laaaate post is laaate
BAH it's been a while, thanks to exams and the need to just laze like a SLOTH but here it is :D
you didn't get to heaven, but you made it close masterpost, with earlier chapters and timestamps.
| you didn't get to heaven, but you made it close, pt 5 |
[gossip girl | r | everyone. like srsly. plus ofcs and omcs. nate/serena | au, violence, mafia!van der woodsens, law-enforcers!archibalds, hxc-mafia!erik]
i do not own the concept of the new york mafia nor the gg peeps. also, there may be some inconsistencies about the NY mafia and police force | 6634 words
It’s like death loomed in the van der Woodsen house. Death, or worse.
Blair’s busy filing reports when she gets the call.
When William van der Woodsen calls you personally, it’s best you start doing what he says, word for word.
“You’re taking urgent leave,” William announces.
She’s been thinking of ways to get into Alain Ducasse’s social circle so her mind isn’t really on the right track. “I am?”
“You are. Your mother in Idaho just had a bad fall. She’s in the hospital now, ICU. You’ve got to get to her.”
Blair stands up and begins to pack her bag as fast as she can. They’ve done this before. Someone with brown hair and approximately her height will be flying to Idaho under Blair Waldorf. She, on the other hand, will be in New York, at HQ. It worries her though, because such tactics are the last resort. “I see.”
“Yes. Tickets are all ready. You’ll be back in a week.”
“Any reason why I’m going to Idaho?”
William sighs. “Serena’s been spotted.”
Oh that’s not good. Anything about anyone being spotted is never good.
“By Nate Archibald.”
Blair almost stops breathing. It seems that the shit has hit the fan.
The plan had been immaculate. Serena van der Woodsen slips out of Nate Archibald’s life due to family problems. Blair, as her best friend, would know where she went, but because Serena didn’t want anyone to know, she couldn’t tell Nate. They’d still correspond, through emails and letters. Once in a while, there’d be a call. And Nate was okay with it, even though clearly he wasn’t very happy about the whole thing.
A year after Serena leaves school, she dies. Car accident, huge blast that leaves almost nothing to be buried. There’s an empty grave somewhere in New Jersey. The tombstone reads ‘Here lies Serena van der Woodsen. Beautiful daughter and filial friend, loved by all.’
William van der Woodsen is extremely detailed in planning. Blair always thought that he should have been a wedding planner.
The records are all filed up nicely, thanks to Team Legal Forces, made of Blair, Chuck and Bart. Not only does New Jersey have a death certificate of one Serena van der Woodsen, it also has the police report on the crash with the names of real detectives and forensics people.
Blair goes to Nate in tears, they cry together for a while, and everything goes back to normal. It’s the perfect plan. At least until now.
Blair knows Nate. Once he’s on the trail, he might actually find something that doesn’t add up. Like how Serena’s NYU files are destroyed.
“We need to recreate NYU files,” Blair blurts out.
William was probably in a rant that she didn’t listen to, because he sounds a little surprised. “NYU files?”
Blair grabs an urgent leave form. It’s good to be the secretary, really. All the forms are on your desk. “We destroyed her NYU records, but Nate’s going to check it out.”
“If we recreate NYU records, it means we’re going to have parent’s names, addresses, former schools… it’s going to be crazy,” William points out. “He’ll get suspicious when he can’t find her NYU files, but there’s always the possibility that the administration lost it. It’s been five years, you can’t expect them to keep track of every single NYU alumni.”
He’s got a point. This is the reason why William is in charge of the family and not Blair. He’s got deductive skills even in moments of sheer hysteria. Darren Shaw comes out of his office, and Blair injects the correct amount of worry and panic in her voice. “Okay, I’m leaving now. I’ll reach as soon as I can.”
“What’s going on?”
Blair looks up from her phone to see Darren looming at her desk. “It’s my mom,” she replies shakily, voice cracking. “She slipped on some water and she fell down the stairs.”
“Blair-”
“She’s in ICU, in fucking Idaho,” she says shrilly, tears falling. “Oh god what if I don’t get there on time? What if she dies?”
Darren grabs her shoulders firmly. “Hey, hey look at me.”
Blair looks away, sobbing. It’s all about the drama. Guys dig drama and damsels in distress.
“Come on, Blair,” Darren says soothingly. “Deep breaths. It’s gonna be okay.”
Blair looks at him, hope in her eyes. “Y-you think?” she hiccups.
Darren nods encouragingly. “I know,” he says. Overconfident bastard. “Tell you what, you go visit your mom. You’ll get a week’s off.”
“I’m applying f-for urgent leave-”
“It’s all right,” Darren insists. “Your mom needs you. I’ll go talk to admin, you don’t have to worry, okay?”
Blair almost chokes on her snot in relief, but she’s certain Darren thinks it’s her being overly emotional. “Oh gosh, Darren, thank you so much!”
She pulls him into a tight hug, making sure to sob a little on his shirt. Thank god William made her go for that summer drama camp.
: : :
“What the fuck happened back there?” Dan demanded as Nate practically broke all speed limits to get back to HQ. “Nate, for fuck’s sake. Can you at least answer the goddamn question?”
Nate grits his teeth. “I’ve told you. I saw Serena.”
Dan snorts, grabbing onto the handle for dear life as Nate swerves around the corner. For god’s sake, he can hear the damn tires screeching and he’s inside an air-conditioned car. “Right. As in Serena, your dead girlfriend.”
Nate swears angrily and slams the steering wheel. Dan decides another method of interrogation. No need to get Nate all riled up and drive them into a lamppost. “Look, Nate, I’m pretty sure it was someone who looked like her. Shit like that happens, man. My sister went to Paris for a school trip once and she met this Swedish girl who looked like her.”
Nate shakes his head. Oh hell no, Nate Archibald is not going to cry. But those pretty boy eyes are tearing up, and Dan isn’t one for emotional outbursts. There’s a reason why his relationships don’t last past three months. “I’m sure that the girl likes the same drink as your sister, laughs like your sister, fuck, even tilts her head like your sister.”
Dan’s got to admit that Nate’s got a point there. But the elusive Serena has been dead for five years, as far as he can tell. There’s no way someone stays dead for five years and then decides on a whim to climb out of her grave. From what Nate described one night when they got completely trashed, courtesy of their friend Jack, she died in a car accident. It was so bad that it was a closed casket ceremony. He’s finding it really, really tough to accept the fact that his friend’s dead girl is back, drinking coffee and going out with guys.
It doesn’t matter though, what Dan thinks. Right now he’s got to stop Nate from going through police records and interrogating people. The last thing they need right now is a potentially crazed FBI agent demanding to know the whereabouts of a dead girl.
“Okay, so let’s say it’s her,” he tries another route. Maybe this one would make Nate see sense. “Let’s say whoever you saw is Serena. What are you gonna do about it?”
When Nate just opens and closes his mouth, not responding, Dan thinks he’s hit the jackpot. The FBI building appears and Nate drives into the parking lot. They sit there for a while in silence, Dan looking at his friend as Nate stares at his own hands on the wheel.
Finally Nate replies, voice wavering. “I’ll find her and ask her why did she do this to me.”
This is totally throwing Dan off loop here. It’s official. He’s in the Twilight Zone. Easy-going, sarcastic Nate is now an upset human with extreme emotional baggage. They’re sitting in a car in a parking lot. Dan thinks he’s seen this scene in a romantic movie before.
“I just… I just want to know,” Nate says helplessly. “I just want to know why did she leave me. What did I do wrong for her to hate me and leave me?”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Dan says automatically, hating the thirteen-year-old girl Nate has become ever since he ‘saw’ Serena. “From the way I see it? She loved you as much as you love her.”
Nate takes a shaky breath. “Then why did she leave me, Dan?”
Dan can’t answer that question positively, because the guy’s girlfriend died, but he does try to soften the blow. “Sometimes people just have to leave, man,” he says gently. “When it’s time to go, it’s time to go.”
Nate’s about to reply when something hits the roof of the car. Dan turns to see the Chief standing outside, peering at them. He quickly rolls down the window. “Yeah, Chief?”
“I’m heading out for lunch,” The Chief grunts, before looking at Nate’s glazed, stricken face. “The fuck happened to him?” He asks Dan.
Dan makes a face. This cannot possibly end well. “You don’t wanna know,” he finally says. “You really don’t wanna know.”
The Chief makes a noise of discontent. “Well when you two ladies are done discussing china patterns, you can go back inside and do real work.”
Dan salutes his boss, knowing how much it annoys him. “Yes sir.”
