Blair's mind is back in the back of that town car that she'd almost forgotten about, it was so long ago. She can hear the metal crunching around her, the squeal of tires all over again, and all she can think is 'not again.'
She's lost one baby. She can't lose another. Not this one.
She doesn't know that she's said anything out loud until she realizes that Dan is gripping her hands tightly and she hears his voice, sounding far away.
"We don't know anything yet, Blair. We don't know that it's going to be like before. Hang in there my love."
Blair looks at him and his face is a mask of fear carefully hidden behind a small smile, his eyes are worried and Blair wants to reach out, to stroke his face, to tell him it's going to be okay even though she's not really sure she believes it, but she wants Dan to believe it, wants to spare him the pain she knows too well.
The pain shoots through her abdomen again and Dan lowers Blair to the ground, smooths her hair back from her forehead, an intimate gesture strangely out of place because in the next second the balcony explodes with action. Dan is standing up, yelling for Dorota and Dorota is rushing towards them asking if she should call the car around and Dan is telling her that they should just call 911, and Blair is lying on her side, curled up and crying.
Not this one. Not our baby.
She's made deals with God before; stupid, immature deals for things like getting a good grade on a test, getting into Yale, keeping Chuck Bass alive. She's promised devotion, piousness, chastity, all in exchange for getting what she wants. This time she promises nothing. She just asks, silently pleading whatever God or Gods will listen, to let this baby live.
She's lying on the cold ground, cradling her belly with one arm, and someone is kneeling next to her, a gentle voice in her ear, a hand pulling her arm up and wrapping a plastic cuff around it. The voice asks her questions.
"What is your name?"
"Blair Waldorf Humphrey."
"Do you know where you are?"
"At home."
"What is the year."
"2027."
"Who is the president."
"Can you please just save my baby?"
Blair hears Dan's voice in the background, a low, desperate hum, and he's answering questions.
twenty six weeks so far totally normal not her first pregnancy can you please just take her to the hospital
She feels heavy-lidded, half awake, staring at the room as it swims around her, seeing Dan standing on the other side, Dorota with her arm on his, then something hard is being slid under her and she's being lifted onto a stretcher, belts wrapped around her lap and chest, and suddenly everything that had been moving so slowly speeds up and she's being rushed out of the penthouse, into the elevator, and Blair looks around, trying to find him, trying to see his face, knowing that seeing him will help her feel like everything is going to be fine, that she's not cursed, that the universe doesn't want to keep her from having a child, that this is just a blip, a detour, and that their baby will be okay.
Dan.
They load her into the back of the ambulance and someone is starting an IV in her arm, and it hurts, hanging up a bag of fluids, and someone else says her pressure is low, her pulse is high, and that she's still bleeding, and Blair feels woozy, strange, the ambulance is swaying so she closes her eyes, trying to squeeze out the queasy feeling, and then she finally slips away into the darkness, falling back into its arms and the last thing she manages to say is her husband's name, barely a whisper through dry, cracked lips.
Dan.
She will find out later that Dan was behind the ambulance the entire way, that he ran into the emergency room and refused to leave her side as they pumped her full of fluids, tried to stop the bleeding. But right now she's lost in the darkness, lost in time.
She's back on that hospital bed, waking up with bright lights blinking above her, squinting to shield out their glare, and she remembers the crunch of metal, the screech of tires, Chuck calling out her name and she had tried to hold onto him, tried to grip his hand but his fingers slipped through hers and it wasn't the first time she'd lost Chuck in one way or another.
Her body aches all over and when Blair tries to move, tries to get up, determined to walk out into the hallway, to demand to know what is going on, pain shoots through her back, her legs and she winces, squeezing her eyes shut as tears spring up, her teeth clench and she moans.
Someone comes into the room. She is wearing blue scrubs and leaning over Blair with a look of concern. She asks her name and Blair manages to mumble tell her that her name is Blair Waldorf, and she would tell her a lot of other things, like that she needs to get out of here right now, but the pain is so bad she can barely speak.
"You've been in a car crash," the woman says. "You broke some bones. You lost some blood. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
Blair swallows, nods and moving her head hurts. She winces again.
"We're giving you morphine." the woman says, showing her a syringe. She does something with the IV line and Blair starts to feel fuzziness creep up on her and she closes her eyes and the blackness starts to envelop her. Her mind is racing as she sinks into the bed and just before she lets the meds take over she has a realization.
The baby. What about the baby.
She tries to open her eyes, tries to jerk up and ask the woman about the baby. Is the baby okay, but Blair can't move.
The next time she wakes up it's the first thing she asks.
"The baby. What about my baby?" Blair manages to whisper between parched lips. It's a different woman at the bedside.
"The doctor should probably talk to you..."
Blair knows. The baby. Her baby. It's gone.
Serena is by her bedside when the doctor tells Blair what she already knows. Her friend grips her hand and Blair barely feels it. She is cold. Then she asks about Chuck.
