Paris used to be her city, the place she came to be happy and young, wearing beautiful clothes, visiting to museums, attending parties and having fleeting romances in the city of lights. It's become the city of sorrow for Blair, the place she escapes to when the melancholy threatens to seep too far into her bones, the place that welcomes her sorrow.

Paris is the only place Blair can cry.

Something about the way it smells the first time it rains after a series of hot days, a dirty, dusty smell that Blair Waldorf would never associate with beauty, but now it speaks to her of the end of summer in the City of Lights. She'd never noticed it before. Not until the day she stood in the rain, in Paris, an annoying cliche far beneath Blair Waldorf, her hair plastered against her head because she'd run out into the downpour without her umbrella, her coffee half-drunk on the small table.

It had been sunny earlier that day as she pushed her shoulder against the door of the apartment she kept, the door creaking a little from disuse, pulling her one carry on bag behind her as she looked around the apartment that had been left unused for the last few months. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows and dust floated in the air, and normally Blair would have called ahead and had someone freshen things for her, but she'd just decided to return to Paris that morning and had been travelling all day.

It had been a quick decision, but an easy one, after running into Serena for the first time in years, coming out of Barney's, bags on her wrists, a genuine smile plastered across her face, almost like it was yesterday. She was still shining and golden after all this time and Blair felt her nails dig into her palm as she met that smile with one of her own, practiced, perfect, shiny and friendly.

She'd gotten even better at faking it over the years.

They exchanged surprised pleasantries. Serena could believe they'd just run into each other after all these years, laughing at the absurdity of it as threw back her head a little, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Serena asked about Chuck, Blair said his business had him out of town. And Henry. Boarding school, Blair replied, trying to keep the sadness out of her eyes.

Serena barely looked much older than when they'd been best friends years ago. The California sun had left little wrinkles around her eyes but she was still as bubbly and carried the same skin-deep patina of earnestness she'd honed to a craft. She put her hand on Blair's coat sleeve, told her enthusiastically about her life. The kids were still in Malibu, Serena said, but Dan would be meeting her in a few days and Blair would never guess what was going to be happening. They would be moving back to the city soon. Blair's mouth went dry.

Dan would be returning to New York.

She booked her plane ticket that for that night. Red eye. Leaving in a few hours.

There was a time when arriving in Paris would have meant staff and suitcases, Blair in command of an entourage that would provide every comfort, but this was not a pleasure trip. This was an escape, scurrying out of the city in the middle of the night, and Blair had packed her own carry-on and told Dorota she would buy anything else she needed, ignoring the worried look on her maid's face. She called Henry and told him she loved him, and he'd asked her what was wrong and Blair had lied, telling she'd been planning on this trip but had forgotten to tell him. Then she had spent the hours of the transatlantic flight staring out the window into pitch blackness, crying.

The sun has slipped away but Blair still hasn't flicked on the lights and the high-ceilinged rooms are gray in the moonlight. She doesn't want to sleep that night. Just sits in the apartment in one of the overstuffed chairs by the windows, staring out across the city until her eyes droop and her head tilts forward and she wakes up to find herself slumped in that same chair, a thin line of drool crusted down her cheek, skin cold from the chill that comes just before the sun creeps up from the horizon. The sadness is so intense it threatens to swallow her and she feels a tear leak down her cheek.

Her skin itches and she's jumpy and unsettled, so despite the melancholy, Blair still manages to get up. For some reason she can't stay there in the apartment, rattling around by herself, with only her thoughts to keep her company. She dresses quickly, every part of her body aching from sleeping in the chair overnight, washes her face in the basin the bathroom, splashing cold water in her skin, staring at her reflection in the mirror, noting the dark circles under her eyes and how haunted she looks.

Haunted is the right word. Haunted by him. For the last seven years, ever since she realized what a mistake she's made, she's been seeing him. At the Met. Around the corner. Out of the corner of her eye, his figure, his shoulders, and she always turns, his name on her lips, and it's never him. But now he's moving back and she doesn't know what she would do if those ghosts actually turn out to be real one day. How would she keep herself from falling apart? She could move, run away, live here in this small apartment, but she knows she won't really get away from him. Even if she won't run into him on the street, coffee in hand, scarf wrapped around his neck, eyes probing hers, she will see him in her dreams.

