Disclaimer: I do not own "Gossip Girl."
Author's Note: Thank you for all the wonderful comments and reviews. :D You really brighten my day with them. And a HUGE thanks to Red Blood Kiss of Death for bartering me into posting this chapter already. Thank you. :P There's still a lot of ground to cover, so please bear with me. :) The story is looking like it may go over 10 chapters after all.
***
Sunny's eyes go wide, his head tilting back, as he turns around to face his Auntie B. Apparently this is a great offense—breaking a priority rule. The question hangs in the air for a moment; his big, blue eyes fastened on her face in surprise.
And then she sighs, the sternness melting away, "Did something bad happen outside?" She asks him more gently, extending her hand to him. The question is a subtle inquiry into the state of his parents, no doubt.
Sunny reaches out and takes her hand, saying, "Oh no," with easy charm, "People are dancing and Annie was telling me a story! It was about two lil' kids and a—"
"Then why are you not outside listening to her story, but in here breaking rules?" Blair questions softly as she pulls him into the bedroom.
Sunny shrugs expansively, looking up at her with a smile.
"I'm helping!"
They hear him tell her as they follow the two inside the room— Chuck holding Blair's hand and Nate motioning for Serena to walk ahead of him. She sends him a hesitant smile as she does and he returns it with more warmth than she thinks she deserves from him right now.
The room looks the same of course, though Chuck is nowhere to be seen at the moment. The lighting is brighter, an extra lamp has been turned on— but they look around with quick interest; a silent, mutual agreement to not allow any distractions.
"Show her the drawing you made, sweetie," Serena prods gently as they follow Sunny and his Auntie B to the far side of the room. The walls are painted the color of a deep blushing rose and landscape art adorns some of the walls.
The little boy startles a little, as if he'd forgotten they were even there, "Oh," he says brightly, turning back a little to nod at her, "Right! Auntie B will know."
"What will I know?" His aunt asks as she sits down on a love seat and crosses her ankles together demurely. Sunny stands in front of her, pulling the folded square of paper out of his pocket. "I have to show you the picture— that I drew!" He tells her.
Blair's brows come together a little, "The pict— ah yes," she murmurs, expression clearing as she nods, "The drawing… of the necklace, yes?"
Sunny nods, still unfolding the construction paper.
"Baby," Blair says gently, watching him, "These… invisible people… they're still here…?"
"Sure. They're lost, you know," he tells her.
"Lost… of course," she responds slowly, pulling him closer to her so his stomach is pressed against her leg. She keeps an arm around him, "Baby, we need—"
"Here," he says, shoving the drawing at her with his hands.
And she takes it with her free one, studies the picture with the curiosity— and then she stiffens.
They see it, the way her spine goes rigid.
"Sunny." She says his name differently, the softness tempered with gravity.
Sunny hears it too, his smile fading a little, "Yes?"
"You know you are not allowed in this room, in anyone's room, without permission. It's about privacy and respect, remember?"
"Oh, I know, Auntie B," he assures, nodding emphatically, "I know it's bad."
"Then—"
The sound of an opening door halts Blair's words. They all look up as well, towards the sound. Chuck is walking through a doorway they hadn't noticed, closing the door behind him. He's smiling a little and wearing what passes for Chuck's casual attire; slacks, button-down shirt, and vest. The vest, of course, matches the navy of Blair's dress; the rest is in shades of eggshell white and beige.
"Was there bloodshed or social ruin going on, Sunny?" He asks striding towards where the boy and his wife are perched.
Sunny bites his lip, looks chastised, "No, Sir."
Chuck nods, "You made a mistake then."
Sunny nods back, "Yes, I guess so…" he admits carefully, "But…!" He says suddenly, "They made me," he accuses, twisting away from his Auntie B and pointing directly towards Blair.
"Hey!" Blair shouts, "I did not ma—"
"Did too!" Sunny cuts in and the words could only be more petulant if he stuck his tongue out— which he did not.
Nate smothers a laugh and even Serena feels herself smiling a little. Chuck smirks.
