Thank you to Amelia, Anne, modernxxmyth, cz, and Friendsfan for your generous (and anonymous) reviews :)
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It's funny, Blair thought, how a moment in time can so totally alter the course of your life, can so completely transform the person that you were on the path to becoming.
But it could, she realized.
It had.
For instance, if someone had predicted that she would ever allow herself to lean against the body of Dan Humphrey for support, for relief, she would have certainly rolled her eyes before adding them to her list of people who deserved no less than complete social annihilation. The idea that she would allow any part of herself to touch a Humphrey was laughable. She'd never be so desperate for help, never be so weak in front of anyone (other than Serena, perhaps. Or Chuck, after one too many cocktails).
That, however, had been the Blair of yesterday.
That had been the Blair of two hours ago.
The new Blair, the tainted Blair, suspected that Dan Humphrey was actually nothing short of her saving grace. She was sure of it, in fact, because were he to let his arm drop from where it lay wrapped firmly around her shoulders, she was certain that her knees would buckle and she would instantly tumble to the floor of the elevator into a clump of devastation.
She hadn't spoken a word during the entire cab ride to Serena's Upper East Side apartment, her head remaining lowered and her eyes tightly shut. It was easier that way, almost comforting to command her mind to focus on the little things that didn't actually matter; the nervous patter of Dan's foot tapping against the floor of the cab, the number of honks disturbing the night on the busy New York streets. And it had worked to keep her calm and composed.
Almost.
It had worked until she'd felt Serena's hand cover hers at the intersection of Park and 57th, her touch light and unassuming and certainly meaning no harm. But as the cool, slender fingers slid over her own, her concentration had cracked, and her stomach had dropped as her mind instantly flashed to the hand that had covered her mouth on the lonely street corner in the village. When she'd whimpered quietly, yanking her hand away and praying that the car was dark enough to hide the tears that suddenly spilled down her cheeks, Serena had frowned but hadn't utter a word.
Now, as they rode up to Van der Woodsen's penthouse in an elevator filled with a lifetime's worth of tension, Blair finally broke the silence, clearing her throat before asking, "Is your mom home, S?"
Serena looked down, hearing the hint of anxiety in Blair's voice. She frowned, gesturing with a slight shake of her head. "She and Eric are in New Canaan visiting my grandmother." Then, as an afterthought she added, "But Nate's there, I think. And Chuck."
Blair didn't make a sound at the announcement of Serena's house guests, barely reacting at all except for the instant influx of tension that quickly filled her body. She swallowed, lifting her chin as the elevator chimed and the doors divided.
The parting of the elevator doors brought forth the sound of laughter echoing from the den. They stepped into the foyer, instantly hit with the fading scent of marijuana wafting through the air. Shrugging off her coat, Serena tossed her bag onto the table, calling to the boys sitting just out of eyesight. "We're back."
And then there was another laugh. A cough. A clearing of a throat. Chuck yelling, "Did you two manage to save Waldorf from her latest tragedy?"
Stiffening, Blair blew out a breath, wrapping Dan's jacket more tightly around her body as they made their way toward the den. Nate's face froze the moment they came into view, his laughter immediately quieting as he shot up from his chair. "Fuck, Blair. What the hell happened to you?"
She stilled momentarily before before forcing out a laugh, the sound of it choked and high pitched as Chuck turned to follow Nate's line of vision. Her eyes briefly met his, but the instant clouding of his expression caused her to swallow self-consciously, and she shifted her gaze back to Nate, smiling lightly. "Well thanks, Archibald. You certainly haven't lost your charm."
He shook his head apologetically. "No, I'm sorry. I just ..." He trailed off, his eyes darting between Serena and Dan, looking for answers that they seemed unwilling to provide. "I - Jesus, Blair. I mean, are you okay? What happened?"
She scoffed, flippant. "I'm fine. God, I wish everyone would stop being so melodramatic." Kicking off her shoes, she instantly winced when the scrapes beneath her ripped tights screamed in protest. "I was mugged outside of Socialista. It's not a big deal. Really, it's probably a miracle it hasn't happened before."
Nate frowned. "Well, shouldn't you go to the police or something?"
She shrugged, nonchalant except for the way her fingernails dug into her palms to the beat of a silent rhythm. "I'm tired, Nate. I'm not really in the mood for-"
And then her lips clamped shut, her nervously rambled words cut short as Chuck stepped forward, catching her eye with a gaze so fierce her breath hitched in her throat. His mouth parted as though he planned to speak, his fists curling at his side as he approached her. The room was silent, watching; waiting for him to say something. He swallowed, taking a breath. "Blair?"
