Author's Note: I tried really, very hard to work on this chapter and have it up sooner than it is. I had the most noxious case of writer's block for this chapter- anytime I sat down, determined to work on it, I had to close the document immediately because I had no idea how to go about it. Finally, I locked myself up and hammered it out (thanks to some youtube music videos and the season 2 promos that are crawling around). Anywho- red.angel.15.- Again, your reviews have me nearly moved to tears. When you told me that my story actually effected people, I squeaked a little, I was so happy! I'm so glad I can help people (in some small way), even if it is through a silly little Gossip Girl fan fiction. Guess what, guys! My summer history course is finally over! No more research paper, no more essays or tests, no more final- I'M FINALLY DONE WITH IT! Long sigh of contentment Hopefully that means I'll have more time to work on this story, though I don't want to rush through it because I do love writing it so much! Thanks, everyone, for reading and reviewing! Here is chapter nineteen (really, sorry about the delay)! Hope you like it!

P.S. Enjoy the quote by the pilot, it's based on a true scenario. )

Chapter Nineteen
"Each time I turn around
There's nothing there at all
So, tell me why I feel like
I'm up against a wall
But maybe it's a false alarm
And all the answers sound the same
Just colors bleeding into one
That doesn't have a name
Maybe I can't see
Maybe it's just me."
-KT Tunstall

"About that landing, folks- Sometimes you get it, and... sometimes you don't."

All throughout the cabin of the plane, people were grumbling and muttering about how rough the landing had been. Some people, however, were chuckling at the pilot's comment on it. Blair wasn't amused, nor was she grumbling (partly because she didn't have anyone to grumble to), she simply rolled her eyes and breathed through her nose. The landing had been pretty much disastrous. In order to stay in her seat she had had to grip her chair with both hands and tighten her seat belt around her miniscule waist. The dark-featured businessman beside her had glared at her for taking up the armrest as they dove onto the runway, but she didn't pay him any attention. With the plane bucking violently, speeding downward, seeming as if it was going to nose-dive before it actually made it onto the tarmac, Blair felt as if she was licensed to be selfish with the space she took up.

Not that she ever actually needed license to be selfish.

And just as she was about to mentally bash the pilot, she realized something: She was finally on American soil- She was finally home.

Though the remainder of her French vacation had been explicably better than the first half had been, she had been anxious to get home. Her father had taken her to a wine testing the day after Thanksgiving, had given her a new Chanel bag as a late birthday gift, had insisted they watch Roman Holiday when they got back (even though he wasn't all that into old, romantic movies, gay or otherwise), and had insisted on buying her two new pairs of shoes, a vintage coat, stressed-leather gloves, and nearly-custom-made jeans, when they had ventured into town that Saturday. Roman had even made her favorite foods for dinner and lunch, and she hadn't found one single reason to purge them. All in all, it had been the getaway she needed, the occurrence with Nate excluded.

As she made her way off the plane, with her carry-on in hand, she winced.

The whole incident with Nate was still raw in her mind. She wished she hadn't done it, especially since she would be breaking up with him soon (she wasn't sure when, exactly). But if she had stopped him, had given him some excuse as to why they couldn't have sex, then he would have gotten suspicious. She knew that the old Blair, the one that didn't love Dan admittedly, would have found any way to have sex with Nate on a vacation in France. But things were different now, she was a Blair that loved Dan, and Nate wasn't allowed to know that. Not yet, anyway.

She set about retrieving her luggage and making her way through the airport, her stomach twisted and knotted.

It was nearly eleven o'clock on Sunday night, and she wasn't sure if she'd be up to school in the morning, but she knew it was only a matter of hours, however many there may be, until she saw Dan again. The fact made her anxious, but excited. What would she do or say? Was he still angry with her? She shook her head, unable to tell, growing even more edgy and restless.

With her luggage finally within her grasp, Blair steered herself toward the Starbucks within the airport, deciding that she deserved a venti white chocolate mocha with extra whipped cream for all the nervousness she was enduring. So, she joined the queue that was jutting out from the Starbucks counter, and pulled out her phone. First, she called her father and told him that she had safely arrived at the airport, and was going to call her mother next. Then, she did call her mother, who said she was sending over a car for her. By the time she hung up with her mother, she was at the front of the line, and the young man working the counter was looking at her expectantly. She tossed her phone into her tote and looked up, faltering for a moment.

Staring back at her, was Dan.

Her jaw fell and she stared.

"Can I help you, miss?" he prompted.

She blinked several times and realized it wasn't Dan after all, just a pale, dark-haired man with a pierced eyebrow and a Celtic tattoo on the inside of his forearm.

He was still waiting for her to say something, when the woman behind her in line cleared her throat.

Coming to her senses, Blair said, "S-Sorry," she glanced away from him. "A white chocolate mocha with extra whipped cream."

