"Walking Far From Home (Blair Waldorf, Lyla Garrity) PG-13
Title: “Walking Far From Home”
Author: Lila
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: Blair Waldorf, Lyla Garrity
Spoiler: “The Return of the Ring," “Stay”
Length: one-shot
Summary: It takes seeing herself in someone else for Blair to get her head on straight.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.
Author’s Note: I’m not sure how I feel about this - too expositional? unrealistic? - but these are two of my favorite female characters in recent years and I couldn’t resist writing them. Title and cut courtesy of Iron and Wine. Enjoy.
~ * ~
There’s a girl in a café and she’s wearing Blair’s face.
Constance Billard is like another world but the memories linger, headbands and ballet flats and colored tights. It’s not the first time Blair has looked at another girl and seen herself.
Her doppelgänger is a little taller, her hair a little longer, her skin a few shades darker, but Blair still recognizes the familiar slant of the girl’s cheeks, the pert angle of her nose, the sharp jut of her chin.
The girl scans a menu, the long line of her ponytail drooping to halfway down her back, and Blair stands transfixed as she signals for a waiter. The girl raises her head as one approaches, smiles in the bright sunlight, and it’s not seeing her entire face that makes Blair gasp. She was prepared for the similar lines of skin and bone, but she’s taken aback by the look in this stranger’s eyes.
She doesn’t recognize herself without the shadows lurking there.
~ *~
It takes Blair a few minutes to make her move.
She mostly stands in place, ignores the crumbling grout tearing the silk of her heels, digs her feet into the worn cobblestone and stares.
She watches the girl sip Perrier and nibble on a scone and scan a Foder’s guide. She takes in the girl’s functional shorts and tank, the flat, clunky sandals on her feet. There’s a backpack in the spare chair and a journal open on the table and if not for her face, Blair would have written her off as another college student on holiday.
But she can’t ignore another version of herself, and she can’t stop herself from crossing the street and halting at the table.
“Excuse me,” she says, props her hands on her hips as the girl glances up. “Is this seat taken?”
The girl stares, mouth agape and hands frozen over the next page of her book. “Oh my gosh,” she says. “This can’t be happening.”
Blair smiles tightly, reins in the annoyance. She’s had half an hour to come to terms with the strangeness; her other half deserves thirty seconds of reaction time. “Well, they say everyone has a twin,” she says and gestures to the chair. “Is this seat taken?” she asks again.
“Yes, yes, of course,” the girl says and closes the journal, stuffs it in her backpack and frees up the seat. For a minute, they just stare at each other. “This is so weird,” the girl finally says. “How can we look exactly alike?”
Blair shakes her head. “I have no idea, but here we are.” Harold and Roman flit through her mind and she reassures her tablemate. “Don’t worry, we’re not related.”
The girl frowns. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we were. My dad…” she trails off and Blair feels a familiar tightening in her chest. She’s no stranger to men without boundaries.
Blair forces a smile and changes the subject. “I’m Blair.”
“Lyla,” the girl responds and holds out a hand. Blair hesitates and Lyla laughs, breaks the tension a bit. “I don’t bite, I promise.”
Blair takes her hand. Lyla’s skin is warm and Blair stares at their interlocked fingers, how Lyla’s skin glows sun-kissed and golden in the late afternoon light, how she’s so pale she almost disappears.
“Are you okay?” Lyla asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Blair takes a sip of water and smiles tightly. “I’m fine. Still processing.”
She isn’t seeing a ghost - she’s wondering how long she’s been one.
~ * ~
Lyla is everything and nothing like Blair.
Her father cheated, her parents divorced, her mother remarried and moved away to follow her heart. She talks about being head cheerleader, dating the team quarterback, and her brow sinks a little under the phantom weight of her crown. Blair forces herself to hold her head high; she knows what it’s like to bear that burden.
But Lyla is also a junior in college, studying social work, building a life defined by her own dreams.
