Title: Drinking Sweat Like It Is Wine

Chapter: One

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Rating: T - may change in later chapters

Ship(s): N/B

Summary: He could have her forever. Have her smile, laugh and cry with him. He could have her walk down the aisle towards him, bear his children and wake up next to him each and every morning. But he won't. She won't let him.

—

Blair had been having the same dream for the past few months.

She would be standing placidly in front of her vanity mirror, scrutinizing herself carefully, trying to find what it was about her that wasn't satisfying. For the life of her, Blair couldn't find anything, but somehow, she knew there had do be something or she wouldn't be inspecting herself so cruelly.

Blair would purse her lips, sift through her brown locks with her fingers, smooth her eyebrows and stretch the pores of her skin until they hurt, trying to find anything that would prove why she felt so undesired. Yet, she would discover nothing.

She would remain Blair Waldorf and still, she was lonely.

The dream consistently ended when Blair would bring her fist back and punch the mirror with such force that the shards would fall to the floor all around her bedroom. The glass would sprinkle in the beam of sunlight that wound its way through the curtains of her window as she would clumsily step over the pieces.

When Blair would wake up, gasping hard for breath, drenched in sweat, blindly grasping for the the sheets of her bed, she would find it ironic how the pieces of the mirror resembled her broken heart. It was only then, each and every night, when Blair realized that Nate (of course) was the fist. He was always the strong one; he was the first to bounce back and he broke her just as easily.

Nate, Blair had always known, had never had a need for many words. Or any words for that matter. Maybe that was what she used to love about him so much. How secular Nate never minded feeling. How he never fussed or fiddled with the small details around him. How he always let things be. And because she wasn't anything like Nate with her cursing and picking and scheming, sometimes she liked to think that was what Nate once loved about her.

Perhaps that was why she began to steer clear of him ever since her dreams, more considered to be nightmares, had started.

Being friendly with Nate had been the last thing Blair expected considering their slim relationship after graduation. But she didn't blame him. Many of the things that had been wrong between them were not Nate's fault and she would give him that. She would give him her company and he would constantly give her heart a pull with every nearing inch he was close to her.

Blair would see him almost every where she went and all she wanted to say to him was, "I wish we were closer," yet the only words that left her mouth were, "hey" or "how's life?" and she hated herself for that. Because nothing in the world had been harder to renounce than Nate and the memory of their love, that Blair was sure she couldn't handle it a second time. And she was right. She couldn't. These dreams, they didn't leave her feeling dejected... they left her lovelorn. They left her yearning for a touch that Blair knew only one person could give.

And immediately it hurt. Being with Nate no longer gave her heart a pull, it sliced it up into little pieces, over and over again. Blair would panic, not finding anything merely intelligent enough to say before she would ostracize herself into silence. All in fear her dream would slip and become reality.

To make matters worse, these dreams appeared out of no where. Sometimes Blair would spend her free time troubling herself into finding the source of her horrid visions and she couldn't find a thing, just like she couldn't find anything physically deforming about herself in those said dreams.

She would admit that there were a few times when she hadn't been the brightest. She had done things in the past that proved so. She just couldn't be near Nate and the only reason that made sense to her was because she was going to get hurt, all over again.

Blair cursed and picked and schemed. She got what she wanted after her much hard work. Sometimes she liked to think that was what Nate once loved about her.

The third snowfall of the season was trickling outside when Blair received the call.

–

"Are you..." she stalled, obviously unsure of how to continue. Nate had yet to look at her. "Are you alright?"

When Blair first heard the news of Nate's accident she stayed absolutely still. Almost as if there was a sudden chance that if she didn't respond, it wouldn't be true. Maybe if she didn't say anything out loud or if she didn't make any sudden movements for the door then maybe, just maybe, Nate wouldn't be in the hospital.

Was Blair kidding him? He was terrific, aside from feeling that a hole had clobbered straight through him. Nate wished he hated her enough to voice his thought out loud. He was always so weak in front of her presence.

"Fine."

Blair answered for herself, gravely taking a seat in the chair perched adjacent to the hospital bed. Except there was so much more she wished she could tell him but couldn't. Such as how vaguely Nate's predicament mirrored his father's condition years ago. Blair had to bite down on her tongue so the words 'like father, life son,' didn't slip from her mouth. Instead she was just glad he, himself, didn't overdose as she silently reached for his hand.