Which is not the reaction that Uncle Chuck has— at all. The man's gaze sharpens as it goes in the direction of Sunny's gesture and when he finds the space empty; his eyes meet Blair's over the little boy's head.
A beat passes and then she speaks, eyes on her husband, "Sunny has new friends. They are… invisible."
Chuck's eyebrows arc a little as he shifts his gaze back to the young boy, "Invisible… new friends?" He asks.
Sunny nods. "Yes, and they're lost. And the necklace has to do with it. And I'm helping. And they want me to—" his gaze goes to Serena then, wide eyes fastening questioningly onto her face, "What do I ask?" He wonders sweetly.
Chuck sighs and cuts his gaze to Blair at his side. "He just doesn't get it," he says softly and the girl laughs a little; also softly, because Sunny's looking at them all waiting for an answer.
"Ask them if there's something special about that necklace," Serena says to him gently and she's smiling, because she can't not smile at him.
"If they know its history," Blair adds.
Sunny nods at them.
"Is there something special about it? Do you know its history?" He repeats carefully, looking up at his Uncle before shifting his gaze to his Auntie B. He leans close to her again and points at the drawing she's holding, "I did a good job, they said so. It looks just like this… with the little flowers inside…"
"Sunny…" His aunt says again very softly and they notice then that she's a touch paler than she was a moment ago, "Are you… lying? About coming into this room without permission?"
Sunny blinks at her, frowning a little, "No," he says simply and shakes his head. "There's nothing to do in here." He explains further when his Aunt simply watches him.
"She recognizes it," Serena says very quietly.
"Blair?" Chuck says his wife's name lowly, concerned, as he moves closer to the pair on the sofa and Blair extends the drawing to Chuck without taking her eyes off of Sunny.
"Your… lost friends… they showed this to you?" She asks him carefully.
Sunny nods, "Yes! They have it! And—and it has something to do with—with why they're lost and I'm going to help them! Because—because I'm a good helper!" Sunny explains again, his voice getting brighter with each word so that by the end of his sentences he's bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking completely delighted with the circumstance he's described.
"This is a good drawing," his Uncle says and then folds it back up and hands it to the little boy, "Put it away and go on downstairs to the party, okay?"
Sunny turns to him, nodding, and reaching for it.
"No!" Blair snaps, irritated at the distraction, "Ask him to tell—"
"Blair," Serena cuts in with the warning.
Nate nods, "He's just a kid—"
"Which makes this a grave problem," Chuck interrupts as Sunny glances at them concernedly, "He's our only link."
"Sunny…?" His Aunt says the boy's name very softly and takes his chin in her hand as she turns his face from where he's looking at the four of them towards her. "What's wrong?"
"They're… sad…" Sunny says, trying to look back to them. But his Aunt's hold on his face is firm and she won't let him look away.
"Baby, there's nothing—"
"But there is." Sunny insists and his voice takes on a thread of pleading that makes them all wince. Admittedly, they've put the boy in a difficult situation.
"There really is, Auntie B," Sunny tells her, getting a little frantic, "They don't know why no one sees them or how come I do… they don't know anything! I asked them and they—"
"It's okay, Sunny." His uncle tells him quietly, "Take your drawing and go play…"
Blair's hand drops from the boy's face and she nods at him, pulls up a smile as she runs her fingers through his hair gently; he gesture almost to soothe herself rather than him.
Sunny looks at his Uncle Chuck and nods; but doesn't move away. Instead he looks back to his Auntie B, "But is there something special about it?" He asks her.
And behind him Serena and Nate bestow rather smug smiles on Chuck and Blair. The little boy hadn't been distracted after all.
The older Blair presses her lips together for a moment at Sunny's question and then she nods a little, "Sure, baby. There is… and I'll tell you about it tomorrow, okay? We have guests tonight."
Sunny nods at her, smiling. Then he turns to the four of them, "Is that good? Tomorrow?" He wonders, eyeing them expectantly.
And they all sigh a little, smile a bit, even Chuck, because he's just so earnest; it's Nate who responds, grinning at Sunny, "Yeah, kid. That works."
Sunny nods, looks back to Blair, "That works." He repeats.
