For Liv. My favorite twin.
/\
The girls are eight when Alice gets sick.
Dorothy stands in front of her sister's door with arms folded and face pinched into a scowl, because she's not allowed to go in. Which is just ridiculous, because if anyone has complete and total access, it's her.
As soon as the door opens she makes a move, but Dan is quick to place a halting hand on her shoulder.
"Now, now," he says in a soft but firm tone. "You know you're not supposed to go in there."
Dorothy twists away from his grasp, looking up with a withering glare reminiscent of her mother.
"She needs me."
"I know that Didi, but-"
"Don't call me that," she interrupts.
Dan is taken aback. "I always call you that."
"I don't like it."
The little girl's stare never wavers.
"I want to see her."
"Getting that," Dan says. "But she's sick. We don't want you to get it too."
"I don't care."
"I know you don't sweetheart," he goes on, putting a palm between her shoulders and gently nudging along. "But think about Mommy and me. The both of you under the weather? I think our heads would explode."
Blair smacks his arm when they walk into the kitchen.
"That's not a proper visual for a child."
Dan looks down at Dorothy with a grin.
"This one's tough."
/\/\/\
Miss Hensley has already warned her twice about paying attention, but Dorothy's head keeps craning toward Alice's empty seat regardless. They're not able to sit together of course, their desks on opposite sides of the classroom, but no matter how hard she tries to concentrate the absence of her sister is felt, and she keeps gazing at the spot where she should be.
/\/\/\
Dan is in his office.
Blair is on the phone, speaking in rapid French.
Dorothy sits on the sofa with homework in her lap, pretending to be busy, even though she'd finished twenty minutes ago. She counts to a hundred once, twice, three times. Mommy is still talking, Daddy is still working, and Alice is still locked away in her room.
Glancing over her shoulder, Dorothy watches her mother pouring over papers and looking more frustrated by the minute. She glances down the hall, still empty and inviting. Quietly slipping from her seat, she pauses at the arm of the sofa waiting to be noticed, and moves quickly when she isn't.
She scampers the to foot of the hallway, stopping to listen to the tell tale clicking sound of Daddy making up stories. Freezing mid step when the ticking stops, she holds her breath and wills herself invisible.
Shooting past the doorway when it starts up again, she doesn't stop moving until in front of Alice's room. Hand on the knob, she takes one last precautionary glance behind her before opening the door and slipping inside.
Alice lies on her side with the covers tucked all the way up to her chin, eyes closed with breath going in and out in congested hitches. Dorothy moves to the bed, placing her hand on Alice's forehead like she's seen Mommy do a million times in the past two days.
It's warm.
Too warm, Dorothy thinks, as she dips her fingers into the cup of water resting on the nightstand before spreading cool drops of liquid across her sister's heated skin. Alice's eyes peer open, a small smile on her lips at the sight of Dorothy, accompanied by a hallow cough.
"You're not supposed to be here," she says in a whisper.
Dorothy shrugs.
Alice lifts up the covers, Dorothy doesn't hesitate at the wordless invitation, sliding easily into the bed and snuggling up close enough to rest her chin on Alice's shoulder.
This is how Blair finds them twenty minutes later when she comes to check on Alice, huddled up and sound asleep. Dan can only shake his head and laugh when she calls him to come see.
"Can't say we didn't try," he says with a grin.
"Certainly not," she agrees looping her arm through his.
/\/\/\
Friday evening and Grand Central is bustling with people going to or coming from, as Dan and Blair watch with bemused expressions, at the sight of their twelve year old's trying their damnedest to act nonchalant about the weekend separation.
Dan is going up to Hudson to visit his mother. Dorothy is tagging along because Granny Allison promised to teach her a new line technique.
Blair is staying behind because the last thing she wants do as spring blooms in New York, is spend a miserable two days at her mother in law's hippie art commune. Alice is staying with her because she has an academic competition on Saturday noon.
The girls stand facing each other, each with a foot turned inward, one opposite of the other. Dan finds the sight so adorable he secretly takes a picture with his phone. The boarding call for their train booms over the loudspeaker, and Dan picks up he and Dorothy's luggage.
"Bye," Dorothy says to Alice.
"Bye," Alice echoes.
Dan walks with Dorothy toward the platform.
Blair walks with Alice toward the exit.
Each girl makes a point of not looking back.
/\
Dorothy stares blankly out of the window, open sketch book in her lap, with a blank page staring back because it is too dark for scenic inspiration to roll by. Dan idly scrolls for a book to read on his tablet, occasionally glancing down at his normally more talkative daughter.
Half way there, she shifts in her seat every few minutes as if it is the most uncomfortable thing she's ever sat in, and keeps looking at the empty two across from them like they'll magically be occupied by the missing members of the family.
It's then that Dan realizes this is the first trip one of them has taken without the other.
/\
Blair puts a cup of apple juice in front of Alice, who scribbles and solves various problems out of an SAT prep book Dan had gotten for her out of some used book store. And while Blair has always encouraged her daughter's intelligence and work ethic, the intense determination and unwillingness to pause for even a moment, is causing some concern.