Frankly Blair was surprised that she was upset. For the past five years she was completely absorbed in hospitals like this one, therefore it was ironic how she suddenly couldn't get used to the atmosphere all of a sudden. The haunting white walls; creaking beds; windows that had the worst view possible, making the patients feel as if they were imprisoned.

Nate couldn't remember her hand being this soft or warm. It sent a slight shock through his arm enough for him to jolt up in bed, but Nate stayed stiff, rigid almost, still not giving her the satisfaction of looking her in the eye. He didn't want to give in.

"Nate, despite of what you may think of our friendship or – " she broke her sentence off for a few seconds, taking a small, deep breath, "whatever, you can still talk to me and tell me what happened."

And what? Have him rely on someone else to give him the strength that he had always needed? Nate's lips twisted into something not quite a sneer, but something close. To give him...comfort? He had managed all these years by himself, Nate didn't see why he needed her now.

"Look," Blair sighed, staring at where their fingers intertwined. "I'm not going to pretend I know what you're thinking. I spent too much of my life contemplating that I knew everything about you when I didn't. I don't have any hope to understand you again and–"

He had to put and end to this, so he spoke out for the first time during her visit.

"I don't need you you, Blair." Nate spat, hoping to see how her insides would carve up if he would make the words a little sharper. This was what he was. This was what he had become. "I don't need you and I don't want your pity. You have nothing for me."

(So much for him being weak. Right.)

Nate felt her sink heavily forward in her chair, leaning over ever so slightly with an expression reflecting hurt and betrayal on her face. He could almost feel her warm breath move past her lips and hit his cheek, like some sort of mockery of what her hand should have done.

She gave him the hardest look she could muster at the moment before yanking her hand forcefully from his. Blair pushed her chair back and rose, sending him a final teeth-clenched glance before marching out of his room and slamming the door behind her.

If she had nothing for him, than he had even less for her.

–

A flash of remembrance crossed his face after he flinched once the door shuttered against its frame. Not too long ago, Blair was seated in front of him, looking even smaller and more vulnerable then she was in high school, when all he did was shun her.

Nate cursed himself silently before letting his head hang back onto his pillow.

Up until a few months ago, he had spent more time with her than he probably had towards the end of their relationship. And then, all of sudden Blair stopped returning his calls and he would rarely see her. At first Nate thought he had done something wrong. Perhaps he repulsed her to some extent that Blair didn't want anything to do with him. Nonetheless he couldn't find figure out exactly what he had done. To be honest, Nate had gone a few extra miles to impress Blair, because it was universally known that Blair didn't expect anything less than perfect.

And it was a strange feeling because when they were together, he hadn't gone so far to spent an extra ten minutes finding something remotely appropriate to wear in front of her or to spend a few more dollars on a set of hydrangeas. In fact, Nate couldn't remember the last time he had been so keen in Blair's interest which only made everything he thought he had known about her shift into a sudden need for him to know more.

But then she untangled herself from him without a word or an explanation and Nate was tossed back into isolation, the same sort of loneliness he felt after her scandal with Chuck in junior year. The sort he tried to smother with Catherine, then Vanessa and finally Jenny, and in their own way they gave him company but it wasn't enough. What he needed was Blair, but he wasn't enough, he finally understood.

That was what lead him to becoming infatuated with Blair when he saw her again after returning to New York from California. Everything about her, the way she dressed and did her hair, the way she smiled and walked with superiority, it made his physical attraction to Blair swell. Nate was finally happy again that he had reconciled with her, which only made his mind stir as to how he had gotten along for nearly eight years without a friend like her.

It was frustrating at times, because when he would secretly reach for Blair's hand, she'd silently move it across her other arm. The only thing more frustrating was knowing that she hadn't done it on purpose. Every failed attempt would mock Nate, distracting him for some time before he would try again.

When Nate greeted Blair, he'd ask her how she was doing after a subtle "hello" or "how are you?". He regretted it every time. However, he had never always said the sweet things that entered his mind every time he saw her. Not then and not now. He couldn't for the simple fact that then she would be chased away.

Nate wasn't a fool. Yes, he had been confused for a good fraction of his earlier life, when he didn't know right from wrong. It was just sometimes he did the wrong thing for the right reasons. Nathaniel Archibald might have, a tiny bit, loved Blair Waldorf, still he knew his feelings weren't reciprocated.