He uttered her name quietly, using the hushed, intimate voice that he normally reserved for the bedroom. The one that he had used to use – a lifetime ago, it seemed - to whisper words of adoration, of promises of a future. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind, though, lifting her chin and staring at him expectantly. "What?"
He lifted his fingers to her cheek as though to touch her, to cup her battered face into the palm of his hand, but he dropped it just as quickly, his eyes shifting to Nate's, to Serena's, to Dan's. Anywhere but hers. "I …" He instantly quieted, realizing he couldn't get any words passed the swell of sorrow that seemed to choke him, cutting off his air.
She frowned, pressing her lips firmly closed as she willed the approaching tears away. He couldn't even look at her, she realized. Her heart seized in her chest.
And somehow the silence seemed to grow even quieter.
Finally she looked away, letting out a shuddering breath and shrugging off Dan's coat. She ignored the way Nate's eyes widened at the image of her without the protection of Dan's jacket; ignored the reddening of Chuck's face, the clenching of his teeth at the sight of the bruises forming along her normally flawless skin.
Tossing the jacket onto the back of the couch, she glanced at Serena and Dan. "Thanks for saving me from my latest tragedy."
And then she tossed a glare in Chuck's direction, turning to leave the room. "I'm going to bed."
–
She kept the room dark, the light of the city below providing more than enough illumination as she slowly unzipped her dress in front of the vanity mirror, grimacing at her reflection as it tumbled to the floor into a heap of gold silk. She brought her hand to her face, running her fingers across the marks that she knew couldn't be camouflaged.
Faint bruises ran along her cheek bones, another one forming under her left eye. Her beauty was gone, battered away until nothing was left except for raw, ugly reminders of everything she wanted to forget. Her body ached, had been aching for awhile now, and as she glared at the splattering of red and purple welts appearing across the length of her body, she couldn't help wondering if it was a pain that would ever go away.
She wasn't entirely surprised when the door opened behind her; wasn't even surprised to see Chuck's face appear in the threshold. He met her eyes through the mirror's reflection, not waiting for an invitation before wandering inside and shutting the door firmly behind him.
She glared, rolling her eyes as she slipped into one of Serena's Brown University t-shirts. "What do you want, Chuck?"
He was quiet for a moment, almost reverent as he crossed the room to sit on the edge of Serena's bed. "I want to make sure you're okay."
She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do I look okay?"
It wasn't a question that required an answer; they both knew she didn't even remotely resemble the composed, pristine person she normally was. "What happened tonight, Blair? Really?"
She huffed, appearing angry despite the tremors that seemed to vibrate throughout her frame. "I told you what happened."
Hands fisting against his thighs, he suppressed his frustration. "Don't lie to me." He stood, moving to stand behind her. "Look at you. Fuck, I'm worried about you, Blair!"
Fury flashed across her face. "You don't get to worry about me!" she gritted out, her eyes wide and tearful as they connected with his through the reflection of the mirror. "I'm nothing to you, remember? How many times have you told me, Chuck? I'm not your girlfriend! I'm not your responsibility."
He scowled. "You're everything to me," he retorted. "You know that."
"Everything?" She laughed, bitter and angry. "You don't get to pretend that I mean more to you just because something horrible happened tonight." Her jaw clenched as she turned away from the mirror, placing them face to face as her eyes narrowed hatefully. "I'm not everything to you, Chuck. I'm nothing more to you than an easy target and a quick fuck. Which, come to think of it, seems to be quite the common viewpoint tonight."
And with that confession, the world seemed to stop.
He couldn't breathe. He felt like someone had punched him in the gut as her words echoed in his head, over and over again like some sort of twisted mantra. An easy target. A quick fuck. He had suspected, sure; he had known that there was something more to her story the moment he had seen the bruises covering her body, the torn dress barely clinging to her frame. An easy target. A quick fuck. But hearing her utter the words, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment the instant her confession filled the silence, took the breath out of him, filled his eyes with tears that seemed to mirror her own. "Christ, Blair-"
She cut him off with a shake of her head. "Don't. Just - just get out."
He tried to reach for her, his heart slamming against his chest. "No, I-"
"Get out!" she screamed.
He was quiet, shocked at the the amount of fury that seemed to seep from her pores. Her face was red, her eyes wild and rimmed with fatigue. He nodded as he took a step back, giving her space. "I just want help you," he uttered, his eyes begging her to reach out to him, to trust him.
Her face softened, just slightly as her gaze flickered to the floor. She sniffed; whimpered quietly as she suffocated a threatening sob. "Well I don't want your help," she whispered.
And as he receded from the room, his eyes glued to her frame as he silently slipped out the door, he was astounded at just how much it hurt him to hear those words fall across her lips.