A/N I'm sorry! This took a while to come together as my muse went AWOL and work was dominating my life. I planned to have this finished before the new season started but clearly I failed! What was once speculative may now be spoilery, so read at your own risk.

Thanks to my wonderful reviewers, you guys are awesome!

And of course, as you know, I have no claim on these characters. I wish I did because, I tell you, all the Chair fans out there would be very unhappy!

Blair awoke to the familiar feeling of Dorota patting her arm.

"Miss Blair, you must get up. You have school."

It took a moment to remember why she was being disturbed. And then another to recollect the previous evenings events.

"I'm sick. I can't get out of bed." Blair rolled over, burying her face into one of the multiple pillows surrounding her.

"Miss Blair, you wrote me note. Make sure you get out of bed and go to class. So I do."

"Nooo, Dorota, you don't understand.' Blair's wail was muffled in the soft down. "My head is killing me."

"Maybe you had one to many champagne, Miss Blair?"

Blair head rose as she pulled off her sleeping mask, revealing an outraged expression expressly for Dorota's benefit. "Blair Waldorf does not get hangovers! I probably have meningitis, my head hurts so much, and you accuse me of drunkenness. Just leave me please, Dorota. I need to sleep more. And bring me some paracetamol!"

She pulled her bedding over her head. A long silence later, Blair heard Dorota walk over and pick up her soiled clothes from the evening before (oh no) and walk from the room, shutting the door behind her.

Oh God. What kind of lunacy had she committed? She had had no intention to seduce Humphrey, until the exact moment she had felt her brain snap and she dragged him into that alleyway. So very undignified. Coming home with Humphrey on her thigh. Blair groaned and writhed in her bed, the weight of her actions overwhelming her.

How could I betray Louis again? I am a loathsome beast!

Her mind traced the activities of the evening before in more detail.

What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking at all…

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

She couldn't deny it; she had wanted him. She had been on edge and super aware of Dan, and his long, lithe body, all evening…and it should have been bad! But it hadn't been. It had been surprising good, as quick and as frantic as the encounter had been. Better than her imagination had let her believe over the time it had been since he had first slipped his uninvited way into her fantasies. His dark eyes and firm lips. Her sudden, savage orgasm. And he had wanted her, too. It hadn't been one sided. Who knew rambling Humphrey could be so direct?

He had been confused when she had walked away from him. But she couldn't seem to find a word to say. So she had just smoothed her skirt and headed back toward the street they had come from.

Dan had followed her. Imploring her to speak. Blair, talk to me. She had been unable to open her mouth, afraid that if she did, she would just fall onto his chest and cry out all the frustration and shame that was brewing inside her. And then let him take her home. Or take him home.

Blair rolled over in her bed, wallowing in regret. Dan must despise her, and she had cheated on Louis again. Oh God, I've turned into Serena.

It didn't have to be Dan. It could have been anyone. Blair shuddered at the thought. It had just happened because I haven't had sex since before I had left Monaco. Louis will get here tomorrow and Humphrey can be disregarded. This is nothing. I've got through worse.

I have to tell him it was nothing. It was less than nothing.

Grabbing the bell off her bedside table, she gave in a furious ring. "Dorota! I need tea, and my blackberry." Dorota came bustling back into the room, placing a glass of water and paracetamol beside Blair.

"You eat breakfast too?"

"No time. Give me my phone. I have to make an important call. Now leave me."

Blair felt her tension increase as she listened to the phone ring and, thankfully, heard his voice rumbling out directions to leave a message after the tone. She cleared her throat. "Humphrey… last night was a big mistake. There will never be a repeat of it and I think it would be best for both of us if we didn't see each other after this." Blair felt her voice grow less clinical. "And you must never, ever breathe a word of what happened. On threat of death. I mean it, Humphrey."

No sooner than Blair had hung up from leaving her message than the phone lit up signalling Humphrey's return call. She felt her every instinct demand that she answer it. She sat up and threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying crack and dropped to the floor in pieces.

"Dorota! I'll be in the shower!" Blair raised her voice to make sure she got her maid's attention. Dorota came back into the room with a tray holding a teapot and a cup. "Put that down, I don't want it anymore. Get me the periwinkle Chloe dress and the lemon yellow headband. I'm going to class."