Blair had made it pretty evident once she had broken all contact from him.

Except now, a couple of days after being struck by a cab while aimlessly crossing 42nd street, Blair Waldorf came face to face with him, only because Nate was confined to a hospital bed for a week. It all made sense because she pitied him. Pitied him, Nate Archibald. Pitied him for being in the minor accident. Pitied him for being in the hospital for a week. Pitied him for having no one else.

No thanks, he didn't need her pity. He just... he needed her.

Damn Blair for feeling as though their friendship wasn't sincere. Damn Blair for believe him when he told her he didn't need her. Damn Blair for not having any hope for understanding him. Nate just needed her to try. That was what she would have wanted him to do, so why couldn't she do the same for him?

–

Blair could not stand the thought of him. Yet, his face was the one that haunted her and his name was the one that slipped from the confines of her unwilling lips during her dreams, Blair had began noticing.

Sometimes she wondered if Nate noticed the way her eyes strained to find him in a crowded room, or the way that the sight of him was enough to send her images that would never be obtained. There were times when Blair caught him staring. Times when he stared as well and when their eyes met she was lost for a split second until he turned away. Nate was always the first to look away and Blair didn't know why.

She watched herself in her vanity mirror, this time it wasn't a dream, except it was being played out as the ones that haunted her every night.

Blair knew that it was pointless because something deep down told her that nothing about her appearance was flawed.

And it was times like this when she just wanted to break down in front of him. She just wanted to tell Nate how much she missed him and how she wished that things were different. Blair just wanted to bawl with tears, shriek at him, wishing he hadn't slept with Serena and wishing that she hadn't agreed to Chuck's proposal of taking her home in his limousine. If she could, Blair would tell Nate that she wished he wasn't the one she couldn't have.

However Blair couldn't bring herself to say any of those things.

Though she thought she might want Nate Archibald, she knew that she didn't need him any longer.

She was Blair Waldorf and she was going to survive.

–

Nate didn't know whether to feel awed or disturbed by the fact that he still knew so much about Blair. The way her hair fell around her gorgeous, porcelain face as she cocked her head in disgust at some ridiculous thing someone might say. Or the way he nose scrunched up as she laughed at some mindless quip. Or how her eyes, and how they still didn't fail to captivate his sense.

And after everything, he blamed her for it all. Nate blamed her for making him feel this way. If she weren't so beautiful, if she wasn't so considerate to the ones she loved, if she wasn't so god damn perfect for him in every way imaginable, then perhaps her image wouldn't cloud his vision every where he went.

But now, Nate refused to admit that he was infatuated with Blair Waldorf, because he would not admit defeat. And God, has she defeated him. Captivated him. Ruined him. Captured him. And all the other phrases that would never explain just how much she had fucked him up.

Maybe that is why he was so harsh with her. Maybe that was why he said the things he said and did the things he did, because he couldn't bare the thought of admitting to his own ruination.

He was better than that and he would be honest with himself.

Infatuated with Blair? No. He was in love with her for sure.

–

"What are you doing here?"

Blair had expected her voice to be malicious, deathly even. Any type of tone that would illustrate how displeased she was. Yet the words came out uneven and in a defensive manner and Blair knew that she would break any minute.

She was the mirror and he would always be the fist.

"I need to talk to you," mumbled Nate, a pensive expression flooding down his face.

He had lied in bed awake for many countless nights thinking of this moment because he could not put his need for her to rest. Iniquitous images of her legs wrapped around him and his lips upon her neck fluttered into his restless mind and they were enough to keep sleep away from him for hours.

And in the end, Nate was disgusted. Disgusted that this goddess of a woman had broken down his defenses all over again. Disgusted at the fact that even if he did ever get to make love to her again it wouldn't be enough. It would never be adequate because it was not just her body but her heart that bound him to his solitariness.

Blair didn't reply. Instead she let silence engulf them as the room lay silent around them too, beckoning for Nate to continue.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized, his eyes clouded over with a look of shame.

"For what?" But Blair knew. She knew exactly what he was being sorry for, she wanted to hear him say it.

"For not appreciating you enough and taking our friendship for granted. For not being thankful for how much you care. I'm sorry for being a jerk and telling you that you didn't have anything for me," answered Nate, his blue eyes glancing over at her, "Blair you do. You have everything I could ever need. And... I'm sorry I tried putting this wall around us so we couldn't be closer. I'm sorry for everything."