The Chief grumbles as he walks away. Dan finds great pleasure in annoying the Chief. The man turns into the most peculiar shade of red. He watches the Chief leave the parking lot, sighing. They’ve got their work cut out thanks to the fuckup that was Joel Lee and the Detectives, so Nate really has no time to play private investigator.
“Come on man,” Dan turns to tell Nate that they’d better go back, but Nate is gone.
How the fuck did the guy leave the car and he did not know? And it’s Nate’s car, too, not Dan’s. The key is still in the ignition. That’s not a Nate thing to do, being so careless. He’s always been on the lookout, eyes and ears open, analyzing every little detail so intensely Dan figures he should have been in Forensics.
Maybe Serena isn’t as good for Nate as he thinks she is. Knowing Nate, he’s probably accessing databases as Dan sits here in shock and contemplation.
Fuck, he’s got a friend to stop.
: : :
It’s like death loomed in the van der Woodsen house. Death, or worse.
The last time Lily felt this unease creeping up her spine, her son was kidnapped. Sleepless nights, frustrating mornings, exhausting afternoons, William screaming into the phone ever fifteen minutes, Serena terrified because Daddy’s so angry and why isn’t Erik here, Mommy? He promised he’d never leave me.
She never wanted to go through it ever again.
At the look of William’s face, it seems that she might have to dig her heels and brace herself.
“Problem?” She asks, carefully placing her Prada handbag on the glass coffee table.
William doesn’t bother with small talk. “Nate Archibald spotted Serena and Erik. Went crazy.”
Lily exhales. It’s never good to show emotions, especially if your brain is screaming Oh fuck and the only expression you can form would be horror.
“Thankfully, he ran into some guy carrying groceries, so Serena and Erik could get away.”
Explains the urgent call. Lily usually ignores her cell when she’s shopping; thank god she didn’t this time. She looks around. The two people in question are not seen anywhere.
“And where are they now?”
William sighs harder, throwing himself on the couch. He looks tired and worried, and Lily hates that. It means he’s exhausting himself, thinking too hard. The last time this happened, he almost shot Rock. “They’re in the kitchen.” There’s a snort of mild amusement. “Like kicked puppies knowing that they did wrong.”
Lily remembers the many times Serena and Erik would sit in the kitchen looking all forlorn and regretful. Breaking her exquisite Venice vase was one incident, the other most memorable one was when they decided to use the fig tree in the backyard as target practice.
She sits next to William on the armrest, gently running her fingers through his hair. He makes a pleased noise, leaning into the touch like a pampered cat. “You want me to talk to them?” she asks quietly.
William buries his head into her lap. “That,” he says, voice muffled. “Would be an excellent idea. Independent party and all.”
Lily thinks he needs a little affection, so she kisses the top of his head. “Yeah, alright. You go get some sleep, you look worse than Leon when he watches Oprah.”
Her husband laughs. “That’s not fucking good. Leon looks like fuck when he’s done crying watching people with credit card debts.”
Her plans for Carter would have to be pushed back. No need to add more people into the mess.
When William’s dragged himself upstairs to sleep, Lily straightens herself and goes into the kitchen.
It’s exactly what she expected. Two blonde heads sitting together, shoulders slumped. When they hear her heels clicking on the floor, they look up, looking absolutely depressed. Puppy dog eyes, that what Dorota once said when she caught them drawing on the walls back when Serena was three and Erik five.
Those eyes are actually working. Lily smothers the need to hug them and feed them pie.
“Who’d like to start?” She asks, taking a seat in front of them. Serena’s got her hands in her lap, and Erik’s are held tightly around a coffee cup. They both talk at the same time.
“I’m sorry-”
“It’s not her fault-”
“Apologies later,” Lily says over the both of their voices. “Facts. Come on, you know the drill. I need facts.”
“We were at a coffee shop,” Erik says immediately, slipping into the big brother role like he was born for it. “I wanted to go, ‘cause Serena’s been talking about the coffee like it’s the second coming. So we went.”
Good coffee may be the only thing that would make Erik give in during an interrogation. It’s the boy’s ultimate weak link.
“When we left, I heard someone shout Serena’s name, but I figured I must be high on caffeine, so we just continued walking. And then I heard it again, and Serena did too. She recognized Nate’s voice, so we decided to play dumb and walk a little faster. Then I heard the sound of someone running, and then two people running, and we were about to run too, but then he slammed into some guy. We quickly made our exit. Walked straight into a huge crowd, made our way through and got to the car parked three blocks down.”
Serena’s just sitting there, looking like the world had ended. Lily can understand the feeling. The love of your life hunting you down is never a great realization.
“Could he see your faces properly?”
“No,” Serena replies. “We were wearing sunglasses. He definitely didn’t get a good look at Erik. He was a street away. I know the place, you can’t get a good look from that angle.”
Lily nods, the grip on her heart lessening a little. If Nate Archibald didn’t see Erik’s face clearly, chances are he wouldn’t find out who Serena really was.
She rubs her forehead, trying to figure out a grand plan. William would have already come up with one, but two heads are always better than one. “All right. What’s done is done, don’t need to apologize. You two go wash up and get some rest. We’ve got a few busy weeks ahead of us. And Blair should be back soon too, looking at the situation.”
Serena stands up, her stool dragging against the linoleum floor. “I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice. “All I wanted was just a day out with Erik.”
Lily gets it, she really does. Sometimes living this life makes you feel like you can’t breathe, and once in a while you just want to feel free. That’s why she doesn’t blame anyone. “It’s all right, Serena. Go wash up.”
Erik waits for Serena to leave the kitchen before he finally speaks up. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”
It’s not a question, really. It’s more of a statement of self-loathing.
“We all fuck up, Erik,” Lily says. “But you can’t blame yourself for this.”
Erik snorts, but it’s humourless. His eyes are tight, his expression incredulous. “How can you expect me to not blame myself for this? I practically bugged her to bring me there.”
“And you didn’t know Nate was going to be across the street, didn’t you?” Lily shoots back. “You didn’t know that he’d recognize the two of you if he did see you.”
Erik doesn’t respond to that, eyes looking everywhere but Lily. He probably thinks she doesn’t know him and how his thought process works, but Lily knows him better than anyone else. She’s his mother.
She’s trying to form another sentence when he finally looks at her, blue eyes wide. “What’s gonna happen now, Mom?”
He’s trying to be brave and macho, just like how he’s taught to be, but all Lily can see is her terrified seven-year-old looking at her, expecting her to make things better. And damn her motherly instincts for wanting to make things better, to see the sunny smile form on his face like how it did twenty-one years ago.
But all she can say is the truth.
“I have no idea.”
: : :
Nate’s called NYU, asking for the records of one Serena van der Woodsen. They said they’d get back to him, and when they did, it wasn’t good news.
“I’m afraid we don’t have any records of a Miss Serena van der Woodsen, sir.”
It’s impossible. She lived with him. He slept next to her, ate her cooking, kissed her good morning - she has to be real. Blair talks about her when he asks. Serena is definitely not a figment of his imagination, he’s absolutely certain of it, despite Dan’s skeptical looks.
Speaking of Blair, he’s called her about a million times since yesterday, and she still hasn’t called back. He’s very sure Blair isn’t a figment of his imagination, either.
He’s searching through the Sheriff database when Megan enters his office. “Peach tea,” she announces, handing him the cup.
“Thanks, Meg,” he says. She loves doing coffee rounds, and she always teases him about his addiction to peach tea. He’s certain the peach tea has something to do with Serena, but he can’t exactly remember what. Just like how he can’t remember their last conversation, or how she left. Surely they had a proper goodbye?
“No problem. As long as you’re peachy.”
Nate groans, putting the cup down. “You did not.”
Megan winks before walking out. “Oh yes I did,” she singsongs.
He’s barely into the list of car accidents in New Jersey when Dan barges in. “Get your ass out of that fucking chair and get into the meeting room.”
Nate looks up, alarmed. He’s already standing up. “What’s up?”
“NYPD called. Someone left Joel Lee’s body at their fucking doorstep.”
Nate practically barges out of his office. “You’re shitting me.”
“No one’s shitting or pissing, Archibald,” The Chief growls as they enter the meeting room. He’s slowly turning red. “Turns out that traffic cameras aren’t as good as we thought they were, either. Footage shows no car coming round to dump the body.”
“Maybe there’s no car,” says Ken. “It’s not the first time van der Woodsen’s men did things the hard way.”
“No signs of suspicious activity like people carrying a dead body, either,” The Chief deadpans.