Blair swung her legs over the side of the bed. "And order me a replacement phone. This one just broke. And I want a new number. It's time to deep cleanse my contact list." She pulled on her robe as she watched Dorota rummage through a drawer. "Not that head band! That's sunflower! It's to match the Marc Jacobs tote! Can't you do anything right today?"

Dorota rolled her eyes. "Yes, Miss Blair."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Sleep eluded Dan for the entire night. Intoxication had faded quickly and he tossed and turned in his bed through the early hours of the morning, playing out the evening's proceedings in his mind, over and over. He should have said no. No, to the bar hopping. No, to the tequila slammers. God, NO, to the hot alleyway sex. She had walked away from him the second it was over. One trite comment and then she hadn't said another word. He had followed her, trying to make her listen to him. Her silence spoke volumes. So full of shame over what they had done, she couldn't even look at him. This was going to be it. They were done.

After he had seen Blair into a cab, Dan walked the longest possible route back to the loft. They were drunk, she was engaged; he should have forced himself to stop. He knew he was fooling himself, even as he repeated this mantra in his head. He couldn't regret what had happened. He only regretted that it would certainly mean she would never talk to him again.

She was vulnerable and he had used her. Or he was vulnerable and he had let her use him. Let her do something with him that he knew she would regret. And the book! Christ!

Dan sat up in his bed, unable to even keep up pretence of sleep any longer. He rolled out of his bed and searched around until his hands fell on the well-thumbed advance copy of Inside that kept tormenting him.

He flipped through it until he found the words he sought.

"I'm engaged to Henri, David." She put out her hand and I could see the big Harry Winston winking at me.

"Then what are you doing here? To show me that thing?"

Sophie looked away. "I guess I wanted to tell you myself."

"My heart's already in pieces, Sophie, you can't break it again."

"David, I miss my friend. I miss you."

"You can't come and say that to me. You want your cake and you want to eat it too. Sophie, you said you didn't need me."

She put her hands on my chest and pushed me through the door. "I'm coming in."

Dan's eyes skimmed further down the page.

She kisses me. I shouldn't want this. But I do and I can't make myself stop. We press up against the wall. This is really happening. Sophie.

Dan buried his head in his arms. It only became more salacious from there. Blair would consider him a complete cretin if he didn't tell her himself. She would think he was trying to ruin her if she found out from anywhere else. Insinuating she was having an affair behind Louis' back. She was probably going to think he was trying to ruin her no matter how she found out.

The resolution Dan had felt, to come clean about the book, now seemed absurd. He was going to have to stop the publication any way he could. He was aware of who the publishers were, but had delayed contacting them, waiting to hear from Vanessa. He had tried her old email and then to get in contact through every university in Barcelona, finally ending up having to send her a letter by post to the address on the back of the letter she had sent him. Nothing had come back.

He had got some legal advice though, from a friend of a friend in Law at NYU, not wanting to give a hint his problem to any of the lawyers involved with the extended Humphrey/Van Der Woodsen clan. He found what he suspected. That he would have to sue the pants off Vanessa and maybe the publishers and the agent to halt the publication at this point.

Dan flipped open his laptop and found the page with the publishers contact details. As he looked around for his cell phone, he heard it start to signal an incoming call, hearing it somewhere near the bed. He started to rummage around, looking for it. It can't be her. It'll be my Dad, for sure. It could be her. He ripped all the covers off his bed to find the phone wrapped up in the sheet. It stopped ringing just as his hand closed on it. Missed call, Waldorf, 07.32am.

Dan immediately called her back. He felt amazement at the possibility he would actually elicit a phone call from her under the circumstances of her behaviour toward him the previous evening. That Miss 'I'll take to my bed for a week after a kiss' Waldorf could want to talk to him.

Get a grip Dan. You're deluding yourself. This will be the 'I Never Want to See You Again' call.

Not surprisingly, Blair's phone rang out and went to her familiar message. Dan was brief. "Blair, I wish I hadn't missed your call. I'll try you later, or please, call me back. We need to talk."

A voicemail alert arrived as soon as he hung up the phone.

