castle. That's what she forced herself to think on the nights when she would stay up until the early hours of the morning, when Nate thought she was peacefully asleep. These nights weren't lonely. Oh, no. They were so much more than that. Loneliness is missing something or someone you have. No, this is so much worse. This was a pull. A magnet pulling her to leave the apartment and run.

On these nights, she made plans. Or her heart made plans, while her mind told her off for making them. It was a constant stream of winding and unwinding until Nate woke up and she pulled on a smile, stiffly rose out of the bed and left the apartment. But no matter how many times she ignored these plans, unraveled them, she couldn't seem to stop making them.

She would wake in the middle of the night. Around 3 or 3:15 AM. Quietly, she would make her exit, wearing a nightgown and moderate coat, for it was still chilly outside, and some not-too-high heels. She would bring nothing. Nothing to tie her down, hold her back, remind her of what she had left. She would walk, not run to Madison. She wouldn't take a cab. This was something that needed walking. The Palace would look old and majestic, a castle to her, and she would again be reminded that this was always what she wanted. It was with whom that mattered. A man dressed in black with white, gloved hands would open the door. The concierge would be friendly, would know her name. The elevator ride wouldn't take long. She would step into the hall, which would be slightly darkened. Room 1812 would stand majestically at the end of the hallway, waiting to be chosen, begging for someone to care enough to put their hand on the golden knob and turn, not afraid of what they might find behind the door. The door taunted her, but at the same time it called out desperately with need. Needless to say, the door fascinated her. She would stride, not purposefully, but ashamed. She was obedient in this hallway, but it was not the same obedience as the apartment. In this hallway, she knew what she had done wrong. The door waited, the gold doorknob gleamed, not menacingly, but invitingly. She reached her hand out and turned it, expecting for the darkness inside to swallow her whole. The darkness inside the apartment wasn't scary, it was welcome. It was a void, a place where no one could feel anything. As she took a step, the black fog, smoke, particles, whatever it was, moved. She made a path through the dark living room to the bedroom, leaving a line of light behind her. There was less darkness in the room each time she visited it. In this most recent plan, there had been little blackness covering the form on the bed. But on her first visit, she had shivered at how much darkness filled the room. A thicker veil cocooned the figure on the bed warmly, wrapping him up in a void of non-emotion. She went and she sat and she touched the veil and it budged a little. She had to push for hours, days, years, before she was able to break small holes throughout the shell and reach the body within. The blackness cracked and fell off the boy as Blair cocooned him in her own type of shell. The beauty of the boy was not lost on her. He was not a man, a teenager, or a lover. He was just a boy and he didn't know what love was, or what he would do with it, even if he felt it. Holding him made him stronger, and as she held him he shined just a little more. The embrace wasn't sexual in any way. However, it was extremely intimate and anyone who saw this encounter would leave, feeling that maybe they had intruded on something so private and priceless as this type of love.

He would wake from his slumber and look at her, and maybe he would smile, maybe he wouldn't do anything at all. But either way, as she leaned in to kiss him, he responded with more passion and emotion that she had used to shine through his shell in the first place. His lips would transfer all pain, sorrow, happiness, regret, and love to her. And through this one body part, the truth spilled out, through his lips, into hers. She would break from him and they would stare at each other and it was passionate, heated, alive. They would make love. Not just have sex. They would make love, and they would fall asleep in each other's arms. And in the morning, the sun would shine through the shades, but Blair wouldn't notice because Chuck would block it out. And she wouldn't have to leave, she wouldn't have to pretend anymore, because the truth had passed between them the night before. From his lips to hers.

Maybe it wasn't all so simple like that. But Blair was not going to be a coward anymore. She would face up to the truth. She would give her ultimatum. Blair had a plan. She was sure it was a bad plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. It would hurt both Chuck and Nate, but she needed to go through with it. It was the only way that this would be done for once and all.

On these nights of plans, it was more often than not raining. Blair took this as a sign. The conflict raged outside, as she felt nothing inside. This shelter that Nate had created felt like she was trapped. Maybe she had always wanted to be loved, cherished, protected. But in this apartment, she was void of emotion as well as trouble. The truth was, Nate still didn't trust her. He would never trust her again. And Blair wasn't quite sure whether she could live with that.

The relief spread over Blair once again. She had made it through another night without leaving. Without running back to Chuck. Her raveling and unraveling had worked. Being productive was usually Blair's forte, but now she took a certain pleasure in being unproductive. Blair felt relief. Relief and something else.

Maybe I'm just too scared. Maybe she was scared. No. Maybe she was terrified. Terrified of what it would do to Nate. What he would think. What he would do. What everyone would say. Blair was scared because if she carried out her plan, she would not be able to hide anymore. She would have to face the truth. And admitting to the truth was always the first step to vulnerability.

Blair slowly and meticulously dressed and paced to the kitchen where she filled her mug with coffee and grabbed the New York Times, before sitting on the couch and curling up to read.

Nate yawned and stretched in the other room as he looked to his side. He wasn't surprised to find that Blair had already woken and left. However, once he was done dressing, he was surprised to find her in the living room, reading. She looked engrossed in her article and didn't even notice him enter. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't frowning. Her face was a careful mask of non-emotion. It didn't make it any easier for what he was about to do.