Megan frowns. “So what happens now?”
“Now? Now we go to police headquarters, take a look at what happened to that sorry son of a bitch.” The Chief pauses. “You might not be able to recognize him.”
“Then how did the police know that it’s Joel Lee?” Dan asks.
The Chief’s already halfway out of the door. “We’ll have to go there and find out,” he calls over his shoulder.
: : :
When the Chief said that it’s bad, Nate expected bad, but definitely not bad.
Megan’s ran off to the toilet, face green the moment she laid eyes on Joel Lee. Dan doesn’t seem very enticed by the sight either, eyes darting away to look at the white walls and the metal cabinets. The only person who seems in his element in the room is Ken, who’s analyzing the body with such ferocity Nate’s afraid he’ll burn the remains with his eyes.
Nate wonders how the couple who spotted the body are dealing with the aftermath.
“How is Ken handling this, man,” Dan says, swallowing and making a face. “I’m ten seconds away from puking out my breakfast.”
“He’s forensics,” Nate points out. “If he’s squeamish about blood and gore, he’d probably quit a long time ago.”
Ken and Josh, the one in charge of forensics for NYPD, are throwing theories on the bruises, cuts and slices. The Chief’s in a corner with Lieutenant Lopez, talking silently. Nate catches words like ‘Captain’ and ‘no leads’ and ‘mafia’.
Nate looks at whatever remains of Joel Lee again. They had handed the guy over to die. He’d never forgive himself. No one, let alone Joel Lee, deserved what had happened to him. From this angle alone Nate can tell that the man was shot twice in the thighs and once in the knee. His toenails are gone, and that left leg is in an impossible angle.
He’s still staring at the body when Ken walks up to them, grim.
“What did you get?” Dan asks.
Ken glances at the body. “Nothing good, that’s for sure. Guy was probably tortured for a couple of days. I’m finding it hard to believe that this all happened in the same evening.”
Nate swears. A couple of days? If it were Nate, he’d probably be gone by the fifth hour.
“Lots of stuff to be analyzed and categorized,” Ken admits. “All Josh and I can agree on is that he definitely died from the shot in the chest.”
Something doesn’t seem right. “All that torture for a shot in the chest?”
“It’s one hell of a shot, I’ll tell you that.” Ken sniffs. “It’s a .50 that did that damage. Bullet’s still there, too.”
Bullet. Leaving something behind. Nate doesn’t think that’s William’s style. He’s usually not that clumsy to leave something that can be tracked to him.
“.50 owners are registered.” Dan says excitedly. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t see how this doesn’t add up. “We can check the database, cross it with something else. Mafia associations? Jail terms?”
Ken nods. “That’s what I was thinking.”
Half an hour later, the Chief announces that the FBI and the NYPD would work together in this case. They’d find the bastards who did this to Joel Lee, make them tell where William van der Woodsen is, and make sure that the streets of New York would be safer.
“William van der Woodsen wants a war,” The Chief’s voice booms. “Taunting us, making us look like fools. We’ll give him a war.”
Nate watches everyone nod in agreement. They’re doing it wrong. William van der Woodsen isn’t taunting them. It’s not his MO. He - or whoever did this - is just giving them a ball of yarn to play with, as if they’re anxious kittens. And they’re falling for the bait.
: : :
Serena hasn’t seen Blair in ages, so it seems fitting that the moment Blair enters her room, luggage in hand, Serena launches herself on her best friend.
“Glad to know I’m welcome,” Blair jokes.
Serena feels horrible. Blair had to drop everything and come back because of her. Blair had to leave normal. Well, as normal as normal can get for a made man working as the DA’s secretary. It’s amazing what a little money can do. Patricia Jennings was more than happy to leave her job to go to tour Europe, allowing Blair to swoop in and take over. Of course, Pat’s Europe tour ended when Lily caught up with her five months later in Amsterdam.
“He’s been calling me since yesterday,” Blair says as she pulls her luggage into a corner. “It’s getting annoying.”
Serena smiles softly. How Nate to keep on pursuing something that he wants until he gets it. Blair may hate Nate’s persistence, but Serena wishes she were the one whom Nate called. It’s been five years, and she’s starting to forget how he sounds like.
Thank god she didn’t completely forget, because when he was shouting for her to stop yesterday it would have been a very wrong move to turn and figure out who called her. It took all her training to not break into a run and flee from him so that he’ll never find out who she truly is. It’s best that he never knows.
“What’s your cover up this time?” Serena asks instead of the other question that’s looming in her mind.
“I’m in Idaho,” Blair announces as she unpacks. Serena fights the urge to giggle. Dad always came up with the most random places. No one she knew of had even gone near Idaho, let alone visited it. “My mom’s in ICU. I’m on a week’s urgent leave.”
Serena makes a noise of acknowledgement. Blair turns around, looking at her knowingly. “And he’s doing fine,” she says gently. “At least the last time I saw him. He’s doing alright, Serena.”
Serena looks at her pink fingernails. She should have never bought this shade, like what Juliana had told her. It doesn’t suit her at all. “That’s good,” she says.
“How’s Erik, anyway?” Blair asks, smoothly changing the topic as she continues unpacking. That’s what Serena loves about Blair. She knows when to back off, and when to prod. It makes her an excellent made man - made woman, according to Blair - and a fantastic friend that Serena would always cherish.
She stretches on the bed, tempted to roll in the sheets. Dorota would have her hide, though. “The usual, really. Kicking ass and taking names.”
Blair laughs. “Yeah, I expected as much.”
“He’d probably bug you to make your lemon cheesecake,” Serena continues, turning to face her friend. “He almost loves that as much as apple pie.”
“He should,” Blair points out. “I make the best lemon cheesecake New York has ever tasted.”
There’s a knock on the door, and Erik enters. He’s wearing his threadbare jeans and a green t-shirt. “What’s this I hear about lemon cheesecake?”
Blair looks appalled. “Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?”
Erik shrugs. “It’s about food. You know I like food. Especially your lemon cheesecake,” he hints.
“We could have been talking about other things.”
“Like?”
Blair rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, menstruation? Like how it doesn’t come on time, or why do I have weird yellow substances in my panties?”
Erik looks alarmed. “You have weird yellow substances in your panties?”
“It’s a rhetorical situation!”
“That’s probably a yeast infection,” Erik nods seriously. “Not a healthy vagina you got there.”
Serena laughs and throws a pillow at her brother. “Get out, Erik!”
Blair puts her hands on her hips. “Yeah, get out, Erik.”
Erik throws the pillow playfully back at Serena, grinning as it flies straight into her face. “You love me,” he tells Blair, smiling.
Instead of the usual retort Blair would have on the tip of her tongue - yeah, just as much as I love my yeast infection or if you say love you mean absolutely despise - she looks away. Erik jumps on the bed to mess up Serena’s hair, much to her chagrin, and only leaves the room when he’s satisfied that she looks like a cavewoman.
“You got the latest Louboutins!”
Serena blinks at the change of topic. “Uh, yeah. Don’t tell anyone, but Chuck spotted them, got ‘em for me.”
Blair looks amazed. “Chuck? Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.”
Blair stares at the pair of shoes that innocently lie on Serena’s closet floor. “Wow, I didn’t know he had taste.”
Considering Chuck’s amazing record of horrible Christmas gifts and perpetually horny girlfriends, Serena understands why Blair feels that way. Even Erik was amazed that the Louboutins were classy. “Apparently he does.”
Blair makes an impressed noise before looking at her, contemplating something.
“What?” Serena asks. Does she have something on her face? Or is it just the horror that her hair, thanks to Erik?
“Did Nate have taste, when it came to presents?”
Serena’s so shocked that she doesn’t answer the question immediately. Blair usually avoids talking about Nate, since it’s such a sore topic for Serena, and she really appreciates it. The question completely throws her off guard. Did Nate have taste? Is it scary that she can’t really remember?
Blair takes her silence wrongly, backtracking. “Sorry. Stupid question. No idea what I was thinking when I said it-”
“No,” Serena laughs. “No, no it’s a good question, actually.”
She bites her lip, trying to remember. Perhaps as a lovesick nineteen-year-old the presents were amazing and were adorable, but as a depressed but still lovesick twenty-five-year-old the presents at the back of her mind didn’t seem as amazing as they did years ago. Change in priorities, maybe? If Nate gives her the stuffed unicorn she got five years ago to her now, she’d probably consider it a gag gift and make fun of it, rather than consider it a sign of undying love.
“I don’t know,” she finally says. “I guess they were classy back in college, but right know they seem kind of tacky.”