He listened to the message. Option B. The I never want to see you again.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Blair can feel herself being monstrous. Feeling a cold snap of satisfaction every time she confuses or outwits someone. Never giving up in her chase to be the most capable, the most righteous, to have the upper hand. The only time she seemed able to connect with herself is when she talks to Serena in LA. The calls were a lifeline. And then they had abruptly stopped. Serena wasn't taking her calls.

There's always a knot of apprehension in her stomach, a tight feeling in her chest. She's constantly telling Dorota that she thinks she's coming down with something.

She tells Louis nothing but distracts him with lingerie and baby talk.

She feels brittle, like the smallest lapse in concentration could make her shatter. She sends her minions on useless tasks, challenging herself to push them and herself to new heights of demeaning activity. She can feel the absurdity of it, but can't seem to make herself stop. Her self-loathing only seems to abate when she feels the sting of humiliation in others. The rest of the time she feels just like a machine.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Dan grimaced as he looked at the result written on his latest paper. He'd have to somehow pull his head out of the clouds if he was going to go on to postgraduate studies. Concentrating in class had become impossible, given the lack of sleep Dan had been experiencing. He couldn't stop weighing up his options: call the lawyer's, or come forward as the author, or stick his head in the sand and pretend he knew nothing about it, or fly to Spain and confront Vanessa or, more appealingly, take the proceeds of the advance from the publishers and just disappear, somehow taking Blair with him. The finality of each of these decisions weighed on Dan to the point he found himself paralysed by the dilemma. Stalemate.

Blair's phone number appeared to have been disconnected immediately after the last message he had sent her. He had gone to her penthouse a few times, trying to see her, but the doorman always insisted she wasn't at home. "She is out with His Royal Highness, Mr Humphrey."

He felt himself bumbling around, always distracted. Avoiding decisions. He knew the right thing to do was to stop publication any way he could, with as little fuss as possible. Settle with Vanessa and the publishers quickly, with a threat of more legal action, if even a hint of the silenced book was heard of. But he felt ambivalent. The book was his trump card. His one way of getting Blair's total attention. An extended love letter, if you like, that she couldn't ignore.

There seemed to be only one choice. Take the decision out of his hands. It had never been his in the first place, anyway. Throw caution to the wind and send her the book.

Dan felt rational for the first time in days. It was about her after all. He had to give her a choice. Whatever she did, would make his mind up. Any action could be interpreted simply. If she were silent, he would come forward and let the godforsaken thing be published, and be damned with the consequences. But he was sure she would feel compelled to contact him in some way. And that was what he would have to hang his hopes on.

He checked the time. The closest post office closed at 5pm so he'd have to scramble to get there. He grabbed his copy of the book and raced out of the door before he could change his mind.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Dan sat in his couch; counting down the hours until he knew Blair would receive the book he had sent her. He was shaken out of his distraction by a loud banging on the door. Surely it was too early for Blair to have got the book and read it. There was no one else he was anticipating at his door.

"OK, I'm coming!" He pulled the door open, revealing a stormy looking Serena.

She marched into the room, thrusting a script against his chest. "I found this, Dan. It was sent as an option to the scriptwriters I've been working with."

He stared at the wad of paper in his hands. There were annotations written all over it. Dan felt dumbfounded. His first thought was wonder at the idea that there were film options even being looked at on his yet unreleased novel. The second was dismay. Everything was happening too fast. Out of order.

"Say something, Dan. It's clearly yours. C'mon. The pool incident? Ms Carr? Even Lily and Rufus. The modern day Brady Bunch with the step-incest mixed in? How could you use what we had, and twist it like that?" Serena's voice rose as she fed her anger. "And the whole Eleanor modelling fiasco? That's when it started, isn't it? Your fascination with her!"

"Serena… I can explain…"

"And you're publishing it as Anonymous?" Serena was shouting now. "Out of all the creepy things guys I've dated have done, this has to top the list." She shook her head.

"Please, Serena, I know it look's bad, but I seriously never meant this to be published."

"Blair lied to me! You both did. How long have you been sleeping together?."

"We didn't…we hadn't. Our relationship in the book is probably the most misrepresented part of it." Serena furrowed her bro and took a deep breath to continue her attack.

