Archive of Our Own

The email read: “Blair, can you come to my office?” It was a fairly standard Marianna email—to the point and brief. She hadn’t even signed it. But something about it raised Blair’s hackles and she mentally scrolled through everything she had done over the past seventy-two hours to see if she could remember any noticeable screw-ups.

After a second, Blair concluded that she couldn’t think of anything that would have drawn Marianna’s ire. Unsurprisingly, that did little for the butterflies in her stomach. One would think that Blair would have become used to Marianna in the past three years since Marianna’s promotion to Editor-in-Chief, but Marianna apparently had the gift of continually inspiring fear in her subordinates.

Blair printed out her latest mock-ups and grabbed her notepad and headed over to Marianna’s office. The door was half open, so Blair knocked once politely and then entered.

“Blair!” Marianna said brightly when Blair came in. She gestured at the seat opposite her desk to indicate that Blair should take a seat and then turned towards the intern, Karen S., who was standing next to Marianna’s desk.

“I want to see Gemma’s annotations on Mike’s mock-up in color on my desk when I finish talking to Blair. Let Gemma and Mike know that we’ll meet in the conference room to go through it in twenty minutes.”

Karen nodded once, her fingers gripping her pad tightly, and turned to head out of the office.

“Wait—” Marianna said and Karen stopped in her tracks. “Make sure there’s fresh coffee in the conference room. Thanks.”

Karen did her best to not run out of the room—Blair pitied her a little. They both knew that Gemma hadn’t finished annotating the mock-up, so Karen had approximately five to ten minutes to get Gemma to finish and then get it back to Marianna. Blair would feel worse, but it was not really her problem. The health and beauty sections, now those were her ever-consuming problems.

When Marianna’s attention swung back to Blair, Blair handed over the latest mock-up for the tinted moisturizers piece as well as this month’s “My story” piece featuring a woman’s breast reduction experience. Marianna took them but instead of reviewing them, she placed them on her desk.

“Blair,” Marianna started, pausing for a second. “As you know, Kylie will be back from her vacation in a week.”

Blair paused for a second, suddenly feeling unsure of where this conversation could possibly go. “Yes, it will be great to have her back,” she said slowly.

“You’ve really stepped up to the plate during her absence and held the sections together during the past month while she was gone.”

“Thank you,” Blair said, managing to hide her surprise. Compliments from Marianna were very rare and pretty much always loaded. The only real reason that Blair could think of for the compliment was that Marianna planned to fire her and wanted to let her down easily. But that really wasn't her style. Marianna went straight for the kill--she didn't see much use in dancing around something.

Theoretically, Marianna could promote Blair. But Blair knew which positions were open and the only remotely applicable positions were assistant managing editor, which was a little too outside the realm of reasonable promotions, or the assistant features editor, which was lateral at best.

Marianna paused for a second and made full eye contact with Blair. “I say this because this past month has been a bit of a trial run. There will be an opening over at our sister magazine, Chic Paris." Blair froze, not daring to even hope. “Their features editor, Adele Canet, will be taking a year for a maternity leave and so they’ll need someone to temporarily fill her position for the year. We have all agreed that if you are willing to take the position, we would like you to take it.”

Blair couldn’t force herself to open her mouth or move, and Marianna must have interpreted the pause for hesitation because she started speaking again. “If you accept the position, we understand that it will inconvenience you. Upon returning, you will be appointed to a comparable position.”

“No—I…” Blair started.

“Plus,” Marianna leaned in. “It won’t start for three weeks, so you’ll have more than enough time for a vacation with the hubby.”

Blair finally pulled it together. “No, that is fantastic. Yes, I absolutely want the position. And I will not let you down.”

Marianna looked more than a little amused at Blair’s earnestness, but didn’t make any comments about it. “Excellent. You’ll receive an email from Genevieve with all of your information.” She gave Blair a pointed look and when Blair just sat there, she picked up Blair’s mock-ups and started to review them.

Blair immediately got up and started to walk out quickly before Marianna changed her mind. “Thank you!” she said quickly before making herself scarce.

When Blair returned to her desk, she pulled her cell phone out and began typing out a message. I just got promoted to Paris! After a second, she deleted it and typed, I just got the opportunity for a year long secundment to Paris! She deleted it again and just typed out a simple, I’ve got big news. Her fingers hovered over the send button before someone called her name across the floor. After another moment’s deliberation, Blair hit the home button and stuffed her phone back into her purse.

“Why, hello, my gorgeous wife.” A deep voice echoed near Blair’s ear. Blair rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach that had steadfastly stayed since Blair had left Marianna’s office earlier.

“Justine, Lucas, I believe you know my husband, Chuck.” She gestured from the Vogue managing editor and the hedge fund manager to Chuck, who had moved to stand just to her right.

Justine smiled and said, “It’s nice to see you again.” Lucas just gave a rueful smile to Chuck that indicated that they had definitively met.

Blair and Chuck made small talk with Justine and Lucas until Blair felt like she couldn’t take her internal suspense any longer. Smiling graciously, Blair excused the two of them and pulled Chuck over to the side, where they could theoretically have a few seconds of semi-privacy.

“I’ve got some exciting news,” Blair started. She paused for a second, more nervous and scared than she could remember having been in forever. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure to begin—with the promotion or Paris?

She must have stopped too long because Chuck raised an eyebrow and looked at her in that way that felt like he was digging deep underneath her skin. “Well, now I’m intrigued. You never get this nervous. What’s the news?”

“Paris!” Blair blurted out. “I am being secunded to Paris for a year.” Chuck’s face went from faintly amused to complete blankness. The butterflies in her stomach turned completely to lead, heavy as they fell to the pit of her stomach.

“Apparently, Marianna was using this past month as a test drive.” Blair heard herself saying automatically. “They’re asking me to take over features for a year while Adele is on maternity leave.”

“Wow,” Chuck said. Blair waited for Chuck to continue—to express his excitement or to congratulate her. To do something to stop the horrible cold feeling that was spreading over her body. When nothing else was forthcoming, Chuck’s face still frozen, Blair felt the anxiety which had haunted her all day sharpen and turn into anger.

Before Blair could help herself, she narrowed her eyes and hissed, ‘That’s all you have to say? I get excited for every new major business alliance or outpost that you—“ She forced herself to take a deep breath. They were in a very public place where they were bound to be overheard at any moment by an acquaintance, or even worse, by someone who would tweet or post this online without a second's thought.

Chuck started to say something, turning to the meaningless apologies that Blair had heard a million times before. Blair cut in before Chuck could finish. “Let’s discuss this later at home,” Blair said, pasting on a large smile. “I think I see—“ Blair turned around to look throughout the gala to find someone, anyone, to talk to. “Ah, Jemima and Rina.”

Out of the corner of her vision, Blair saw Chuck roll his eyes, but he followed her as she walked away.

Blair spent the evening making polite conversation with the rest of the New York socialite crowd—the Met Gala always brought out the best of the young and old guard. Normally, the chance to solidify her connections and dazzle on a stage this large would have been the highlight of Blair’s month, but as she flitted from group to group, she couldn’t stop thinking about Chuck’s cultivated blankness when she had told him about the job.

Eventually the gala started winding down, so Blair went to find Chuck in order to make a reasonably fashionable exit. He had long since left her side and joined Lily and Rufus who were chatting near the exit.

“Hello, Blair,” Lily said, leaning in to kiss Blair on the cheek. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing great,” Blair said, smiling. She nodded to Rufus who was giving Blair a wry smile. “I hear that Serena’s filming has just finished.”

Lily brightened up and launched into a declaration of Serena’s latest exploits. Lily’s attempts at portraying herself as a long-suffering mother were betrayed by the noticeable pride in her voice. Blair waited until Lily finished before placing her hand on Chuck’s arm.

“We would love to stay and chat further, but I have an early morning meeting.” Lily and Rufus nodded sympathetically and Lily made Blair promise to get brunch with them the next time Serena was in town before Blair managed to extricate Chuck and herself.

Blair expected what was inevitably going to be yet another argument to start in the car before they even make it back to the apartment, but Chuck was tight-lipped the entire ride back. Blair got angrier and angrier, something that she couldn’t define simmering beneath the surface, but she found that she couldn’t bring herself to be the one to start the fight—to start from a position of weakness.

The silence lasted through the elevator ride until they walked through the front door.

“So, Paris,” Chuck said, light as a mouse, after Blair put down her keys. “I take it that you’ve accepted the position.”

“Well, yes,” Blair said. “I mean, I haven’t signed any paperwork, which I will clearly have to do in order to get a visa and there will be HR stuff, but I said yes.” She could hear her voice rising and she fought to keep it calm.

“So you accepted a position in Paris for a year without even consulting me? When does it start?” Again, the forced lightness.

“I’m supposed to start in about three weeks. Which works perfectly because we can take the two weeks that we were supposed to be in Italy for our anniversary and instead go to Paris and settle in and explore the city.”

“Oh, can we?” And there it was, the mocking anger in Chuck’s voice.

Good, a part of Blair thought, let’s get this all out. “It’s ok for you to be gone for half the year, every year, traveling to Asia, Europe and Latin America, but god forbid, I want to take the next step in my career and go to France for one year, with the explicit promise that I will be back next year—“

“I always check with you before I have to go on a business trip!” Chuck said.

“No—you don’t check with me. You cursorily tell me that you’re going. And I would never say no because I know how important it is—“

“If you told me not to go, I would not go,” Chuck said.

“Don’t even. That’s bullshit. We both know that’s not true.” And then they were up to a fever pitch and Blair couldn’t stop herself from screaming back about Chuck’s double standard, about how it was always about him and Chuck was yelling right back about how selfish Blair being, of course he wanted the best for her and the millions other things that they had fought about before.

They both finally calmed down around 3 a.m. when Blair was so exhausted and unhappy that she was on the verge of tears and Chuck finally said “Let’s just—let’s just stop.” He looked so weary as he held out his hands in a placating gesture that Blair felt everything, all the excitement and nervousness from the day, slam into her all at once and couldn’t stop herself from starting to cry.

Chuck pulled her close a second later and they stood there in the kitchen, Blair crying softly into Chuck’s shoulder while Chuck kept stroking Blair's hair softly.

The next morning Blair woke up to the sound of her phone ringing somewhere on her nightstand. Chuck groaned and tried to bury his head underneath the pillow while Blair groped around trying to locate it. When she finally found it and squinted at the screen, she saw the official Waldorf Designs portrait of her mother. Serena had jokingly put a picture of Faye Dunaway from “Mommie Dearest” as Eleanor’s picture, which had the intended effect of making at least making one aspect of a call with her mother funny, but then Eleanor had found out and demanded that Blair change it.

Blair debated ignoring the call as it was clearly an ungodly hour and she had probably only received about two hours of sleep, but after a second, she picked up the call, grabbing her robe and hurriedly going into the hallway to avoid waking up Chuck.

“Blair Waldorf!” Eleanor said loudly into the phone, clearly already irritated about something.

“Mom,” Blair acknowledged.

“So I have to hear second-hand that my daughter has been promoted and is moving to Paris?” Blair’s mind raced as she tried to figure out how her mother could have already known. Chuck must have told—“To think that I had to hear it from Lily instead of my own daughter is, frankly, embarrassing.”

“Mom, I just found out yesterday,” Blair said. “I would have told you when I found out, but it was the middle of the night in Milan and I was planning on waiting until this morning.”

Her mother harrumphed and there was a silence while Blair knew that her mother was deciding if she wanted to continue being angry or get more information. “It’s such a shame that we’re no longer based in Paris.” Eleanor finally decided. “It would have been so nice to spend more time with you and Chuck. But how long will you be there for? I’m sure we can arrange to come up to visit.” And with that Eleanor launched into a standard conversation—lots of updates on her life and minimal questions into Blair’s.

When Blair managed to get Eleanor off of the phone, she looked longingly at her watch, hoping she could go back to bed for half an hour. Unfortunately, it was almost seven, which negated any chance of getting a few more minutes of rest, so Blair sighed and headed to the bathroom to get ready.

Blair came downstairs just as Jennifer was putting out the coffee on the dining room table.

“Oh, Blair!” she said, jumping slightly in surprise. “Early morning?”

Blair winced. “Slightly. Can I have some toast, Jennifer?” Jennifer nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen, still looking slightly spooked. Blair sighed. Ever since Dorota had retired to take care of her children full time, Blair hadn’t been able to find anyone comparable to replace. Jennifer wasn’t bad, especially once she had stopped trying to correct Blair when Blair referred to her as Jennifer as opposed to Jenny (some grudges died hard), but she would never be as great as Dorota.

When Chuck came downstairs a few minutes later, Blair looked at him intently. “Should I let Jennifer know that she should start packing the items that we want to bring with us?”

Chuck frowned and took a big sip of coffee. “I suppose so.”

Blair stepped off the plane, her Stella McCartney purse slung over her shoulder, and adjusted her sunglasses, trying to hide her growing smile. Normally, after an eight hour flight, Blair would have completed wilted upon disembarking. Instead, she felt energized by the fresh air. Everything already felt clear and crisp and Blair couldn't wait to get into the city.

Something pressed at Blair’s shoulder, a reminder to keep moving, and a second later, Chuck emerged from the plane as well. He squinted up at the sun before putting on his wayfarers. As they waited for the shuttle, he sighed and flicked an invisible piece of lint off of his shoulder. Blair schooled her face into a neutral expression while they boarded the shuttle to take them to the main airport.

“Don’t try to pretend otherwise,” Chuck said. “I know that you’re beyond excited right now. Just don’t forget that some of us will need a nap to refresh ourselves before we feel ready to attack the city.”

“I'm socially appropriately excited, nothing more,” Blair said primly but Chuck rolled his eyes good-naturedly and gave Blair a tired kiss on the cheek.

Their driver was waiting for them in the terminal and he nodded politely at both of them as they walked in. Chuck went over to let the driver know which bags to look for while Blair took a seat near the baggage carousel.

Before Blair could even think about it, the baggage had been collected from the carousel, she was being shepherded into the car and she and Chuck were headed on the highway towards Paris.

Blair snapped a quick picture through the window of the view and then tapped out a message to Serena.

“Anything you want to say to Serena?” Blair asked as she wrote out And Chuck sends his love!

“Is she going to come and save me from the abyss of museums during our year here?” At Blair’s glare, Chuck quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, you’ll become even more of an expert, so when she comes, she’ll be in for a real treat.”

Blair rolled her eyes and went back to texting.