"Alright, then go on," his Uncle Chuck says, approaching them, laying a hand atop Sunny's blonde head, "Go tell your Mommy we'll be out in a second."
"And Daddy too!" Sunny says nodding and rushing towards the door, "Daddy's here too!"
"Yes," Chuck agrees, nodding as he watches the boy cross the room, "Tell him too…" he pauses and then raises a hand faintly, "Oh and Sunny…"
Sunny halts with his hand on the doorknob.
"Tell your… new friends… about the closed-door-rule will you?"
Sunny nods, pulling the door open, "Oh I did. I already did!"
And then he looks over at his new friends before leaving the room, opens his mouth to speak.
"We'll catch up with you later," Serena says kindly, smiling at him.
Sunny giggles, calling out a quick, "Okay, see ya!" Before running out of the room.
"Baby, don't run—" Blair calls out just as he shuts the door behind him. She finishes, "—in the house," on a sigh.
And then she looks up at Chuck, "Do you see that?"
"I saw it. Though I'm not sure—"
"And the drawing!"
"Yes, Blair I saw the—"
"I don't even wear that necklace!" She continues, frowning.
Chuck shrugs at her. "You must have. And forgotten."
"No, Chuck. I did not. It's not part of my usual— or even my special retinue. The only reason I even keep it with me is that I…" she trails off, eyes twinkling suddenly as she sends him a shrug now. "Attach a certain… sentimental value to it."
He smirks, takes another step towards where she's sitting and extends his hand to her, "Show me."
She takes slips her hand into his, standing to her feet. "Now? We have a yard full of guests…"
He's leading her to the vanity table though, and they follow slowly; quietly. Chuck is guiding her to the seat and then slipping in behind her, chin resting on her shoulder so her can oversee her hands as she does as he asked.
"And speaking of our yard and our guests," Blair says as she settles back against him, "What is our game plan anyway?" She asks him, opening a drawer and removing a small chest from it.
Chuck's lips have turned to her neck, skimming her skin, as he asks, "Game plan?"
She sets the chest on her surface and opens it, eyes sliding shut only a little at him ministrations, "With Nate and Serena," she clarifies, "Tonight?"
He lifts his head at that, "We need a game plan? Are we… getting involved in that?"
She meets his eyes in the mirror, "Aren't we already?"
They stare into their reflections for a moment longer and then Chuck sighs, "I suppose. We're advocating a reconciliation then?"
"Of course!" She exclaims, hands inside the chest; only to pause and instant later, "You don't think so?"
"I think she needs to stay the fuck away from Carter Baizen, is what I think." Chuck spits, gaze burning into the glass of the reflection.
The room is still for a moment, Blair's hands frozen as she's about to extract something from the chest. There are some things they don't need to talk about anymore, but they still take a breath of air to dissipate.
A moment later she finishes extracting a piece of jewelry. "Hm," he says, "That would be something—but I wouldn't hold your breath, dearest."
The endearment is a touch mocking and he rolls his eyes, the flash of anger fading; she hands him the necklace.
"It really is the necklace," Nate says moving to stand beside the vanity.
"This is so freaky," Blair whispers.
"This is freaky?" Serena asks, blinking at her best friend. Because of everything they'd seen so far, the duplicate piece of jewelry was the tamest.
"I'll admit," the older Chuck says carefully, taking the necklace in his hand, the other arm wrapped around his wife's waist, "The boy did a rather good rendering."
"He must have come in here…"
"Did he say he did?"
"No, but—"
"Did you ask him if he was lying?"
"Yes, he said no, but—"
"Sunny, doesn't lie about lying," Chuck said with a quirk to his lips. It was obviously an inside joke when a smile tilted Blair's lips as well.
"I know that, but what other explanation is there?"
"You wore it. He remembered it."
"I don't wear this necklace, Chuck… not just, like that. I don't wear any of these pieces just like that." Blair insists.
He shifts a little and peers into the chest, "There's only three other pieces in there…" He says wryly, "I'm going to need to step-up my jewelry giving."
She smirks, but there's an odd warmth in her eyes as her gaze falls back to the contents of the chest. "You know that's not it. I can tell you exactly when I've worn these and when I got them. I'm telling you, I haven't worn that in years likely since before Sunny was born."