...lost a lot of blood...
The rest is history. Her pact with God, her inability to break away from Chuck Bass, the endless string of mistakes in the name of epic love highlighted by near death and tragedy. Blair can't even remember much about that time all these years later, but there is one thing she can remember, one night in the hospital.
It's dark outside and Blair feels empty. The pain is better and the medication gives her strange dreams, where she and Chuck and married and happy and she goes to find her baby and she's never there. Blair ends up running from room to room, in circles, until she wakes up screaming and her hand goes to her belly as if to protect what is no longer there, and that's when the other kind of pain starts, the ache in her heart that feels like it will never go away.
She's alone in the darkness. Chuck is dying. Serena has gone home. No one can help her. Blair lets the tears flow down her cheeks, doesn't bother to wipe them, just lies there and lets the sadness wash over her.
There is a tap-tapping on the door and Blair's head jerks around to look at the door, half expecting an aid to walk in with a pitcher of water or a nurse to give her some more medications. Instead she sees him, poking his head around the door, his face in the shadows.
Dan.
"Blair?" he whispers. She smiles. The first smile she's had since the accident. Her friend, her confidant, and all of the sudden all she wants is to be curled next to him on his couch in the loft, to have his arm around her shoulder, to feel safe. Everything else feels incredibly unsafe.
Everyone else expects things from her. Serena looks at her with sad eyes. Her mom can't hide her worry. Nate can't find the right words and talks about anything but the accident and the baby and Chuck. They mean well, the want her to feel better, but Blair feels like she's putting on a show, pretending that everything is okay. But now, Dan is here, with his eyes full of empathy, and he's sitting by her bed and holding her hand, gazing into her eyes, and he doesn't expect anything from her.
"I don't know what to say." He tells her.
"No one seems to," Blair responds. There is a distinct lack of words around her, no one wants to look at her. She is surrounded by people but all alone.
"I'm sorry."
Blair feels the tears again. The ones she doesn't let go around others people. Not since the doctor told her she'd lost the baby. She puts on a strong face, refuses to be anything but strong, but inside she's withering away.
"I'm sorry too." Blair whispers. His hand squeezes hers tighter and Blair feels grounded by his touch. "I wanted this baby."
"I know."
"Oh Dan, what will I do?" Blair chokes back a sob. "Everything is so messed up. I was going to finally be with Chuck, finally have what I'd always wanted, and now there is no baby and Louis is still there, and I'm so afraid."
Blair doesn't see Dan wince in the dim light of the room.
"I don't know, Blair." he says quietly. He would tell her later, years and years later, that his heart had been breaking for her, that all he wanted to do was take her into his arms and make it all better, that it had taken all of his will to not kiss her hand and smooth her brow, all things a friend doesn't do. He would tell her that he'd let her go, taken her to Chuck and it had ended up badly and he always wondered if he hadn't done all that, would she have a baby now, still be a princess. Would she have a different life. They would never know.
"But I still have you." Blair says quietly. Dan is still there. Dan is still Dan. Steadfast, unwavering.
"I wouldn't be anywhere else." Dan whispers back.
She is tired and there's nothing left to say, so they stay like that, Blair looking away from him, staring out the window, lost in her thoughts. Dan watching her, holding her hand, until Blair's eyelids drift downward and she falls asleep. He never tells her how long he stayed. He never tells her that it took all his strength to release her hand and walk out of that room. He never tells her that his heart broke for her that night.
Fifteen years later another baby is on the line. Fifteen years later Dan Humphrey spends another night in the hospital holding Blair's hand, his heart breaking for her once again, as well as for himself.
lost a lot of blood tube to help her breath decelerations transfusion four units we think we have her stabilized we'll see after we get through this night
Blair hears the beeps and hisses first, the bells ringing in the distance. She thinks it's the alarm at first, calling to her that it's time to get up for another day of meetings and planning and she wants to find it, make it stop, because she wants to sleep, just wants to sleep. The noises won't stop and slowly Blair's eyes flutter open and she sees bright lights above her and she squints to shield out the glare, and then she remembers. Pain in her belly, the coldness of the balcony as she lay on her side, the sound of the ambulance siren, the bumpy ride, and panic grips her. She tries to sit up but she can't and suddenly there are hands on her and someone is saying that she's waking up and she feels someone else grip her hand and she opens her eyes to see...
Dan.
"Blair." he says, eyes wide. "Oh, Blair."
He is kissing her hand and her cheek and she can tell he's been crying. He's saying her name over and over, laughing.
Blair Blair Blair
She tries to smile but then she remembers. The baby. She struggles to sit up again, pushing at the arms that come to keep her in bed, and she tries to speak, moves her lips and finally the words come out, a hoarse whisper.
"The baby."
"She's okay. The baby's okay. She's still safe inside you."
"She?" Blair asks.
Dan smiles and squeezes her hand again.
"Our little girl is okay."
TBC