After what felt like forever, the car finally arrived at the Barrière. Due to their last minute notice, the apartment that Blair had arranged to rent in the 8th arrondissement wasn’t going to be ready for another two weeks. Blair had decided to embrace the spirit of the vacation that she and Chuck would be having for two weeks and actually treat it like a vacation. She had booked a suite in one of her favorite hotels—she and Chuck and stayed here shortly after they were married and she had fond memories of it from that time.

Blair and Chuck checked in and headed up to their suite. A maid would be coming by to unpack their clothing later, so Blair just took out an outfit to wear for the day and headed into the shower.

By the time that Blair emerged from the shower and dried her hair, Chuck had passed out on the bed. He had managed to take his suit jacket and shoes off, but had otherwise, just laid down and fallen asleep on top of the covers.

Blair gently shook Chuck's foot. "Darling, let's go outside for a walk before dinner. You shouldn't sleep right now."

Chuck just growled incoherently. Blair tried again. "Come on, it's beautiful outside, we'll get to see an amazing sunset. Maybe we could take a walk by the Seine?"

"We'll have plenty of time to do that later." Chuck mumbled before taking a pillow and putting it over his head to definitively stake his claim to sleep.

Blair sighed and watched him through narrowed eyes. After a minute, Blair decided to give up and she took a quick picture of Chuck to be used as a memento and/or later blackmail depending on the occasion.

She kissed Chuck gently on the forehead and grabbed her purse. On her way past the front desk, she arranged for three wakeup calls to get Chuck up in two hours so that he would be up in time for dinner and wouldn’t be too jet-lagged.

Blair debated trying to do some preliminary shopping on the Champs-Elysées or maybe walking over to the Rodin outdoor museum, but something felt unsettled underneath her skin. It was probably the residual fatigue from the flight, but Blair knew that she wouldn’t be able to focus on anything well enough to make either trip worthwhile.

So instead, once she stepped outside the hotel, Blair picked a random direction and started walking. After a few blocks, she found a cute café that wasn’t too busy. After checking with the wait staff, she sat down and ordered a cup of coffee. The evening dinner rush hadn’t yet started, so there were just a few people walking around, couples and friends chatting as they slowly moved down the street.

As she watched a group of young teenagers laugh and smile amongst themselves, Blair felt something deep ache suddenly. For a white, hot second, Blair could only feel irrationally jealous of the group’s potential, of whatever future that lay before them, before she snapped back to herself.

“L’addition, s’il vous plaît.” Blair asked the nearest waiter and she quickly paid, leaving the change and then heading back to the hotel.

Twenty minutes before their dinner, Chuck found her downstairs in the hotel lobby. Blair was already on her third martini and staring out of the window.

“Hello beautiful,” Chuck said, sitting down next to her. He looked perfectly coiffed and ready to go. Blair felt more than a little drunk.

“You missed a beautiful sunset,” Blair said absently.

“Well, we’ve got at least a full year to catch up on it,” Chuck said and gently nuzzled Blair’s neck. He stepped back and held out his arm. “Shall we?”

Blair sighed and motioned to the bartender to let him know that she was heading out. “I suppose so.”

Dinner turned into a mild disaster. Blair realized that she was actually drunk as soon as they left the hotel, but felt too silly to tell Chuck to turn back. Instead, Blair spent the first half of dinner making jokes to Chuck and the wait staff who didn’t seem to find Blair as hilarious as she found herself. Blair then spent the second half of dinner narrowly avoiding falling asleep in her (very expensive) food.

By the time that they left, Chuck’s lips were pressed into a firm thin line as Blair leaned heavily on him for assistance. Once they got to the hotel, Chuck went straight to bed while Blair sat up, watching muted French news and drinking water until she was sober.

The next morning appeared promising—Blair and Chuck woke up relatively early due to the jet lag and decided to head out for breakfast at a nearby café.

“Isn’t this so romantic?” Blair said, as they navigated the streets, the smell of baguettes and fresh croissants everywhere.

Chuck laughed. “I suppose so.” He gestured at the café opposite of them.

“Perfect,” Blair said. They walked in and grabbed a seat inside, near the window. “This feels like coming home—everything just seems so familiar.” And it did, something about the café put Blair at ease, either the smell of the food and coffee, the way that everyone in the café appeared to exclusively be in their own world, or the fact that one of the guys near the wall almost reminded her of Humphrey, with his messy hair and—wait.

“Is that Humphrey?” She whispered urgently to Chuck.

Chuck stopped looking at his phone. “What?” he said loudly, causing several people to look over at their table disapprovingly. “Did you just ask me if I saw—“

“Lower your voice!” Blair said. “And yes, I could swear that the guy over there looks just like Humphrey.”

“Which guy?” Chuck began obviously surveying the room. “Where?”

Blair wanted to put her face in her hands. “Could you be more obvious? Don’t answer that. Okay, look directly behind you, next to the wall. It’s probably not him, as that would be completely ridiculous for all of us to be here at the same time, it’s just my imagination, trying to sabotage us with a guaranteed day ruiner of Humphrey.”

Chuck gave Blair a look and then slowly and nonchalantly turned around in his seat. He swiveled back. “You know, that guy does look a little bit like Humphrey.” He started to turn around in his seat again to get a better look, just as the Humphrey lookalike also started turning around.

“Chuck!” Blair hissed, trying to get him to stop, but it was too late. The man who was now definitively and clearly recognizable as Daniel Humphrey had turned around as well and made eye contact with Chuck. Dan looked startled for a second and his eyes opened almost comically wide as he made the connection.

Blair smiled politely when Dan looked beyond Chuck to make eye contact with Blair. For a moment, she had the wild idea of just grabbing Chuck’s hand and bolting from the café. Of pretending that she and Chuck were still in their own romantic world, completely impregnable to the outside. But, before she could do anything, Dan started to stand up, and even though it was the last thing in the world that she wanted, Blair knew that he was going to come over and say hi and that she and Chuck would invite him to join them and that they would all have to suffer each other’s presence for the duration of breakfast.

“Blair!” Dan said, smilingly hesitantly once he got to their table. “Chuck.” Chuck stood up and shook Dan’s hand. Blair felt like petulantly refusing to acknowledge Dan with a hug, but her manners got the better of her and she plastered on a fake smile and stood up to hug Humphrey.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Blair said. She made eye contact with Chuck—maybe they could subtly hint that it was great seeing Dan, but they were having a romantic morning with just the two of them.

Chuck shrugged back at her.

“What are you two doing here?” Dan asked.

“Ah, I’m going to be working at Chic Paris as their features editor for the next year,” Blair said. “We came out a couple weeks early to get settled in and to take a private vacation for the two of us.”

“That sounds nice,” Dan said. “I think that Lily did mention something about that when I last talked to her.”

They stood there awkwardly for a second. “Well—I guess it was great—“ Blair started.

“Do you mind if I join?” Dan said.

Blair smiled her most polite press smile. “Of course. We would love to catch up.”

Breakfast was an awkward affair. Although there was a time that Blair would have considered Dan to be a friend, they had been little more than acquaintances for years now, since at least before Chuck and her wedding. What little she knew was through half conversations with Serena. Blair knew that Dan was often traveling, generally for his writing or for his various book tours, but that was about it. She hadn’t asked about Dan in quite some time and Serena rarely volunteered information about him.

Partly that was because of the way that things had ended between them. Alright, Blair mentally sighed. Mostly how she had ended things and chosen Chuck over Dan. She had felt something for Dan once upon a time, infatuation likely, but they would have made a terrible couple and someone had to acknowledge that.

And now, here they were, as the three of them made half conversations in a Paris café, talking about the weather, the sites that Blair and Chuck planned to see, the plane ride over.

“Well,” Blair said after the bill had been paid. “I guess we’ll be heading out now.”

Blair had envisioned a morning spent in the Musée D’Orsay, followed by lunch over in Le Marais. Maybe she and Chuck would go shopping and they would stumble across some adorable vintage Audrey Hepburn-esque clothes like she wore in Funny Face. And so, as the three of them walked out of the café, Blair truly believed that the day would jump back on track once they said good-bye to Dan.

What she hadn’t imagined was Dan inviting himself to join them when he heard that they were going to the Musée D’Orsay.

“I heard that the new Manet exhibit just opened!” he said excitedly. “I was actually planning on heading over there later this week, but if you guys are going now and wouldn’t mind a third wheel, I would love to join you.”

“Of course,” Blair said, gritting her teeth. “Not a problem.” She imagined pushing Dan into the Seine from the Pont Neuf and watching him having to swim his way out.

The Musée D’Orsay was everything that Blair remembered about it. It was nice and cool when they entered, the building lending the perfect amount of gravitas to the works housed in it. And after twenty minutes or so, Blair was forced to admit that Humphrey was fairly interesting. He had started talking about the evolution of Monet’s work and Blair and Dan became immersed in a discussion on how much Monet’s cataracts and subsequent surgery affected his style.

After half an hour or so, Chuck excused himself to go to the bathroom, promising to return shortly. While they waited for him, Blair and Dan kept walking through the gallery, finally stopping in front of a small sculpture of an elongated and hollow sphinx face.

“It’s very modern,” Dan said. “I don’t think I’ve really ever paid attention to it before.”

“Yes,” Blair agreed. “The cheeks are so hollow and it’s so….”

“Creepy,” they both said in unison, causing both of them to chuckle slightly. Blair found herself smiling despite all intentions to the contrary. After a second, Blair looked around.

“Wait, where’s Chuck?” Blair said as she realized that Chuck had been missing for quite a while. She headed back towards the museum café and the restrooms, assuming that Dan would follow her, which he did. When they got to the café area, Blair found Chuck sitting at one of the tables, typing out an email.

“Chuck.” Blair hissed, feeling herself already starting to get upset. “What are you doing?”

“I had to respond to some emails, Blair,” he said.

“We’re on a vacation right now,” Blair said. “Can’t it wait a few hours?”

“Business never goes on vacation,” Chuck said. “Actually, I think I’ll need to go back to the hotel and get some work done—it looks like we’re having issues with the Tokyo deal.”

“Chuck!” Blair said, willing herself to not cause a scene. “We were going to have a nice lunch together and go for a walk afterwards, maybe visit Shakespeare & Co. or do some shopping.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and do that with Dan, if he’s free. Wouldn’t it be nice for the two of you to catch up? Then we can meet back at the hotel for dinner?” Chuck said. Blair gave Chuck her best glare. Chuck didn’t even like Dan—they had never gotten along, especially after Dan and Blair’s aborted relationship. Although their slight antagonism had settled into cool acquaintance-ship, this was clearly Chuck making the most of an opportunity to foist her off on someone else for the day.

“Fine,” Blair said. “That’s fine.”

After Chuck left, they spent another hour wandering around the Musée D’Orsay—Dan making comments about the artwork and Blair viciously shooting them down. By the time that they returned to the entrance, conversation had dwindled the occasional “Ahh”.

Dan offered to grab lunch with her. Blair, in a weird masochistic battle with herself, couldn’t manage to say no. So they headed out from the Musée D’Orsay, Blair leading the way, until they arrived at a small café that Blair had been to years ago on Rue du Docteur Lancereux.

“I don’t think that I’ve been to lunch over here before,” Dan said, surveying the area.

“It’s not actually that great of a café,” Blair started. “I mean it’s fine—I discovered it when I was here with Serena years ago.” She stopped and looked at Dan conspiratorially before continuing. “The best part is this: do you see that museum over there?” She gestured across the courtyard.

Dan took a look over, following Blair’s arm. “Yes?” He squinted, trying to see if he could make out a name.

“It’s the Musée Jacquemart Andre.” At Dan’s nod, Blair finished. “It’s the museum where Audrey Hepburn is trying to steal the forgery back in ‘How To Steal A Million’.”

Dan laughed. “I should have figured. I bet that coming to Paris is really just an opportunity to have an Audrey retrospective.”

Blair sniffed. “One does not need an excuse to have an Audrey retrospective, although, yes, if you must know, I watched key films in preparation for moving here. Is it so wrong to think that certain films manage to convey the Parisian je ne sais quoi so well?”

Dan laughed. “I suppose you would think that.”

There was something about the way that Dan laughed. Maybe it was the way he seemed to fully mean it, his whole body shaking. Or maybe it was the way that he caught Blair’s eyes when he laughed, making her feel like he wasn’t laughing at her—that they were both in on the joke. So Blair found herself laughing as well, something settling ever so slightly inside of her and making her feel the tiniest bit at ease for the first time since Chuck and Blair had arrived at their hotel.

After they finished lunch, Dan let Blair know that he had to head back to his apartment. “It was really nice seeing you,” Dan said and he actually seemed to mean it, despite Blair’s sullen attitude for most of the day.

Blair bit her lip. Part of her wanted to say something cutting and rude, remind Humphrey of where he belonged on the social ladder. But, he had hung out with her for most of the morning and afternoon. More than she could even say about her husband. And it had been surprisingly not…unpleasant. “It was nice to see you too,” Blair said, hesitantly smiling back.

“You have my number, right?” Dan asked. Blair nodded. “Well, I’m around. Feel free to give me a call.” Blair nodded and then Dan quirked his lips and set off in opposite direction.

When Blair got back to the hotel room, Chuck was pacing the edge of the sitting room, near the desk.

“Yes, I understand that,” he said as Blair quietly closed the door. He was framed against the window, the late afternoon light gently illuminating Chuck’s hair. For a moment, Blair just rested against the door frame and watched Chuck talk. She wanted nothing more than to go over and wrap her arms around him and lay her head against his back, something that would give her a measure of peace. But, cognizant of Chuck’s phone call, Blair held back and stayed where she was.

At some point, Blair moved and went to sit down in one of the chairs in the sitting room. She must have made some small sound as she sat because Chuck whirled around and made a sign to hold on for one moment. Blair nodded and pulled out her phone to check her emails.

Eventually, Chuck got off the phone and came over to Blair, kissing her hello.

“Why hello, beautiful,” Chuck said, giving Blair a look over. “I see that Humphrey didn’t tarnish your luster.”

“Ha ha,” Blair said. “Did you get your work done?”

“Yes. All done, my time is now yours to spend with it as you will.” He gave her one of those disarming smiles that even now made Blair melt a little bit. Blair reached up and gently rubbed her hand against Chuck’s cheek and his smiled deepened.

Blair looked down at her watch. “Well, we have dinner,” she eyed Chuck speculatively. “But, I think that we have a little bit of time before we have to head out. I bet I can think of something to occupy our time…”

And from the way that Chuck bent down to kiss Blair in response, Blair felt confident that her idea had been a good one.