"When did I give this to you?" Chuck asks, setting it down on the surface and bringing that hand to Blair's face.
She swats at it, frowning, "We have guests and we've been gone long enough." A moment later she adds, "Let's switch it tonight, you take Serena, I'll handle Nate— say a 12 hour effort?."
He's sliding closer, using the hand at her waist to pull her into him, "Sure. Except Serena is a little… miffed at me right now…" He murmurs; free hand finding its way to her knee.
"Precisely why I'm giving you the opportunity to mend fences…" She tells him, her hand falling to his as he begins to slide her dress up, "Chuck—guests."
"So when did I give it you…" he asks, ignoring both comments and the gesture as the hand at her waist slides up her back.
"We should go!" Serena cries suddenly, a thread of alarm in her voice. Her gaze averted and her hands fluttering at her sides as she takes a big step away from the older versions of her best friend and brother.
Nate nods, vigorously; looking oddly like Sunny as he follows Serena's lead and steps back away from the couple, "Yes, let's get out of—"
"But it's just getting interesting," Chuck interrupts eyes fastened on the couple before the mirror.
"Chuck Bass!" Blair hisses just as her older counterpart says softly, "It was the summer after we graduated high school."
"I am not into voyeurism," the younger Blair continues to hiss.
"Doesn't count if it's ourselves," Chuck responds cheekily as the older Chuck lowers his mouth to his wife's collarbone, "Good summer…" he murmurs, fingers beginning to slide the zipper of her dress down.
"It was a terrible summer, Chuck Bass." His wife says heatedly; smiling a little even as she dislodges his hold on her zipper with a calculated shrug.
"Let's fix that then, Blair Bass… he breathes, the name easy on his lips as he refuses to be diverted, "Revisionist history…"
She laughs, but says, "No…" very firmly; shrugging her shoulder gently, so he'll stop, "Guests, party, game-plan." She lists.
And he sighs, stops kissing her and looks up; eyes on her reflection again, chin on her shoulder, "Really?"
"Yes, really. We've already been gone over a half hour. We need to see people off."
"And those pieces," he says motioning to the rest of the contents in the box, "Name them…"
"Chuck…"
"Hm…?" He asks, waggling his eyebrows at her in the mirror.
Their gazes hold for a beat and the younger Blair's eyes go wide as she realizes, "They've done this before…"
Just as the older Blair speaks, sighing softly as she gives in, "The earrings on our wedding night," she says, peering inside, sliding her fingers delicately over the rubies, "Your mother's like the pendant. The bracelet the day after Cash was bor—"
"Day of," he interrupts, "Not my fault you don't remember."
"Actually, yes. It is. I didn't impregnate myself, Chuck."
It's an old argument, the words worn and familiar in their mouths, their gazes warm where they meet in the glass.
And then he's kissing her again, corner of her mouth as he murmurs, "And that one…" softly, head tilting minutely to the chest.
Blair's breath is a laugh, "Seventeen," she murmurs, closing her eyes, "Night I turned seventeen."
"Hm, let's reenact it." He mutters softly.
And Blair laughs, eyes snapping open as she slides out of the seat and whirls around to stand behind him in one smooth motion, "Despite my loveof reenactments. We are hosts tonight and have been absent long enough."
The skirt of her dress falls into perfect folds and she's not taking any more stalling. Her eyes say so.
"You're always a tease," Chuck whispers to his Blair, smirking.
"Conscientious," she snaps back, elbowing him lightly; a smirk of her own tilting her lips.
The older Chuck sighs, but stands without further complaint; knows a losing battle. "These?" He murmurs, motioning towards the jewelry box still out on the vanity.
"I'll put away tonight."
He nods, "Sunny?"
"Brunch, tomorrow," she precedes him to the door.
"Game plan?" He wonders, reaching beyond her to open the door.
"Guest room is ready," she answers him, slipping outside, "And Serena is eager to get you to listen to her."
And then they're beyond hearing range and the four of them are left standing there, still overwhelmed and still clueless.