“I never thought I’d be here,” Lyla drawls as they walk through Old Town. “A semester in France, traveling alone…it’s funny how plans change.”
Blair nods but says nothing, ignores the pain in her feet, the blank day planner in her purse, pushes away thoughts of the glittery gowns hanging in the closet of her shared hotel suite.
She never thought she’d be here either.
~ * ~
Lyla reluctantly agrees to come to dinner.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” she points out, digs her hands into the pockets of her cargo shorts. “Everything I own fits into one backpack.”
Blair smiles, wide and true, and feels more like herself. There are few things she loves more than a makeover.
~ * ~
Jack joins them for dinner.
Blair doesn’t find out until she’s descending the stairs with Lyla and he’s waiting for them in the foyer, his mouth curved into a mocking grin.
He elbows a wide-eyed Chuck. “Well, well. Now there’s one for each of us.”
Lyla stiffens; Blair doesn’t react.
She doesn’t know which response concerns her more.
~ * ~
It’s the casino for the majority of the night.
Blair is content to watch, but Lyla wants to play. She doesn’t have the money and refuses when Chuck and Jack offer to cover her opening ante.
She smiles, but declines. “Thanks, but I like to pay my own way.”
There’s no malice in Lyla’s comment, but Blair still restrains a flinch.
She’s wearing a dress Chuck bought, sleeping in a hotel room he chose, chasing his vendetta. Something tightens in her chest and squeezes hard.
Money has never been an object, but she’s paid dearly.
~ * ~
Lyla disappears around midnight.
Blair can’t blame her. They’ve been watching Chuck and Jack work the roulette wheel for two hours, and she’s losing feeling in her lower half from sitting on a stool for so long.
The balcony is a welcome relief and it’s where she finds her other half.
“Hey,” Blair calls out and Lyla turns, her long curls catching in the breeze.
“Sorry,” Lyla says sheepishly. “I could only take so much of watching other people win.”
Blair joins her at the railing, rests her forearms on the cool stone and watches the moonlight twinkle on the water. “I’ve never been very good at coming out on top.”
Lyla looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “Are you kidding me? I thought I grew up nice, but your world…it’s like a fairytale. We’re in Monaco, Blair. Your face is on the cover of every magazine.”
Blair contains another flinch: dead babies, broken hearts, lies and betrayals and dreams destroyed. The last year brought her no happy endings. “You know the saying, …all that glitters… I was divorced before I turned twenty-two.”
Lyla turns and it’s dark, but Blair recognizes the sympathy in her eyes. It’s the same expression she wore every time she put Serena back together, rescued Chuck, laughed at Nate’s near misses. It’s dark, but Blair still knows Lyla can read her as well as she’s ever read herself.
“I thought I had a fairytale,” Lyla starts. “Jason was QB1, I was a cheerleader, he was going to Notre Dame and the pros and I was going with him.” Blair nods along; she already heard this story. “I told you about how it began,” Lyla continues. “But I didn’t tell you how it ended. Jason broke his back. He’s paralyzed from the waist down. No more football, no NFL. He couldn’t even hold my hand. His dream was over and mine…I realized it never began.”
Blair swallows hard and grips the rail tighter. She feels the weight of the Van der Bilt diamond on her fourth finger, how it had anchored her to the path she’d thought was her future. “I had that too,” Blair says. “My first boyfriend…I thought we’d be together forever.”
“What happened?”
Cool air brushes over the bare skin of her thighs, but it’s leather too, and it’s not the wind but Chuck’s fingers tangling in her hair. “I met someone else.”
“Chuck, right?”
“He’s the love of my life,” Blair insists but she only grips the rail harder.
“I had that too,” Lyla says, her voice dropping to a near whisper.
“What happened?”
It takes Lyla a moment to answer and when she finally does, she’s gripping the rail alongside Blair. “He wanted more than I could give.” Blair doesn’t understand; her mistake has always been loving her men too much.