Blair nods understandingly. “Everything seems classy in college. Even half naked girls playing pool was classy.”
True. Sabrina Rickman had even fucked on the pool table after the game, and only some girls with promise rings had muttered ‘Hobag’ when they saw her get banged an inch of her life. It was a life without much restraint, college. It was like living in a lie. Dating a DA’s son and hoping that they’ll have the happily ever after she’s always searched for? Complete lie.
“Erik’s dating Juliana,” she blurts out.
Blair looks a little confused, just like how Serena feels. She has no idea where that came from.
Blair raises an eyebrow. “Uh, okay?”
“I just think it’s amazing,” Serena admits. Erik van der Woodsen, settling down. It’s like Dad not wanting to be a mafia boss. “He didn’t look like he was going to get married or anything. Dad was all worried about passing on the family name.”
Blair looks at the sheets. “Well, I guess now your dad doesn’t have to worry anymore.”
Serena nods. “It’s good, you know? Dad shouldn’t worry so much. He’s not getting any younger. And since I’m stuck in a rut, not being able to go out, me having babies is kinda out of the question.”
“I don’t suppose we’ll be getting a wedding card anytime soon?” Blair sounds a little off.
Serena frowns. “Nah, they just started dating. Are you okay?”
Blair looks at her, smiling. “Yeah, sure I am. Just a little worried about the whole Nate thing, you know?”
Serena flops back on the bed. “Believe me, I know.”
: : :
It’s a full house at the van der Woodsen’s. For the first time in years everyone actually sits down to eat, rather than grab a bite and rush off or eat while working. It’s agreed that they need to take a breather from the madness.
Dorota is exceptionally pleased that she doesn’t have to peep at the sink every half an hour to check if there are dirty dishes.
The plan’s already set in motion. There’s a reason why Lily and William van der Woodsen are the best in town. Their mind games and plotting rival that of Hilter and Stalin. Erik says this positively.
At 10am, two people dumped whatever remained of Joel Lee at the NYPD HQ. Thanks to an insider, the traffic cameras and the security cameras caught nothing. It seems that New York citizens were too engrossed in their own lives, because a young couple only spotted the body at 11.30am, and were absolutely terrified. FBI rushed down in fifteen - Erik scoffs at that. They could have made it in five, really - and they took the body as a threat, just like how Dad wanted it to look like.
The ‘war’ is on. It’s also one-sided.
“Where’s Juliana?” Blair asks as she passes him the potatoes. It’s so cramped and lively in the kitchen, Erik feels as excited as a five-year-old waiting for Christmas presents. While he’s cool with the usual eat-and-go, there’s something nice about sitting down together.
Why ask him such questions anyway? He doesn’t even know where Serena is half the time, let alone Juliana. “No idea.”
Blair makes a noise that clearly means you’re incorrigible, and what has he done to her this time? “What?”
“Nothing,” Blair shakes her head. “Just figured that you of all people should know where Juliana is.”
Erik frowns, eyes narrowed, but he can’t question Blair when Leon suddenly laughs and says, “We haven’t said grace in a long time.”
Rock almost spits out his water. Erik thinks that is a very appropriate response. “We have never said grace.”
Leon shrugs, grinning. “Gotta happen sometime, right?”
Dad smiles at the end of the table as he scoops out some salad, as if humouring a small child. Mom looks slightly concerned.
“Yeah,” Trent agrees. “Grace. There. I said it. Now fucking eat the damn steak.”
Serena giggles next to Erik as she tucks in her food.
There’s a short silence as they all start eating, then Dorota comes in with cranberry sauce and everyone makes noises of appreciation.
“What’s the occasion, Dorota?” Dad asks, eyeing the sauce eagerly.
Dorota smacks him with a tea towel. “There’s no need for occasion to have good food, Mister van der Woodsen.”
Leon swallows his steak. “What she said.”
The front door opens and everyone freezes. The cutlery stops clinking, everyone stops chewing and there are at least four hands on their respective guns.
It’s impossible for anyone to break into the van der Woodsen house. But then again, they rarely let their guard down and just eat together like a big happy family. Erik slowly stands up, following his father who’s already got the Colt in his hands. He puts himself in front of Serena and Blair, who look more than ready to use the knives and forks in their hands as weapons. He holds his Sam and Wesson tightly, jaw ticking.
The tension is so high that by the time the person actually is within sight, Erik is ready to shoot, friend or foe. From the looks of the others, it seems that everyone has the same thing in mind.
“Bloody hell,” Bart Bass swears as everyone lunges. “It’s just me, for fuck’s sake.”
Chuck appears moments later, taking in the sight of six guns, two forks, two knives and a chopper. Yes, Dorota takes no chances after working for the van der Woodsens for over two decades. “Whoa. You guys expecting feds or something?”
There’s a collective sigh of relief as everyone sits down again, grumbling about how dinner was almost ruined. They make space for Bart and Chuck, and conversation slowly seeps in. How the week went, Mom’s trysts in Europe - Rock laughed long and hard when she spluttered about how a BDSM Dom tried to woo her in a club - the failures of the government… it was almost like a regular dinner for a regular family.
It scared Erik how much he loved it, and how he wanted it to happen again.
Serena makes an appreciative noise next to him. “The cranberry sauce is amazing.”
Erik looks at his empty plate. “You just started eating the sauce?”
Serena makes a face. “Not everyone is as hardcore as you.”
Blair nudges him, and he turns. “You want my steak? I’m kind of full.”
When Erik eats, his stomach is like a bottomless pit. There’s also this fear at the back of his mind that it would be last meal he’d be eating in a while, so he swallows everything as fast as he can, as much as he can. Sometimes, small portions aren’t enough. Serena usually asks for more and then sneaks it onto his plate, but Blair gives him leftovers that she could eat but doesn’t want to, because she know he probably needs it more.
Erik isn’t sure who he’s more thankful for between the two of them. But let be known that Erik van der Woodsen never says no to good steak. “That’ll be awesome. I should be your garbage bin forever.”
Blair snorts as she transfers the steak to his plate. “You do not want to be the garbage bin for my tampons, trust me.”
Serena smacks Erik, and he yelps. “What’s that for?”
“Don’t talk about things like that while I’m eating!”
: : :
Erik catches Blair when she’s rummaging the fridge for a drink. “You got something to ask me?”
Blair looks up at him, eyebrow raised. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
Blair takes out a Corona and leans against the island. Erik leans against the kitchen counter, arms folded. He watches Blair open the bottle and places the cap on the granite worktop gently. “You not getting one?”
Stalling tactics. Blair’s a master of that. Thing is, Erik knows how she works. He shakes his head. “Not in the mood to drink.”
Blair makes a face that means your loss as she swigs the bottle. There’s silence for a long while, but it’s comfortable silence. There’s never been awkward silence with Blair. Even when she first came in and didn’t dare speak a single word, the silence was anything but oppressing and uncomfortable.
Erik waits patiently, and he gets his reward. “I heard about you and Juliana.”
So that’s what it’s all about.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” Blair sounds extremely bitter. “From Serena.”
Little sister should really learn how to keep her mouth shut once in a while. “You don’t say.”
Blair looks tempted to throw the bottle at him, and he wouldn’t really blame her. Much. “When can I look forward to an invite?”
Erik sighs. “Blair-”
“Fuck, Erik, we agreed. When you’re tired of me, you tell me. You don’t fucking go around playing mind games.”
“I’m not tired of you.”
She looks incredulous. She’s in an oversized NYU shirt and tiny shorts, her brown hair over her shoulders and makeup long washed, and Erik’s seen her look better, but she still looks beautiful. Call him a sap, but that’s how he sees it.
She blinks and looks away. “Don’t fucking play with me,” her voice quivers at the end.
“I never would,” Erik says honestly. “I’ll never get tired of you.”
Blair’s blinking back tears, he can tell, but he doesn’t say anything. It wouldn’t be nice to out her like that. “Juliana knows.”
For someone who knows how to shelter her feelings so well, Blair’s eyes tell Erik everything she’s thinking of right now. “She knows.”
“Yeah, she knows. She knows it’s not the real deal. She’s okay with it.”
Blair bites her lip. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Erik pushes himself away from the counter, towards Blair. He smirks. “I mean, I provide awesome sex. And have you looked at me?”
Blair chokes out a laugh, punching him in the chest. “Narcissistic bastard.”