"I'm getting really, really sick of following people around," Blair complains, frowning as they all trudge towards the door as well.
They're moving slowly and it's another beat before anyone speaks.
"At least your life is perfect," Serena points out sadly.
And Blair scowls at her as they descend the three steps and walk down the hallway, "It's not perfect if yours isn't," she counters derisively; the very tone of voice questioning Serena's intelligence or more importantly lack thereof.
And Serena starts a little, beside her, Nate pauses; Chuck rolls his eyes and continues towards the staircase.
Blair slows her pace when she sees Serena's expression, "What?" She asks, making a face at the blonde.
Serena shrugs, looks to Nate, "How does she make something so sweet sound mean?"
Nate snickers. "The Mystery of Blair Waldorf?" He says it like a book title.
And Serena giggles suddenly, envisioning a novel. She nods, "It's a three-volume set."
Nate grins at her, "Leather bound, of course…"
"Limited Edition!"
Blair huffs, rolls her eyes. "Oh for the love— you two deserve each other," she snaps, annoyed— and follows Chuck with heavy footsteps.
"I kept walking for a reason, Waldorf," he says as she falls into pace with him.
"Well, take me with you next time."
"We can still hear you," Serena giggles, "We're right here." She waves her hands behind their heads as they all descend the staircase.
"Yeah," Nate adds, still grinning.
The brunettes to do not respond and Nate and Serena exchange amused looks. It's strangely easy for the two of them to do this, to tease each other and their best friends, to behave like they haven't seen the visage of what they could be collapsing before they've even begun it, to pretend and still somehow mean it.
Serena's laugh is completely genuine and she knows Nate's smile is too. Because they're both very good at pretending not to see things so that nothing has to change.
"Alright," Chuck says slowly as they walk through the living room and into the little den with the bookshelves, "Let's piece this together, shall we?"
Blair nods, "I think—"
"I'm not finished with you, Grace!"
The shout is Nate's, but not the one standing with them.
They barely have time to comprehend that when Gracie comes stomping through the game-room doorway, intent on stomping her way through the den in the same fashion when Nate's voice sounds again.
"GRACE."
It's not a yell; more like an order, commanding and reinforced with steel and all four them jump a little, eyes widening, because it's a tone they've never heard from Nate before.
Gracie stops, but doesn't turn around. Her small face set in hard defiance as Nate walks up behind her. He's dried off, clothes and hair no worse for wear after his rescue mission in the pool. And his expression is frustrated, upset. Laugh lines on his face furrowing deeper as he gazes intensely at the girl's back.
"I want an explanation."
And she whirls around, blue glimmering with anger, "Or what?! Are you going to ground me from your hotel suite?!" She snaps, glaring at him across the length of the den.
"You think your Aunt and Uncle won't enforce whatever punishment I see fit?" Nate asks her, his eyes narrowed.
"Right. Let Uncle Chuck and Aunt Blair do it— like always. They're the only ones that even care!"
The steel vanishes in the blink of an eye as hurt flashes across Nate's features. He takes a step towards her. "That's not true; that's not what you and the others being here is, Gracie. This was just the best way to—"
"No. It's— Mom off with someone new and you off with your ex."
The accusation rings in the air for a moment; Nate's expression startled. And then asks her, voice low, "Who told you that?"
"I'm not stupid."
"No…" he says gently, eyes roving over her young face, "Too smart, I'd say. I wasn't off with anyone. I—"
"Would you have come?" She interrupts, "If I'd told you Mom was going to be here?"
His silence is answer enough; and despite the anger buoying her words, something in her gaze shrivels.
"See," she says, "I had to lie. When I asked you to just come, you said no."
"I said I'd come in a couple days, Monday morning. I have Annie and the dog with me— and you see how well that turned out tonight…"
"I needed you to come today."
"Lying to me isn't acceptable."
"I'm not sorry."
He sighs at her statement, shakes his head a little, "No… I don't suppose you are." And then he watches her for a moment, "Tell me what you were hoping for here, Gracie…"
And it's like he's let the air out of her balloon. All the anger just fades away, dissipates, and she's blinking at him like it's some sort of trick question she'll never answer and come away from alive.