Dinner that night was at Antoine to be followed by drinks at Madam, where Chuck and Blair would meet a few of Chuck’s clients who were passing through the city as well. It had sounded like a great evening—Antoine was a two star Michelin restaurant that came highly recommended and Madam was one of the most exclusive clubs in the city.

Antoine lived up it its sterling reputation—Chuck and Blair had a table that overlooked the Seine and the Eiffel Tower. And the food was perfect—the seafood dishes melting in Blair’s mouth. But despite the magical and ethereal atmosphere, Chuck wouldn’t stop picking fights with Blair.

It had started on the car ride over. Blair had made a comment about her lunch with Dan and Chuck had been unable to resist from taking a jab at Dan, followed by one at Blair for willingly choosing to have lunch with Dan. As if it would have been anything but unforgivably rude to refuse to hang out with Dan.

“I just can’t believe that you willing hung out with that hipster loser,” Chuck had said. He mimed throwing out a piece of garbage.

“Seriously?” Blair had responded. “He was actually nice to me and made good conversation when my husband, who I was supposed to be spending time with on this vacation in honor of our fifth year anniversary, disappeared to go do work. Besides, if anyone has a reason to be rude to me, it’s him after the way that we treated him this morning, and he was nothing but gracious and good company.”

Chuck had sneered and laughed in Blair’s face as if there was some clearly obvious joke on Blair that she couldn’t see.

It had deteriorated from there, leading to a long and painful dinner.

“Can’t we just get along for a little bit?” Blair asked before the waiter brought over the cheese cart. “Why do you have to make everything into an argument?”

“I think it takes two to play this game.” Chuck shot back. “You’re the one who’s had their panties in a twist this entire evening, all I want to do is enjoy a nice dinner with my lovely wife.”

“I—“ Blair started, face turning red with anger. “My panties in a twist!” The waiter with the cheese cart was approaching and so Blair stopped speaking and just settled for glaring at Chuck.

By the time the check came, Blair felt bitterly exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and curl up in bed, but Chuck had taken on that stubborn look, that said he was going to see this evening to the end and Blair was not going to be the one to end the night.

So they stepped outside and waited for the car to arrive. “When are we meeting your friends?” Blair asked.

Chuck looked down at his phone and lit up the screen to show Blair that it was almost 11:30 p.m.. “They’re probably there already. Where is this car?”

Blair looked around the street. “It’s a very nice evening—we could walk there. Maybe take a stroll along the Seine?”

Chuck rolled his eyes.

“What?” Blair said. “What is so wrong with walking along the Seine? I’m sorry for wanting to do romantic things every once in a while.”

“It’s just so trite,” Chuck said, almost yawning with practiced boredom. “Walking along the Seine, maybe putting a lock on the bridge. Could you get any more touristy and gauche?”

Blair set her chin. “You know what? You can take the car there yourself. I’m going to go for a walk.”

She set off down the street, in the direction of the river. Chuck sighed dramatically and then jogged to catch up with her.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Is that a trick question?” Blair said. “I’m walking, like I said I would.” But she stopped and waited for Chuck to say something.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Chuck said in that voice he used whenever he was trying to placate Blair. Blair could feel herself starting to get even angrier. “The car will be here in a second and we’ll head over to Madam. You’re going to love it and we’ll have a great time.”

“No,” Blair said. “We’re not going to have a great time. You’re going to keep picking fights with me and we’re going to spend the evening pissed off at each other. And you know what? The whole reason that you’re being like this tonight is because you’re angry at yourself that I had a good time with Humphrey. You were the one who was rude to me this morning, you were horrible at the museum and then you left me to do something that most likely could have waited. And so I went and had a good time anyway.”

Chuck froze. “Oh, you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” he said coldly. “Look, I’m not going to stand out here fighting with you. Do you want to come to Madam or not?”

“Thank you for your ever-so-kind offer,” Blair said. “But I think that I will decline.” They glared at each other for a moment before both of them turned and walked in opposite directions—Chuck back towards the restaurant where the car presumably had arrived and Blair towards the stairs down to the banks of the Seine.

Blair walked along the Seine slowly, trying to let the night air cool her down. She kept reliving the evening, Chuck’s words cutting her over and over again. All Blair had wanted was a romantic trip—a chance to connect again with Chuck and all they had done since their arrival was fight.

Blair let her feet lead her, not really paying attention to where she was going until she almost collided with a group of people exiting from a small bistro near the Place de L’Opera.

“Hey!” Blair said, when one of the men in the party collided with her, almost stepping on Blair’s foot. “Faites-attention.” She didn’t bother to hide the venom in her voice.

The man half-heartedly apologized, despite the glare that Blair was throwing him, and the group continued on their way, except for one of the members of the party who peeled himself back and started walking in Blair’s direction.

“Blair?” the man said in Dan Humphrey’s voice.

“Seriously?” Blair said, giving up on any pretense of politeness. “Does the universe have it out for me?”

“Excuse me?” Dan said, clearly taken aback.

“I asked,” Blair said slowly, making sure to enunciate clearly. “If the universe has a special reason that it wants to screw me over. Am I so special that the cosmos needs to intervene to make my life a living hell? Because right now, it sure feels like it.”

“Hey now,” Dan said. “I’m really not sure what’s going on?”

And the thing was, he wore this look of complete bewilderment on his face, as if he really did want to understand what was going on, as if he actually cared about Blair even though she had done everything in her power to fuck up his life and fuck him over in the past. And it made Blair feel even worse, but instead of doing the reasonable thing and apologizing or calming down, Blair found herself getting even more agitated.

“What is your problem, Humphrey? Are you just following me around trying to make my life more difficult than it is already?”

“Ok, that’s it,” Dan said. “I don’t know what you’re going on about, but you can’t just treat people like this. This isn’t high school on the Upper East Side and we are not all your subjects.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Blair’s voice started involuntarily rising. “You would love to paint me as a caricature that you can easily label one-dimensionally and put into a box.”

“You’re so self-centered.” Dan shot back. “You can't see anything outside of yourself even when there are other people trying to help you out.”

Blair opened her mouth to say something even nastier and worse, which probably would ruin any strain of friendship that she and Dan had when a nearby clock tolled, causing both Dan and Blair to jump unexpectedly. Blair looked around her for a second, noticing that the two of them had wandered into an empty, but well-lit courtyard next to a side street. She paused and took a moment to gather her thoughts. She started to open her mouth, although she wasn’t sure if she was going to apologize or continue or change track altogether, when all of a sudden she heard a loud commotion down the street.

Blair shot Dan a look of inquiry and then they both looked down the street. A large group of people made their way up the street. The group, which consisted of at least 15 or 20 people, talked over each other, laughing as they approached Blair and Dan.

As the group got closer, Blair sucked in a breath. The entire group was decked out in retro mid-century evening gowns and tuxedos, everything styled perfectly. Almost all of the women wore elbow-length gloves and some of them had hair accessories affixed on top of their hairstyle. Each of them looked ready for a mid-century photo shoot.

As the group approached, a young woman in front waved to them. Blair discretely looked behind her to see who the woman was waving to. When she confirmed that there was no one behind them, she turned to look at Dan, who was waving slowly back—everything clicked into place. They were a group of Dan’s friends.

“There you are!” several voices from the crowd said at once as the group caught up. The entire party was clearly coming from or heading to a costume party. Blair actually felt a little impressed with Dan—she didn't think he had it in him to have such stylish friends.

The group kept walking forward, but the young woman in front, who had waved to Dan earlier turned towards them.

“Come on! We’re going to be late!” she said, smiling winningly at the two of them. When both Blair and Dan didn’t seem to be moving, she shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows. 

“Are you going to come or not?” The woman directed towards them before turning forward and almost disappearing into the crowd.

“Humphrey!” Blair whispered. Dan continued to look in disbelief at the group as they moved further up the street. “Humphrey! Dan!”

Dan finally turned around. “What?”

“What are we waiting for?”

“What do you mean? You want to go with them?”

Blair blinked. “Yes.” Dan kept looking at her, as if he was shocked that Blair would want to go off to a party with a bunch of strangers that were Dan’s friends. Well, to be fair, Blair thought, it wasn’t as if she generally went off with strangers—especially the type who were likely to be friends with Dan—but…

“Come on,” she pleaded. “They look like they’re going somewhere very interesting…”

“Alright, go by yourself.”

“I can’t go by myself…” Blair said. It would be weird and awkward if she turned up without their mutual friend. She had probably only been included in the extended invitation because of Dan. But she couldn’t admit that to Dan. “What if I get kidnapped and killed along the way?”

Dan gave Blair a look that said he was very much aware of how she had been entirely alone when she had run into his previous group.

“Do you want that on your head?” Blair asked, challengingly. Dan rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Fine, fine,” he said. “But we should probably hurry if we’re going to catch up with them.”

Blair and Dan ended up having to run to catch up with the group which, in Blair’s heels, was no small feat. And they caught up just outside of a bar with a bright illuminated sign that read “Mars Club”.

There was no bouncer outside the club and the whole group surged in. Blair started to hang back, but someone caught Blair’s elbow and tugged her inside.

The club was only dimly lit and it took Blair’s eyes a few minutes to adjust. Once Blair was able to see, she looked around the crowded room, to see sloping walls enclosing what appeared to be a stage while a crowd of people either sat at tables facing the stage or milled about the room. A thick layer of smoke made the room faintly hazy as people lazily smoked and talked.

The stage had been set up for a band, but as there was no one currently playing, Blair had to assume that the band had either not yet started or had already finished for the evening. Before Blair speculated on who was performing at this event, someone gently brushed against her arm.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a woman’s faintly accented voice said in Blair’s direction. It was oddly familiar.

Blair whirled around to face a woman around her own age, who bore more than a passing resemblance to Audrey Hepburn. She wore a simple black dress that fit her perfectly and had her hair arranged back in a bun. Blair wasn’t sure if it was the outfit or the fact that she had the Audrey look down pat, but Blair was both insanely jealous and impressed. After weighing the two feelings, Blair decided to be the bigger person and go with being impressed.

“I love your dress,” Blair said.

“Thank you!” the woman said enthusiastically. “I love yours. It’s fantastically daring.” She gestured at Blair’s hemline, which was much shorter. Blair felt herself starting to preen. “Where did you get it?” She asked.

Blair launched into how she had found the dress unexpectedly on a shopping trip in Milan a few years ago and before she knew it, she and the other woman were swapping shopping stories and recommendations for Paris.

After ten or fifteen minutes, a group of musicians filtered out onto the stage, laughing amongst themselves.

“What a treat!” the woman said. “Duke is playing tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Blair stopped, trying to think of who the woman could be referring to.

“Duke Ellington.” The woman bent in low so that Blair could hear her over the sound of the band warming up. “He’s quite extraordinary if you can catch him live.”

Blair’s alarms immediately went off. She was no jazz aficionado, but even she knew that Duke Ellington had been dead for quite some time.

“You know what,” Blair said slowly. “Have you seen my friend? He’s tall, dark, almost good looking in a writer-kind of manner. We came in together.” She smiled apologetically. “I really need to make sure that he’s ok—he gets into all sorts of trouble when I’m not around.”

The woman smiled conspiratorially. “Sounds like a good kind of friend to have,” she said, placing an emphasis on the word friend. Blair nodded, deciding that it was easier to not correct her. Blair started to step away but something about the woman’s warm demeanor made Blair feel a little sorry to leave.

“I’m sure that I’ll see you later this evening,” she said as the woman started to turn around as well.

“I do hope so,” the woman said and waved goodbye.

Blair wandered throughout the room until she finally made out Dan talking to an older distinguished man.

“Excuse me,” she said, interrupting their conversation and drawing Dan to the side.

“Hey!” Dan protested.

“Dan, one of the people here…” Blair started. Dan looked at Blair warily and Blair stopped short.

“Alright, one of the women over there said that Duke Ellington was about to take the stage.”

“And?” Dan prompted as if he was waiting for Blair to finish a story.

“That’s it. But there’s no way that Duke Ellington could be playing tonight…”

“Obviously,” Dan said. “She probably mean that it was a cover band.”

“Who were you talking to?” The man that Dan had been talking to interrupted Dan and Blair’s small circle.

“Excuse me?” Blair said.

“Someone said that Duke was performing? I heard there might be a surprise appearance by Etta James this evening, but I was told by a second hand source. Do you know who said that?”

Blair gestured automatically in the direction of her new friend.

“Oh! I see you were talking with Ms. Hepburn over there. She would know better than I.”

It was Dan’s turn to look a little flabbergasted. “Ms. Hepburn?” He asked.

“Yes, Audrey. Audrey Hepburn,” the man said, looking at them in confusion.

“Hepburn? The actress?” Dan tried once more. Blair stood there numbly, almost in shock. She kept staring at Audrey’s look-a-like until she turned around and gave a warm smile in Blair’s direction. Blair smiled weakly back and then grabbed Dan’s hand.

“Excuse us,” she said to the man and didn’t wait for his reply before dragging Dan out of the bar. She pushed through a crowd which had previously felt full and warm. Now, Blair felt like she was drowning in people with no sign of escape.

Dan’s hand felt firm in hers and it anchored Blair as she pulled him through the crowd. She finally got to the door and pushed it open, instantly welcoming the cold air. After Dan emerged behind her, she turned to face him.

“Dan, what is going on?” she said.

“I don’t know,” Dan said honestly.

“I mean, I’m beginning to freak out here! Your friends are seriously weird—I mean, I love costume parties too, but they’re taking it to the next step and that whole thing with the Audrey Hepburn look-a-like, I mean, that’s almost creepy.”

“Blair, whoa, slow down,” Dan said, putting his hands up. “First of all, these people are not my friends. I have never seen these people before.”

“What do you mean—they obviously knew you!”

“No, they didn’t know me. I’ve never met these people before, I was just following you because you begged me to come with you,” Dan said.

Blair glared at Dan. “Waldorfs do not beg for anything. I merely requested your presence and you acquiesced.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it these days?” Dan snorted.

“Let us focus at the issue at hand,” Blair said, sweeping over Dan’s words. “What is going on in there? They can’t be serious. I mean—Duke Ellington and Etta James are—“

“Dead,” they said at the same time.

“Definitely dead,” Dan said. “But everything in there was definitely more than a little bit off. One of the guys in there was talking about how they’ve been filming ‘Funny Face’ but it’s got to be some kind of a remake…right?”