"Blair," he said as he got a cup of coffee and stood by the chair opposite the couch, not sitting down. He was afraid of sitting down. If he sat, he might lose it.

Her eyes found his and she smiled. He saw the stiffness of the smile.

"How did you sleep?" he asked. He asked this every morning. And every morning her answer was the same.

"Like a princess," she smiled. He nodded but didn't respond. She eyed him carefully. "What's wrong?"

Nate sighed. This would be a long talk. "Blair, we need to talk."

She looked at him and nodded slowly, gesturing for him to sit down. He took the seat reluctantly. "I know you didn't sleep well last night-"

"Nate," Blair said, a smile in her voice, but he cut her off ,giving her a look that let her know that he needed to say this.

"I know you didn't sleep last night. Or any other night for the last three weeks. But you can't keep going on like this. I know losing the baby has been painful, but you need to open up. Let someone in."

There were tears in Blair's eyes as she thought of her and Chuck's child that she had lost. Because she was too weak.

"Who?" Blair whispered as she looked down.

"That's what I want to talk about," Nate said, getting up and sitting down on the couch next to her. He placed his hand over hers and lifted her chin. "You are Blair Waldorf. You are strong and you will make it through this. I know you can. But I can't help you."

Blair's tears overflowed now. "Who then?"

"I know…." Nate started, then he looked down. This was a serious blow to his pride, but he didn't love Blair like his best friend did. He didn't deserve her. "I know about you and Chuck." He looked up at her and she eyed him, probably looking for any cracks in his mask, trying to find any signs of what she might do to her or Chuck now that he knew. "I know that it wasn't my baby, Blair. I know it was Chuck's. And I know that you stay up every night thinking about him."

Blair just stared at him, tears streaming down her face. "I want you to be happy," Nate whispered. "This will make you happy. I need you to be with Chuck, and not as a game this time. I need you to be together for real, because when you're not, I forget that you love him and he loves you and I have no business here. Maybe I never did. Maybe I was just another one of your pawns on the way to the prize in one of your little games with Chuck." Blair tried to tell him that he was far from that, he was their friend, but Nate's eyes shut her up. "You two need to work it out, and for real this time. I love you. But I'm not in love with you, Blair. I never will be again. I need you to be happy and the only way that will happen is if you stop being afraid to open that door and leave. I'm sorry I've stopped you from doing that for so long. I know I'm only getting in your way now. I'm sorry for not trusting you the way I should have. But truth be told, we were never meant for each other. And from the moment Chuck saw you, I knew. His eyes gave it all away. You were his first love and for him, you're it. You just need to believe Blair. You need to believe that when you open that door, the darkness won't swallow you up."

Nate finished his epic speech. This was more than she and Nate had said to each other in awhile. Blair was shocked. She pulled one of her hands out of Nate's and wiped her eyes. They looked at each other for a second. Then Nate got up and kissed her on the head before walking away. He opened the door as he passed.

Blair remained seated for a long time.

You need to believe that when you open that door, the darkness won't swallow you up. Darkness had always seemed to be such an unfriendly object. With darkness came fear, rejection, uncertainty, cold, unhappiness, and most of all, loneliness. She resented the darkness for all of these things. But she wasn't scared of it. She hated it. And those were definitely two different things. As the sun set on the Upper East Side, Blair's face began to be obscured in shadows until she decided to get up, go to the bedroom and pack. Nate followed her with his eyes.

"So you're breaking up with me?" Blair choked out after she threw all of her things in her two suitcases. She hadn't brought much here with her, and she wasn't leaving with much either.

"I'm letting you go," Nate sighed. "That's what I'm doing."

Blair stared at him unhappily for a few minutes, not breaking the tension.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"My grandfather had arranged for me to have a home closer to Columbia in exchange for my consent to be put in a position at the mayor's office," Nate said.

Blair smiled for him. "He has also arranged for you and Chuck's flight tomorrow evening to Tuscany. I hope both of you will be in attendance." This was said with more formality, however there was a pinching of the nose. Blair wasn't sure how to acknowledge everything that he had done for her tonight.

Blair looked at the clock. 9:45 PM. Blair dropped the suitcases and ran at Nate, enveloping him in a hug, then kissing him on the forehead. She kneeled down and kissed him softly for the last time. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead on his and whispered, "Thank you." Then she was gone. Nate put his head in his hands, then called his grandfather.

"It's done," he said.

"Good. I'll have everything moved tomorrow. The plane tickets are ready to go whenever she feels the need to pick them up. You did right by her, Nate. Don't be too hard on yourself." With that, the phone clicked and the conversation was over.

The door stood in front of her and called to her. She shied away from it, scared again. But it frowned at her and pouted, hoping to coax her out of her shelter. Relief and something else. That something else, Blair now knew, was disappointment. She was saddened by the fact that she had woke up this morning and she was not at the Palace in 1812, and that she was in fact still in Murray Hill, in a stiff, empty apartment, with someone she didn't love. That disappointment was now driving her. She looked up at the sky as she left the building, baggage in tow that Chuck would just have to accept. Night. Darkness. Perfect.