He moves towards her then; big strides and she looks tiny when he's standing in front of her— a sad, little girl in a yellow dress with her mother's big blue eyes filling with tears.
He reaches for her and she jumps into his arms without another word; because the answer is right there in her tears. She was hoping that somehow everything would fix itself, that their family would magically mend back together. He lifts her up against his chest. Her legs wrap around his waist and her arms around his neck and her face presses into his shoulder.
"It's going to get easier, sweetheart," he comforts a moment later, one hand rubbing circles on her back. "I promise."
She mumbles something against his shoulder they don't catch, he doesn't either.
"What is it?" He asks her.
She turns her head, eyes still closed, "You're going to forget me."
It's not a question.
"Gracie." Nate bounces her a little in his arms, "That's an impossibility, sweetheart."
She lifts her head."You will. You have Sunny and you have Annie and if you're not married to my Mom than you don't need me and—"
Nate bounces her again. "Hey, stop it. It's not possible, Gracie. You're my baby girl, you know that. And you have been for a lot longer than I've been married to your Mom…" he smiles at her a little, "Like your whole life, basically. I'm your godfather, remember."
"But it won't be the same if you're not married anymore," the girl says and a tear rolls down her cheek, "It'll be like… like with my Dad."
Nate's gaze is very steady on her face. "Sweetheart, that's different. Your Dad travels a lot. That's what a correspondent does. They go to places no one else can and—"
"I know," she says, "I just… I don't… want you to— to forget me."
"That'll never happen, Gracie. Ever." He says very firmly. But then a moment later he arcs an eyebrow a little, "But tonight wasn't just about that, was it?"
The girl sniffles, bites her lip a little, and then looks a way for a moment, "Not really…" She confesses after a beat.
"You can't call me and tell me lies to get me to go somewhere. It's not nice and it's not honest."
She looks back to him. "I know."
"Tell me you won't do it again," he pauses, "Tell me and I'll believe you."
Gracie draws in a deep breath; it hitches in her chest and she sighs a little, before nodding. "I won't do it again."
Nate nods, satisfied, "Good."
But Gracie's eyes fill with tears again. "I just… I wanted things to— to stay the same as always," she told him softly, "I don't like all of us here with you and Mom gone. I don't like just seeing you on weekends. I don't like just talking to Mom on the phone. I hate it."
Nate adjusts his hold on her as he says. "I hate it too… but it's… temporary. We'll sort it out and then—"
"But we won't all be together again at the house then, will we?" Gracie asks, anxiety slipping into her voice, "You're going to get divorced aren't you? And then—"
"Where did you hear that?" He asks again.
And again she says, "I'm not stupid."
And he watches her for a moment, the eyelashes wet with the tears, the bottom lip that's quivering a little— he tilts his head to one side, offers her a tiny smile, forcing his expression to relax as he repeats, "No, too smart, I'd say," with a wryness in his tone now; a hint of teasing.
He's lightening the mood. Ending the conversation before it slips into something he won't discuss with this child yet.
And it works; a small smile tilts her lips too.
"And too preoccupied with the problems of adults," he continues, "Let us do the worrying and plotting, okay? You focus on…" he pauses and wonders aloud, "Dolls…?"
She laughs a little, lays her head on his shoulder again, closing her eyes as she says, voice just as wry, "Uh, no."
Nate gives her a squeeze in his arms as he walks towards the door. "Dresses?" He guesses a moment a later.
And she giggles a little, "Fashion, Uncle Nate."
"Ah," he says turning out of the den, "Fashion. Of course."
When they leave, the room is silent. The space around them completely still, until Serena sighs, shakes her head. "My god; I've done a… a number on her," she says quietly, gaze on the floor.
Nate sighs in exasperation suddenly, hands coming up around him. "I don't understand what's going on here," he admits, "I mean… it's all just so… complicated. I mean… Serena and I are married and getting divorced and we have a kid and something happened with Carter and I'm mad… and she was somewhere else and I was somewhere else and the kids were all here… so was I with Vanessa? And she with Carter? Was I married to Vanessa too? And what's up with Dan? Because Gracie's not happy with him. And why does she think only Blair and Chuck care? And who's Liam's Dad? And where is Liam? And why are we—"
"Thank you for the summarization, Nathaniel," Chuck interrupts, "But we've been present for the unfolding events as well, so no need to list them."
