118. the fight for you is all i've ever known [prologue]
Title | the fight for you is all i've ever known
Chapter | prologue
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Nate Archibald, Blair Waldorf, Serena van der Woodsen, Dan Humphrey, Chuck Bass. Various other characters. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair, Nate/Serena, Dan/Serena, Chuck/Blair.
Summary | In the aftermath of a tragedy, Nate Archibald asks Blair Waldorf for the impossible. She says yes.
Notes | This begins in the future and moves back into the first season of GG, thanks to one tiny thing that I've borrowed from HP: a time-turner. It doesn't work exactly the same way and its capabilities as well as the reason for its existence will be revealed in later chapters. This is bound to look a little confusing in the beginning, but it's meant to be that way, and things will make sense soon.
2018.
"I want to do it."
Blair sits up in bed, startled, and tugs her sleep mask up from her eyes and over her head - she would be afraid, too, but she'd known him for long enough to be able to recognize his voice, even when it was thick and laced with something hard and impenetrable like it was right now.
Next to her, Dan sits up, squinting at the figure in the doorway of her bedroom. "Nate?" he asks, incredulous.
But Nate barely spares him a glance. "Blair," he says more urgently, "I want to do it."
She knows, instantly, what he's talking about and it makes her sigh - she'd known this was coming. "Sleep," she tells Dan. "We'll be fine." She throws back the blankets and stands up in her slip, reaching out for her dressing gown and pulling it on over top. She waves a hand toward the door, indicating that Nate should walk out.
In the harsh light of the hallway, he looks like hell. It doesn't surprise her: he's looked like the walking dead for about a fortnight now, and she can't blame him. His clothes are rumpled and he hasn't shaved in quite a while; his eyes are dark and haunted.
"We should sit," she says hopefully.
Nate rakes a hand through his hair, looking as though he's only moments from falling apart right in front of her. "Just tell me if it's possible."
She ties her dressing gown closed and crosses her arms. "Take some time, Nate," she cautions him softly.
He looks like he wants to throw something. "I have taken time, Blair. I've taken two weeks, and they've been the worst two weeks of my life."
She doesn't flinch. "I know that."
"So fucking tell me."
"You're acting out of grief. You aren't thinking straight."
"Dammit," he growls. "No one has seen or heard from my wife in five days."
"And that's not entirely out of character," she reminds him softly, "for your wife."
"Something makes me think these are extraordinary circumstances," he snaps.
"Don't try to guilt this out of me," Blair replies harshly, but she keeps her voice soft. "I'm just as worried as you are."
He appeals to her like a drowning man and it breaks her heart. "So help me. Please, Blair."
She licks her dry lips, feeling nervous. "You have to give her some breathing space."
Nate doesn't dignify that with a response and she can't exactly blame him. It's a ridiculous suggestion - all things considered. But Chuck has not one but two PIs working on it and Blair is using every tactic in her book, except for one. She's trying, she really is, but she understands his urgency with as much sympathy as is possible. Empathy is the one thing she can't feel for Nate. She doesn't know what he's going through, and a selfish part of her hopes that she never will.
"Blair." His voice cracks.
"You're asking…for something very serious."
"I know."
"There are consequences, Nate. There are always consequences."
His eyes flood with tears, surprising them both, and he wipes them away harshly, impatiently. "Isn't she worth it?"
Blair's heart vaults up into her throat. "Of course. I'm just…I'm working so hard to be careful…"
"You can fix this. Don't you understand that? You can fix this. You can. So you…you have to."
She lifts her hands to massage her temples lightly. "It was hard back then, too. You remember," she says gently.
"Nothing is as hard as this." He leaves no room for argument, but even if he had, she would have no way of responding to that. He's telling the truth.
She looks at him for a long, long moment. "What if we mess ourselves up even more?"
"Nothing is worse," he insists, and again, he's right. "Nothing." He blows out his breath, moving toward her and gripping her upper arms a little too hard to be comfortable, but she allows it. "I'll help you."
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"I'll help you, too. It doesn't just have to be about me. I'll help you." His eyes shine. "I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you like he did."
She pulls back at those words, shaking off his touch. "I don't need - "
"Then do it for me," he interrupts her. "Do it for whatever reason, I don't care. Just, please. Do this."
Blair glances over her shoulder, at her bedroom door, where her…her what? her boyfriend? her friend-with-benefits? Where Dan is sleeping. She bites her lip and looks back at Nate's face, at his desperate eyes, at the grief lining his face.
She relents. "Fine. Follow me."
He moves after her down the hall, matching her every step. The door to the room is unlocked, the shelves lined with ordinary books and knick-knacks, the pocket watch set carefully in a drawer like a boring antique, nothing special.
She loops the long, golden, slightly rusty chain around her neck and crooks a finger at him wordlessly. He steps closer to her and she loops the chain around his neck as well.
"Consequences, Nate," she whispers.
At that, he gives her the tiniest of smiles, accompanied by a fond look. "Junior year of high school, Blair."
She breathes out very slowly. "Don't forget where you come from."
His smile is gone when she glances back at him. "No danger of that."
And then she spins the pocket watch, again and again and again, and closes her eyes as they fly back through time.
tbc.