"What kind of milk would you like with that?" the young man- who Blair now realized looked almost nothing like Dan- asked, tapping away on the register.

"Skim," she muttered, feeling as if all of the Starbucks workers, her barista included, and everyone in line behind her, could tell she had thought he was Dan, the love of her life- as if they all now knew, along with her, how unprepared she was to confront said Brooklyn boy, how all of her confidence regarding the Dan situation had just diminished completely.

After clacking on the register for a few seconds more, the man asked, "Will that be all?"

"No!" Blair said suddenly, as that familiar suffocating anxiety curdled in her stomach. "I'll have a chocolate chip cookie and a sugar cookie."

The man nodded, clacking some more.

"And a double chocolate chip brownie," she told him, peering into the glass display of food. "And a blueberry muffin."

The barista glanced at her, taking in her teeny-tiny frame, but then went back to his computer screen, typing. Blair didn't care what any of these people thought of her- if any of them were making their own inner-commentary about her eating habits or what she was ordering. Fuck them, she thought, I'll never see these people again anyway.

"Will that be all?" the man asked.

It would have to be for now, so she nodded.

He gave her the total, and she paid quickly, avoiding eye contact with him, trying to derail the image of Dan behind the Starbucks counter from the tracks of her mind.

She juggled her food all the way through the airport terminal, lugging her luggage along with her. Inside the ladies' bathroom, she dragged her two suitcases into a stall, stacked them up against the door and balanced everything she had bought on the top of them. Then, she took the huge, chocolate chip cookie, and began to eat it. Once she had started, her actions sped up, until she was wolfing down both cookies, and then hardly breathing as she reached for her brownie. And when she finished the muffin, her trance finally faltered. She looked at her hands, covered in melted chocolate, and immediately felt enormously disgusted with herself. Because she felt this way, the wave of nausea came on its own, and she leaned over the toilet, holding her hands away from her body, positioned as if she was bracing herself against an imaginary wall. Her hair was already in a ponytail, so she didn't have to worry about getting vomit in her hair, but she was so conscious of the awkward positioning of her body and the situation that she was in, that the tears came easily, and there was no hope for her make-up-streaked-face.

After the first bout of vomiting had ended, she shoved her finger down her throat, ignoring the taste of chocolate and copper and stomach acid that lingered on her tongue, needing to feel empty, needing to think about the pain of retching over the confusion of Dan.

And when she tried to reach her finger down her throat for the fourth time, and her stomach resisted, she gave up and flushed the toilet. Using some toilet paper, she managed to wipe some of the chocolate off of her hands, and blow her nose. For a moment she stood in the stall, until her crying subsided, and by that time she became conscious of the whispering within the bathroom. Straightening her shoulders and fixing her hair, Blair exited the stall, holding her small suitcase under her arm, rolling the other with her left hand, and holding her lukewarm white chocolate mocha with the right.

Standing at the sinks, fixing their hair and reapplying their make-up, were two older women. To Blair they looked like gossipy suburban soccer-moms, so she ignored them and their whispering. She placed her suitcases on the floor, and her drink on the side of the sink farthest from the two women, and washed her hands.

She felt someone looking at her and she looked into the mirror, seeing the two women staring at her, she rolled her eyes and dragged her wet fingertips under her lids, wiping away the mascara and eyeliner that had dribbled down her face.

"Excuse me, honey," one of the women said, actually reaching toward her. She gave the woman such a scathing look that she lowered her hand, "We couldn't help but hear you in there- Are you sick?"

Blair managed to scrounge up a half-empty water bottle from her tote, and took a swig from it. She then spat the water into the sink. The women both saw the spots of blood that fell onto the white porcelain with the water, and they looked back up at Blair worriedly.

Shrugging, she coldly said, "I get motion sickness on planes," as a response.

She ripped off a paper towel from the roll by the sink and wiped the water away from below her eyes, ignoring the painful scratchy material on her tender skin.

The women shared a look, and the same one spoke again, "But- You're crying-"

"My eyes are watering," Blair snapped. "I'm fine- Thanks all the same!"

She dove into her bag and retrieved her lip gloss, slicking it over her chapped lips. The women were still staring. Without acknowledging them she got out her eyeliner and touched up her eyes so her mother wouldn't be suspicious when she got home. When she looked at them again, she noticed the women exchanging frightened looks.

Losing her patience for everything in life, Blair barked, "What?!"

The women jumped, and the second of the two mentioned, "There was blood in the sink..."

Blair challenged her to go further, narrowing her eyes.

The first woman said, "Maybe you should get some help, honey- I mean, do you have a problem-"

"Yes," Blair chucked her make-up back into her bag and practically snarled at them. "As a matter of fact I do have a problem- I have a few, actually."