"We need answers," Blair says, moving towards the game-room.
"Yes, well our four-year-old guide isn't going to be much help in that respect." Chuck responds.
"We need to get him to question someone for us," she deduces.
"Someone who'll take it seriously," Serena points out softly as they enter the room.
The lawn is visible through the patio doors and Blair sighs as she looks out at the lights and the people. The number of them has diminished and no doubt the party is winding down.
"I'm not going back out there," she states, moving to one of the sofas, "I've had enough of the trekking indoors and outdoors."
"So is this it?" Serena asks as the others take Blair's lead and sit around. She stands in the center of the room, her back to the patio doors, facing them. Chuck slides in beside her, no surprise there, though her allowing it, and him to take her hand, is a bit. Nate sprawls in the other corner, eyes fastened on her.
Chuck clears his throat, "I sincerely doubt this is our future, S. As you said it's an… elaborate halluci—"
"No, not that." Serena interrupts. Though she's pretty certain none of them doubt this is their future anymore— it's too… concrete to deny; too detailed and nuanced and fractured to be a product of their imaginings. She shakes her head, "I mean, we're just here… till when? Are sleeping here tonight? Because…"
"Oh, god." Blair whispers as Serena trails off, "What if we're stuck here?"
"We're not stuck here," Chuck says immediately.
"We could be… we don't even know how we got here."
"Maybe it's a curse," Serena offers, beginning to pace.
"A curse?" Chuck says, enunciating very clearly; skepticism dripping off the two words.
"Serena, please." Blair snaps, "Be serious."
"No! Really! Maybe it's—"
"No, Serena, not really. I told you to stop reading Harry Potter!" Blair retorts, "This isn't some curse! This is—"
The door opens and Harm runs inside as Blair's speaking; dark eyes scanning the room quickly before rushing out towards the den.
Blair's closing her mouth when they hear the boy's young voice, along with a deeper rumbling voice, beyond the doorway. A moment later, grown-up Nate is striding into the room, just as the older Blair is slipping through the patio doors.
"Oh," he says, motioning behind himself, "Harm just—"
She nods at him, "Yeah, he's looking for Gracie," she tells him, "Where is she? How'd it go?"
"In her room. I figured she could use an early night." He says and then ducks his head a little, "Pretty awful. Girl, knows how to lay the guilt on thick, Blair. Nice job."
"Here we go again," the younger Blair mutters, frowning at the images in front them as she burrows a little closer to Chuck, "More conversations we can't follow…"
Serena sighs too; Nate shifts on the sofa and motions for her to sit beside him and with a small smile she does. The sofa cushions tilt her into him a little and she tries to straighten away from him when he bumps his shoulder into hers, "Stop wiggling," he prompts, poking her in the ribs.
She giggles, saying, "That tickles," and pokes back.
The older Blair has drawn herself up straighter. "I had not a thing to do with tonight's events outside of coordinating the homecoming cook-out, Nate." She says.
"I didn't say you did, just that—"
"And Gracie has ample reason to be upset, you know. You and Serena did bail on them."
"She took off! And what was I supposed to do, Blair? Move them into the hotel with me? That wouldn't fan the media flames at all… at least here they—"
"You could have stayed at the house."
"With paparazzi in the front yard?"
"Then you should have come here with them, like I told you to."
"I did come here, but—"
"Stayed here," she snaps.
"I have work, Blair, I can't just—"
"You can commute when you need to, Chuck does it and—"
"Well I don't train as well he does! We established that a long time ago!"
She scowls. "Don't get huffy with me, Nate! It's not my fault you made Gracie cry!"
And they are glaring at one another now; gazes clashing across the room. It's Nate who breaks the tension with a low groan and widened eyes, "How did you know that?"
Blair takes the cue, blows out a breath as she rolls her eyes, "You are oozing guilt. You're too sensitive," she teases after a moment, "So you made a little girl cry… things happen…" she finishes with a shrug.