“Yeah?” Blair said unsteadily. She looked around queasily, taking in the lamps placed down the street that appeared slightly dimmer than earlier in the evening. “It’s got to be, I mean ‘Funny Face’ was filmed in what? The mid 1950s…”

“Sometime around there…” Dan said.

“I mean, they must be doing that nerdy thing that nerds do,” Blair said.

“LARPing. Live action role playing.” Dan supplied, sounding a little unsteady.

Suddenly a car came careening around the corner, the rounded curves and dim headlights bumping up and down wildly. As it rushed past them, the streetlights glinted off the body. There was absolutely no mistaking it—it was a classic Renault, right out of the movies. The windows were rolled down and Dan and Blair could clearly see the occupants of the car, a man and a woman laughing and smoking. Both were clearly attired in 1950s clothing. The car disappeared around the next bend leaving only the faint smell of rubber behind.

Blair and Dan stood stock still for a second.

“Holy shit,” Dan said faintly.

“Oh my god,” Blair echoed and she looked over at Dan. They held each other’s gaze and then, as if of one mind, dashed back into the club.

Blair’s heart pumped furiously as she pushed through the door to get back into the club. There was absolutely no way that what Blair was starting to think could be real, could actually be real.

Inside, everyone was still milling lazily about, the sounds of the band tuning their instruments now filtering over the noise of people talking. Blair gave a careful eye to the people in the room and she could see that everyone was dressed in 1950s fashion attire—the men wore business suits that were too wide and long to be of today’s fashion. The women were dressed in cocktail dresses, many with full skirts and pumps with kitten heels.

This was either the world’s most extravagant costume party or….Blair couldn’t even complete the thought.

“Ah! There you are!” the woman’s voice from earlier said distantly from Blair’s left.

Blair turned slowly around to face the woman who looked just like Audrey Hepburn. No, Blair mentally shook her head, who could very well be Audrey Hepburn.

“We were so desperately trying to find you in this crowd and I am glad that we did,” Audrey said. She gestured at a tall man with dark hair standing next to her, his face oddly familiar. “I was telling Hubert about this dress that you’re wearing.”

The man’s name clicked into place with sudden knowledge—Hubert de Givenchy. Hubert started walking around Blair, looking at her dress.

“Wow—it is fantastic!” he said, a heavy French accent to his words. “Completely innovative.” Blair felt her insides completely melting—Hubert de Givenchy! Telling Blair that her outfit looked great!

He looked at Blair for her response, but Blair couldn’t seem to find the words. Audrey started to look a little uncertain as well and Blair thought she was going to actually have a panic attack in the middle of a 1950s club where she stood a realistic chance of suffocating before someone got her outside to take deep breaths.

“Blair is always at the forefront of fashion.” Dan’s voice broke through, breaking whatever panic attack that Blair had been about to undergo. Blair felt a pure rush of gratitude. “If you think that this is impressive, wait until you see what happens when she goes all out.” His voice had more than a small note of pride in it and, despite herself, Blair began to blush.

“Blair is an expert at pairing complementary colors for outfits,” Dan said.

“What?” Blair jumped in. “It’s not about complementary colors—although that is important. It’s ok to deviate in order to get an outfit that really pops. Come on, Humphrey, don't be obtuse.” She threw a look at Dan, who was giving her a faintly smug smile as if he knew something that she did not, before she turned back to Hubert and Audrey. “I have to say that I am a huge fan of your work as well.” Blair found herself smiling. If there was one area that she was qualified to talk about, no matter where or when she was, it was fashion.

Hubert de Givenchy couldn’t get over Blair’s outfit, so Blair started describing some of her other favorite dresses and before she could count to ten, she, Audrey and Hubert were deep into a discussion about fashion photography and fashion. And as Dan gave Blair a wink and sunk back into the crowd, Blair couldn’t help herself from smiling widely back at him. Even if this was a dream, she didn’t imagine that there could be a more perfect one out there.

Eventually, someone called Hubert de Givenchy away just leaving Blair and Audrey to talk. Audrey started telling Blair about the hectic schedule they had in Paris where they’d been filming Funny Face—Funny Face!—when a lanky man who could only be Mel Ferrer strolled up to them. He put his arms around her and Audrey leaned back and then smiled up at him.

“Hello, darling,” she said. “I was wondering where you had gotten off to. I would like you to meet my new friend, Blair…” She looked at Blair and Blair rushed in.

“Waldorf. Blair Waldorf,” Blair said.

“Blair, this is my husband, Mel.” Blair and Mel Ferrer shook hands. “I was just telling Blair all about our filming schedule here.”

Mel laughed. “It’s been a frantic pace if I say so myself.”

“But I’m still sad to see it end. Our last day of filming is tomorrow,” she said a little mournfully. Blair nodded sympathetically, but then Audrey’s face brightened and she launched into a story of how Fred Astaire had accidentally been sent to the wrong filming location one day. Mel interjected every now and then. Blair couldn’t stop herself from asking question after question—what was it like working with Fred Astaire, did Audrey like filming in Paris—but Audrey and Mel didn’t seem to mind.

At some point, Duke Ellington came out (Blair pinched herself again) and a hush settled out over the crowd.

“Well, I guess we better get this party started,” he said, his bright white suit standing out even in the dimmed club. He slid onto the piano seat and looked over at his assembled group of musicians. He nodded once at them and on cue, the band started up.

Blair had heard jazz and big band before—with the renaissance of the speakeasy, every other small bar had music from the 20s and 30s piped in or maybe played by a local jazz band. But this was something completely different.

The music completely filled Blair, totally invigorating her. “Wow,” she said softly. Audrey turned and smiled. For a moment, it could have just been the two of them in the club by themselves, listening to Duke and his band play. Heaven could not possibly have been anything better.

At some point during the set, Blair realized that she should probably make sure that Dan hadn’t completely disappeared, so she scanned the audience until she saw his dark hair leaning against a wall to Blair’s left.

“Audrey, Mel, do you know who is that man talking with Dan?” She asked. Audrey looked at her blankly. “My friend from earlier.” And Blair gestured over in Dan’s direction.

Audrey and Mel both looked over and Mel answered first. “I think that’s Tati—Jacques Tati.” He clarified for Blair’s sake. “Looks like everyone’s here tonight!” Blair had to force herself not to gape.

The rest of the set passed in a blur. Objectively, Blair knew that she must have contributed to the conversation, but everything felt like Blair was existing in a soft haze where everything felt good and happy. At some point, as the band was winding down, Dan came back over towards Blair.

“Blair,” He whispered, looking awed—a counterpart to Blair’s own shell-shocked feelings. “I think that I was just talking with Jacques Tati. I…”

“I know,” Blair said. “Audrey told me. Audrey Hepburn.” She emphasized under her breath.

“Blair? Dan?” Audrey said.

“Yes?” Blair said.

“I'm so sorry, but we’ve got to head out—we have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course. Last day of filming, right?” Blair asked.

“Yes, sadly. But, oh wait!” Audrey said excitedly. “Tomorrow night we have our set party. Dan, Blair, you have to come!”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Blair started to say. After all, how did one show up for a party in a place that was very likely in a dream or temporary delusion. But then she found herself accepting graciously before her brain could catch up with her mouth. “Absolutely, we would love to come.” She finished.

“Fantastic!” Audrey nodded. She stepped into give Blair a quick hug. Before pulling away, she leaned in closer. “And please bring your,” She paused and looked over at Dan. “Friend.”

Blair turned bright red and stood stock still, unable to respond. Audrey must have taken that as a positive response because she gave a nod to Dan and then took Mel’s hand and walked out the door.

“No, wait!” Blair called after her, absolutely horrified.

“I think she’s definitely gone,” Dan said, a look of clear amusement on his face as he watched Blair. “What did she say?”

“She, oh god.” Blair buried her face in her hands. “She just thought…never mind. It’s too embarrassing to even explain.”

“Ok…” Dan said slowly.

Blair opened her mouth to change the subject to her utter glee at having met Audrey Hepburn, but before she could say anything, her body seemed to remember that it was still jet lagged and had had a very busy day.

“Audrey,” Blair started before getting interrupted by a yawn. Dan laughed and Blair glared back at him. She tried again and got stuck in a series of yawns.

“Alright there, turbo,” Dan said finally, when he had stopped laughing. “Maybe we should head out.”

“But…” Blair looked desperately around the room, still filled with people.

“You’re not going to get much farther if you fall asleep on your feet.” Dan pointed out. “Although I have to admit, I would love to watch that happen.”

Blair gave Dan her best glare. “Alright, fine, let’s head out.” Blair did one last look around the room, soaking up the clothes, the people, the sounds, and the lights before she nodded at Dan and they started heading for the door.

Although Blair could feel weariness weighing down each of her limbs, Blair couldn’t help but excitedly talk once they exited out of the bar and started walking up the street.

“Did we really see Audrey Hepburn?” She asked Dan. “Or is this a hallucination? Am I dreaming?”

Dan laughed. “Right now, honestly, I feel like it’s too vivid to be a dream. Hallucination seems to be the most likely explanation. But it feels more real than any hallucination I could imagine.”

Blair nodded and they continued walking for a few seconds before she blurted out. “Audrey Hepburn! And Hubert de Givenchy! They liked my style!”

Dan started laughing again.

“Ugh, I should have gotten a picture,” Blair said. All of a sudden a realization hit her. “Oh fuck.” She groaned. “I left my purse in the club.”

“Are you sure?” Dan asked, looking at Blair quizzically. “I don’t remember you bringing a purse.”

“Yes, there definitely was a purse.” Blair snapped. “It had my phone, some of my credit cards, my license. We’ve got to go back and get it.” She turned around without waiting for Dan and started to quickly walk back.

After a second, she heard Dan sigh from up the street and then he started jogging to catch up with her. They had only gotten a block or two away, so there was no need for him to get agitated about it.

But when they turned the corner to the street to get to the bar, the bar wasn’t there. Instead the brightly lit street featured an apartment building entrance and a series of restaurants, now closed for the evening.

Blair stopped moving completely as did Dan. “Did we turn down the wrong street,” Dan said slowly.

“I don’t think so,” Blair said. “We were at a party here just a few minutes ago, right?”

Dan shrugged. “Yes? I don’t know.”

They both stared at the building façade for a few more minutes, Blair desperately trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

“We should probably head back,” Blair said finally. “I’m at the Barrière. Are you in that direction?”

Dan nodded. “Yeah, I’ll walk you back.”

“Thank you,” Blair said, feeling awkward about inconveniencing Dan. By mutual unspoken agreement, they started walking in silence back up the street.

Every few seconds, Dan cocked his head to the side, his hair flopping ever so slightly into his eyes, as if he were going to say something, but nothing ever made it out. As for Blair, she kept reviewing the events of the night, just trying to figure out what had happened.

“Are we going crazy?” Blair asked, after a few minutes. “Are we collectively or am I individually going crazy? Because, I could have sworn that we were just at a party back there. Although the people that we met at that party have been dead for decades now, so upon further reflection, we are probably crazy.”

“Yeah,” Dan said, in a distant voice.

Blair tried hard to think through the situation. There was absolutely no logical reason to think that what had happened had been real. It obviously must have been a dream.

“It was a dream. Or a hallucination,” Dan said definitively. “Either or.”

“Exactly.” Blair agreed. It must have been, right? But a small part of Blair protested that it felt altogether too real to be something that her mind had made up. After all, even in Blair’s wildest dreams, she couldn’t imagine Audrey Hepburn inviting her to a wrap party.

By the time that Blair and Dan arrived at Blair’s hotel, every step had become a huge effort as she felt exhaustion dig into her.

“So, you’re not going to try to go back tomorrow night, right?” Dan asked suddenly.

Blair looked back at him. “What? No, absolutely not. I mean, we both agreed that whatever happened was distinctly not real. And what’s more, there’s no sign of the place that we thought we were at.”

“Right,” Dan said.

“Wait, are you going to go?” Blair asked suspiciously.

“Definitely not,” Dan scoffed. “That would be crazy.”

“Ok. So we’re agreed. We’re not going to back tomorrow night,” Blair said.

“Correct.”

They stared at each other for a beat.

“Well, thank you for walking me back,” Blair said politely. After a second of internal debating, she leaned over and gave Dan a hug. He froze up instantly, making the hug even more awkward than she had anticipated and she withdrew as quickly as she could. “Bye,” she said and headed into the Barrière.

“Bye,” Dan called behind her.

Blair must have moved independently between saying goodbye to Dan and getting up to her hotel room, but it felt like everything was dimly lit and hazy, as if she had woken up in the middle of the night for a drink of water and someone was gently pushing her along. Despite the ridiculousness of the evening, the ridiculousness of what had clearly been something that she could not yet explain, as Blair moved towards her hotel room, she felt calm and happy, at ease in her own skin. Something that hadn’t happened in a while.

Well, that was until she opened up the room door. She saw that Chuck had been sitting on the bed, but he sprang up the second that she walked in. He was talking on the phone, but stopped when he saw Blair.

“She’s here—I have to go,” he said abruptly and threw the phone down on the bed. Blair froze, her heart instantly starting to race as it did whenever she felt she had done something wrong.

“Blair, where in god’s name have you been?” Chuck said, his voice instantly ratcheting up a few notches.

“What do you mean?” Blair said.

“It’s four o’clock in the god damn morning,” Chuck said. “What do you think I mean? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours—since you didn’t show up at the club and didn’t pick up when I called, I had to come back to the hotel. I was just about to call the police.”

Blair stared at Chuck, trying to do the mental math. Four o’clock in the morning? Had time really gone by all that fast? Although, she reflected with a sort of detached amusement, if by some crazy quirk of the universe, she had actually gone back to the 1950s, then time had flown. In both ways.

“Ok,” Blair said slowly. “So if I told you,” She paused, trying to get her courage to tell Chuck about the strangest thing that had ever happened to her.

Chuck gave her a glare. “If you told me what? Where could you possibly have been?”

“What if I told you that I had traveled back in time and then met Audrey Hepburn?”

Chuck’s face closed even further, indicating his anger. “If you told me that, I would still not be amused by your performances and theatricality this evening.”

“And if I swore up and down— ” Blair tried again.

“Swore what? All I’m asking for is of you to give me some inkling of what happened to you this evening!” Chuck said loudly. And like a switch, Blair went from being defensive and feeling in the wrong to feeling attacked.

“Will you even listen to me?” Blair said, raising her voice as well. “I’m trying to tell you something really important here.”

“What? So you can spout more ridiculous stories? About how you met Grace Kelly? Or about how you met Elizabeth Taylor?”