“Do you still love him?”
Lyla smiles, but it’s filled with longing and regret. Blair knows that smile - Dan wore the same one the day she broke his heart. “Jason was my first love and Tim was the love of my life, but I needed more than love. He just needed me.”
It’s a bit like being slapped, hearing the story of her life unfolding as a cautionary tale. “It’s a rare thing,” Blair manages to say. “Someone wanting nothing more than you exactly how you are.”
Lyla whips around, her eyes wide and panicked. “Blair, I’m sorry. I wasn’t judging. You asked and it’s the truth: one day, I was going to need more. It didn’t seem right, holding onto something that was already slipping away.”
Tears prick Blair’s eyes and her voice is a strained whisper. “He’s going to tire of me, isn’t he?”
The question lingers and Lyla doesn’t say anything. Blair doesn’t blame her. It’s happened before; there’s no reason history won’t repeat itself.
“I have an idea,” Lyla says and takes Blair’s hands in hers, squeezes softly. “How do you feel about Paris?”
Blair shakes her head. She met Louis there, said goodbye to Chuck. It’s the “City of Love” and the memories are too strong.
“Rome?” Lyla tries again.
Blair sucks in an audible breath. The night is chilly, but she can feel the heat on her skin, Dan’s fingers trailing across her stomach, the scratch of his pen…the cut is shallower, but stings more. It’s a wound she could have avoided. “How do you feel about New York?”
Lyla’s smile brightens and some of the longing disappears from her eyes. “Jason lives there, but I’ve never been.”
Blair smiles too, begins mapping days they’ll spend roaming her own streets. “You thought I was a princess here? At home, I’m a queen.”
Lyla drops into a mock curtsey. “I’m honored, Your Highness.” Blair wrinkles her nose and Lyla winces. “Too much?”
Blair smiles, but it’s not forced. “You have so much to learn.”
Lyla just laughs, but Blair reads between the lines: Lyla’s not the only one with a lot to learn.
~ * ~
Writers live for feedback - please leave some if you have the time
Author: Lila
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: Blair Waldorf, Lyla Garrity
Spoiler: “The Return of the Ring," “Stay”
Length: one-shot
Summary: It takes seeing herself in someone else for Blair to get her head on straight.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.
Author’s Note: I’m not sure how I feel about this - too expositional? unrealistic? - but these are two of my favorite female characters in recent years and I couldn’t resist writing them. Title and cut courtesy of Iron and Wine. Enjoy.
~ * ~
There’s a girl in a café and she’s wearing Blair’s face.
Constance Billard is like another world but the memories linger, headbands and ballet flats and colored tights. It’s not the first time Blair has looked at another girl and seen herself.
Her doppelgänger is a little taller, her hair a little longer, her skin a few shades darker, but Blair still recognizes the familiar slant of the girl’s cheeks, the pert angle of her nose, the sharp jut of her chin.
The girl scans a menu, the long line of her ponytail drooping to halfway down her back, and Blair stands transfixed as she signals for a waiter. The girl raises her head as one approaches, smiles in the bright sunlight, and it’s not seeing her entire face that makes Blair gasp. She was prepared for the similar lines of skin and bone, but she’s taken aback by the look in this stranger’s eyes.
She doesn’t recognize herself without the shadows lurking there.
~ *~
It takes Blair a few minutes to make her move.
She mostly stands in place, ignores the crumbling grout tearing the silk of her heels, digs her feet into the worn cobblestone and stares.
She watches the girl sip Perrier and nibble on a scone and scan a Foder’s guide. She takes in the girl’s functional shorts and tank, the flat, clunky sandals on her feet. There’s a backpack in the spare chair and a journal open on the table and if not for her face, Blair would have written her off as another college student on holiday.
But she can’t ignore another version of herself, and she can’t stop herself from crossing the street and halting at the table.
“Excuse me,” she says, props her hands on her hips as the girl glances up. “Is this seat taken?”