He rolls his eyes at her now. "She's not sorry."
Blair beams at him. "Of course she isn't."
He sighs softly, "You don't have to sound so proud about it."
She smirks a little, "Never renege."
Nate shakes his head, looks a bit amused, "Is Annie still outside? I should get going—"
He's moving past her as he speaks and she reaches out to grab his arm, cutting him off.
"Stay the night," she says.
And he shrugs her off without hesitation. "Definitely not."
"Nate—"
"No. And whatever you and Chuck are thinking or starting or plotting—stop it."
"Please Nate, we hardly have time to plot things," Blair says airily. "I'm simply asking you to stay because it's approaching midnight. Annie is with you. And the guest room is already made-up. There's no reason for you take a half hour drive to your mother's or even a longer one to the city when you're welcome here." She says with simplicity, "But if you want to take my kind suggestion, offered in nothing but the most caring spirit, and treat it as—"
"Enough, Blair," he cuts in, waving a hand as a vaguely amused expression flickers over his face, "I get the idea… I'm just not in the mood to be fixed okay? You and Chuck just—"
"Have either of us said a single thing to you about this? Other than to discuss the children and their situations, have we pressed you for answers? Told you what to think? Demanded any form of action? Condemned you for anything?"
He blinks, the vague amusement in his expression fading at her pointed questions, "No… you haven't. You've both been perfectly neutral."
"Precisely," she says crisply with a nod, "Because you and Serena are adults and there's no reason why either of us needs to take valuable time out of our very busy lives to point out that speaking to one another face-to-face, without shouting, might be a tad more beneficial than leaving notes forand sending divorce papers to each other; that your behavior affects all your children in increasingly detrimental ways; and that just because you think you've kept the media maelstrom away from them doesn't mean you actually have and you should behave accordingly… there's need for us to do that."
Nate gapes at her for a moment. They all do. Because it's decidedly a Blair rant, but delivered with je ne se quoi, a blasé quality to the words, that their Blair has not yet mastered.
He clears his throat then, swallows hard, "You're right. There's no need for that," he says softly.
Blair licks her lips, "Stay the night. Watch the stars with Sunny. Have breakfast with us in the morning…" she entices, adding with a small smile, "I'll even allow that wretched beast to stay on the property."
Nate doesn't smile. "In exchange for?"
"Nothing, Nate. I'm not going to ask anything of you when it comes to Serena. I'm not going to say anything either." There's sincerity in the words, her brown eye fastened on his face intently.
And after a moment, he nods. "Okay—the night then."
She nods back. "Annie can stay in Gracie's room…"
At that, Nate laughs a little, lightly, "That a good idea? You had a fit last time…"
"Well, it's not like Annie is going to teach Gracie to play football again is it?" Blair asks archly.
"You didn't really need those azaleas anyway…" Nate teases, moving towards the patio door. "I'm gonna go find her…"
"Alright, tell Chuck I'll be right back outside. I just want to check on Harm and Gracie, really quickly."
"Just that?" Nate asks, smirking fully now, "Not avoiding the bulk of seeing people off?"
She frowns at him, "Don't you give me that look, Nate Archibald. Whose fault is it that yet another Blair Bass soirée contains mayhem and impropriety? A dog? Really?
Nate grins, "Your parties are never boring, Blair."
She tosses her hair and turns around, tosses, "I would never be so lucky," over her shoulder.
And Nate watches her for a beat, standing by the doorway, as she crosses the room; his carefree expression melting away.
"Blair?" He calls her name quietly.
She pauses just in the doorway, turns back to him. "Hm?"
"If you were saying things… about Serena and I? What would you… be saying?"
"Nate—"
"I'm asking."
She draws in a deep breath, is quiet for a moment, and then answers softly, "I'd say that… Serena loves you like she's never loved anyone and that you've loved her since as far back as I can remember and that it's a lot to lose... so tread carefully."
Their gazes hold for a moment and then he nods once and slips outside.
Blair doesn't move when he does, she stares at the spot where he'd stood for a beat, before sighing very softly and moving away as well.
***