It had been a complete mistake to try to tell Chuck, Blair realized. There was absolutely no reason for him to believe her and now he would just think that she was trying to cover something up. Or that she was crazy. So now the question was: how to defuse the situation.

“I lost my purse!” Blair said. “On my walk home, I lost my purse, including my phone. See? All gone.” She held out her hands. “Okay? I realized that I had dropped it when I was a few blocks from the hotel. And it was one of my grandmother’s vintage Chanel purses. I couldn’t just leave it behind. I had to at least try. So I went back and tried to find it. Honestly, I didn’t even realize it was that late because without my phone, I had no way of telling the time.”

Chuck had immediately softened as soon as Blair had held out her hands to show that she was missing her purse. “Oh Blair,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.” He walked over and put his arms around her. “I didn’t mean to yell—it’s just, I was so worried. You didn’t show up at the club and you weren’t here, I thought something had happened to you.”

“I know,” Blair said, just as low. They stayed like that for a moment longer and then slowly got ready for bed. When Blair finally curled up against Chuck, she kept thinking back to what he had said: I thought something had happened to you. And as she idly curled her arm around Chuck, she thought to herself that something had happened. Something had happened to her after all.

When Chuck and Blair rose the next morning, it was a little later than Blair would have preferred, but understandably so in light of the late previous evening.

As they meandered downstairs for breakfast, Blair couldn’t help but bring up the previous night, but this time she phrased it as a hypothetical.

“Do you think it’s possible to travel back in time? What if someone told you, and they were completely serious, that they had traveled back in time and mingled amongst the crème de la crème of Paris society from the 1950s? What would you say?”

Chuck laughed and reached out for Blair’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “I would say that you needed to get much more creative. What is all of this traveling back in time about? Is it a story or joke for the magazine?”

“No—I’m just asking you a question.”

Chuck laughed again and started in on how the magazine business must have really been suffering, so Blair let it drop and went to coordinate getting a new cell phone and getting new credit cards.

That night at dinner, Blair kept fidgeting and checking the time on her new phone. 10:00 p.m. went by. Then 10:30 p.m., 11:00 p.m. Although, as she kept reminding herself, she wasn’t sure why it mattered what time it was. After all, she wasn’t going to go back to the spot from the other night. Because everything that had happened last night had all been a dream.

But, a little voice repeated inside her, it had felt so real. And someone else had felt like it was real too.

“I agree,” Chuck said, mockingly. Blair snapped her head up guiltily from where she’d been checking her phone. “This dessert is really unimpressive.”

He gestured at Blair’s plate where a delicate and obviously well-made napoleon sat untouched.

Blair smiled weakly. “I’m just a little full from dinner.” Chuck raised an eyebrow as Blair had barely eaten anything, but he declined to say anything.

Blair took a look at the napoleon. It really did look delicious, but after a moment, she pushed it over in Chuck’s direction. He shrugged and started eating it, as if to say that it was Blair’s loss.

The conversation was a bit stilted on the way back, as Blair kept trying to surreptitiously check her phone and her feet kept trying to walk her in the opposite direction, back towards the courtyard from last night.

Chuck was in the middle of telling Blair about the contracts that he had to review and sign tonight when her phone went off, startling Blair so badly that she shrieked and Chuck took a step back.

Blair took a look at her phone—it was just a text from an acquaintance from New York and started to put her phone away.

“Hopefully nothing important,” Chuck said, looking eager to go back to his discussion of all of his work.

“Actually,” Blair found herself saying. “It’s from Clare—one of the managing editors for Chic Paris. She just wanted to let me know that several of the editors were going over to a bar. If I wanted to stop by…” She trailed off. “I would blow it off, but I probably shouldn’t ignore one of the managing editors before I’ve even officially started.”

Chuck nodded. “Is it ok if I don’t come?”

Blair did her best to look crestfallen, while she mentally felt a huge wave of relief. “Of course—I totally understand.” She leaned up to Chuck and pressed a quick kiss against his lips and then started heading back in the opposite direction.

“Don’t you want to grab a taxi?” Blair heard Chuck yell from behind her.

“No! It’s ok—it’s not too far and I don’t mind the walk!” Blair said. A quick glance at her phone told her that it was 11:45 p.m. Hopefully that was enough time to make her way back to the courtyard.

Blair walked quickly through the streets until she got into the general area that she had been in last night. As she approached the narrow street leading to the stairs and the small courtyard, she found herself starting to slow down, as the fear that what had happened last night was all a dream started to sink in.

After a precious minute or two of dawdling near a window display about ten feet from the edge of the stairs, Blair pursed her lips and addressed herself in the mirror.

“Are you Blair Waldorf?” She asked herself. “Obviously you are. And Blair Waldorf does not turn from a challenge or allow fear to control her. Right? Right. So you’re going to go down those stairs and wait in that courtyard until it’s midnight. And if it turns out that nothing happens and you are crazy, you are just going to tuck it away as the best dream you’ve ever had. Understand?” Blair’s reflection stared back resolutely.

Feeling reassured, Blair turned back around and headed over to the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she checked her phone. It read 11:56, meaning that she had, theoretically, a couple minutes to spare, so she sat down on a small wall abutting the staircase. She looked around the courtyard a little furtively, feeling oddly disappointed that Dan had kept his word and hadn’t shown up. Well, she thought ruefully, she didn’t blame him.

11.58.

11:59.

Midnight. A bell started tolling the hour from nearby, and even though Blair had expected it, she felt a chill go down her back. Blair sat up straighter—something was going to happen. She sat absolutely still for a minute, waiting for something, anything to happen.

Nothing happened.

Blair counted to thirty slowly in her head, but the street still looked the same. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to be waiting for—was she supposed to go and find the party? Or stay here and wait for a group like last night?

“Oh god,” Blair said faintly, after counting to sixty, this time even more slowly. As a mixed wave of shame and disappointment washed over her, Blair buried her head in her hands. “So, just going to chalk last night up to being a very good dream and I’m going to go home and get a therapist.”

“I would try for a very good therapist,” Dan’s dry voice cut in from Blair’s left.

Blair couldn’t stop herself from jumping slightly in surprise but then she instantly affected her most distant and cool persona. “Humphrey. What are you doing here? You said that you weren’t going to come.”

“I wasn’t—I just had an event in the area and this was on my back.”

“Oh yes,” Blair said, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you just happened to be in the area. So convenient.”

“Yeah?” Dan shot back. “What about you, Ms. I’m-not-coming-back-either? Seems you managed to find your way back here as well.”

“This was on the route back to my hotel after dinner,” Blair said primly, feeling herself getting defensive. Although, to be completely honest, Blair reminded herself, she had come from dinner and she ultimately planned to end up at her hotel, so it wasn’t, strictly speaking, a lie.

“Blair—your hotel is on the other side of town! I know this because I walked you there last night. And even if you had dinner in this particular area, you could have just as easily grabbed a cab back.”

“So? What if I did intentionally return? Who said I had to tell you that I was coming—especially after you made it clear last night that you weren’t going to come?” Blair said.

“You’re unbelievable,” Dan said, under his breath. He started to say something else, but was cut off by a loud car rushing up the street and stopping next to them.

A man poked his head out. “Dan! Blair! Enjoying some nice air? Come on! Get in!”

Blair stood up, a little dumb founded. “Excuse me?” She managed to squeak out.

The man leaned a little further out, revealing Hubert de Givenchy under the light from the nearby streetlamp. “Come on! We’ve got to go.”

Blair looked back at Dan. He was standing stock still next to her, the beginning of a smile on his face. Blair felt a jolt of excitement throughout her entire body and she leaned down to grab his hand and pulled him to the car.

“Yes! We’re definitely coming! Thank you so much for stopping,” she said as they climbed into the cab of the car. Hubert smiled at Blair, his wide grin lighting up his whole face, and Blair realized that she couldn’t stop doing the same, every fiber of her being undeniably elated.

Hubert took them over towards the 8th and it became clear that whatever magic was happening, it had happened to all of Paris. Everyone in the street looked like they had stepped out of a Goddard film, and the few cars they passed were mid-century Renaults, Citroens and a sprinkling of Peugeots.

They finally pulled up to a brightly lit apartment building. “Is this where the party is being held?” Dan asked.

“Oh yes, it’s Jacques Tourneur’s apartment. Have you had a chance to meet him?”

Both Blair and Dan shook their heads and Hubert’s smile widened. “I will have to introduce you!” Before Dan could say anything else, the driver opened up the car doors and Hubert stepped out, leaving Dan and Blair alone.

“So, it’s real?” Blair said, turning to Dan.

Dan shrugged and looked back at Blair, the same hidden smile from earlier threatening to peek out. “It must be.” He shook his head slowly. “I can’t even believe it, but… Occam’s Razor is suggesting otherwise.”

Before Blair could say anything else, Hubert leaned down next to the open car door. “You two coming or not?”

“Coming!” Blair replied, taking his outstretched hand.

Hubert led the way inside, taking them down a small entrance way and foyer into the main apartment area where what appeared to be half of the Parisian population were standing and mingling, holding glasses of wine and half smoked cigarettes.

“Is that Jules Dassin?” Blair asked breathlessly as she looked around the room.

Hubert looked faintly amused, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He began rattling of a series of names as he navigated them about the room. “Grace is over there and I’m absolutely sure that I saw Cary with a drink when we came in,” he continued on, but Dan looked over at Blair who appeared to have stopped breathing.

“Inhale, Blair, inhale,” he said in a low voice.

“Grace Kelly,” Blair said in a faint voice. “Grace Kelly. Here!”

Hubert instantly pounced on Blair. “Ah! A fan of the fair princess? You must be introduced.” He steered Blair in the direction of, yes, Grace Kelly, who was wearing an exquisite grey evening dress and chatting with--

“—Elizabeth Taylor,” Blair said.

“Grace, Rainier, Liz, I would love to introduce you to my friends, Blair and Dan,” Hubert said, as they approached the group.

“How nice to meet you,” Grace said, smiling at both of them. Elizabeth Taylor said the same, and she looked at Blair’s dress, appraising it. Prince Rainier actually leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Blair’s hand. For a moment, Blair felt a frisson of panic at the thought of actually talking. But before she could dwell on it, her mouth reflexively kicked in.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she said. Blair didn’t even pause as she opened up the conversation. “I have to say that I was admiring both of your dresses. They are really fantastic.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about yours!” Elizabeth said. “It’s quite innovative and new. Who on earth came up with it?”

The five of them began energetically talking about fashion, before switching to the Parisian sights. At some point, Dan slipped away again, but he didn’t go far, standing a few feet away and talking with a middle aged black man.

Blair kept wanting to surreptitiously pinch herself to make sure that this wasn’t a dream. She was actually talking to Princess Grace Kelly and her husband, Prince Rainier. She might as well have been in heaven.

Eventually, Grace and Rainier excused themselves as they had another party to attend and Blair found herself drifting over to where Dan had become engrossed in a conversation with the same man from earlier. Blair stood perched outside of their little circle for a few minutes while they argued heatedly about influence of the Lost Generation’s work on American literature.

“But The Great Gatsby will continue to be an influence because of its universal themes.” Dan argued. “It’s not just about the relevance in the Jazz Age, but what it says about our dreams as people and our persistence in projecting the dreams of our past onto our present.”

The man frowned. “But the book itself is from a completely limited perspective, surely-” Blair coughed lightly. Both Dan and the man turned around.

“Blair!” Dan said, smiling brightly. “I would like to introduce you to Richard Wright.”

There was absolutely nothing that could surprise Blair after this evening. “Mr. Wright, what a pleasure to meet you. I am a huge fan of your books.”

“Oh please, you have to call me Richard,” he said, extending a hand for Blair to shake. “I was actually about to head out, meet some friends at a café. Would you two care to join me?”

Dan looked like he was in second heaven, so even though Blair could see golden Hollywood stars everywhere in the crowded room, Blair said yes. After all, she told herself, Dan had politely hung out with Audrey and Hubert yesterday, so she could follow Dan’s lead for a few hours.

Richard led them back through the apartment, out of the building and down the street to small café where there were groups of people sitting outside, smoking and drinking. A man and woman were arguing passionately across the table from each other, gesturing with their cigarettes and hands in order to make their points.

Richard grabbed an empty chair and gestured for Blair and Dan to do the same. They followed him over to the man and woman arguing at the table—both were in the their mid-forties. The man was on the shorter side and wore a pair of round glasses while the woman, who wore her dark hair parted down the middle and pulled into a bun, sat straight against the back of her chair, easily taller than her partner.

“Ah, Richard!” the woman said, speaking with a sophisticated French accent. “You were able to join us.”

“I apologize for being late, Simone,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on both cheeks. He pulled his chair close and then gestured at Blair and Dan.

“Blair, Dan, I would like to introduce the incomparable Simone and Jean-Paul.”

“Simone de Beauvoir?” Blair said at the same time that Dan said, “Jean-Paul Sartre?”

“The one and the same,” Richard said.

“It’s an absolute honor,” Dan said seriously. “To meet both of you. I have read Being and Nothingness more times than I can count. And The Second Sex, it’s fantastic.”

“What about you?” Simone said, looking over at Blair. “Did you like The Second Sex?”

Blair looked back at Simone’s assessing eyes. “It’s one of the fundamental feminist philosophical works. I’ve read it at least five times and still take away something new each time,” Blair said. “But, I think that it looks at some of the fundamental problems with the treatment of women from only a certain perspective. Namely that of middle class women, who are accorded a certain lifestyle and vantage point.”

Blair could see Richard and Jean-Paul looking more than a little surprised at Blair’s criticism. But Simone just smiled and leaned in a little. “I like you,” she said. “A women who isn’t afraid to like something and still ask for more.”

Blair just smiled back.

“Any thoughts on Being and Nothingness?” Jean-Paul asked. Blair looked over at Dan, and something about his expression made her start laughing. For the first time in what felt like months or years, Blair couldn’t stop laughing, a full laugh that kept coming from the edge of her stomach, making her feel almost light headed.

“What is so amusing?” Jean-Paul asked, looking a little confused.

“I just know,” Blair said. “That Dan is going to spend forever talking about La Nausée.” For some reason this made everyone at the table laugh, even Dan, as he protested.

They ended up talking about everything under the sun, switching from one topic to the next without warning, Jean-Paul and Simone following each other’s arguments and shifts without pause while Richard, Blair and Dan tried to keep up.