Erik takes her free hand and twines his fingers around hers. He doesn’t say anything, they both don’t, but she knows when he wants to say I love you and he knows when she says I love you too.
continue with take me back to the start
you didn't get to heaven, but you made it close masterpost, with earlier chapters and timestamps.
| you didn't get to heaven, but you made it close, pt 5 |
[gossip girl | r | everyone. like srsly. plus ofcs and omcs. nate/serena | au, violence, mafia!van der woodsens, law-enforcers!archibalds, hxc-mafia!erik]
i do not own the concept of the new york mafia nor the gg peeps. also, there may be some inconsistencies about the NY mafia and police force | 6634 words
It’s like death loomed in the van der Woodsen house. Death, or worse.
Blair’s busy filing reports when she gets the call.
When William van der Woodsen calls you personally, it’s best you start doing what he says, word for word.
“You’re taking urgent leave,” William announces.
She’s been thinking of ways to get into Alain Ducasse’s social circle so her mind isn’t really on the right track. “I am?”
“You are. Your mother in Idaho just had a bad fall. She’s in the hospital now, ICU. You’ve got to get to her.”
Blair stands up and begins to pack her bag as fast as she can. They’ve done this before. Someone with brown hair and approximately her height will be flying to Idaho under Blair Waldorf. She, on the other hand, will be in New York, at HQ. It worries her though, because such tactics are the last resort. “I see.”
“Yes. Tickets are all ready. You’ll be back in a week.”
“Any reason why I’m going to Idaho?”
William sighs. “Serena’s been spotted.”
Oh that’s not good. Anything about anyone being spotted is never good.
“By Nate Archibald.”
Blair almost stops breathing. It seems that the shit has hit the fan.
The plan had been immaculate. Serena van der Woodsen slips out of Nate Archibald’s life due to family problems. Blair, as her best friend, would know where she went, but because Serena didn’t want anyone to know, she couldn’t tell Nate. They’d still correspond, through emails and letters. Once in a while, there’d be a call. And Nate was okay with it, even though clearly he wasn’t very happy about the whole thing.
A year after Serena leaves school, she dies. Car accident, huge blast that leaves almost nothing to be buried. There’s an empty grave somewhere in New Jersey. The tombstone reads ‘Here lies Serena van der Woodsen. Beautiful daughter and filial friend, loved by all.’
William van der Woodsen is extremely detailed in planning. Blair always thought that he should have been a wedding planner.
The records are all filed up nicely, thanks to Team Legal Forces, made of Blair, Chuck and Bart. Not only does New Jersey have a death certificate of one Serena van der Woodsen, it also has the police report on the crash with the names of real detectives and forensics people.
Blair goes to Nate in tears, they cry together for a while, and everything goes back to normal. It’s the perfect plan. At least until now.
Blair knows Nate. Once he’s on the trail, he might actually find something that doesn’t add up. Like how Serena’s NYU files are destroyed.
“We need to recreate NYU files,” Blair blurts out.
William was probably in a rant that she didn’t listen to, because he sounds a little surprised. “NYU files?”
Blair grabs an urgent leave form. It’s good to be the secretary, really. All the forms are on your desk. “We destroyed her NYU records, but Nate’s going to check it out.”
“If we recreate NYU records, it means we’re going to have parent’s names, addresses, former schools… it’s going to be crazy,” William points out. “He’ll get suspicious when he can’t find her NYU files, but there’s always the possibility that the administration lost it. It’s been five years, you can’t expect them to keep track of every single NYU alumni.”
He’s got a point. This is the reason why William is in charge of the family and not Blair. He’s got deductive skills even in moments of sheer hysteria. Darren Shaw comes out of his office, and Blair injects the correct amount of worry and panic in her voice. “Okay, I’m leaving now. I’ll reach as soon as I can.”
“What’s going on?”
Blair looks up from her phone to see Darren looming at her desk. “It’s my mom,” she replies shakily, voice cracking. “She slipped on some water and she fell down the stairs.”
“Blair-”
“She’s in ICU, in fucking Idaho,” she says shrilly, tears falling. “Oh god what if I don’t get there on time? What if she dies?”
Darren grabs her shoulders firmly. “Hey, hey look at me.”
Blair looks away, sobbing. It’s all about the drama. Guys dig drama and damsels in distress.
“Come on, Blair,” Darren says soothingly. “Deep breaths. It’s gonna be okay.”
Blair looks at him, hope in her eyes. “Y-you think?” she hiccups.
Darren nods encouragingly. “I know,” he says. Overconfident bastard. “Tell you what, you go visit your mom. You’ll get a week’s off.”
“I’m applying f-for urgent leave-”
“It’s all right,” Darren insists. “Your mom needs you. I’ll go talk to admin, you don’t have to worry, okay?”
Blair almost chokes on her snot in relief, but she’s certain Darren thinks it’s her being overly emotional. “Oh gosh, Darren, thank you so much!”
She pulls him into a tight hug, making sure to sob a little on his shirt. Thank god William made her go for that summer drama camp.
: : :
“What the fuck happened back there?” Dan demanded as Nate practically broke all speed limits to get back to HQ. “Nate, for fuck’s sake. Can you at least answer the goddamn question?”
Nate grits his teeth. “I’ve told you. I saw Serena.”
Dan snorts, grabbing onto the handle for dear life as Nate swerves around the corner. For god’s sake, he can hear the damn tires screeching and he’s inside an air-conditioned car. “Right. As in Serena, your dead girlfriend.”
Nate swears angrily and slams the steering wheel. Dan decides another method of interrogation. No need to get Nate all riled up and drive them into a lamppost. “Look, Nate, I’m pretty sure it was someone who looked like her. Shit like that happens, man. My sister went to Paris for a school trip once and she met this Swedish girl who looked like her.”
Nate shakes his head. Oh hell no, Nate Archibald is not going to cry. But those pretty boy eyes are tearing up, and Dan isn’t one for emotional outbursts. There’s a reason why his relationships don’t last past three months. “I’m sure that the girl likes the same drink as your sister, laughs like your sister, fuck, even tilts her head like your sister.”
Dan’s got to admit that Nate’s got a point there. But the elusive Serena has been dead for five years, as far as he can tell. There’s no way someone stays dead for five years and then decides on a whim to climb out of her grave. From what Nate described one night when they got completely trashed, courtesy of their friend Jack, she died in a car accident. It was so bad that it was a closed casket ceremony. He’s finding it really, really tough to accept the fact that his friend’s dead girl is back, drinking coffee and going out with guys.
It doesn’t matter though, what Dan thinks. Right now he’s got to stop Nate from going through police records and interrogating people. The last thing they need right now is a potentially crazed FBI agent demanding to know the whereabouts of a dead girl.
“Okay, so let’s say it’s her,” he tries another route. Maybe this one would make Nate see sense. “Let’s say whoever you saw is Serena. What are you gonna do about it?”
When Nate just opens and closes his mouth, not responding, Dan thinks he’s hit the jackpot. The FBI building appears and Nate drives into the parking lot. They sit there for a while in silence, Dan looking at his friend as Nate stares at his own hands on the wheel.
Finally Nate replies, voice wavering. “I’ll find her and ask her why did she do this to me.”
This is totally throwing Dan off loop here. It’s official. He’s in the Twilight Zone. Easy-going, sarcastic Nate is now an upset human with extreme emotional baggage. They’re sitting in a car in a parking lot. Dan thinks he’s seen this scene in a romantic movie before.
“I just… I just want to know,” Nate says helplessly. “I just want to know why did she leave me. What did I do wrong for her to hate me and leave me?”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Dan says automatically, hating the thirteen-year-old girl Nate has become ever since he ‘saw’ Serena. “From the way I see it? She loved you as much as you love her.”
Nate takes a shaky breath. “Then why did she leave me, Dan?”
Dan can’t answer that question positively, because the guy’s girlfriend died, but he does try to soften the blow. “Sometimes people just have to leave, man,” he says gently. “When it’s time to go, it’s time to go.”
Nate’s about to reply when something hits the roof of the car. Dan turns to see the Chief standing outside, peering at them. He quickly rolls down the window. “Yeah, Chief?”
“I’m heading out for lunch,” The Chief grunts, before looking at Nate’s glazed, stricken face. “The fuck happened to him?” He asks Dan.
Dan makes a face. This cannot possibly end well. “You don’t wanna know,” he finally says. “You really don’t wanna know.”
The Chief makes a noise of discontent. “Well when you two ladies are done discussing china patterns, you can go back inside and do real work.”
Dan salutes his boss, knowing how much it annoys him. “Yes sir.”
