Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Guess what? I still don't own Gossip Girl or these characters.

A/N: Thank you for all the positive reviews for this fic! :) As to answer the question who Milo's mother is: I was going with Georgina, so it's basically like in S4 where she leaves the both of them. But that won't play a big role in this fic, at least not in the chapters that I have already planned and partly written. Enjoy this one and let me know what you think :)

"Crap."

Oh, crap. What has she done? Why has she let him go?

"Stupid, stupid idiot, Serena." She growls.

She knows it's not too late to catch up with him. He's only just disappeared around the corner and, judging by the look on his face, he has absolutely no idea where he is. She knows these streets well, and he's still groggy from being knocked out that it wouldn't take much to knock him out again. To kill him like she's supposed to.

But he has a son.

He's all I've got and I'm all he's got.

Serena runs her trembling hands through her hair, jaw clenched as her fingers tighten and tug so that it hurts. Dammit. What is she doing?

It's just- It's so much like- She just can't do it.

She can't take a parent away from their child, not when they're so dependent on eachother.

Her fingers find the ring she wears on the chain, brushes across the small metal that she raises to her lips, closing her eyes and sighing. It's too- too close.

Too close to her and her murdered dad and her drunken mom-

Stop it, Serena.

She turns away and hurries back through the dirtied alleys that had led her here. Her hands are itching for blood, his blood, but her heart is ruling her head and that's not okay, that's never okay, because the last time that happened-

"Dammit!" She cries, kicking the trashcan beside her and sending garbage everywhere and her voice echoes through the dark streets.

Serena squeezes the bridge of her nose with two fingers, taking in one large, deep breath to steady her emotions and her escalating heart rate. She can feel her pulse throbbing in her fingers and she clenches her jaw, so angry with herself for letting some damn stranger get to her like this. This isn't what she does. This isn't her at all. Maybe once it was, letting the victim get to her - but not anymore. She doesn't have any space left in her heart for compassion.

When she opens her eyes, her car is before her, and her eyes settle on the hefty sum of cash in the large non-descript duffel bag. She has that money for this job. She got this job because of her reputation. Serena can't let her reputation that she's worked so hard to build crumble all because of the fact some guy is a single parent.

Idly, she wonders how many of her other targets have children that she didn't know about. Has she led them on a path to destruction? Has she led them on the same path she was forced to take?

But she has a reputation to uphold. She needs this job.

So impulsively, Serena slides back into the car and speeds away, determined to forget and kill.

When Dan gets home, he's exhausted, drained and weary to his bones. Milo is already asleep - he's not surprised, considering the time he managed to figure out where the hell he was and get a taxi back was a couple of hours at least - and he's fairly certain his father is out and the Nanny's already home. Otherwise they'd be in the kitchen area with a glass of wine, grinning over the rim and asking him how the party was.

Instead of crawling into his bed, he finds himself walking to Milo's room. The boy sleeps peacefully, blissfully unaware of the trauma he's recently been through and still having a little trouble processing.

But it isn't enough. He just needs to be close to his little boy.

As quietly as possible, Dan crosses the room until he's close enough to check that he's still breathing, chest rising and falling slowly, skin still unmarred without bruises or any other damage. The thought seizes his heart and he reaches out, presses one hand on his soft cheek.

If someone wants him dead, do they want to harm him too?

Well, he'll never allow it. Ever. Whoever wants him dead can't even dare think about harming Milo.

Beneath his touch, the little boy stirs, green eyes falling open sleepily to stare at him with a frown. "Dad?" He mumbles, voice laced with sleep.

"Sorry, Milo, go back to sleep." He tells him quietly, crouching down and pressing a kiss on his forehead.

Milo sniffs and smiles slightly and within moments he's asleep again.

Dan leaves then, not before checking that his windows are locked, closing the door behind him quietly. He then precedes to make sure that all windows and doors of the loft are locked, heart heavy at the thought of anyone trying to get to Milo.

He attempts to sleep. Lies sprawled out on his bed staring up at the ceiling, wide awake. But it doesn't work. Nothing works. He's on red alert, jumping at every creak in the loft and ready to protect Milo no matter the cost. Because something is going on, someone wants him dead for no reason whatsoever, and despite the fact he's still alive that doesn't mean they're not going to try again.

Besides, every time he closes his eyes, piercing blue ones appear in his mind.

He can't have that. He can't allow himself to- to what? Be attracted to some sexy yet extremely dangerous woman who held him hostage? How is that even possible?

It's just the look on her face when he mentioned Milo that had caught his eye. That mask slipped, albeit briefly and he'd seen flicker of compassion. Soft eyes. Regret in the twist of her lips.

And that mysterious cloak she wore without realizing. He was just itching to know everything and it was probably the writer within him, but he knew that there's a story there. If there's one thing he's learned throughout life, it's that there's always a story. No matter how small or how large, no matter how simple or complex, there is always a story.

A story.

So that's what he does.

He creates her story. It's probably all wild theories of course - CIA? FBI? Ninja Assassin? - but it's something. And it keeps his mind active whilst satisfying the writer within him that he had been burning through his veins to leak out since the moment he had laid eyes on her.

It's not until he's standing before his interactive screen taking a break that he realizes he's making out as though it's a novel for him to write.

Sabrina. That's her name in his story. Because Serena had a nice, strong ring to it and it's the only thing close enough that doesn't give away her true name.

Beside the name he has a basic profiling and he's already written her backstory. An FBI Agent who has been sent to warn him off his next book, the murders are being used by a copycat killer that they've kept quiet. She's just meant to threaten him, scare the absolute crap out of him until she manages to catch the real killer. This is the first time he comes up with a crime story about himself as mystery writer and an FBI Agent, he usually writes about the society and dramatic love stories, but she's addictive and he has to write this way about her.

The rest of the night he spends writing for her, quenching his thirst quite considerably even though his body is all but begging him to stop and sleep.

But he can't stop writing, it's addictive, just as she already is.

"It was always the same for her when she arrived to meet the body..."

The next morning, Serena ignores the 3 missed calls on her phone from her mom - probably just drunk talk about how she's definitely going to get sober this time - showers obscenely quickly to rid the itching feeling on her skin and moves onto her weapons.

This is it. Today is the day to kill Dan Humphrey. Whether she likes it or not.

Using her switchblade is out of the question of course. There's no way she can get close enough to him without seeing her and bolting.

Something long-range then.

Even as she picks up the sniper rifle and feels the cool, reassuring power of the rifle, the scar on her chest burns brightly. She shuts her eyes against the pain, grits her teeth when she feels the tears start forming. It's all psychosomatic, Serena, she reminds herself. It has to be. The scar from the bullet hasn't burned for so long now. Over a year.

Without giving herself even more chance to dwell on it, Serena swipes the tears from her eyes and straps the rifle to her back. Briefly, her hand settles on her old Glock, feeling a sentimental twist in her heart. For a certainly crazy moment, she feels her fingers reaching for it, wishing to use her trusted weapon.

But no. She hasn't used this since...A very long time ago.

Serena turns her back and walks away. She has no time for sentiment anymore.

A/N: There's always more to the story then you already know ;) I was struggling with adding the fact that Serena's Dad got killed and that she got shot, but I did it in the end, because I think it can certainly add some more drama and it could possibly explain why Serena is this way and why she's doing this job aka being a professional assassin in the first place and maybe I watched too much of another tv show that inspired me too add that :p I might regret that decision sooner or later, but what's done is done :) I have already started with the next chapter, so you hopefully won't have to wait for too long.