The women stared some more.

Blair barreled on, hardly able to keep anything bottled up anymore, "The guy I'm in love with is from Brooklyn, and he's dating my best friend. We've been having something of an affair for the past few weeks. My boyfriend is an ass hole who's in love with my same best friend- but somehow I managed to sleep with him anyway- even though I'm in love with the boy from Brooklyn," she watched as the shock etched itself onto their faces. "Yeah- And I've just been to France to get away from everything- to visit my gay dad and his lover- but now I'm freaking out because the guy I love probably still thinks I'm ashamed to be seen with him or some crap, and he probably hates me- so, yeah I'm freaking out a little!" she shrieked.

The women's mouths fell open.

"And now, you two are fucking harassing me- trying to make me check myself into fucking rehab or something!" her voice was so shrill at this point that she, herself, winced. "Go back to where ever it is you came from and leave me alone!"

With those last words she grabbed her bags and stomped out of the bathroom, forgetting her white chocolate mocha on the sink.

With defense and fury, confusion and worry, all mingling in her brain, she clacked her heels loudly against the flooring, making her way outside. It was then that she remembered her drink, and regretted leaving it. Sure, it wasn't hot anymore, but it would have been semi-warm, and it would have felt good on her stressed throat. But she stopped thinking about, noticing that there was only one town car parked in the front of the airport.

She knocked on the window, and the driver lowered it, "Yes?"

"I'm Blair- Are you here for me?" she asked, shivering as a gust of cold wind bit into her side.

"Blair Waldorfer?"

"Waldorf," she corrected him, rolling her eyes. "Yes, that's me."

"I'll help you with those bags," he said, and got out of the car.

Grateful to be rid of the weighty suitcases, she watched as he loaded them into the trunk, and then as he came around and opened her door for her. She slid into the back seat of the car, nearly swooning as she melted into the soft leather, the heater blowing sluggishly warm air onto her face.

He pulled away from the airport, already instructed by her mother to take her to their apartment. And it was as she leaned into the back seat, finally relaxing a little, that she decided- because of the hellish day she had had- that she would not being going to school the following day.

I'm sure Lonely Boy will be just thrilled.

Dan was anything but thrilled on Monday morning.

Blair wasn't in school again. This fact made him annoyed, impatient, even a little worried, but not happy in the least. Why wasn't she there? Was it a simple case of jet lag? Was she just too tired? or had she decided to stay in France upon the insistence of some French boy she'd met in Lyon, named Pierre? had her plane crashed? He knew his speculations were ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. He had been so sure that she would be in school on Monday morning- that he would meet her in front of the steps leading up to the building, and he would give her his ultimatum, that everyone would see them together and she would have had to give him an answer. That, however, was not the case.

He had paced in front of the steps until the bell, warning everyone to get to their classes, rang- then he had given up and started toward his history class.

Now he was scouring the courtyard and the halls for Blair, finding her nowhere. Was she avoiding him? Is that what this was? He couldn't figure it out- and he had had such an airtight plan (meet her in the morning by the steps, give her the ultimatum, catch her off guard with it, make her decide) and it was in shambles now- and he had no idea what to do. All night he had tossed and turned, clinging to this specific idea, feeling as if he was okay, as long as he followed this plan. But this was just a minor change- he'd still give her the ultimatum- it would just be in a different place and time than he had originally thought. It would all be okay, he decided.

"Dan!"

He looked up, half-hoping it was Blair calling his name. Then, he realized the voice was too shrill and chipper to be Blair- Serena.

Turning, he tried to smile for the blonde, saying, "Hey."

"What are you doing for lunch?"

Serena looked so excited and happy to see him, and she was tugging on his arm like a toddler wanting to show someone their art project. He felt bad for a moment, and he smiled genuinely, telling her that he wasn't doing anything.

And just like that, he let her drag him off-campus.

When Blair woke up from a long, fitful sleep on Monday afternoon, she was still tired, but she pulled herself out of bed. Her throat was dry and scratchy and her stomach was aching with emptiness, so she shuffled downstairs in her sweats. She found her mother in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee for herself. When she walked in, her mother smiled and asked her how she had slept.

"Fine," she mumbled, rifling through the nearest cabinet, surfacing with a box of Milano's.

Eleanor sipped her coffee, and then smiled again, "So, SATs are coming up."

Blair chucked the cookies back into the cabinet, and got herself a mug instead. She shrugged as she went to pour herself some of the steaming coffee.

"Well, if you want to go to Yale you'll have to get a good SAT score."

Blair winced as she took a scalding gulp of the bittersweet liquid.

"I did something to help you out," Mrs. Waldorf went on.

That scared Blair, and she looked at her mother hesitantly, waiting.

Eleanor was smiling, though, as she announced, "I got you a tutor!"