Dan cut her off before she could continue. "Serena! I mean, that nothing physical had happened between us, when I wrote the book, aside from the kisses you already knew about. The feelings are all on my part, none of it's based on fact. In fact, I'm pretty certain that she actually hates me now. Or will soon."

"That makes it worse, Dan! It's some fantasy?" Serena walked closer to him. "You thought that being anonymous would protect you? You must think you're Gossip Girl herself!"

Dan put his hands up in surrender. "Believe me, Serena, I never wanted that book published. In fact, I only found out about it two weeks ago. Vanessa took it. Stole it on the night of the St Jude's reunion. She sent it to a publisher and I am currently trying to work out the best way to stop it. Do you seriously think I would wilfully destroy my relationships with my entire circle of family and friends?"

Serena sighed wearily and sat down on a stool. "I don't know what you're capable of, Dan."

Dan rummaged around on his kitchen bench. "Look, here, Vanessa's letter to me." He passed her the crumpled page

Serena glanced over it briefly and passed it back to him. "It doesn't really change anything, Dan. You still wrote it. Was it just a lie, Dan, our relationship? You put five years of our lives into this book and Blair is the centre of it? I won't ever be able to look at you or think about us in the same way ever again."

"I don't think you're alone in that."

"Well, who else knows?"

"Right now? Me, you and Vanessa. But, Blair will know pretty soon, I guess, uh, probably as soon as she gets home today."

"She has a copy?"

"I sent it to her."

"Dan." Serena stood up. "What is going on with you? You are crazy. What do you think you could achieve by doing that?"

"I don't know, Serena. But the thing is, I don't really care what anyone else thinks of this book, except her. Until I get some kind of signal, I'm holding off on throwing myself at Lily's mercy and getting her entire legal team behind me to stop publication."

"Dan, Blair's engaged to Louis!"

"I know that, Serena!"

"I think you should going straight to the lawyers."

"I need to see her. She isn't answering any of my calls or emails. Surely this will guarantee that she at least speaks to me?"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Blair stepped out of the limousine to the increasingly more regular sight of paparazzi snapping her picture. "Ms Waldorf, how are plans going for the big day?"

She did not answer but pasted on a smile and followed Louis's handler toward the door to her building, as he cleared a path through the crowd. Make that her handler, he was becoming as regular a sight as the paparazzi. She felt her irritation rise at the idea that anyone could think that she required a handler. Let them try. The irritation was becoming a constant companion. She should feel more acceptance. More excitement. Louis was here, and they were planning their future. She didn't feel lonely and think about…No.

I have to come clean to Louis. About both Dan and Chuck. And then he can hate me too.

As Blair stepped through the elevator doors to the penthouse, Dorota bustled around the corner.

"Blair, you are late. The manicurist is waiting. I have to go pick up dry-cleaning. Your mail is here, new Vogue you've been waiting for and express mail package."

Blair walked over to the table, intending to get the Vogue to read during her manicure. The parcel sat on top of it. As she picked it up she realised it was Dan's scrawl that detailed her name and address.

She tore open the mailbag to find a book and a short note.

Blair,

I ask you to read this.

And then I really need to talk to you.

Yours,

Dan

Blair dropped the rest of her mail. "Dorota, I'm going to have a nap. Do not let anything or anyone disturb me until I come out of my bedroom."

"But manicurist?"

"Tell her I have a headache." Her voice rose as she marched up the stairs. "And warn the doorman not to tell anyone I'm here!"

Blair lay down on her bed and opened the book. Turning to the first page, she quickly lost herself in the familiar patterns of Dan's writing.

The voice of Dorota startled her. "Miss Blair, you very quiet. You have missed calls from Louis."

"Please, Dorota, I can't talk to him right now."

Dorota looked troubled but withdrew from Blair's room nonetheless. Blair placed the book down and rose to lock the door.

Later, Dorota called through the locked door. "Miss Blair, Serena is here!"

"Tell her anything, Dorota, I can't see her. Tell her I'm contagious."

Blair turned to the last page to find Dan's hand written postscript.

Blair, I can't compete with a prince. The only thing I don't regret about this book is that it has to be clear to you that you are not second to Serena in my eyes and will never be.