The girl stares, mouth agape and hands frozen over the next page of her book. “Oh my gosh,” she says. “This can’t be happening.”
Blair smiles tightly, reins in the annoyance. She’s had half an hour to come to terms with the strangeness; her other half deserves thirty seconds of reaction time. “Well, they say everyone has a twin,” she says and gestures to the chair. “Is this seat taken?” she asks again.
“Yes, yes, of course,” the girl says and closes the journal, stuffs it in her backpack and frees up the seat. For a minute, they just stare at each other. “This is so weird,” the girl finally says. “How can we look exactly alike?”
Blair shakes her head. “I have no idea, but here we are.” Harold and Roman flit through her mind and she reassures her tablemate. “Don’t worry, we’re not related.”
The girl frowns. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we were. My dad…” she trails off and Blair feels a familiar tightening in her chest. She’s no stranger to men without boundaries.
Blair forces a smile and changes the subject. “I’m Blair.”
“Lyla,” the girl responds and holds out a hand. Blair hesitates and Lyla laughs, breaks the tension a bit. “I don’t bite, I promise.”
Blair takes her hand. Lyla’s skin is warm and Blair stares at their interlocked fingers, how Lyla’s skin glows sun-kissed and golden in the late afternoon light, how she’s so pale she almost disappears.
“Are you okay?” Lyla asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Blair takes a sip of water and smiles tightly. “I’m fine. Still processing.”
She isn’t seeing a ghost - she’s wondering how long she’s been one.
~ * ~
Lyla is everything and nothing like Blair.
Her father cheated, her parents divorced, her mother remarried and moved away to follow her heart. She talks about being head cheerleader, dating the team quarterback, and her brow sinks a little under the phantom weight of her crown. Blair forces herself to hold her head high; she knows what it’s like to bear that burden.
But Lyla is also a junior in college, studying social work, building a life defined by her own dreams.
“I never thought I’d be here,” Lyla drawls as they walk through Old Town. “A semester in France, traveling alone…it’s funny how plans change.”
Blair nods but says nothing, ignores the pain in her feet, the blank day planner in her purse, pushes away thoughts of the glittery gowns hanging in the closet of her shared hotel suite.
She never thought she’d be here either.
~ * ~
Lyla reluctantly agrees to come to dinner.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” she points out, digs her hands into the pockets of her cargo shorts. “Everything I own fits into one backpack.”
Blair smiles, wide and true, and feels more like herself. There are few things she loves more than a makeover.
~ * ~
Jack joins them for dinner.
Blair doesn’t find out until she’s descending the stairs with Lyla and he’s waiting for them in the foyer, his mouth curved into a mocking grin.
He elbows a wide-eyed Chuck. “Well, well. Now there’s one for each of us.”
Lyla stiffens; Blair doesn’t react.
She doesn’t know which response concerns her more.
~ * ~
It’s the casino for the majority of the night.
Blair is content to watch, but Lyla wants to play. She doesn’t have the money and refuses when Chuck and Jack offer to cover her opening ante.
She smiles, but declines. “Thanks, but I like to pay my own way.”
There’s no malice in Lyla’s comment, but Blair still restrains a flinch.
She’s wearing a dress Chuck bought, sleeping in a hotel room he chose, chasing his vendetta. Something tightens in her chest and squeezes hard.
Money has never been an object, but she’s paid dearly.
~ * ~
Lyla disappears around midnight.
Blair can’t blame her. They’ve been watching Chuck and Jack work the roulette wheel for two hours, and she’s losing feeling in her lower half from sitting on a stool for so long.
The balcony is a welcome relief and it’s where she finds her other half.
“Hey,” Blair calls out and Lyla turns, her long curls catching in the breeze.
“Sorry,” Lyla says sheepishly. “I could only take so much of watching other people win.”
Blair joins her at the railing, rests her forearms on the cool stone and watches the moonlight twinkle on the water. “I’ve never been very good at coming out on top.”