She decides to go down the street to a little cafe that has good coffee and croissants, and just as she pushes the door of the apartment open to step into the hallway, the rain starts outside and Blair leans back in and grabs an umbrella from behind the door. She smiles unconsciously, a little upward turn at each corner of her mouth pulling at her strangely, because no matter what is happening in her life, she's always loved Paris in the rain. And that is how she ends up sitting in a cafe, an untouched croissant on a plate, a cup of coffee half drunk when she sees him.

She's out the door before she can think, and the people around her must think she's forgotten something important, the way she stands up and suddenly dashes out the door. Her feet are pounding the street, moving her forward as she chases another ghost. Another figment conjured by her imagination to further torture her, but this one looked so real.

The rain has stopped pouring, making the streets shine and the sun also shines through the clouds in that curious way that late summer downpours present themselves, a summer storm feeling like a fragment of your imagination, and if you close your eyes for a few minutes you can pretend they never happened. It still sputters, not willing to be done quite yet. Blair felt the puddles splashing up the back of her legs as she runs after him, calling out his name, squinting in the brightness.

"Dan!"

She's breathing hard, her heart pounding, waiting for the tricks of her mind to reveal themselves when she realizes that the figure has stopped, his back still towards her, and Blair's pace slows until she comes to a stop, and she stands there in the middle of Avenue De Something or Another, not even sure where she is, her chest rising up and down, her hands shaking, that damn rain pouring down with the strange sunshine lighting up all the raindrops, her hair in her face, her blouse plastered against her skin, soaking wet. She stares.

Dan

Fifteen years.

For a while she'd been happy. Blair had everything she thought wanted, and it had felt worth it, even if she'd paid a price for what she thought at the time was the truth and lost a friend. Life had gone on and Dan Humphrey had faded into the background, someone she heard about at parties. He'd married Serena. They were living in California. Chuck and Blair had a baby. Dan became someone who signed the card for the baby gift that arrived in that same awkward, stilted writing that had once left her love notes on the side table of her bedroom, and Blair had been able to remember him fondly.

Until she couldn't.

It had only been a matter of time before all the lies she told herself unraveled. When they did, it hurt like nothing Blair had ever experienced.

Chuck started to stay away longer. Business dinners turned into business trips. Blair hated their empty apartment, the way she rattled around it's hugeness waiting for something but not knowing what.

Henry grew from a colicky baby to a boy and then Chuck insisted he be sent to boarding school. They'd fought about that for two days until Chuck left to stay at the Waldorf Astoria and Blair spent every night drinking until she fell asleep on the couch, her eyes red from crying. Henry had left three weeks later. That was the moment the numbness started.

Chuck told her he'd need to establish a home base in Dubai. The business was there. It would be easier than going back and forth all of the time. He was starting to hate the cold winters in New York. Blair had nodded, staring out the window at the magnificent view of the city their apartment afforded them, not being able to think of anything to say. She'd had fewer and fewer words since the argument about boarding school.

Blair found a doctor who would give her a healthy dose of valium.

And they went on. Day in and day out, year after year, until Blair had a hard time recognizing what her life had become. It was a lifetime away from what she'd imagined the day she'd picked Chuck over Dan.

That was when the ghosts started. Figures at the edge of vision, a silhouette she thought she'd know anywhere, a scent, and she turns her head to find…Nothing. Over and over again. She thinks she sees him, smells him, hears him and nothing. Slowly she starts to realize that after all this time, she misses Dan Humphrey, aches for what she left behind. Part of her knows that he would have never moved half a world away from her, never have sent their son to boarding school, never would have stopped loving her the way Chuck seems to, and that's when she understands that she had made the wrong choice. That's when she understands that she's loved a man besides her husband all along.

It should go differently. A surprise meeting in the cafe, a friendly chat. How are the kids. What a pleasant surprise after all these years. But that's a different scenario and she's standing soaked and muddy in the middle of the street, yelling his name, her voice rough and pained, and it's obvious that whatever happens next, this is not some casual chance meeting that will end with promises of coffee and everyone swearing they should see each other more often.

He turns now, because it's been long enough that both of them know this is real, a crazy chance encounter, and some people are starting to stare, and she sees his back stiffen then he turns on his heel, slowly, his eyes boring into hers, and for the first time in fifteen years Blair Waldorf and Dan Humphrey are face to face.