At one point, Richard started talking about personal desires and rationalizing bad decisions on a personal and societal level. Dan jumped in to make a point about personal responsibility. Something about the way that he spoke, his voice low and his hands moving rapidly in the faint streetlight, gave Blair a sense of déjà vu, a flash from her past.

She remembered arguing with Dan back in college, restlessly angry only in the way that one could be at eighteen or nineteen, and how Blair had thought that there was no way Dan would ever understand her, never understand where she came from. It was funny, in the ironic way that life is, but from her current vantage point, it was easy to see that Dan had been one of the few people who actually got past the exterior, one of the few people to actually see Blair.

But of course, Blair also couldn’t help but remember when she had told Dan that she was going to marry Chuck. The way that Dan had looked back at her, hurt and angry and more than just a little pitying.

And here she was, almost six years later, without even a clue as to what she really wanted. She thought about Chuck, back in the Paris of the future, where he was supposed to be her perfect match. He was supposed to make everything easier. Instead, sometimes being with Chuck felt like an impossible struggle. But here, now, in the Paris of this midnight hour, the Paris of sitting here with her philosophical icons and Dan, Blair allowed herself to relax in a way that she never could in real life.

Blair shook her head and put everything about Chuck and the present out of mind. Who knew how long she would have this experience? To waste it on thinking about the myriad of issues plaguing her life would be unforgivable.

Eventually, at some point in the late night, or, perhaps better said, the early morning, Blair’s eyelids started getting heavier and heavier. Even Dan began to look a little exhausted. But neither of them wanted to be the first to say something. Finally, when Blair felt herself wanting to just rest her head against the table for a second, she placed her hand against Dan’s arm.

“I think we should probably head out,” she said softly. Dan looked a little relieved.

“Yes, that sounds good.” Richard, Simone and Jean-Paul were still in the middle of an argument and going strong, so Blair cleared her throat to get their attention.

“It’s been amazing meeting you,” she said. “But I’m afraid that we’re going to have to head out for the evening.”

“You are leaving too soon!” Simone said, standing up. “But it has been fantastic meeting with you as well.” She pulled Blair into a hug and the customary kisses on the cheek, and Jean-Paul followed as well. While Dan received the same treatment, she pulled Richard into a hug as well.

“Thank you all so much,” Blair said.

“Of course!” Jean-Paul said. “Please come back and join us again!”

After a final goodbye, Blair and Dad headed down the road, towards Blair’s hotel.

“So that was…Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir,” Blair said finally as they trudged along.

“Yeah,” Dan said. Blair turned and looked at him. He smiled softly, staring out into space, the streetlight partially illuminating his wavy hair. Blair turned away. She didn’t say anything for the rest of the walk, even once she realized that at some magical point, the streetlights and streets had changed back to that of the present day.

They both stopped outside of Blair’s hotel and Blair shook her head a few times to wake herself up. She turned to Dan. “Tomorrow night?” She asked. He nodded once, looking so sleepy that Blair felt a sudden urge to stand next to him so that he could lean on her. She shook it off.

“Goodnight Blair,” Dan said as he turned.

“Goodnight Dan,” Blair said softly and then turned and practically ran into the hotel.

Blair woke up the next morning smiling. She couldn’t have gotten to bed any earlier than four in the morning, maybe five, but she woke up before her alarm even went off. She lay there for a few minutes, feeling almost giddy to start the day. When the alarm sounded, she quickly turned it off and then leaned over to kiss Chuck on the cheek.

“Good morning, darling,” she said, as she got out of bed and shrugged her robe on. Chuck opened a bleary eyed and looked at her.

“How are you so cheerful? You must have gotten in late last night—after I went to sleep,” Chuck said. Blair made a non-committal noise. “How were the other editors? Did you properly cow them? Show them that there’s only one way and it’s the Blair Waldorf way?”

Blair froze a little bit. That was right. Blair had told Chuck that she would be meeting with her fellow editors.

“Ha ha,” she said as dryly as she could manage. “Actually, they weren’t half bad. Obviously cliquish and I think Clare is reserving judgment, but I made sure to be on my best behavior and I think it went over well.”

“That’s my girl,” Chuck said into his pillow.

“Alright, I’m going to take a shower. Will you be ready to go when I’m done?”

Chuck mumbled something into his pillow. Blair chose to take it as a yes.

Once Blair got into the shower, she tried to feel guilty about lying to Chuck. She knew that she should feel guilty for lying about meeting with the editors. But she couldn’t help flashing back to the previous evening. Grace Kelly! Elizabeth Taylor! Prince Rainier! Cary Grant! Simone de Beauvoir! Jean-Paul Sartre! Richard Wright!

Chuck walked into the bathroom while Blair was in the middle of reminiscing about how Grace Kelly had complimented Blair’s dress, snapping Blair out of the memory.

After a few seconds, he looked at her oddly. “Are you going to use that?” He gestured down at Blair’s hand and the brush that she held. Blair realized that she had just been sitting at the vanity for god knows how long.

“Ah, yes. Sorry—got lost in my thoughts for a second.”

Blair had arranged for a car and guide out to Giverny, the estate of Claude Monet. On the way there, the guide, a Monsieur Laurent, started in on the background of Giverny and Monet’s time, but Blair didn’t pay much attention. She kept thinking back to last night. All she wanted to do was flash forward to tonight at midnight. What new adventure would she find?

“Madame Bass?” Monsieur Laurent said.

It took a moment for Blair to realize that he was talking to her. And that the car had stopped. “Ah, pardon,” she said.

“Not a problem. Are you ready to leave?” Monsieur Laurent asked.

Blair nodded and he came around to the side of the car to the open the door for her and Chuck.

The guide started with a tour of the house. Despite Blair’s honest desire to learn more about Giverny—she loved Claude Monet—she couldn’t focus on more than every other sentence. As they walked around the gardens, Monsieur Laurent explained the evolution of the gardens (“As he became more successful, he hired more gardeners, although he still designed and orchestrated its development. He ultimately retained seven gardeners.”) and Blair made all the right sounds to indicate that she was listening, even though she couldn’t have repeated anything of what Monsieur Laurent told them.

After they left Giverny, their tour guide detoured and took them to a small vineyard for lunch and a wine tasting. Blair barely noticed what she ate and she was sure that the wine was delicious, but she couldn’t even say if it had been even white or red.

When they arrived back at the hotel, Chuck pulled Blair aside in the lobby.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Blair said.

“You didn’t pay attention for the entire tour. You didn’t once ask the guide to take any photos of the two of us. You didn’t ask any questions. And let’s be honest, I’m not the one who wanted to look at a dead guy’s garden.”

“I paid attention,” Blair said. “Very close attention.”

“Where are the water lilies from?” Chuck asked.

“I…the water lilies at Giverny? I would say France?”

“And?”

“And Japan?”

“No. The water lilies are from France, Egypt and South America. Not Japan,” Chuck said. “I actually asked the tour guide that. Clearly you missed it.”

“Alright,” Blair conceded. “I’ve been a little distracted. I think I’m just a little jet lagged still.”

Chuck frowned but didn’t pursue the matter any further. He shook his head after a second and then headed up to the room, leaving Blair standing in the lobby, feeling more than a little discomfited.

Dinner that night was in the hotel’s restaurant with one of Chuck’s prospective clients, a middle aged man named Nicholas Geroux, who ran a shipping business based out of Europe. Blair made an effort to be engaging and witty, despite most of her brain firmly focused on what would be happening in a few short hours.

At 11:15 on the dot, Blair pressed one hand to her temple. “I’m so sorry gentlemen, I’ve got a bit of a headache. Would you mind terribly if I left early to take a walk and get some fresh air?”

“Of course not,” Nicholas said, smiling at Blair.

After giving Chuck a brief kiss, Blair slipped outside, heading down the now-familiar path to the courtyard. There were plenty of people on the street, everyone walking to bars or back home, smiling and laughing, and Blair felt ebullient and filled with enough excitement to burst.

When she descended the stairs down into the courtyard, she found Dan sitting on one of the small walls. He smiled at her as she walked down and she couldn’t help but smile back for a second before she got herself under control and affected her normal calm and collected look.

Dan laughed. “Blair, did you almost just look happy to see me?”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Blair said, smoothing down her dress before she hopped up onto the wall next to Dan. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Dan raised his eyebrows at her and Blair couldn’t help laughing back. “Maybe I’m just excited to potentially meet another princess tonight.”

Dan could have mentioned that Blair once had had the chance to be royalty herself or that she’d met many princesses before. Chuck invariably would have, but Dan just smiled back at Blair.

At midnight on the dot, a black convertible pulled up to the courtyard. A woman looked over the edge of the car. “Blair? Dan?” She called, her voice giving her away as Audrey Hepburn.

“Audrey!” Blair called. “Yes, it’s Dan and Blair.”

Audrey put the car into park and leaned over further. “Oh, I am so glad that I ran into you. I am absolutely starving. I was just going to head back to the apartment and call it a day, but if you guys are willing to join me, there’s a fantastic café that is open late and will have the most delicious sandwiches.”

Blair looked over at Dan. He vigorously nodded his head. “Yes, of course, we would love to join you.”

They hopped into Audrey’s car, Blair sandwiched in the middle of the two seater and Audrey drove them towards the Seine, finally parking a block away from the river. She led them down a small path to a café facing the Seine and opened the door.

The café was three quarters full, several large groups of students sitting with tables put together and some couples sprinkled around the bar. Audrey headed for a table in the back next to one of the louder student groups. Once they sat down, a waitress came over.

“S’il vous plait, nous aimerions un peu de vin et une assiette des sandwiches. ” Audrey asked. The waitress disappeared and then appeared with a bottle of wine and some glasses, pouring each of Dan, Blair and Audrey a glass. “Merci beaucoup,” Audrey said.

After the waitress disappeared again, Audrey held up her glass. ‘To Paris,” she said.

Blair and Dan raised their glasses. “To Paris,” Blair said. Dan echoed her and they all clinked their glasses together. The waitress stopped back at their table and deposited a plate of sandwiches before melting back into the crowd. Audrey took one of the sandwiches and bit into it, sighing deeply.

Blair took a sandwich as well and upon tasting it, discovered that it was a camembert and ham sandwich and quite delicious at that. Dan, on the other hand, was staring at the students next to them.

“What are you doing?” Blair asked. “Stop staring—it’s rude.”

Dan glared at Blair. “I wasn’t staring, I was merely listening to their conversation.”

“And eavesdropping is supposed to be better than staring?”

“Well you would know,” Dan said, flashing Blair a cheeky grin.

Blair ignored it. “What could they have to say that could possibly be more interesting than myself, Blair Waldorf, and Audrey Hepburn, two of the most interesting women to have ever lived?” Audrey gave a small laugh into her sandwich.

“Oh, I’m not that interesting,” Audrey said. “Just a woman eating a sandwich in a café and having a glass of wine with some friends.”

Blair found herself blushing. Dan smiled at the two of them. “I was just listening to the students talk—a few of them are studying writing and they’re talking about the writing process,” he explained.

“Of course they are.” Blair laughed.

She turned to Audrey and explained that Dan was a professor who taught writing. When she turned back to Dan, he was already lost again in listening to the students next to him. Blair rolled her eyes. “Go on, you’re worse than a blood hound. I know that you’ve got something you want to interject.” Dan had the grace to affect a sheepish expression, but before Blair could even say anything else, he had turned his chair towards the group and become enmeshed in their conversation.

“Where is Mel tonight?” Blair asked Audrey.

Audrey sighed. “He had to head back to the States earlier to meet with a producer. But I have one more day of promotional photographs before I leave.”

“For Funny Face?” Blair asked, instantly intrigued.

Audrey laughed. They fell into conversation about the promotional shoots and, much like the first night, Blair couldn’t help but relax in Audrey’s presence. Something about her was so effortlessly warm that Blair didn’t even feel the customary twinge of jealousy at someone who naturally attracted the spotlight.

“You and your husband are very cute together,” Audrey said to Blair when she caught Blair glancing over at Dan, already in the middle of a heated back and forth with the students who all looked reluctantly impressed with him.

Blair turned around so quickly that she almost gave herself whiplash. “No no no. You’re mistaken. Dan’s not my husband. We’re simply friends. Actually, we’re not really even friends. We used to be enemies and then we were friends, but then we stopped being friends. Now we’re nothing really.” Blair was aware that she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop herself from practically throwing up her words. “I’m actually married to this man named Chuck Bass. He’s really fantastic. We’ve known each other since we were young and we first got together back in high school.” Blair omitted the following years after high school. “He’s a very successful businessman. When we got married, our wedding was the toast of Manhattan. And we just celebrated our five year anniversary. That’s actually why we’re in Paris—to celebrate our anniversary.”

Audrey raised her impeccable eyebrows. “I see.” She paused for a second and took a small sip of wine. Blair echoed the motion, taking a larger one. When Audrey spoke again, her voice was quiet and thoughtful. “I have to say that I find myself a little surprised. You seem very animated when you talk with Dan. Every time I see the two of you, you look excited when you’re talking to him. Or,” she gave a pointed look at Dan now. “If you’re not talking to him, you’re looking around the room for him.”

“Dan has a propensity for trouble—I’m just looking out for him. I can’t have him dragging me into trouble too,” Blair said. It sounded thin even to her own ears.

Audrey looked at Blair thoughtfully. “Blair, I’m not one to judge in any capacity. But if you don’t feel that way about Dan and you’re here in Paris with your husband for your anniversary, then why aren’t you out with your husband?”

“He’s very busy…” Blair started. The obvious answer was that Chuck simply hadn’t believed her. But the truth was that she hadn’t once thought of bringing him along. Chuck wouldn’t, couldn’t fit in here.

How could Blair say that she didn’t want her husband to be here? That she liked that this was Dan's and her adventure. “This just isn’t his scene.” She finished lamely. Blair met Audrey’s eyes and felt suddenly exhausted. She dropped her gaze down to the half eaten sandwich in her hand.

Blair felt a hand placed on her shoulder and looked up. Audrey moved her chair closer. “Blair, if you love Chuck, then you love Chuck. Nothing that I say can take that away from you.

“Over the years, I’ve just...learned that happiness is an elusive concept. Power, fame, wealth—sometimes we think that they can bring us happiness. But it never really works that way, does it?”

Blair didn’t know what to say, so she took another sip of her wine. She looked at Audrey, who was smiling so gently and thought about how Audrey was only a few years older than herself. How Audrey had faced and would face even more pressure for her entire life. But even with the many more complexities that Audrey had in her life, she had reduced the issue to its very essence: what made Blair happy.