The Chief grumbles as he walks away. Dan finds great pleasure in annoying the Chief. The man turns into the most peculiar shade of red. He watches the Chief leave the parking lot, sighing. They’ve got their work cut out thanks to the fuckup that was Joel Lee and the Detectives, so Nate really has no time to play private investigator.
“Come on man,” Dan turns to tell Nate that they’d better go back, but Nate is gone.
How the fuck did the guy leave the car and he did not know? And it’s Nate’s car, too, not Dan’s. The key is still in the ignition. That’s not a Nate thing to do, being so careless. He’s always been on the lookout, eyes and ears open, analyzing every little detail so intensely Dan figures he should have been in Forensics.
Maybe Serena isn’t as good for Nate as he thinks she is. Knowing Nate, he’s probably accessing databases as Dan sits here in shock and contemplation.
Fuck, he’s got a friend to stop.
: : :
It’s like death loomed in the van der Woodsen house. Death, or worse.
The last time Lily felt this unease creeping up her spine, her son was kidnapped. Sleepless nights, frustrating mornings, exhausting afternoons, William screaming into the phone ever fifteen minutes, Serena terrified because Daddy’s so angry and why isn’t Erik here, Mommy? He promised he’d never leave me.
She never wanted to go through it ever again.
At the look of William’s face, it seems that she might have to dig her heels and brace herself.
“Problem?” She asks, carefully placing her Prada handbag on the glass coffee table.
William doesn’t bother with small talk. “Nate Archibald spotted Serena and Erik. Went crazy.”
Lily exhales. It’s never good to show emotions, especially if your brain is screaming Oh fuck and the only expression you can form would be horror.
“Thankfully, he ran into some guy carrying groceries, so Serena and Erik could get away.”
Explains the urgent call. Lily usually ignores her cell when she’s shopping; thank god she didn’t this time. She looks around. The two people in question are not seen anywhere.
“And where are they now?”
William sighs harder, throwing himself on the couch. He looks tired and worried, and Lily hates that. It means he’s exhausting himself, thinking too hard. The last time this happened, he almost shot Rock. “They’re in the kitchen.” There’s a snort of mild amusement. “Like kicked puppies knowing that they did wrong.”
Lily remembers the many times Serena and Erik would sit in the kitchen looking all forlorn and regretful. Breaking her exquisite Venice vase was one incident, the other most memorable one was when they decided to use the fig tree in the backyard as target practice.
She sits next to William on the armrest, gently running her fingers through his hair. He makes a pleased noise, leaning into the touch like a pampered cat. “You want me to talk to them?” she asks quietly.
William buries his head into her lap. “That,” he says, voice muffled. “Would be an excellent idea. Independent party and all.”
Lily thinks he needs a little affection, so she kisses the top of his head. “Yeah, alright. You go get some sleep, you look worse than Leon when he watches Oprah.”
Her husband laughs. “That’s not fucking good. Leon looks like fuck when he’s done crying watching people with credit card debts.”
Her plans for Carter would have to be pushed back. No need to add more people into the mess.
When William’s dragged himself upstairs to sleep, Lily straightens herself and goes into the kitchen.
It’s exactly what she expected. Two blonde heads sitting together, shoulders slumped. When they hear her heels clicking on the floor, they look up, looking absolutely depressed. Puppy dog eyes, that what Dorota once said when she caught them drawing on the walls back when Serena was three and Erik five.
Those eyes are actually working. Lily smothers the need to hug them and feed them pie.
“Who’d like to start?” She asks, taking a seat in front of them. Serena’s got her hands in her lap, and Erik’s are held tightly around a coffee cup. They both talk at the same time.
“I’m sorry-”
“It’s not her fault-”
“Apologies later,” Lily says over the both of their voices. “Facts. Come on, you know the drill. I need facts.”
“We were at a coffee shop,” Erik says immediately, slipping into the big brother role like he was born for it. “I wanted to go, ‘cause Serena’s been talking about the coffee like it’s the second coming. So we went.”
Good coffee may be the only thing that would make Erik give in during an interrogation. It’s the boy’s ultimate weak link.
“When we left, I heard someone shout Serena’s name, but I figured I must be high on caffeine, so we just continued walking. And then I heard it again, and Serena did too. She recognized Nate’s voice, so we decided to play dumb and walk a little faster. Then I heard the sound of someone running, and then two people running, and we were about to run too, but then he slammed into some guy. We quickly made our exit. Walked straight into a huge crowd, made our way through and got to the car parked three blocks down.”
Serena’s just sitting there, looking like the world had ended. Lily can understand the feeling. The love of your life hunting you down is never a great realization.
“Could he see your faces properly?”
“No,” Serena replies. “We were wearing sunglasses. He definitely didn’t get a good look at Erik. He was a street away. I know the place, you can’t get a good look from that angle.”
Lily nods, the grip on her heart lessening a little. If Nate Archibald didn’t see Erik’s face clearly, chances are he wouldn’t find out who Serena really was.
She rubs her forehead, trying to figure out a grand plan. William would have already come up with one, but two heads are always better than one. “All right. What’s done is done, don’t need to apologize. You two go wash up and get some rest. We’ve got a few busy weeks ahead of us. And Blair should be back soon too, looking at the situation.”
Serena stands up, her stool dragging against the linoleum floor. “I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice. “All I wanted was just a day out with Erik.”
Lily gets it, she really does. Sometimes living this life makes you feel like you can’t breathe, and once in a while you just want to feel free. That’s why she doesn’t blame anyone. “It’s all right, Serena. Go wash up.”
Erik waits for Serena to leave the kitchen before he finally speaks up. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”
It’s not a question, really. It’s more of a statement of self-loathing.
“We all fuck up, Erik,” Lily says. “But you can’t blame yourself for this.”
Erik snorts, but it’s humourless. His eyes are tight, his expression incredulous. “How can you expect me to not blame myself for this? I practically bugged her to bring me there.”
“And you didn’t know Nate was going to be across the street, didn’t you?” Lily shoots back. “You didn’t know that he’d recognize the two of you if he did see you.”
Erik doesn’t respond to that, eyes looking everywhere but Lily. He probably thinks she doesn’t know him and how his thought process works, but Lily knows him better than anyone else. She’s his mother.
She’s trying to form another sentence when he finally looks at her, blue eyes wide. “What’s gonna happen now, Mom?”
He’s trying to be brave and macho, just like how he’s taught to be, but all Lily can see is her terrified seven-year-old looking at her, expecting her to make things better. And damn her motherly instincts for wanting to make things better, to see the sunny smile form on his face like how it did twenty-one years ago.
But all she can say is the truth.
“I have no idea.”
: : :
Nate’s called NYU, asking for the records of one Serena van der Woodsen. They said they’d get back to him, and when they did, it wasn’t good news.
“I’m afraid we don’t have any records of a Miss Serena van der Woodsen, sir.”
It’s impossible. She lived with him. He slept next to her, ate her cooking, kissed her good morning - she has to be real. Blair talks about her when he asks. Serena is definitely not a figment of his imagination, he’s absolutely certain of it, despite Dan’s skeptical looks.
Speaking of Blair, he’s called her about a million times since yesterday, and she still hasn’t called back. He’s very sure Blair isn’t a figment of his imagination, either.
He’s searching through the Sheriff database when Megan enters his office. “Peach tea,” she announces, handing him the cup.
“Thanks, Meg,” he says. She loves doing coffee rounds, and she always teases him about his addiction to peach tea. He’s certain the peach tea has something to do with Serena, but he can’t exactly remember what. Just like how he can’t remember their last conversation, or how she left. Surely they had a proper goodbye?
“No problem. As long as you’re peachy.”
Nate groans, putting the cup down. “You did not.”
Megan winks before walking out. “Oh yes I did,” she singsongs.
He’s barely into the list of car accidents in New Jersey when Dan barges in. “Get your ass out of that fucking chair and get into the meeting room.”
Nate looks up, alarmed. He’s already standing up. “What’s up?”
“NYPD called. Someone left Joel Lee’s body at their fucking doorstep.”
Nate practically barges out of his office. “You’re shitting me.”
“No one’s shitting or pissing, Archibald,” The Chief growls as they enter the meeting room. He’s slowly turning red. “Turns out that traffic cameras aren’t as good as we thought they were, either. Footage shows no car coming round to dump the body.”
“Maybe there’s no car,” says Ken. “It’s not the first time van der Woodsen’s men did things the hard way.”
“No signs of suspicious activity like people carrying a dead body, either,” The Chief deadpans.
Megan frowns. “So what happens now?”
