He returns to California.

Blair takes him to the airport, holds onto him until the last minute. They don't say anything about the past or the future. Blair doesn't even ask him to call or email. She puts her arms around him and buries her face in the soft flannel of his shirt.

"At least I've had you for a little while." Blair whispers.

The flight is long. Dan stares out the window, thinking. Everything has changed since he got the call from Jenny. Everything.

Emily is there when he lands, running up to him, throwing her arms around him. Finally the guilt hits Dan as he hugs his wife back. She links her arm through his as they walk toward the parking lot, telling him she's glad Rufus is okay, that she's sorry she couldn't come, that maybe they should go visit as soon as she can get some time off.

Dan is quiet.

They climb into their car and Emily turns to him.

"I'm sorry you've been through all this, baby," she says. "I know it can change a person forever."

She knows something is different. Dan feels the guilt creeping up on him. He hopes some time will dull the pain. It doesn't.

Days turn into weeks. It's raining, and Dan can't shake the melancholy. Emily is sweet, bringing him tea, letting him sleep. All he wants to do is sleep. He misses Blair. He dreams about Blair. He's weighed down heavily with loss. She knows something is wrong but she thinks it's Rufus, that almost losing his dad has left Dan in a deep funk. The eaves drip and he lies in bed listening to the drops hit the deck, listening to the rain running off the roof.

One day he comes home to find a visitor. He turns the key in the lock, pushes the door open, and Emily is there, getting up to greet him, arms wrapping around his waist, smiling up at him.

"I have a surprise, baby," she says. Emily's head turns toward the living room and Dan follows her gaze. The room sways a little as he sees who is sitting on the couch holding a glass of water.

Blair.

Blair puts her water on the coffee table, stands up and smooths her skirt. Dan can't speak.

"I should have called," Blair apologizes. She's watching Dan, watching his face.

"Blair," Dan finally manages to say and he knows in that moment that he's said too much. Her name is laden with emotion. Emily looks at him then looks at Blair.

"I had some business...I should have called." Blair looks nervous, out of place, perched stiffly on the edge of their contemporary couch.

"No," Emily says, walking across the room, sitting down next to Blair, taking Blair's hand in hers. Blair jumps a little at Emily's touch. "I'm glad you came by. I've never met Dan's friends from New York. He doesn't talk much about living there."

"There's not much to talk about," Dan explains, still standing in the middle of the room, still shocked to find Blair in his living room, talking to his wife.

"It was a long time ago," Blair agrees. She looks at him again. Dan's heart clenches.

"It helps me understand him," Emily says. "I think I've always wondered about that time, and I've been to New York, I've met his family, and now I've met you."

The silence is deafening. Blair twists her hands in her lap. Dan looks anywhere but at Emily. Finally Blair stands up.

"I should go." she says, turning to Emily. "It was nice to meet you."

Emily stands up, takes Blair into her arms, hugs her.

"It was nice to meet you too."

Blair walks towards the door, towards Dan, brushing past him. Dan turns, telling her he'll walk out. He still can't look at Emily.

The sky is dark, heavy rain clouds as far as the eye can see. The air is heavy, warm, tinged with anticipation. It doesn't rain often in Southern California, but when it does, the skies open up, and sometimes there is lightening and thunder. This is one of those evenings, gray light making everything seem bright and clean, and everything feels electrified.

Dan walks next to Blair, neither of them saying anything. Her car is parked on the curb, a shiny bland rental, and she stops next to it, turning to Dan.

"I'm sorry." Blair says. "I thought I knew why I came here. I thought it would change things, or make thing better, and it hasn't, but it's helped."

"Blair." Dan says, her name sounding strange in the quiet, the ocean roaring in the background.

"No." Blair says softly, "I get it now. I know why you wouldn't leave her for me. She's lovely."

Blair gazes out past the houses, toward the ocean, staring into the distance. Dan puts his hand on his shoulder. They stand there, apart yet together, letting the silence lie between them.

"Chuck never loved me enough," Blair says, her voice raw. "I was the prize in a game for him. In the end all we had left was the ability to hurt each other. Whatever we thought we had, that epic love that I couldn't let go of for you all those years ago, it was just a lie we told ourselves. Emily. She's different. She's not Chuck. She loves you."

Blair turns to Dan, her eyes shining with tears.

"You told me you wanted me to be happy, that you wanted all this heartbreak to be for something."

Dan moves his hand off her shoulder and reaches to hold hers.

"That's all I want for you. Emily can make you happy. I think she did until we ran into each other at the Met. I think she can again."

The wind picks up, the rain starts to fall, pelting their faces, beading up in their hair.

"You asked me to lie to you, begged me to let you go."

Dan tastes salt. Tears.

"I can't lie to you. I love you. I'll love you the rest of my life."

She holds onto his hand so tightly that it almost hurts.