Lyla looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “Are you kidding me? I thought I grew up nice, but your world…it’s like a fairytale. We’re in Monaco, Blair. Your face is on the cover of every magazine.”
Blair contains another flinch: dead babies, broken hearts, lies and betrayals and dreams destroyed. The last year brought her no happy endings. “You know the saying, …all that glitters… I was divorced before I turned twenty-two.”
Lyla turns and it’s dark, but Blair recognizes the sympathy in her eyes. It’s the same expression she wore every time she put Serena back together, rescued Chuck, laughed at Nate’s near misses. It’s dark, but Blair still knows Lyla can read her as well as she’s ever read herself.
“I thought I had a fairytale,” Lyla starts. “Jason was QB1, I was a cheerleader, he was going to Notre Dame and the pros and I was going with him.” Blair nods along; she already heard this story. “I told you about how it began,” Lyla continues. “But I didn’t tell you how it ended. Jason broke his back. He’s paralyzed from the waist down. No more football, no NFL. He couldn’t even hold my hand. His dream was over and mine…I realized it never began.”
Blair swallows hard and grips the rail tighter. She feels the weight of the Van der Bilt diamond on her fourth finger, how it had anchored her to the path she’d thought was her future. “I had that too,” Blair says. “My first boyfriend…I thought we’d be together forever.”
“What happened?”
Cool air brushes over the bare skin of her thighs, but it’s leather too, and it’s not the wind but Chuck’s fingers tangling in her hair. “I met someone else.”
“Chuck, right?”
“He’s the love of my life,” Blair insists but she only grips the rail harder.
“I had that too,” Lyla says, her voice dropping to a near whisper.
“What happened?”
It takes Lyla a moment to answer and when she finally does, she’s gripping the rail alongside Blair. “He wanted more than I could give.” Blair doesn’t understand; her mistake has always been loving her men too much.
“Do you still love him?”
Lyla smiles, but it’s filled with longing and regret. Blair knows that smile - Dan wore the same one the day she broke his heart. “Jason was my first love and Tim was the love of my life, but I needed more than love. He just needed me.”
It’s a bit like being slapped, hearing the story of her life unfolding as a cautionary tale. “It’s a rare thing,” Blair manages to say. “Someone wanting nothing more than you exactly how you are.”
Lyla whips around, her eyes wide and panicked. “Blair, I’m sorry. I wasn’t judging. You asked and it’s the truth: one day, I was going to need more. It didn’t seem right, holding onto something that was already slipping away.”
Tears prick Blair’s eyes and her voice is a strained whisper. “He’s going to tire of me, isn’t he?”
The question lingers and Lyla doesn’t say anything. Blair doesn’t blame her. It’s happened before; there’s no reason history won’t repeat itself.
“I have an idea,” Lyla says and takes Blair’s hands in hers, squeezes softly. “How do you feel about Paris?”
Blair shakes her head. She met Louis there, said goodbye to Chuck. It’s the “City of Love” and the memories are too strong.
“Rome?” Lyla tries again.
Blair sucks in an audible breath. The night is chilly, but she can feel the heat on her skin, Dan’s fingers trailing across her stomach, the scratch of his pen…the cut is shallower, but stings more. It’s a wound she could have avoided. “How do you feel about New York?”
Lyla’s smile brightens and some of the longing disappears from her eyes. “Jason lives there, but I’ve never been.”
Blair smiles too, begins mapping days they’ll spend roaming her own streets. “You thought I was a princess here? At home, I’m a queen.”
Lyla drops into a mock curtsey. “I’m honored, Your Highness.” Blair wrinkles her nose and Lyla winces. “Too much?”
Blair smiles, but it’s not forced. “You have so much to learn.”
Lyla just laughs, but Blair reads between the lines: Lyla’s not the only one with a lot to learn.
~ * ~
Writers live for feedback - please leave some if you have the time