A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews of the last chapter! No Chuck in this one, unfortunately, but hopefully you'll appreciate some classic Queen B bitching. I feel we were in short supply of that for the entirety of season 5, so I suppose I was subconsciously craving some, haha. Anyway, I think I'm going to start thanking you guys on here, just so you can feel special by receiving my gratitude in black and white.

So, thanks so very much: RauhlPrincess, kauraREX, livelovelaugh9704, and my two anon commentators! It's y'all that keep me going! And with that, let's begin...

Chapter 14: Not Afraid

You can try and read my lyrics off of this paper before I lay 'em
But you won't take the sting out these words before I say 'em
Cause ain't no way I'ma let you stop me from causing mayhem
When I say I'ma do something I do it,
I don't give a damn what you think

-"Not Afraid" Eminem

It had been one week, and neither Serena nor Nate had made a move. In fact, neither had been speaking much; their usually bubbly demeanors were all but fizzed out, their golden-hued skin pallid, their eyes an empty blue in their sockets. Blair and Chuck continued to observe clandestinely from the sidelines, noting the changes in demeanor of their two friends with no shortage of unease. Serena had taken to going to her Columbia classes in pajamas and tangled hair, and Nate stopped going altogether – abandoning the pair of courses he had signed up for to help him gain insight into the economic side of The Spectator.

Blair in particular was on the edge of losing it. She had buried herself in plans for the Hamilton House holiday party, and as the other members witnessed her unmatched creativity, efficiency, and execution, they only proceeded to tack on additional tasks for the sophomore. Then there was schoolwork, which her professors continued to pile on, and she found herself needing to go to the library with far more frequency than her schedule allowed for. She attempted to cheer up Serena periodically throughout the week, taking her to lunch and on shopping trips, going to get their nails painted pearly pink, but to no avail, and when Serena began to turn down her invitations, preferring to lounge about in Lily's penthouse, Blair found herself even more concerned for her mental well-being. She was indefatigably avoiding Lily, their run-ins few and their conversations decidedly clipped, but it was become increasingly difficult to act unfazed in her presence. Chuck was digging deeper into the plans Lily had for the selling of Bass Industries, and his PI had observed her at a meeting with Thorpe a few days ago. He had been calling Blair nightly to go over his discoveries and subsequent counter moves, but despite their scheming abilities, the two were at a loss at how to turn their lousy draw into a winning hand. Chuck was frenetic; Blair was frenetic. They were frenetic.

Currently, Blair was sitting at the library, her books stacked high and her thoughts stacked higher. Up they rose, to the ceiling, to the skyscrapers that caressed the clouds, the ones that carried the Bass name in particular.

"Hey Blair." The dreary but recognizable voice snapped her out of her reverie and she gazed with decided disgust at the man before her.

"Humphrey," she managed, tossing a lofty eyebrow in his direction.

"While normally I go out of my way to avoid you – "

"As I do you."

"Right," Dan agreed, pulling out a chair as he sat at Blair's table and folding his head into his arms. Blair could only look on, petrified and revolted, at the sight in front of her. "But, unfortunately, I need a study partner for my European literature class, and I know you're taking it, so I just thought – "

"Presumed, more likely," Blair spat. "Listen, Humphrey. Let me give you some insight." Dan refrained from rolling his eyes at that one; he hardly had the energy to lift his eyelids as Blair spoke. "As if your hair wasn't bad enough, or your clothes, or your" – she inhaled and wrinkled her dainty nose – "stench, or even your dumpster origins, it's your personality that really grates on my nerves. How dare you take advantage of my best friend? You knew she was drunk off her ass, and you didn't even care, because all you think about is yourself – not her and definitely not your best friend, Nate, or should I revise that to former best friend, because obviously you don't give two shits about him now." Dan was still silent; Blair cleaved through the quiet in the library with a continuation of her shrill eruption. "You're a judgmental, self-serving prick, and before you tell me to take a look at my actions, I'm going to clear something up for you. Yes, I'm a judgmental bitch, but I love my friends and my family, and I would do anything for them if they asked. I don't kick them when they're down; I give them my hand and I pick them up – drag them up if I have to. You? You're the one who shoves them onto the floor in the first place, and once they're there, you criticize them for falling." Finally Dan interjected, his flaming ire mirroring that of Blair's.

"I do not do that! I care about the people in my life too, Blair, and I resent you trying to manipulate my actions to create a completely unrealistic analysis of my character. What happened with Serena can hardly be classified as my fault; she came onto me."

"You know, for someone who thinks he's so profoundly intelligent, you really are dense."

"Excuse me?" Dan barked, attracting an angry glance from the only other student in the area.