"Sweetheart," she starts, nudging the cup a little closer. "Why don't you take a little break?"
Alice waits until finishing her latest problem before looking up, glasses falling halfway down her nose, and turns her head to the empty seat next to her.
"No thanks," she says, reaching for the cup and gulping it down.
/\
"How was the train?" Blair asks when Dan calls to let her know they've arrived in one piece.
"Oddly uneventful," he replies, the shuffling clink of pulling cups from a cupboard carrying across the receiver. "Aside from a little problem sitting still, she hardly said a word. How's Alice?"
Blair glances at the girl in question, still pouring over the book, the half eaten remnant of a muffin that took far too much convincing for her to consume lays on a plate next to her hand.
"A machine," she answers. "She hasn't put that book you got her down since we came home. I think I may actually have to pry it from her hands come bedtime."
Dan chuckles. "Good luck with that."
Blair can only sigh.
"Kisses to Dorothy."
"Back at you, beautiful."
/\
Dorothy stares at the blue purplish blob that is somehow supposed to transform into a sunset with the fancy thin line brushes Granny gave her. But for whatever reason, she can't seem to feel the picture coming out of her like it does with all her other works.
It looks like a blob, and will likely stay a blob, and it should be so freaking easy because it's just a stupid sunset. Suddenly so frustrated, she jumps to her feet and kicks the easel over before storming off down to the creek behind the house.
Allison stares open mouthed at the outburst, looking over to her son, whose brows are furrowed with worry.
"Does that normally happen when something doesn't work for her?"
"No," Dan answers, looking off in the direction where Dorothy disappeared into the surrounding trees. "She usually gets Alice to-"
He stops himself, pausing for a quick sip of coffee to keep the smile off his face.
"Normally, Alice will critique something for her, and they'll talk about what's missing if anything, and it usually works itself out."
"Oh," Allison says, surveying the damage left behind. "God help her instructors is she ever goes to art school."
/\
Alice's team gets second place in the competition, the girl herself tackling almost a third of the questions alone. Blair swells with pride as the awards are handed out, the silver medal placed over her daughter's head, and sends a picture to Dan who replies back enthusiastic congratulations.
When Alice walks off the stage, Blair pulls her into a hug, one that is hardly reciprocated.
"Something wrong?" She asks, letting go.
"It's silver," Alice replies, looking down at her shoes.
"Which I'm sure you could tell me the atomic number of, if I asked. Be happy, darling. It's quite the accomplishment."
"It should be gold," she says fiddling with the medal and looking over toward the victors. "If she were here..."
It comes out softly as she looks back to her mother.
"Oh Alice," Blair starts, having no idea what to say to such a statement. "Honey, she'll be proud of you no matter what. So will your father. Just like I am now."
Alice blinks before taking off her glasses and running the back of her hand quickly across her eyes.
"Can we go home now?"
/\
"Progress report?" Dan asks when he calls later that night, almost afraid of the answer.
"She hasn't come out of her room."
"Yeah, Dorothy has pretty much kept to herself after the... incident, too."
"I don't think it's about not winning," Blair goes on. "But that Dorothy wasn't there."
"Feels like that here."
They both shuffle the phone to opposite ears.
"Dan, I don't," she starts and stops, running a tired hand across her forehead. "This isn't good. They should be able to do things individually. They can't be paired up for the rest of their lives."
"I know," he concurs. "But if you think about it, this is really the first time they've been separated. Of course it was going to be rough."
"It's only two days."
"Twins," he replies as if it answers anything.
She mulls over the realization, long enough for Dan to think she's hung up.
"Hello?"
"I hate it when you're right," she murmurs.
"But you love me anyway."
"Hanging up now."
"See you tomorrow, Waldorf."
/\
Dorothy taps her foot impatiently as the train slows to a crawl, ready to spring from her seat as soon as it stops.
Alice taps on the door of the taxi in a matching rhythm, groaning inwardly at the traffic, and wishing everyone on the street would disappear, if only for a moment.
The train stops and Dan puts a hand on Dorothy's shoulder to keep her from running flat out once they step onto the platform.
The cab pulls up to the station and Blair takes hold of Alice's wrist to keep her from darting into the sea of people.
Dan smirks as Dorothy pulls him along, zigging and zagging through the crowd on auto pilot, knowing exactly where she's going.
Blair shuffles and nearly looses her footing, heels sliding easily across the linoleum, as Alice pulls her along making a beeline directly where she wants to go.
Dan and Blair's eyes meet a split second before their children, both having the good sense to let go the last few feet, watching as the girl's embrace each other. How they teeter to and fro, squeezing as hard as they can, a conversation exchanged at an impossible rate with nay a word spoken.
Blair looks at Dan, and he at her, both thinking that the dependence their daughters have on one another is a legitimate and growing concern. Hope that they can grow beyond it. Dread that steps may need to be taken.
But in this moment, watching them together, neither has the heart to force the issue.