Chapter | prologue
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Nate Archibald, Blair Waldorf, Serena van der Woodsen, Dan Humphrey, Chuck Bass. Various other characters. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair, Nate/Serena, Dan/Serena, Chuck/Blair.
Summary | In the aftermath of a tragedy, Nate Archibald asks Blair Waldorf for the impossible. She says yes.
Notes | This begins in the future and moves back into the first season of GG, thanks to one tiny thing that I've borrowed from HP: a time-turner. It doesn't work exactly the same way and its capabilities as well as the reason for its existence will be revealed in later chapters. This is bound to look a little confusing in the beginning, but it's meant to be that way, and things will make sense soon.
2018.
"I want to do it."
Blair sits up in bed, startled, and tugs her sleep mask up from her eyes and over her head - she would be afraid, too, but she'd known him for long enough to be able to recognize his voice, even when it was thick and laced with something hard and impenetrable like it was right now.
Next to her, Dan sits up, squinting at the figure in the doorway of her bedroom. "Nate?" he asks, incredulous.
But Nate barely spares him a glance. "Blair," he says more urgently, "I want to do it."
She knows, instantly, what he's talking about and it makes her sigh - she'd known this was coming. "Sleep," she tells Dan. "We'll be fine." She throws back the blankets and stands up in her slip, reaching out for her dressing gown and pulling it on over top. She waves a hand toward the door, indicating that Nate should walk out.
In the harsh light of the hallway, he looks like hell. It doesn't surprise her: he's looked like the walking dead for about a fortnight now, and she can't blame him. His clothes are rumpled and he hasn't shaved in quite a while; his eyes are dark and haunted.
"We should sit," she says hopefully.
Nate rakes a hand through his hair, looking as though he's only moments from falling apart right in front of her. "Just tell me if it's possible."
She ties her dressing gown closed and crosses her arms. "Take some time, Nate," she cautions him softly.
He looks like he wants to throw something. "I have taken time, Blair. I've taken two weeks, and they've been the worst two weeks of my life."
She doesn't flinch. "I know that."
"So fucking tell me."
"You're acting out of grief. You aren't thinking straight."
"Dammit," he growls. "No one has seen or heard from my wife in five days."
"And that's not entirely out of character," she reminds him softly, "for your wife."
"Something makes me think these are extraordinary circumstances," he snaps.
"Don't try to guilt this out of me," Blair replies harshly, but she keeps her voice soft. "I'm just as worried as you are."
He appeals to her like a drowning man and it breaks her heart. "So help me. Please, Blair."
She licks her dry lips, feeling nervous. "You have to give her some breathing space."
Nate doesn't dignify that with a response and she can't exactly blame him. It's a ridiculous suggestion - all things considered. But Chuck has not one but two PIs working on it and Blair is using every tactic in her book, except for one. She's trying, she really is, but she understands his urgency with as much sympathy as is possible. Empathy is the one thing she can't feel for Nate. She doesn't know what he's going through, and a selfish part of her hopes that she never will.
"Blair." His voice cracks.
"You're asking…for something very serious."
"I know."
"There are consequences, Nate. There are always consequences."
His eyes flood with tears, surprising them both, and he wipes them away harshly, impatiently. "Isn't she worth it?"
Blair's heart vaults up into her throat. "Of course. I'm just…I'm working so hard to be careful…"
"You can fix this. Don't you understand that? You can fix this. You can. So you…you have to."
She lifts her hands to massage her temples lightly. "It was hard back then, too. You remember," she says gently.
"Nothing is as hard as this." He leaves no room for argument, but even if he had, she would have no way of responding to that. He's telling the truth.
She looks at him for a long, long moment. "What if we mess ourselves up even more?"
"Nothing is worse," he insists, and again, he's right. "Nothing." He blows out his breath, moving toward her and gripping her upper arms a little too hard to be comfortable, but she allows it. "I'll help you."
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"I'll help you, too. It doesn't just have to be about me. I'll help you." His eyes shine. "I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you like he did."
She pulls back at those words, shaking off his touch. "I don't need - "
"Then do it for me," he interrupts her. "Do it for whatever reason, I don't care. Just, please. Do this."
Blair glances over her shoulder, at her bedroom door, where her…her what? her boyfriend? her friend-with-benefits? Where Dan is sleeping. She bites her lip and looks back at Nate's face, at his desperate eyes, at the grief lining his face.
She relents. "Fine. Follow me."
He moves after her down the hall, matching her every step. The door to the room is unlocked, the shelves lined with ordinary books and knick-knacks, the pocket watch set carefully in a drawer like a boring antique, nothing special.
She loops the long, golden, slightly rusty chain around her neck and crooks a finger at him wordlessly. He steps closer to her and she loops the chain around his neck as well.
"Consequences, Nate," she whispers.
At that, he gives her the tiniest of smiles, accompanied by a fond look. "Junior year of high school, Blair."
She breathes out very slowly. "Don't forget where you come from."
His smile is gone when she glances back at him. "No danger of that."
And then she spins the pocket watch, again and again and again, and closes her eyes as they fly back through time.
tbc.