At the table next to them, Dan burst out into a “Non, non, c’est pas correct!” while he was laughing and Blair couldn’t help but look at him. He smiled at the group affectionately, almost as if he had somehow adopted them as his students, and his hair was sticking out at odd angles, probably from running his hands through it. He looked like a total mess and Blair couldn’t help but smile. God, she was in way over her head if she found Dan’s hair cute.

Blair turned back to Audrey. “What if we’ve lost our chance at happiness?”

Audrey’s mouth quirked up. “Blair, are you someone who gives up just because they haven’t done something right the first time? You struck me as someone made of stronger material.”

Blair laughed. “That’s true. Waldorfs don’t give up. We get what we want.”

As the evening wound down, Dan’s little student group decided that it was going to head out. Audrey also looked at the clock on the wall of the café.

“I didn’t realize it was so late!” she said and Dan, Blair and Audrey followed the students outside after paying their bill. “I should also go back to the apartment. As it is, I’m sure that make-up will have their work cut out for them when I arrive on-set in the morning. Would you like a ride?” She asked Dan and Blair.

Dan’s students had started walking alongside the Seine, probably back in the direction of their dorms and apartments.

“Actually, I think we’ll walk home,” Blair said slowly. “If that’s alright with you, Dan.” Dan looked surprised, but nodded his head in agreement. “Thank you for the offer.”

Audrey smiled at Blair and gave a quick look over at Dan, causing Blair to laugh ruefully. “I’m sure it will be a lovely walk.” She turned to go and then stopped suddenly. “Oh! Tomorrow night I’m hosting a small party since it’s my last evening in Paris before I head back to California.”

Audrey pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of her purse and quickly jotted something down before pressing it into Blair’s hands. “I hope that you can make it. I’ll look for you!” She pulled Blair into a brief hug and was gone before Blair could say anything. Blair looked down and saw an address written in a mix of cursive and script, with large curling loops and a small heart at the end. Blair couldn’t help but smile at the paper before she tucked it into her purse for safekeeping.

When Blair looked up, Dan was watching her intently. Blair flicked her eyes towards the student group. “Are we going to get a move on, Humphrey? The Dan Humphrey for president club is in danger of being separated from their hero.”

Dan rolled his eyes and laughed. “Alright, I’m going, I’m going.”

However, after an initial spurt of speed, the two of them stayed behind the rest of the group as they meandered next to the Seine.

“How did you end up in Paris?” Blair asked. “I realized that I had never asked how you ended up teaching here.”

Dan shrugged. “I was offered a writer-in-residence position in London a few years back. I had a fantastic time there. I never really thought that I would like teaching. I always thought ‘why teach when I could be writing instead?’ But it turns out that I like doing both—they both challenge me and keep me entertained.

“I had been a part of NYU’s MFA Writing Workshop in Paris for a few years at that point and then suddenly, an adjunct professorship opened up at the American University. One of my mentors recommended me for the position. And…here I am.”

“And you clearly love it,” Blair said, smiling.

“And I clearly love it,” Dan said. “What about you? Features editor at Chic Paris, right? That’s pretty impressive.”

“Well, it’s a good start,” Blair said. “Paris Chic is an amazing magazine. Despite the general downturn of the publishing industry, our readership is very strong and growing at healthy rates. Plus, our readership has a lot of purchasing power, making us very attractive to advertisers. The Paris editorship is a partial promotion—if I’m successful out here then they’ll promote me to an equal position back in New York. If I do well with that, I can also leverage my success in both the American and European markets either within the company or with another publisher.”

“But do you like it?” Dan asked.

Blair smiled. “I—yeah. I love it. I love working with fashion, make-up, health, travel, all of it. I love putting together work that will appeal to readers, how to guide them to not just look great on the outside, but also feel great on the inside.”

“Well, you were always someone who liked being a style-maker,” Dan said. They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes.

“You know, you once called me an ‘evil dictator of taste.’ Do you remember that?”

Dan smiled. “Did I? I don’t remember saying that, although it does sound suspiciously like something that I would say about you.”

“Yes, you definitely did say that. I wouldn’t say that it’s exactly true—I don’t consider myself as evil these days. At least not on all of them. But I do like leading taste. I love getting to discover the next interesting fashion or the up and coming look.”

“Color me surprised,” Dan said, deadpan.

“Oh, what do you know?” Blair said. “I bet you think that hairstyle is still in fashion.”

“Hey!” Dan said, mock-affronted. He began defending his hair and Blair couldn’t help but laugh at Dan, at his silly arguments and his light banter. The way that he effortlessly drew her into conversation. It put her at ease. Like meeting up with a group of old friends or picking up a favorite book to re-read.

“Do you miss New York?” Blair asked suddenly.

“Do I miss New York?” Dan said, a little puzzled.

“Yes. Do you miss the city where we grew up?”

“Ah, that New York, “ Dan said, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, of course I miss New York. Although, I think I mainly miss the people—my Dad, Jenny, Vanessa. And occasionally, I will get the oddest sense of homesickness over something like the street vendors and their hot dogs or the New York Public Library. Why?”

“I think it’s just hitting me that I’m going to not live in New York for a year. At least,” Blair said slowly. The student group from earlier had long since disappeared, so she stopped and gazed out at the Seine. “I’ve been all over the world. But I’ve only lived in New York.

“It’s funny though, because all I can remember thinking when I was younger was how much I wanted to live in these glamorous cities across the globe. Paris, Rome, Hong Kong. But this is my first time actually doing it.”

Dan smiled. “Well, maybe that’s because New York has always been the easy option. You have the Waldorf name, money and connections in New York. Everyone knows that you are the Blair Waldorf there. In another city, you’re just…Blair Waldorf.”

Blair didn’t say anything and Dan jumped in after a second, assuming she’d been offended. “Not that ‘just Blair Waldorf’ is a bad thing. You’re a formidable person no matter how little clout someone gives you, as I’ve learned to my detriment. It’s just a harder place to start from.”

Blair nodded and turned slowly, telegraphing that she was going to start walking again. “That makes sense. I’ve always thought that I was someone who was brave, who wasn’t afraid to take on a challenge or confront their fears. But maybe that’s not as true as I’ve always thought it was.”

Dan sighed. “Blair, you are brave. It’s hard to be brave at everything. Believe me, I would know.”

Blair made a noise of acquiescence and they walked for a while, just the two of them along the Seine. Blair could admit that it was almost comfortable. The two of them enjoying the clear evening in each other’s company.

Eventually they turned back and started walking in the general direction of Blair’s hotel. “Did I ever tell you about how the second year that I taught at the MFA workshop, I stayed with a friend’s family?”

“No?” Blair said.

“So I stayed with my friend Christophe and his lovely wife Jeanne, and their two adorable daughters, Isabelle and Marie, ages seven and ten. Now, my French is atrocious now, and it was especially atrocious then, but I was doing my best to get better at it, which I did by trying to practice my French as often as I could, including with my friend’s family.

“We’re having dinner one night at their apartment and it’s a whole family affair. Christophe, Jeanne and their two daughters, and I’m regaling Isabelle with the misadventures from my childhood. I decide that I’m going to tell Isabelle about the one pet that my family ever had: a poor cat named Misty.”

“Oh no…” Blair said, laughing.

“So I say ‘J’ai une chatte, Misty, que j’ai adoré. Mais, ma sœur, Jenny, elle s’a détesté cette chatte. ’ I look down the table and both Christophe and Jeanne have gone stone still. Christophe says in this strangled voice, ‘We refer to cats as ‘le chat’. And that’s all he says at the table. It was only later after dinner when the children were in bed that he told me what “la chatte” commonly refers to. I was absolutely mortified.”

“Oh god,” Blair said. “I cannot believe that they let you out in public.”

Dan laughed. “You know, sometimes I feel the same exact way.”

Dan continued recounting stories from his travels until they made it to the Barrière and he was so funny and genuine that it just made Blair hurt a little bit more each time that she laughed or groaned at Dan.

Dan gave her a quick hug in front of the hotel and Blair hugged him back, forcing herself to keep it short before she turned back inside. She paused right before she went inside and looking back at Dan. He stood there, watching her go in and he gave a little Dan-ish wave. Blair couldn’t stop herself from smiling and waving back.

When she got up to her hotel room, Chuck had already gone to sleep. There were no new messages on Blair’s cell phone—nothing asking if she was ok or where she was or even how the rest of his dinner went. 

Blair kept going back to Audrey’s words. She was in Paris with her husband, Chuck. She loved Chuck. They were a perfect couple—they were the foils to each other’s blade. Who was Dan? He was no one. Someone who she had once had slight feelings for. Anything that Blair felt for him now was just an echo of that, of shared experiences, of the stress and confusion of her life right now. That was it.

Blair repeated this to herself a few times as she sat in the sitting room, trying to calm herself. But her mind kept spinning with the evening’s events and Blair spent a long time in one of the sitting room’s gorgeously plush chairs, trying to quiet her mind, before she was able to go to bed.

Late the next morning, Blair and Chuck grabbed coffee and pastries at a café near the Eiffel Tower. They had just sat down when—“Dan?” Blair called. A man had entered the café who looked suspiciously like, yes, it definitely was Dan Humphrey.

“Hi Blair, Chuck,” Dan said, looking a little perplexed.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Blair asked.

Dan raised his eyebrows. “Well, sometimes I work about three blocks away from here…”

Blair laughed and then immediately wished that she hadn’t. She gave her best ice-cold, nonchalant look to Dan. He was nothing to her. Dan just shrugged and headed away from them.

“Dan,” Chuck called at Dan’s back.

Dan turned back around. “Yes?”

“Would you like to join us?” Chuck asked, actually coming off to an outside observer as pleasant. Blair internally winced. She knew that tone. That was the tone that Chuck used when he was trying to get someone to take the bait. The tone promised humor, at Dan’s expense, and likely a little humiliation.

Blair glared at Dan, trying to communicate that he should not sit with them. Dan blithely ignored her and sat down.

Chuck spent most of lunch trying to subtly bait Dan. Dan, to his credit, let Chuck’s barbed insults roll off him. (“I think it’s really great that you persevered with your writing after such heavy criticism about your earlier works.” “Thanks, it helped me realize that I was really writing for myself.”)

Chuck kept escalating it while they ate, until finally he made a not so subtle allusion to Dan’s previous romantic interest in Blair.

Blair stood up. “That’s enough, Chuck,” she said, her voice tightly controlled. “We have to go.” Blair turned to Dan. She wanted to say, “Don’t put up with this.” Or “Stop confusing me.” Or maybe “Please just go away.”But the only thing that came out of her mouth was a soft “I’ll see you around Humphrey.”

“What on earth was that?” Chuck demanded as they left the café.

“That was you being an asshole,” Blair said. Chuck rolled his eyes as if Blair was being unreasonable here, for demanding basic human propriety. At this point, maybe she was.

The rest of the day didn’t get much better. Blair was in a mood and it was a distinctly unpleasant one. Even though she and Chuck went to one of her favorite Parisian sights, Versailles, Blair and Chuck couldn’t stop sniping at each other.

“Is this still about Dan?” Chuck asked when they got back to the hotel.

“Among other things, yes.” Blair responded.

“Will you get over it? It’s not like he even cared.”

“And that makes it ok? Are you kidding me?”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you,” Chuck said.

Blair stopped suddenly. “What does that mean?” she said in a low voice.

“You, the queen of manipulation, who is not afraid to use anything or any person to get what you want, are giving me a lecture about how to treat other people.”

“You’re a self-absorbed asshole,” Blair hissed and then she turned around and walked away.

Blair wanted to scream or yell or punch something, so she kept walking until her feet started hurting, stopping at a small hidden garden near the Marais. She dropped down on one of the benches and sat there until she felt a little bit less like she was going to shatter at any given moment.

That night, Blair was waiting at the courtyard when Dan showed up. “Hey,” he said, dropping down next to her. “Sorry about today.”

Blair looked at him. “What are you apologizing for?” she said, and then shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright,” Dan said slowly. “What do you want to talk about?”

Blair pursed her lips. Why did Dan have to make everything so difficult? She wanted to just forget about that morning, about Chuck, about how her skin felt a few sizes too small. All of it. “Paris, this crazy thing that we’ve stumbled upon, the fact that Audrey Hepburn has invited us to her personal Paris residence to which I currently have the address. All of those sound like fantastic topics. And if none of those suit you, you can make something up. Aren’t you supposed to be the writer here?”

“Woah, woah, hold your horses,” Dan said, sounding more than a little bewildered.

Before Dan could say anything else, the now familiar sound of a car approaching the small courtyard caught their attention. Sure enough, a black car pulled around the corner and stopped immediately in front of them. The back door opened and Hubert poked his head out.

“Dan! Blair! How did I know that I would find you here? Audrey asked that I keep a special eye out for you.”

“Great!” Blair said. Now they wouldn’t have to walk. “Dan, let’s go. Coming!” She practically dragged Dan from where they were sitting over to the car. Nothing was going to stop her from having a great time tonight. Not Chuck, not Dan, nothing.

The car dropped the three of them off at an apartment near the Champs-Élysées. Hubert led them through the entrance of the building and headed straight for a partially opened door down the hallway. As they approached the door, loud conversation filtered through to the hallway.

“Just in time to make a fashionably late entrance,” Hubert said and opened the door with a flourish. They entered into a large living room, reasonably full with people chatting and drinking. There was a record player in the background, playing something jazzy and Blair felt an intense longing to just stay in the moment forever, to not move forward or backwards, to just rest right where she was.

But Hubert kept moving them forward and so before Blair’s thoughts could even crystallize, Audrey appeared at their side, her smile making Blair feel instantly welcome.

“Dan! Blair! You made it! And the incomparable Hubert de Givenchy as well.” She kissed Hubert twice on his cheeks.

“How could I miss the peerless Audrey Hepburn wearing one of my newest creations?” He asked, gesturing to Audrey’s dress. Audrey smiled modestly and twirled around, showing off the strapless white dress which featured an under layer of black up at the top which was pinned with pearls. It looked absolutely stunning.

After Audrey directed them to the drinks, Blair spent the next hour chatting with Audrey’s guests, who ranged from film stars to socialites to luminaries of the fashion world. It was amazing and easy, and everyone couldn’t stop saying how much they loved talking with Blair. For the first time since her run in with Dan that morning, Blair felt genuinely happy.

When one of Audrey's friends left Dan and Blair to grab drinks, Blair seized the opportunity to pull Dan aside to talk to him about what she had been thinking about since last night. “Tonight, I’m going to stay here,” she said.