“Now? Now we go to police headquarters, take a look at what happened to that sorry son of a bitch.” The Chief pauses. “You might not be able to recognize him.”
“Then how did the police know that it’s Joel Lee?” Dan asks.
The Chief’s already halfway out of the door. “We’ll have to go there and find out,” he calls over his shoulder.
: : :
When the Chief said that it’s bad, Nate expected bad, but definitely not bad.
Megan’s ran off to the toilet, face green the moment she laid eyes on Joel Lee. Dan doesn’t seem very enticed by the sight either, eyes darting away to look at the white walls and the metal cabinets. The only person who seems in his element in the room is Ken, who’s analyzing the body with such ferocity Nate’s afraid he’ll burn the remains with his eyes.
Nate wonders how the couple who spotted the body are dealing with the aftermath.
“How is Ken handling this, man,” Dan says, swallowing and making a face. “I’m ten seconds away from puking out my breakfast.”
“He’s forensics,” Nate points out. “If he’s squeamish about blood and gore, he’d probably quit a long time ago.”
Ken and Josh, the one in charge of forensics for NYPD, are throwing theories on the bruises, cuts and slices. The Chief’s in a corner with Lieutenant Lopez, talking silently. Nate catches words like ‘Captain’ and ‘no leads’ and ‘mafia’.
Nate looks at whatever remains of Joel Lee again. They had handed the guy over to die. He’d never forgive himself. No one, let alone Joel Lee, deserved what had happened to him. From this angle alone Nate can tell that the man was shot twice in the thighs and once in the knee. His toenails are gone, and that left leg is in an impossible angle.
He’s still staring at the body when Ken walks up to them, grim.
“What did you get?” Dan asks.
Ken glances at the body. “Nothing good, that’s for sure. Guy was probably tortured for a couple of days. I’m finding it hard to believe that this all happened in the same evening.”
Nate swears. A couple of days? If it were Nate, he’d probably be gone by the fifth hour.
“Lots of stuff to be analyzed and categorized,” Ken admits. “All Josh and I can agree on is that he definitely died from the shot in the chest.”
Something doesn’t seem right. “All that torture for a shot in the chest?”
“It’s one hell of a shot, I’ll tell you that.” Ken sniffs. “It’s a .50 that did that damage. Bullet’s still there, too.”
Bullet. Leaving something behind. Nate doesn’t think that’s William’s style. He’s usually not that clumsy to leave something that can be tracked to him.
“.50 owners are registered.” Dan says excitedly. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t see how this doesn’t add up. “We can check the database, cross it with something else. Mafia associations? Jail terms?”
Ken nods. “That’s what I was thinking.”
Half an hour later, the Chief announces that the FBI and the NYPD would work together in this case. They’d find the bastards who did this to Joel Lee, make them tell where William van der Woodsen is, and make sure that the streets of New York would be safer.
“William van der Woodsen wants a war,” The Chief’s voice booms. “Taunting us, making us look like fools. We’ll give him a war.”
Nate watches everyone nod in agreement. They’re doing it wrong. William van der Woodsen isn’t taunting them. It’s not his MO. He - or whoever did this - is just giving them a ball of yarn to play with, as if they’re anxious kittens. And they’re falling for the bait.
: : :
Serena hasn’t seen Blair in ages, so it seems fitting that the moment Blair enters her room, luggage in hand, Serena launches herself on her best friend.
“Glad to know I’m welcome,” Blair jokes.
Serena feels horrible. Blair had to drop everything and come back because of her. Blair had to leave normal. Well, as normal as normal can get for a made man working as the DA’s secretary. It’s amazing what a little money can do. Patricia Jennings was more than happy to leave her job to go to tour Europe, allowing Blair to swoop in and take over. Of course, Pat’s Europe tour ended when Lily caught up with her five months later in Amsterdam.
“He’s been calling me since yesterday,” Blair says as she pulls her luggage into a corner. “It’s getting annoying.”
Serena smiles softly. How Nate to keep on pursuing something that he wants until he gets it. Blair may hate Nate’s persistence, but Serena wishes she were the one whom Nate called. It’s been five years, and she’s starting to forget how he sounds like.
Thank god she didn’t completely forget, because when he was shouting for her to stop yesterday it would have been a very wrong move to turn and figure out who called her. It took all her training to not break into a run and flee from him so that he’ll never find out who she truly is. It’s best that he never knows.
“What’s your cover up this time?” Serena asks instead of the other question that’s looming in her mind.
“I’m in Idaho,” Blair announces as she unpacks. Serena fights the urge to giggle. Dad always came up with the most random places. No one she knew of had even gone near Idaho, let alone visited it. “My mom’s in ICU. I’m on a week’s urgent leave.”
Serena makes a noise of acknowledgement. Blair turns around, looking at her knowingly. “And he’s doing fine,” she says gently. “At least the last time I saw him. He’s doing alright, Serena.”
Serena looks at her pink fingernails. She should have never bought this shade, like what Juliana had told her. It doesn’t suit her at all. “That’s good,” she says.
“How’s Erik, anyway?” Blair asks, smoothly changing the topic as she continues unpacking. That’s what Serena loves about Blair. She knows when to back off, and when to prod. It makes her an excellent made man - made woman, according to Blair - and a fantastic friend that Serena would always cherish.
She stretches on the bed, tempted to roll in the sheets. Dorota would have her hide, though. “The usual, really. Kicking ass and taking names.”
Blair laughs. “Yeah, I expected as much.”
“He’d probably bug you to make your lemon cheesecake,” Serena continues, turning to face her friend. “He almost loves that as much as apple pie.”
“He should,” Blair points out. “I make the best lemon cheesecake New York has ever tasted.”
There’s a knock on the door, and Erik enters. He’s wearing his threadbare jeans and a green t-shirt. “What’s this I hear about lemon cheesecake?”
Blair looks appalled. “Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?”
Erik shrugs. “It’s about food. You know I like food. Especially your lemon cheesecake,” he hints.
“We could have been talking about other things.”
“Like?”
Blair rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, menstruation? Like how it doesn’t come on time, or why do I have weird yellow substances in my panties?”
Erik looks alarmed. “You have weird yellow substances in your panties?”
“It’s a rhetorical situation!”
“That’s probably a yeast infection,” Erik nods seriously. “Not a healthy vagina you got there.”
Serena laughs and throws a pillow at her brother. “Get out, Erik!”
Blair puts her hands on her hips. “Yeah, get out, Erik.”
Erik throws the pillow playfully back at Serena, grinning as it flies straight into her face. “You love me,” he tells Blair, smiling.
Instead of the usual retort Blair would have on the tip of her tongue - yeah, just as much as I love my yeast infection or if you say love you mean absolutely despise - she looks away. Erik jumps on the bed to mess up Serena’s hair, much to her chagrin, and only leaves the room when he’s satisfied that she looks like a cavewoman.
“You got the latest Louboutins!”
Serena blinks at the change of topic. “Uh, yeah. Don’t tell anyone, but Chuck spotted them, got ‘em for me.”
Blair looks amazed. “Chuck? Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously.”
Blair stares at the pair of shoes that innocently lie on Serena’s closet floor. “Wow, I didn’t know he had taste.”
Considering Chuck’s amazing record of horrible Christmas gifts and perpetually horny girlfriends, Serena understands why Blair feels that way. Even Erik was amazed that the Louboutins were classy. “Apparently he does.”
Blair makes an impressed noise before looking at her, contemplating something.
“What?” Serena asks. Does she have something on her face? Or is it just the horror that her hair, thanks to Erik?
“Did Nate have taste, when it came to presents?”
Serena’s so shocked that she doesn’t answer the question immediately. Blair usually avoids talking about Nate, since it’s such a sore topic for Serena, and she really appreciates it. The question completely throws her off guard. Did Nate have taste? Is it scary that she can’t really remember?
Blair takes her silence wrongly, backtracking. “Sorry. Stupid question. No idea what I was thinking when I said it-”
“No,” Serena laughs. “No, no it’s a good question, actually.”
She bites her lip, trying to remember. Perhaps as a lovesick nineteen-year-old the presents were amazing and were adorable, but as a depressed but still lovesick twenty-five-year-old the presents at the back of her mind didn’t seem as amazing as they did years ago. Change in priorities, maybe? If Nate gives her the stuffed unicorn she got five years ago to her now, she’d probably consider it a gag gift and make fun of it, rather than consider it a sign of undying love.
“I don’t know,” she finally says. “I guess they were classy back in college, but right know they seem kind of tacky.”