His hair is wet too, because who brings along their umbrella on a sunny summer day while strolling down a Paris street. He swallows and she sees his adams apple rise up and down. His hands are clenched at his side. Blair's breath catches because so much about Dan is the same. His hair is still long, flopping a little over his forehead, its curls teasing the open collar of his shirt, his eyes burn with the same intensity, and he only pauses for a second that seems to stretch out into minutes, then starts to walk towards her, closing the distance between them, step by step. Blair is rooted to the street, not able to move, and he's standing directly in front of her, lips parted, and he grinds out her name.

"Blair."

Her eyes flutter shut as all the pain of the last fifteen years rushes in with the sound of her name on his lips. Before the sound of her name can even fade away, she speaks, words ripped from somewhere deep inside, words she's barely even acknowledged despite the ghosts that seem to chase her, but as she spits them out she thinks they might be the truest things she's ever said.

"I never should have let you go."

Shock flickers through his eyes and they are standing inches from each other, gazes locked, chests rising up and down unison, and Blair feels that her lips are dry and parched. What she would give for a drink of water, except she can't move, can't speak because she is riveted by the intensity of the pain that flashes across Dan's face.

She wants to take her hands and fist them in his shirt, bury her face in his chest, let the tears that she's been holding back flow, indistinguishable from the rain that has soaked them both, and sob everything that she's been holding inside until the pain is gone and she can finally at least feel nothing. But instead she just stands there, waiting, tension between them thick, vibrating. She thinks she should worry about how he'll take her words, about whether or not he'll walk away, about what this means for her marriage, for his, but this is all so sudden that there's no room for thought, only instinct and desire.

"Blair"

This time her name is guttural and low and as he groans it in a way that that makes her heart jump, Dan leans in and captures her mouth in a kiss that is both brutal and desperate and maybe even a little loving, and in one swift movement their bodies crash together with sudden desperation, arms wrapping and pulling and tugging, fingers tangling, neither really clear where one ends and the other begins.

The scent of the rain fills her nostrils, the smell of dirt, of raindrops hitting sun warmed pavement.

He should pull away and ask her if this is okay, but he doesn't have to because ever since the moment their eyes locked they both knew where this was going to end up.

Dan is walking her backwards now, mouth not leaving hers, step by step, out of the street, until she feels the cold stone against the bare skin of her back, and Blair realizes that in the process of pushing her back he has also pulled her wet blouse from the waistband of her skirt and his fingers are skimming up the sides of her ribs, and she gasps against his lips.

"Please," Blair begs, pushing herself against him. She wants him, to take away the last fifteen years and all the mistakes she has made, to make her feel so much that she can't feel anything else but him, "Please," she breathes again.

She can't think. Beneath the haze of of desire, she's afraid if she starts to think the world will come crashing in, and she might remember Chuck and Serena and what all this might mean in the cold light of the morning sun when she has to wake up to a world that hasn't really changed. She just kisses him back again and again, trying to drive all thoughts out of her head.

"Where can we go?" he gasps as he pulls slightly away from her, and Blair is surprised he can still form that much of a sentence. They're both panting, but now there is space between them that makes Blair ache, then his fingers reach out to stroke her wrist lightly then his hand slides into hers, fingers intertwining, and his eyes are scanning her face. Blair closes the distance between them, her body pressing against his chest, wraps one arm around Dan's waist and bends her neck to bury her face into his shoulder. "My apartment is around the corner," she mumbles into the wet fabric of his shirt. "Please hurry."

She feels like she is about to fly apart.

They make it to her apartment, Blair's arms wrapped around Dan's waste, her heart beating so loudly she's sure he can hear it, her face still buried in his shoulder, afraid that her knees might buckle from how much she wants him.

...this…

...them...

She wants to tell him how wrong she was. Wants to spill her soul, but instead she fumbles for her keys, unlocks the door as his hands creep under her shirt again, strong against her ribs, pushing her inside, and they managed to close the door just before his mouth devours hers again, harsh, tongue invading, hot and wet and so incredibly sweet that it aches to the point of pain. Her fingers tangle his hair, his hands are on her hips, pushing at her skirt, and they are almost naked by the time they tumble into the bed, Blair gasping, wide eyed as she stares up at him, legs spreading, wet and aching and he is fucking her, hips thrusting sharply, her name trailing off into a groan.

