fic: Awake My Soul (Part I)
Title: Awake My Soul, Part I
Couple: Dan/Blair
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Rating: T/PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own GG or any of its characters.
Summary: Post Season 4. What happens when Dan flies to Monaco.
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Part I
He has only been on an airplane once or twice. Brooklyn is his home, and so he has stayed there. Sure, he ventured into Manhattan to attend St. Judes and NYU. But why would you leave a place when you love where you live?
The answer is only obvious.
To bring back the girl you love.
And so he runs past the fear he has of airplanes to get to her.
Because, after all, it's her.
And to distract his mind on the flight, he reads the books and watches the Audrey movies that remind him of her.
Because, after all, it's her.
And he spends an astronomical amount of money - an amount that makes him want to cry - on a car to pick him up. But if he were to cry, it's only because he should have flown here weeks ago. To get to the castle that is caging her and keeping her.
Because, after all, it's her.
The people are foreign and the language is unfamiliar. The taxi driver is confused and appalled by his casual directions of "Take me to the Castle." Even though his face is completely serious and his heart is beating so furiously the driver should have noticed.
He holds his already uneven breath the entire ride-not because the glorious aroma of the city is tempting enough to send him out of the car to go buy a croissant. But because he won't breathe until he sees her.
Because, after all, it's her.
After much negotiating, the gates open to the castle she is housed in. It doesn't register that he's finally here until the crunch of the gravel in the courtyard jolts him awake. He prays she has already been alerted that there is a guest here to see her because-what are the rules for dealing with a royal home? Are you even allowed to walk up to the entrance and knock on the door? Do they even have a doorbell?
He takes his small bag from the driver and hesitantly walks up to the front steps. A guard immediately opens the door and for the first time, he feels nervous. Not because he's making a mistake or because he could quite possibly get escorted off the premises. But because he's about to see her. He probably smells like traveling and looks as exhausted as a marathon runner. But he doesn't care.
Because, after all, it's her.
He hears the echo of heels getting louder and looks around for her. She comes around a corner and stops once she sees him. Without saying a word, she comes towards him, and when he feels her brush past him and out the door, he swears his heart breaks. But then he feels her hand take his and his heart is pieced back together again.
He follows her past the vast green garden and around tall bushes and flowers, until they are tucked away in a private corner. She still hasn't said one word to him yet, and he can't tell if it's a good sign or bad.
She also still hasn't let go of his hand, and he again can't tell if that's a good sign or bad.
She sits down on the bench that's there and he, naturally, sits down with her. She looks more beautiful than he remembered. Everything looks the same, apart from her eyes. They look lifeless; that wonderful chocolate hue has faded. He wants it back.
The silence is comfortable, not awkward, and because they're not speaking he traces patterns on the back of her hand. At first it's just random scribbles, but then he starts to write a word. She concentrates on following his soothing finger and her mouth twitches into a smile when she reads the word, "Hi."
He was always one with words.
"Hi," she says back, and he looks relieved. Not relieved that she was able to read what he wrote, but relieved that she was okay enough to talk. He couldn't bear her not talking to him.
"I flew to Monaco," he says.
It's a completely obvious statement, and she should roll her eyes. But his tone is so unwavering and brave, and he still sounds surprised at himself. So she just nods and repeats, "You flew to Monaco."
It's silent again for a few minutes, until she can't help but ask, "Why are you here?"
His answer is the first reason why she wants to kiss him.
(No, second. The first is because he smells like home and he looks like he ran a marathon to come see her.)
"Because you're here."
She clenches her hand to refrain herself from leaning over and kissing him senseless, but then she remembers she's squeezing his hand. She loosens her hold a little to make herself less obvious. Even though she knows he can read her like a book.
"Where's Lou-"
"Can we not talk about him yet?" she cuts in.
He nods. "Sure."
She nods back and gives a small smile of appreciation. "I just want to sit here with you."
"Okay." And he lifts her hand and kisses it.
The breeze picks up and somehow she has moved closer to him. Close enough for him to wrap his arms around her, until she is leaning into his body and resting her head on his shoulder. She finds herself unconsciously turning her head so her face is nestled against his shirt. She inhales deeply, breathing him in. Breathing home in.
"I want to take you somewhere," she says after a while. He can see her eyes are slightly wet. She blinks, and a tear escapes. As much as he wants to kiss it away, he settles for his thumb.
"Okay," he answers.
They unlock hands when they walk to the car, and Dan feels immediately cold. After taking an unmarked and unofficial car, they arrive at an old building. The architecture is gorgeous and Dan can already tell it will be magnificent.
Blair keeps her sunglasses on even when they walk inside. She wants to avoid recognition.
They enter the building and Dan is overwhelmed by smell of books. The combination of wisdom and crinkled pages and unknown realities.
She has taken him to the library.
It is the kind of library with endless bookshelves that span from floor to ceiling. The kind of library with leaning wooden ladders on tracks. The moving ladders that you want to climb and ride on, but are never allowed to.
She takes his hand again and leads him up the back spiral, rod-iron staircase. Past the seemingly infinite stacks of books and journals and encyclopedias. Until they are in a hidden alcove, away from everything and everyone else. It reminds him of the spot in the garden, and he wonders how many hiding spots she has found throughout the city.
Once they stop, she drops his hand and instead places them on his face. She is already crying, but she doesn't care.
Because, after all, it's him.
At last, she kisses him. And finally she feels like herself again.
(The third reason is because he's here.)
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{part II}