"But I can let you go."

Blair turns to face Dan. He looks down at her, her hair plastered to forehead, her eyes wide, luminous, and he feels love for her that threatens to bring him to his knees, to consume him, and Dan knows he'll never feel like this again, never with anyone else. Just as she's finally letting him go he realizes that all he needs is her.

Blair wraps her arms around him, and they hold each other, the rain coming down in sheets, their clothing soaked through, then she pulls away and walks around to the drivers side of her car. Dan stands on the curb watching her as she opens it and climbs in. The car shudders as it starts then Blair drives away. From him. Out of his life.

Dan hurts.

He turns around, walks slowly back to the home he shares with his wife. The rain is starting to slow, no longer a downpour, droplets drifting down from the sky. Dan pushes the door open, walks into his living room to find Emily is still sitting on the couch. The sun has almost slipped over the horizon and the light is dim. She's turned on a lamp that sits on one of their end tables and the light casts her face in shadows. Dan stands before her, soaked through, not sure what to say, not sure if there's anything he can say.

"You call out her name in your sleep."

Emily's voice is matter of fact.

"You know what's funny, I only discovered this because I love you, Dan. I love you so much, and sometimes I like to watch you sleep. I sit in that old chair at the foot of our bed with the lamp dimmed all the way down and just watch you sleep. There's something about the way you breathe. It calms me, makes me feel safe."

She looks away from him, stares at the light that makes a pool on their hardwood floor. Dan stands there, not moving, not saying anything, listening.

"You haven't slept well since we came back from that trip to New York. Something changed after that, and I couldn't quite put a finger on it, and that's when you started calling out her name."

She looks back at him, her eyes accusing.

"I didn't know what it meant, thought something from your past had come up during that trip. You were so quiet on the way home. Then your dad was in his accident, and you were gone for a couple weeks, and I wanted to come, to help you, and you kept telling me to stay here...I started to hate New York. I wish we'd never gone."

So does Dan.

"Then today she shows up, knocks on the door, says her name is Blair, that she's an old friend. I was so happy to meet one of your old friends. Then you walked in and then I saw how you looked at her, and everything clicked into place."

"Emily," Dan says softly, pleading.

"No." she says, her voice sharp, "no, you don't get to talk. Not now. Let me finish."

It's the least he can do.

"What I want to know, Dan," Emily says, getting up from the couch, walking toward him, "is if you ever loved me at all?"

"Yes," Dan gasps. He loved her. He still does. Emily's face brightens a little then falls.

"But not as much as her."

Dan can't say anything. What she says is true. He's never loved her the way he loves Blair. He never will. He might actually be the love of Emily's life but she'll always be second best for him.

She's crying now, tears running down her face, and Dan thinks that she's never been more beautiful, standing in front of him, heartbroken. He wants to take her in his arms, to swear to her that she's really the one he wants, that he'll stay with her, love her forever. It would be a lie.

"I'm going to my sisters house," Emily says. "I need some time. I need to think. Then I'm going to call a lawyer and I'm going to let you go."

His gut twists.

"No," Dan says, taking a step towards her. Emily steps back, keeping distance between them. "I can...we can figure this out. I love you."

"But not enough."

She's right.

Emily walks out of their house, out of Dan's life. The door shuts and Dan is left standing in their living room, in the middle of their life that has just tumbled down around him.

If you had asked Dan Humphrey on a Monday if he was happy, he would have answered no.

He'd walked away from the Upper East Side five years ago, left it all behind. But now he knows he also left his heart there.

On Monday his wife walked away from him, taking a piece of his heart. On Tuesday he's sitting on an airplane, going home. Back to her. Blair.

By the time he arrives at the penthouse, Dan is soaking wet. The rain has followed him from California, and when the cab he's sitting in becomes stuck in traffic, He decides that he might as well walk the ten or so more blocks to Blair's. He's brought nothing except the clothes on his back and his wallet, nothing but himself. His shoes splash in puddles, wetting the cuffs of his jeans, his hair is slicked against his head, beads of water run down his nose.

By the time he arrives at the penthouse, Dan is breathing hard, shaking with anticipation. He stabs at the elevator button too many times until the doors slide open, then Dan watches as the numbers climb, up, up to the top. When the doors finally slide open he finds Blair standing in the foyer, staring at him, and he briefly thinks that the doorman must have called her, told her a bedraggled, soaking wet man was heading her way. He sees Blair's eyes widen in surprise.

"Dan!"

He says nothing, steps forward, takes her into his arms, crushes her to his chest, and Blair doesn't complain that his wet clothes are soaking her too, because his mouth is on hers, kissing her, his hands are in her hair, on her shoulders, pulling her even closer, until she is pressed against him with no space between them.

It's been five years since he walked away and now he walks back in, walks toward her.

He is home.

~fin~