Blair nods understandingly. “Everything seems classy in college. Even half naked girls playing pool was classy.”
True. Sabrina Rickman had even fucked on the pool table after the game, and only some girls with promise rings had muttered ‘Hobag’ when they saw her get banged an inch of her life. It was a life without much restraint, college. It was like living in a lie. Dating a DA’s son and hoping that they’ll have the happily ever after she’s always searched for? Complete lie.
“Erik’s dating Juliana,” she blurts out.
Blair looks a little confused, just like how Serena feels. She has no idea where that came from.
Blair raises an eyebrow. “Uh, okay?”
“I just think it’s amazing,” Serena admits. Erik van der Woodsen, settling down. It’s like Dad not wanting to be a mafia boss. “He didn’t look like he was going to get married or anything. Dad was all worried about passing on the family name.”
Blair looks at the sheets. “Well, I guess now your dad doesn’t have to worry anymore.”
Serena nods. “It’s good, you know? Dad shouldn’t worry so much. He’s not getting any younger. And since I’m stuck in a rut, not being able to go out, me having babies is kinda out of the question.”
“I don’t suppose we’ll be getting a wedding card anytime soon?” Blair sounds a little off.
Serena frowns. “Nah, they just started dating. Are you okay?”
Blair looks at her, smiling. “Yeah, sure I am. Just a little worried about the whole Nate thing, you know?”
Serena flops back on the bed. “Believe me, I know.”
: : :
It’s a full house at the van der Woodsen’s. For the first time in years everyone actually sits down to eat, rather than grab a bite and rush off or eat while working. It’s agreed that they need to take a breather from the madness.
Dorota is exceptionally pleased that she doesn’t have to peep at the sink every half an hour to check if there are dirty dishes.
The plan’s already set in motion. There’s a reason why Lily and William van der Woodsen are the best in town. Their mind games and plotting rival that of Hilter and Stalin. Erik says this positively.
At 10am, two people dumped whatever remained of Joel Lee at the NYPD HQ. Thanks to an insider, the traffic cameras and the security cameras caught nothing. It seems that New York citizens were too engrossed in their own lives, because a young couple only spotted the body at 11.30am, and were absolutely terrified. FBI rushed down in fifteen - Erik scoffs at that. They could have made it in five, really - and they took the body as a threat, just like how Dad wanted it to look like.
The ‘war’ is on. It’s also one-sided.
“Where’s Juliana?” Blair asks as she passes him the potatoes. It’s so cramped and lively in the kitchen, Erik feels as excited as a five-year-old waiting for Christmas presents. While he’s cool with the usual eat-and-go, there’s something nice about sitting down together.
Why ask him such questions anyway? He doesn’t even know where Serena is half the time, let alone Juliana. “No idea.”
Blair makes a noise that clearly means you’re incorrigible, and what has he done to her this time? “What?”
“Nothing,” Blair shakes her head. “Just figured that you of all people should know where Juliana is.”
Erik frowns, eyes narrowed, but he can’t question Blair when Leon suddenly laughs and says, “We haven’t said grace in a long time.”
Rock almost spits out his water. Erik thinks that is a very appropriate response. “We have never said grace.”
Leon shrugs, grinning. “Gotta happen sometime, right?”
Dad smiles at the end of the table as he scoops out some salad, as if humouring a small child. Mom looks slightly concerned.
“Yeah,” Trent agrees. “Grace. There. I said it. Now fucking eat the damn steak.”
Serena giggles next to Erik as she tucks in her food.
There’s a short silence as they all start eating, then Dorota comes in with cranberry sauce and everyone makes noises of appreciation.
“What’s the occasion, Dorota?” Dad asks, eyeing the sauce eagerly.
Dorota smacks him with a tea towel. “There’s no need for occasion to have good food, Mister van der Woodsen.”
Leon swallows his steak. “What she said.”
The front door opens and everyone freezes. The cutlery stops clinking, everyone stops chewing and there are at least four hands on their respective guns.
It’s impossible for anyone to break into the van der Woodsen house. But then again, they rarely let their guard down and just eat together like a big happy family. Erik slowly stands up, following his father who’s already got the Colt in his hands. He puts himself in front of Serena and Blair, who look more than ready to use the knives and forks in their hands as weapons. He holds his Sam and Wesson tightly, jaw ticking.
The tension is so high that by the time the person actually is within sight, Erik is ready to shoot, friend or foe. From the looks of the others, it seems that everyone has the same thing in mind.
“Bloody hell,” Bart Bass swears as everyone lunges. “It’s just me, for fuck’s sake.”
Chuck appears moments later, taking in the sight of six guns, two forks, two knives and a chopper. Yes, Dorota takes no chances after working for the van der Woodsens for over two decades. “Whoa. You guys expecting feds or something?”
There’s a collective sigh of relief as everyone sits down again, grumbling about how dinner was almost ruined. They make space for Bart and Chuck, and conversation slowly seeps in. How the week went, Mom’s trysts in Europe - Rock laughed long and hard when she spluttered about how a BDSM Dom tried to woo her in a club - the failures of the government… it was almost like a regular dinner for a regular family.
It scared Erik how much he loved it, and how he wanted it to happen again.
Serena makes an appreciative noise next to him. “The cranberry sauce is amazing.”
Erik looks at his empty plate. “You just started eating the sauce?”
Serena makes a face. “Not everyone is as hardcore as you.”
Blair nudges him, and he turns. “You want my steak? I’m kind of full.”
When Erik eats, his stomach is like a bottomless pit. There’s also this fear at the back of his mind that it would be last meal he’d be eating in a while, so he swallows everything as fast as he can, as much as he can. Sometimes, small portions aren’t enough. Serena usually asks for more and then sneaks it onto his plate, but Blair gives him leftovers that she could eat but doesn’t want to, because she know he probably needs it more.
Erik isn’t sure who he’s more thankful for between the two of them. But let be known that Erik van der Woodsen never says no to good steak. “That’ll be awesome. I should be your garbage bin forever.”
Blair snorts as she transfers the steak to his plate. “You do not want to be the garbage bin for my tampons, trust me.”
Serena smacks Erik, and he yelps. “What’s that for?”
“Don’t talk about things like that while I’m eating!”
: : :
Erik catches Blair when she’s rummaging the fridge for a drink. “You got something to ask me?”
Blair looks up at him, eyebrow raised. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
Blair takes out a Corona and leans against the island. Erik leans against the kitchen counter, arms folded. He watches Blair open the bottle and places the cap on the granite worktop gently. “You not getting one?”
Stalling tactics. Blair’s a master of that. Thing is, Erik knows how she works. He shakes his head. “Not in the mood to drink.”
Blair makes a face that means your loss as she swigs the bottle. There’s silence for a long while, but it’s comfortable silence. There’s never been awkward silence with Blair. Even when she first came in and didn’t dare speak a single word, the silence was anything but oppressing and uncomfortable.
Erik waits patiently, and he gets his reward. “I heard about you and Juliana.”
So that’s what it’s all about.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” Blair sounds extremely bitter. “From Serena.”
Little sister should really learn how to keep her mouth shut once in a while. “You don’t say.”
Blair looks tempted to throw the bottle at him, and he wouldn’t really blame her. Much. “When can I look forward to an invite?”
Erik sighs. “Blair-”
“Fuck, Erik, we agreed. When you’re tired of me, you tell me. You don’t fucking go around playing mind games.”
“I’m not tired of you.”
She looks incredulous. She’s in an oversized NYU shirt and tiny shorts, her brown hair over her shoulders and makeup long washed, and Erik’s seen her look better, but she still looks beautiful. Call him a sap, but that’s how he sees it.
She blinks and looks away. “Don’t fucking play with me,” her voice quivers at the end.
“I never would,” Erik says honestly. “I’ll never get tired of you.”
Blair’s blinking back tears, he can tell, but he doesn’t say anything. It wouldn’t be nice to out her like that. “Juliana knows.”
For someone who knows how to shelter her feelings so well, Blair’s eyes tell Erik everything she’s thinking of right now. “She knows.”
“Yeah, she knows. She knows it’s not the real deal. She’s okay with it.”
Blair bites her lip. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Erik pushes himself away from the counter, towards Blair. He smirks. “I mean, I provide awesome sex. And have you looked at me?”
Blair chokes out a laugh, punching him in the chest. “Narcissistic bastard.”
Erik takes her free hand and twines his fingers around hers. He doesn’t say anything, they both don’t, but she knows when he wants to say I love you and he knows when she says I love you too.
continue with take me back to the start