She's saying his name, lips moving with silent words as everything tightens up, trying to tell him that this feels so good and it's been too long and she's dreamed of this, but instead she jerks as she comes, burying her face into his shoulder again, biting at his sweaty skin, and then she holds onto him and thinks she may never stop trembling.

Blair might have wanted to talk after sex if things had been different, curling into him, watching his face, but her limbs are heavy, her body sated, and on the edges of her consciousness, somewhere past the feeling of Dan running his fingers across the curve of her hip, past the words he's whispering into her ear, telling her how much he's missed this, reality is lurking. Serena. Chuck. So instead Blair lets her eyes drift shut and lets herself sink into the darkness.

They sleep.

Moonlight is streaming into the apartment when she wakes, and the first thing Blair notices is that she's cold, reaching around for the down-filled duvet and pulling it up over her bare breasts. Her hand reaches out to feel for Dan and finds the other side of the bed is empty and for a moment Blair panics until her eyes adjust to the dim lighting and she sees he's sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, head in his hands.

Blair pushes the duvet back, cool air hitting her skin and she can feel goosebumps prickle up and down her arms. She crawls across the bed and leans her forehead against the bare skin of his back, feeling the way his back rises up and down with each breath. She reaches around his chest with her arms, clasping her hands together and his hands move from his face until they're covering hers, warm and strong. Slowly, gently Blair pulls him back towards her until the length of his back is pressed against her bare breasts and his weight is resting on her.

"What have I done," Dan whispers into the silence.

That's when Blair knows they are no longer alone. The ghosts are back, but this time they are Serena, Chuck, their children, all crowding into the room. She shivers.

"We," Blair whispers. "What have we done," she places a soft kiss on his bare back and he flinches a little at the touch of her lips, "I'm here with you too."

"I thought I was happy," Dan whispers, twisting himself around, and Blair moves back to accommodate him until they are sitting facing each other, crosslegged, knees touching each other, her hands in his, as if they can't bear not to be touching. "but when I heard you call my name, I knew that I haven't been happy in a long time."

"Me either," Blair watches Dan, sees the guilt in his eyes.

"I have a wife, kids, a life…"

"Me too,"

"But now...now it seems like I have nothing if I don't have you, but I can't...I can't."

Blair's heart clenches so tightly she thinks she could be having a heart attack. Every part of her body hurts and every part of her soul too. Blair lets go of one of Dan's hands to wipe tears off her cheeks that she didn't even know were flowing down her cheeks, and she finally finds her voice, the one that has been eluding her for the past fifteen years.

"I love you, you know." she says quietly. "I dont think I ever stopped."

"I love Serena." Dan says quietly, his eyes somewhere else, "I can't hurt her. We have a family, a life together. I love her," he says again, "she's just not...not you. Why should she pay for the mistakes we've made?"

Every word hurts, but she'd known from the moment their lips met that no matter how much she loved him it wouldn't matter. They aren't kids just past their teens anymore, they aren't free to chase love. People will get hurt, people they love.

He leans closer to her, staring at her lips and Blair starts to tremble.

"But I never stopped loving you either." Dan says, his voice serious. "Not ever. If this had happened five years ago, ten years ago…I should have fought for you, made you see that Chuck wasn't the one who would make you happy, and maybe this would have never happened."

"Stop," Blair whispers softly, reaching up to place two fingers on his lips. "I don't want to think about what may have been, or what might be in the future. If right now, this moment, is all I get, that's what I'll take." She's telling the truth. She can live with this. It's better than continuing on in the darkness. It's better than living with the ghosts of what might have been.

Dan's lips meet hers in a crushing kiss and he pulls her to him, toppling them both backwards as their legs intertwine and all thoughts leave Blair's head except that she must commit this night to memory because it's all she's ever going to have.

Blair loves the smell of dirt and rain. She smells it again the next day as she watches Dan walk out of her apartment. She is leaning on the doorjamb wearing only a silk robe, her arms twined around his neck, kissing him and kissing him like he's the very air she needs to breathe. Then he walks down the hallway, never looking back once, and Blair feels her heart break all over again, but this time it's different. At least this time she knows what she wants even if she can't ever have it. At least this time her choice is a real choice.

TBC