Blair wanted to smile. She really did. She wanted to thank him and invite him to sit down, perhaps she could make him a cup of coffee. God knew when Dorota would be back from her vacation and the replacement had been sent home due to the worsening winter weather conditions. Plus, something about making it for him herself sent a familiar chill up her spine.

Unfortunately, Blair soon realized that this was one of those rare moments when Nate's words hadn't made such an impact.

"It's too late for your apology," replied a frustrated Blair, who sauntered off across the living room towards the wide window. Heavy snow was now beginning to pile up on the streets below, indicating the storm meteorologists were warning about for the past couple of days had finally arrived.

She didn't even have to turn around to be aware of Nate's hurt face.

And perhaps she was wrong all along. Perhaps she really was the iron fist in her dreams and Nate was the mirror. If she was wrong about this, Blair didn't want to imagine what else she could be wrong about. She didn't want to give into Nate for him being the helpless one of them two; the one that was always pushed aside.

Nate made no effort to come closer and for a minute Blair was grateful, considering she might break at any moment. She closed her eyes shut and placed the palm of her right hand on the cool glass. The cold calmed her aching, heated nerves. After what seemed like days, she began to get curious of why Nate hadn't said anything, so Blair peered over her shoulder and it was then that she realized that he was gone.

A twinge of pain shuttered though her until she felt his presence next to her. Blair looked over and there he was, just a few inches away from her left, looking at the unrestrained weather out the window as well.

Blair felt her heart rate increase until it began pounding in her ears, overriding the sound of the blistering winds outside. She couldn't bear to relive the experience. She had done a good job of self pity and denial, why stop now?

"Blair." Nate turned to her, saying her name so simply he was surprised that he hadn't said it once in so many long years.

"Go away Nate," she stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. The temperature had dropped, suddenly leaving her parched for warmth, "I want to be alone."

He didn't listen. Instead, Nate advanced in her direction, knowing that she had no where to go.

Every time he had told her he was happy, it had been a lie. A lie to cover up the sick truth that he would do anything for her. Anything to have her. Because Nate wasn't happy. He was far from it.

All those years ago when he had to watch with disdain and jealously as Blair's slender arms would wrap around his best friend's neck, Nate had always felt like something was breaking inside of him. When she would kiss Chuck he would convince himself that Chuck didn't deserve Blair. And then Nate would realize that he didn't deserve her either.

Blair had him waiting then and she had him waiting now and he just couldn't let her go. He couldn't leave her.

"Is that what you really want?" he asked solemnly, waiting patiently, his hands finding their way into his pockets.

She could have lied. Blair was good a lying. She had lied before and she would lie again. Although that was the case, Blair couldn't bring herself into lying this time.

"No," she shook her head, feeling a silent sob rack her insides because it was true. Nate had cursed her. He had bewitched her and Blair knew that she always felt this way.

There was a pause.

"Well Blair, what do you want?" Nate demanded. He was afraid, so hurt by her lies, he just wanted to know her again.

He had wondered if Chuck had ever heard his girlfriend's name slip from his mouth during one of those rare nights after they would hit a party and Nate would end up crashing at his best friend's place. Would Chuck have been angry with him? Would he have beaten him till every bone in his body broke? And the scenarios just kept rolling and somewhere in his mind he wished Chuck would have heard Blair's name because Nate needed to have some kind of sense beaten into him.

Blair closed her eyes, trying to prevent a tear from slipping down her face. Because the last thing she needed was to cry in front of Nate. Instantly, she whispered, "I don't know."

And this too was the truth because in amidst her god awful nightmares of self pity and desolation, she wished she had different dreams.

Blair wished she could dream of what it would feel like to entwine her tongue with Nate's, just once more. She wished she could envision running her fingers through his soft hair, back and forth along his spine as she would arch accordingly to his touch. Blair wished she could fantasize about wrapping her legs around his waist as he steadied her against his bedroom wall. She wished that for once she could have a dream where her hand wasn't covered in shards of glass, but instead it was holding onto Nate' as the only thing that could be heard were moans and gasps caused by them.

Dreams, Blair understood, were wishes your heart made. But not all dreams came true.

Especially this one.