Dan immediately froze. “What?”

“I’m not going back tonight. I don’t want to go back to the present. I’m going to stay here,” she said.

Dan gave Blair a long look. “Where is this coming from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! Of course it matters. You can’t live here. What about money, your job, your family?” Dan asked, his voice becoming agitated.

“I don’t care about that,” Blair said, stiffly. Dan rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I bet you really don’t care. You want to stay in an era in which women were largely treated as objects and expected to just be housewives. Did you forget that Grace Kelly, one of the greatest actresses of her era, never made another film after she married Prince Rainier?”

Blair pursed her lips and looked away. “Someone offered me a job working at his magazine and Hubert wants me to work in his design house.”

“And is that what you want? To stay here and be an assistant to others? The glass ceiling must as well have been a concrete one in this time period. Plus, you’ll never see your parents or Serena again. Is all this worth it?”

Blair opened her mouth to make a rebuttal, but to her horror, her voice began crack and she fought back tears. Dan looked completely caught off guard, but after a second, he reached for Blair’s hand and led her out of the room, into the hallway and through the complex until they reached a small interior garden and courtyard. Dan sat Blair down and after a moment, took off his jacket and gently placed it around Blair’s shoulders. He watched her for a minute and then sat down next to her, not saying anything.

Blair calmed herself, looking up at the night sky and just taking deep breaths. For a while the two of them just sat there, not talking. Finally Blair began to speak. In a halting voice, she began to tell Dan how her life just wasn’t what she thought it would be.

“I did everything right,” Blair said. “I did everything that I was supposed to and yet sometimes, I’m so distinctly unhappy. There’s something wrong, deep down, and I keep thinking if I try harder, then I can fix it. Fix my marriage. But I just can’t.”

Dan didn’t respond for a bit. Finally, he said, “It's not always about doing things the right way. Sometimes, there's no right way to do something. Or something isn't meant to be.” Blair didn’t say anything. “Look Blair, you can stay here. It’s a lot of fun right now, but eventually, whatever it is that you’re dealing with, it’s going to come back. This era isn’t any better than our own. It’s a fantastic detour, but at the end of the day, there are plenty of problems here too.”

Blair spent a minute separating out constellations. “I know,” she said. “But it was nice to think otherwise, at least for a few hours. To imagine what it would be like to living a glamorous life like Audrey.”

Dan let Blair have a few minutes to gather herself. She wiped underneath her eyes and applied some lipstick. “Does it look ok?” she asked.

“You look nothing less than fantastic,” Dan said.

“Oh, now you decide to be a charmer.” Blair said, but she couldn’t project her normal sense of scorn.

They went back to the party, where everything seemed to have continued on without them. By mutual unspoken agreement, Dan and Blair started saying their goodbyes.

Hubert looked genuinely sad to see them go and he drew Blair in for a hug after giving her two kisses on her cheek.

Audrey excused herself from the group that she was talking with when Dan and Blair approached. “Are you two leaving?” she asked.

Blair nodded. “It’s time for us to go home.”

Audrey seemed to gather that this was a more final goodbye than any of the previous nights. After a moment, she leaned in and pulled Blair into a hug. “Thank you for coming, Blair. I hope that you find what makes you happy,” she said quietly into Blair’s ear.

Blair didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded once and hugged Audrey back. After they broke apart, Audrey gave Dan a kiss on the cheek. “You both take care of yourselves,” she said softly, although she looked at Dan when she said it, who nodded back.

The walk back was quieter than the night before—no funny stories from Dan or breaks in the silence. Blair kept wanting to turn to Dan and say something, anything, but she was too afraid that the question on her mind would slip out: if Dan could possibly reciprocate her feelings. But, she reminded herself, there was no way that Dan could have forgiven her from all those years before.

When they reached the Barrière, Blair reached up to give Dan a hug. He gently placed his hands on her back, allowing Blair to rest there for a minute. Well, Blair thought, despite everything she had done, both in general and to him, Dan was still her friend. And that was more than she deserved to ask for.

Neither Blair nor Dan said anything else, even after Dan pulled away. After all, what else could one say after an experience like theirs? Blair gave him a small smile and wave and then headed inside. It was really over, she realized when she stepped into the lobby. Her magical adventure had run its course.

Blair wanted to lie down and go to sleep forever. She would go up to her room, sleep until she wasn’t tired anymore (twelve hours? Twenty four hours? Even thirty six straight hours of sleep seemed almost reasonable), and then start making some decisions. As she exited the elevator onto her floor, she felt a little better. Having a plan of attack always fortified her.

All of Blair's thoughts were completely thrown out of the window when she opened the door and saw Chuck standing there in the middle of the room, hands curled into balls, and clearly one vein throb away from throwing something against a wall.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Chuck said in a low voice.

For a moment, Blair was so surprised that she just stood there, frozen in the doorway, unable to process. Chuck took her silence as a challenge.

“You get into a fight with me and then you go and hang out with Dan fucking Humphrey. I would have thought that you had more taste than to hang out with that nobody, but I guess I was completely wrong.” Chuck progressed quickly into shouting, so Blair stepped into the room and closed the door.

“Yes, I was upset and went to hang out with a friend. What is so wrong with that?” she said slowly, just as challenging.

“Oh, now Dan’s a friend. My, how the mighty have fallen. You’re embarrassing yourself and you’re embarrassing me.”

“How am I embarrassing anyone?” Blair said back, her voice starting to rise. “It’s embarrassing that I have friends or that I have friends who realize that sometimes you do shitty things?”

“It’s embarrassing when you act inappropriately with someone outside our hotel.”

“What was inappropriate?” Blair shouted back. “That I gave him a hug? You’re going to make a huge deal over a hug?”

“And is that all it is?” Chuck demanded.

“What are you implying?” Blair said in a surprisingly steady low voice, every fiber of her being focused on Chuck.

“Oh I think you know what I’m implying,” Chuck hissed. “You can’t possibly be this dense.”

“Humor me,” Blair said. “I want you to be crystal clear.”

“You think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been gone every night until god knows what hour? Do you think that I’m an idiot?”

“I would have thought that was implied,” Blair said.

“You’re having an affair with that pathetic nobody.”

“You can’t be serious. You think that I’m cheating on you.”

“You want me to say it twice?” Chuck yelled. “Sure—you’re fucking Dan Humphrey.”

Blair was so angry, the edges of her vision started dipping into black. “No, I am not having an affair.” She yelled. Blair wanted to scream, to throw something, to dump Chuck's clothing  out of the window, anything to inflict the next barb.

“Dan and I are not together in any sense of the word. Physically or emotionally. But you know what,” she said, her words pouring out without any thought. “I wish that we were,” she added in vindictively. “Because at the end of the day, he sees me for who I am. Sometimes, I think that I’ve always been in love with him.”

Chuck turned completely white and Blair felt elated for a second that she had thrown the perfect barb. But then her words caught up to her and the room spun. Blair sucked in a breath, dizzy and nauseated all at once. She groped around for something to lean on, and finding a couch, sat down heavily to put her head between her legs.

There was an eternity of silence and then Chuck came and sat next to her.

“I’m so sorry, Chuck,” Blair said quietly.

“I know,” he said back.

Blair and Chuck spent most of the night talking. When the bellhop showed up around 8 a.m., Blair was red-eyed and just barely holding it together, but she had all of her bags packed. As the bellhop began loading her bags into the car, Chuck brought out one last small bag and handed it carefully to Blair.

“Here—the last of your make-up.”

Blair gave him a wan smile. “Thank you, Chuck.” She tentatively reached out for a hug and Chuck reciprocated. They held each other lightly for a minute before Chuck stepped away. “Goodbye,” Blair said.

Chuck’s throat worked for a few minutes and he ended up just swallowing and nodding at Blair. Blair could feel herself starting to tear up again, so she nodded once back and followed the bellhop out.

Blair had called and harangued the housing service into letting her into the apartment early. (“I don’t care if not everything is ready yet,” she had said. “I want to move in and it needs to be done now.”) The cab took her straight to the place, a cute apartment in the 8th off of the Champs-Elysées. It reminded her a bit of Audrey’s apartment and she smiled at the familiarity when she walked in. Blair’s driver unloaded all the bags and brought them inside for her, leaving them by the front door.

After Blair tipped the driver, she closed the front door and surveyed the apartment. It was sparsely furnished, at best, but there was a love seat on the opposite wall, which Blair sank onto. She took a couple deep breaths and let herself finally take in the last twenty-four hours.

Over the next week, Blair made a series of resolutions that she was not going to call Dan Humphrey, which worked, but only barely. When the urge finally became too great, she went into work a week early (“I just wanted to get started working with everyone!” Blair cheerfully told her new colleagues, who looked a little, or a lot, surprised that she was willingly giving up actual vacation time when she showed up) and did everything in her will power to not think of Dan Humphrey or their time together at midnight in Paris.

Blair threw herself into work and, as always with a magazine, there was a lot of it. Magazine hours weren’t kind even at the best of times and it was easy to stay as late as possible before dashing off to attend whatever top Parisian social event of the night was going on. In the morning, Blair came in early to wash, rinse and repeat.

Surprisingly, Blair didn’t feel a huge compulsion to revisit Paris of the past. Blair found herself idly wondering if she could go back again, but it never was anything more than an idle thought. Something about it felt final, as if she had been given a parting gift, and Blair knew with certainty that she belonged here and now.

Dan…was less easy to forget. Blair found herself thinking of Dan at the oddest times. When she read some of the features articles, she would wonder what Dan might think of them. Or when some of her luggage showed up with her collection of movies, Blair felt a strange urge to invite Dan over for a movie night before she reminded herself that she was definitely not supposed to be thinking about Dan. Finally, after two weeks, Blair admitted defeat when she caught herself staring at his name in her contact list for the nth hundredth time. Whatever she was feeling, it needed to be nipped in the bud.

Humphrey, I hear there’s a new café on Rue de Poitou in Le Marais. I’ll probably get lunch there tomorrow. Blair typed out and sent.

Dan responded, Looks interesting. What time? I have a class at 10, would 1 p.m. work for the most excellent Queen Blair? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your busy schedule.

Blair texted back, Yes. After a second, she added and sent, See you then.

Even if Dan didn’t feel the same way—and Blair faced the fact that he probably didn’t—she needed to get it out of her system. It would be cathartic, she told herself, but even that sounded like a bullshit reason to her own ears.

They met the next day at the café. Both Dan and Blair showed up early. “I can’t believe how timely the metro was today,” Blair said loudly, in case Dan got any ideas that she had gone to any effort to show up ahead of their scheduled time.

“Oh yeah,” Dan said, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure.”

Blair felt oddly tongue-tied. She normally would have quipped something sarcastic back, but instead there was only an awkward silence. “Let’s go inside?” she suggested after a minute. Dan agreed.

It was drizzling outside, so they got a table inside, next to the large café windows. As soon as they sat down, all of Blair’s resolve left her. When she opened her mouth, instead of explaining the situation or telling Dan that she might, in fact, have some feelings towards him, she started talking about the magazine, how great the staff had been, how much she loved the new creative freedom that she had.

Dan watched her for a minute. “Alright, something’s going on here.”

Blair tried to look as innocent as possible. Dan’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you just tell me and get it over with.”

Blair ran her fingers through her hair. For a moment, she thought about just lying and telling Dan that she was having trouble adjusting after ending whatever magical or mystical experience to the 1950s they had shared (she still hadn’t completely ruled out a shared hallucination). Then, she sighed and everything started spilling out.

“Chuck and I, we decided to end things,” Blair said slowly, purposefully looking out the window instead of at Dan. “There were a lot of reasons why it was over. Our marriage was a ticking time bomb really. Largely because I married Chuck for what I thought were the right reasons but were actually all the wrong reasons: status, family name, wealth.

“I wanted to be one half of a power couple and I thought that I had that with Chuck. But in doing so, I pushed aside feelings that I had for…” Blair paused for a second, trying to make the words fit in her mouth. “Someone else,” Blair said eventually. “I was in love with someone else, who I treated terribly. I’m still in love with this person. This guy is not into me, at least not anymore, and I definitely don’t deserve another shot with him. So, that’s a non-starter.” Blair paused and mentally pulled herself off the tangent.

“But even after everything that happened, a lot of which was my fault, I didn't want to settle and be unhappy for the rest of my life. I definitely wasn't happy with Chuck. At least I hadn’t been for a long time. So, it's over.”

Blair finished talking and continued to look out the window.

“I’m kind of surprised about something that you said,” Dan said. Blair looked sharply at Dan.

“Excuse me?” Blair said.

“Well,” Dan continued, as if Blair hadn’t interrupted him. “I guess it’s been a while since we were close. But the Blair Waldorf that I used to know, she was a very determined person. Blair wouldn’t let someone’s attempt to get over her stand in her way to win that person back.”

“Hey! I—“ Blair started. Dan threw her a look, so Blair stopped speaking.

“After all, from what I’ve seen, there’s really no getting over Blair Waldorf.”

Blair tried to speak, but couldn’t marshal her thoughts to get anything coherent. Was Dan saying…? Did he understand that Blair had been talking about him? He must have. But, Blair rationalized, he could, in fact, be too dense to pick up the subtext. Maybe he was just trying to be encouraging.

“You don’t know what you’re telling me to do,” Blair said finally.

Dan looked steadily back at Blair. “I’ll take my chances.”

Blair stood up suddenly. Dan stayed where he was, watching her walk around the table slowly until she stood next to his chair. Dan rose up. Blair took a deep breath. “Tell me if I’m wrong,” she said quietly. When Dan didn’t say anything—just kept watching her—Blair tentatively reached out, bringing her hand up to cup Dan’s face.

Dan looked back at her. “You’re not wrong,” he said. Blair leaned forward, slowly pressing her lips to Dan’s.

It was just a chaste press of her lips against his, a quick moment of warmth. But it felt like sparks against her skin and coming home all at once. Blair smiled up at Dan and he smiled back at her and Blair didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, just wanted to stay looking at Dan forever.

There was a slight cough at Blair’s elbow. She jumped back to find a young waiter looking at them expectantly. Blair blushed, totally mortified.

“Please Humphrey, show a little sense for decorum and propriety,” Blair said as she sat back down in her seat. But the sting of her words was probably negated by how she apparently couldn’t stop smiling.

Dan sat down as well, looking far too smug. “And stop looking so smug,” Blair said. “It’s a terrible look on you.”