"You are judgmental, yes, but it's your sheer lack of responsibility for your own actions, your complete absence of inner criticism, that makes you so insufferable."

"I can't believe you're seriously pinning this Serena business on me. She should be the one to apologize, and when she does, and if she seems to be acting like her normal self, then I'll consider forgiving her." Blair's eyes narrowed; her fingers clenched into fists; her teeth gritted against each other like a saw against wood.

"You want to talk about European lit?" she ground out. "Have you ever heard this one? 'He who dares not grasp the thorn / Should never crave the rose.' You can't even bear to be near Serena when she shows her thorny side, so how you could sit here and blame her for your actions while at the same time 'crave' her rose is beyond my comprehension. Now, do us both a favor for once and get the hell out of this library before I tear that fuzzy black hairpiece off of your overgrown head!"

"Fine. I thought after Chuck sold you for a hotel and left you might have recognized your own faults and wanted to change, but you really are the same old infuriating bitch, aren't you?"

"Crazy bitch, actually," Blair corrected him coldly. "And this bitch isn't going anywhere." Dan sucked in a breath and looked as if he might engage in another argument, but he seemed to decide against it at the last moment and let his diaphragm deflate in a whoosh of air. "Oh and Humphrey?" He reluctantly turned his head back. "As I've reminded your fellow Neanderthals at NYU, sandals are not shoes." She smiled sweetly and cracked open a thick textbook, her neatly printed notes marking her place. Dan Humphrey may be an exasperating waste of space, but at least he had provided her with an escape from her tedious bookwork. Now, it was back to the grind, and she had to make up for those precious wasted minutes…

...

Nate walked into work – well, perhaps sloshed into work would be more accurate, considering the downpour of rain outside, his puddle-soaked loafers and slacks, and his stooped posture – to a Spectator emergency. Seemingly overnight, they had lost some of their most lucrative and influential investors to a rival news site, and Nate was immediately bombarded with a frenzy of interns and the formidable figure of his grandfather, who was precariously eyeing the gaggle of young adults around him.

"Nate," he greeted his grandson, his piercing gaze unnerving the much younger man.

"Grandfather," Nate replied, grasping the hand before him and giving it a quick shake.

"I'm sure you've been made aware of The Spectator's current vulnerability due to the loss of funding," said Grandfather, immediately delving into the crux of the issue and allowing no time for pleasantries.

"Yes, I was informed."

"And?" Nate was immediately confused by the prompt. And what? This was the part where his grandfather told him what to do, and he, regardless of his sentiments, did it. Sensing Nate's bewilderment, he continued. "And what do you plan to do about it, to convince everyone that The Spectator is planning on going to the top and staying there?"

"I – I haven't come up with an exact plan yet, but I – "

"Didn't think you would have to, did you?" Grandfather interrupted, not unkindly. "I know I've been a large part of this establishment thus far, but I think it's time that you learn how to patch up a sinking ship and get her sailing again."

"Really?" Nate asked. "You think I can do this?"

"You do have Vanderbilt blood flowing through your veins, don't you?" his grandfather asked, raising his eyebrows and allowing the lines on his forehead to grow deeper.

"Yeah, I do," answered Nate, nodding to himself. "I'll get this done. I'll figure something out – give The Spectator the edge it needs to separate it from the competition."

"I know you will." Grandfather gave him a slap on the back and left the newsroom, grabbing his umbrella and charcoal overcoat on the way out.

"Enough!" Nate roared to the still-frantic room after he left. "We don't have time to run around like chickens with our heads cut off!" His employees instantaneously looked to their superior, for the first time actually nervous about their boss' opinion of them. Until now, he had been easy, breezy, basically a casual friend rather than an authoritative figure, but it was clear that that would no longer be the case. "I want you all at your desks, formulating ideas about how to revamp The Spectator. We need a new web design, new columns, new features, a whole new perspective. It has to be young, fresh, and informed – that's our target audience now. I'll be at my own desk, coming up with ideas as well, and in twenty minutes, we'll come back here and I'll pick the ones we're going to use. Any questions?" The room was silent, and everyone shook their heads no. "I said, any questions?"

"No, sir," they answered obediently.

"Good," Nate replied shortly. He then entered his office, slamming the doors behind him. He did have an idea already in his brain. He knew it was good. He knew it would save The Spectator. But he also knew it may cost him his sanity. He needed the one person he was refusing to admit he needed, refusing to admit he wanted – Serena Cecilia van der Woodsen.

And I just can't keep living this way
So starting today, I'm breaking out of this cage
I'm standing up, I'ma face my demons
I'm manning up, I'ma hold my ground
I've had enough, now I'm so fed up
Time to put my life back together right now

Until next time – xoxo