The tiny brunette didn't say anything.

"She teaches Women's Studies at NYU, but she can help you in both English and math," she was beaming. "You'll meet with her for two hours everyday- except the weekends."

Two hours? Blair wanted to screech.

From the look on her face, her mother realized what she was thinking, and said, "I know two hours is a lot, but she said if you want to get a good score- good enough to get into Yale- you need the preparation."

"And when am I supposed to have a life?" Blair asked sarcastically.

Her mother gave her a stern look, "Blair, it's only two hours a day- on the weekdays too- only until the SATs!"

Yes, but she had homework on top of that, extracurriculars she was supposed to be keeping up with- not to mention drama up to her eyeballs that needed to be gotten rid of.

Maybe we should get her a shovel, before someone steps in all that drama.

After eating at a chic sandwicherie, only a block away from their school, Serena had dragged Dan to the park across from Constance and St. Jude's, for the remainder of lunch. They sat down on a bench, and he listened as she talked his ear off. She nattered on about Blair being so lucky in going to France, about some boots she wanted at Bendel's, about how she couldn't stand the French club meetings she had to go to, about Nate and his love of pot, and about how she was glad Dan was there, in the park with her. He didn't have to do much talking, just sat there, listening, and saying a word or two when necessary.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked after a few minutes of mindless chatter.

His heart sped up, afraid she was going to say something about Blair or his affair with her. He just nodded numbly.

She took his gloved hand in hers and looked down at them, saying, "Do you remember at Nate's parents' anniversary party- when I told you I still had feelings for Nate, but that I wanted you to be the one to help me get over him?"

"Yeah," Dan said quietly, afraid of what was coming next.

She looked up at him and smiled, "I shouldn't have been seeing you for those reasons, but- I mean, I do have feelings for you now."

Shit, was the first word that came to Dan's mind.

"You don't like Nate at all?" he croaked.

Almost too quickly, Serena replied, "Hardly!" and she laughed loudly.

Dan wasn't sure what that meant, but he felt too confused and screwed up to even muster a proper smile for her.

"I'm glad I could help, Serena," he said awkwardly. "But- I don't think you should-"

She cut him off, "Don't say anything," she whispered, in a way she probably thought was seductive and sultry, but kind of came off as forced.

Before Dan could even attempt to finish his thought, she had put her arms around his neck, and was placing her lips over his.

It wasn't exactly unpleasant kissing Serena, but- it wasn't Blair- there was no spark, no fire, no rush of blood, or rapid heart rate. But, somehow, he found himself kissing her back, if only slightly. When she slipped her tongue into his mouth though, he put his hands on her waist, pushing her away. Of course, she immediately looked hurt, but he couldn't imagine the look on her face if she found out that he had slept with her best friend, that he was playing her. He scooted away from her on the bench, looking at his hands.

"I'm sorry- I can't do this," he said, standing up.

"Dan!"

"Please," he turned to her. "I'm sorry I can't explain myself, but- I'm sorry, okay?"

She called after him, something that sounded like a question, but he couldn't make it out, wasn't paying enough attention to understand it.

In response, he called back, "Sure- Yeah," hoping there wouldn't be consequences in that reply.

Um, buddy, she just asked if you're still going to be her date for the winter formal. Consequences? good luck with that one.

On Monday evening, after Elsie the Women's Studies professor had drilled vocabulary and long division into Blair's brain like it was nobody's business, the tiny brunette logged onto GossipGirl's web site, checking to see if she had missed a ton of dramatic news over the course of her computerless weekend.

The first post on the site was one from that afternoon, and the caption read: Spotted! Not-So-Lonely Boy, D, and S, Hook up during Lunch.

A cold fear crept up Blair's spine, and she scrolled down to find a picture of Serena and Dan kissing on a bench in a park. Dan's hands were on Serena's waist, and she could see Serena's tongue in his mouth. A spasm of hurt and anger flashed through her.

Yes, how dare he kiss the girl she told him to date! Whereas, her sleeping with her boyfriend is excusable, obviously.

And even as the nausea crept into her stomach, and the confusing anxiety ceased her, she couldn't do anything but stare at the computer screen, completely motionless, feeling as if everything was shattering around her- as if everything was somehow changing completely.

Author's Note: I feel like I'm writing a soap opera, and I kind of love it. You guys may think this is going to lead into a whole other horrible plot spin and everything- but it's not, I promise. This is necessary for the following chapter to happen, and then, in turn, the big winter formal scene to happen! So, anyway, I will try my best to have the next chapter- hate to say it, but it will be a filler chapter- up sooner. The wait for this chapter was utterly ridiculous, and I'm sorry. As I've mentioned: vampires really did take over my life... Not to mention the laziness of summer was taking over in a close second. Hope you liked this chapter! Reviewing is always appreciated!