Title: "40 Day Dream"

Author:Lila

Rating: Light R for language

Character/Pairing: Serena, Serena/Tripp, Serena/Nate

Spoiler: AU post-"The Last Days of Disco Stick" but minor spoilers for all aired episodes

Length: Part I of III

Summary: When her affair with Tripp turns sour, Serena has to learn to save herself.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing them for a few paragraphs.

Author's Note: Having written Blair, Chuck, and Nate several times in this fandom, it finally felt time to take on Serena. She's my least favorite of the Four, but no less important and it took some dirty mistress action on her part for me to dig into her head. I started this fic well before the fallout of her affair with Trip and then put it on hold when canon diverged so far from my original plan, yet I came back to it this weekend and decided that while I can't match canon, I can put my own spin on what might have been. Title courtesy of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes. Enjoy.

It starts with a lie (hers, Maureen's…it stops mattering after the first martini is poured).

The line isn't blurry.

She just gets tired of doing the right thing.

---

They don't make love.

He kisses her, hard and hot, unzips her dress and fucks her on a desk bearing his wife's portrait.

The photo falls to the floor with an angry crack and she imagines the glass shattering the way his marriage did.

She smiles, digs her fingers into his hair, and draws his mouth down to hers. It's dark in his office but there's moonlight and the glow of the hallway lights and his wedding ring still manages to gleam gold.

It hurts her eyes so she closes them, out of sight and out of mind.

His hands still on her hips and he asks once, "Are you sure?"

She nods and his hands cup her face, the metal of his wedding band cool against her heated skin as he breaks the last barrier.

He's buried deep inside her, stretching her open and splitting her wide, but she's never felt more empty.

---

"Tell me something I don't know," he says one afternoon, propped on his elbow in a hotel bed beside her, the gold of his hair hiding the gold of his ring.

She shifts, pulls the sheets to cover her breasts, and turns to face him. He smiles down at her and his eyes are soft and warm. She feels safe, protected, because she knows what's at stake. A career, a district, a future, and it all hinges on her. She smiles back and tells the truth. He's risking everything to be with her; what's a little honesty going to do? "I've never been with someone who loves me for me."

He looks sad but he does little more than reach out to brush her hair from her face.

She keeps smiling even as she waits for the words that never come.

---

He gives an interview on NY1 and she watches in this office, propped on the desk they christened that first night.

There's a rustle of papers beneath her thigh and she shifts, pulls them out of the way.

It's a list of notes she meticulously took, research she gathered, responses she scripted. Onscreen, she watches him laugh, answer a question she didn't write and cite evidence she didn't find.

There's a photo of his wife on the desk, a new frame for a new beginning, and it pokes painfully into her hip.

She crinkles the research he never planned on using between her fingers and her heart thuds painfully in her chest. She knew he didn't hire her for her brains, but she didn't think she'd be the butt of a joke either.

She keeps her eyes focused on the screen and wills herself not to cry.

---

She finds out she's pregnant on the Monday before Christmas.

She doesn't call him.

There's speeches to give and babies to kiss and a wife to stand by his side every step of the way; there isn't room for her in this world.

She calls Blair instead.

"I'm late," is all she says and even though she can't actually see Blair, the crease forming between her brows and the disapproval in her eyes is clear as day.

"Okay," Blair responds, the lecture surprisingly absent from her words even though a month ago she threatened to walk out of her life forever rather than spend eternity cleaning up her messes. "We'll figure this out together."

She hangs up and curls into a ball in the privacy of Blair's blue bedroom, knees drawn to her chest.

She's never been the brightest bulb in the room but the irony isn't lost on her.

---

They learned their lesson the last time and send Dorota on a day trip to Greenpoint.

Three hours later Blair is pacing in her blue bedroom and she's staring at two pink lines winking at her from the marble of Blair's sink. She remembers the last time they did this, how Blair took the test alone, and she's grateful for the friend waiting on the other side of the door.

"Well?" Blair asks and uncrosses her arms, her face narrow and pinched as she awaits the results. Still, her eyes are kind, like his that first night, and something squeezes inside Serena's chest; she knows it's more than the tears she's trying not to cry.

"Two lines," she whispers. "Oh my god, what am I going to do?"

A slender arm circles her back and they sink to the floor, backs arching against Blair's silk comforter. "Shh, shhh," Blair whispers and strokes her hair. "I'm going to help you through this the way you did for me."

She's given up trying not to cry and Blair's a little hazy when she raises her head to look at her, but she's mostly surprised by the tears glistening in Blair's eyes. "Why are you crying?" she asks.

Blair sniffles a little and shakes back her curls to get it together. "I can't believe I ever tried to walk away from you. The thing about friendship is, you're there through the good times and the bad. This is bad, Serena, really bad, but you need me the most. I'm here for you, whatever you need."

"Can you just be my friend?"

They crawl into bed together, the one Blair called home for eighteen years and the one she calls home now, and she cries because she's stupid and she's sad and she's screwed up again. Gabriel, Carter, even Dan – she's always hitched her horse to the wrong wagon.

Blair wraps her in her arms and doesn't let go.

---

She tells him on Christmas Eve.

The office is mostly empty but he's working late and a knowing smile curves his lips as she walks in, skirt short and heels high. This is how it's always been between them; no need to change things now.

"Shut the door," he says as a greeting and she kicks it closed behind her, the way she always has, but surprises him by settling into the seat opposite his desk rather than spreading her legs on top of it. The picture gleams in the fading sunlight but she can't see his wife's face. She's thankful. She might hate that traitorous bitch but she doesn't think she can do this while facing her, even the ghost of her.

"You look upset," he says and seems confused, because she's Serena Van der Woodsen and she's all blond hair and booze and boobs and there's never been anything complicated about her. The rules have always been his to set; she knows he doesn't want to change them.

"I'm pregnant," she says and the confusion disappears from his face to be replaced by horror. This wasn't what he signed up for; wrecking his career was never supposed to be part of the deal.

He surprises her though. He doesn't yell and he doesn't blame her. He doesn't channel his grandfather and ask her to get rid of it but he doesn't offer to leave his wife either.

It feels like hours have past even though she knows it's barely been five minutes before he gets out of his seat and comes to her, perches on the edge of that desk and stares down into her eyes.

"Are you sure?"

She can't talk but she can nod.

There are barely six inches of space separating them and she aches to touch him, for him to touch her, to take her in his arms and tell her it will be okay. She longs for him to tell her he's happy, happy to be having a baby but especially happy to be having a baby with her. She wants to be anyone but Serena Van der Woodsen because she knows this isn't Blair's life; she knows she's not going to get any of those things.

One hand reaches out, but he doesn't reach for her; he reaches for his phone.

---

They're sitting in silence when Nate arrives an hour later.

He makes excuses – it's Christmas Eve, he's supposed to be with his family. She tries not to shudder as that word – family – bites right to the bone.

Nate takes the chair beside hers and stares at his cousin on the other side of the desk. "Why so serious, everyone?"

There's a smile in his eyes to match the one curving his lips and if the bottom hadn't just fallen out of her world she thinks she might smile back. Instead she says nothing, teeth cutting into her lower lip to keep from screaming or crying or hitting someone. She's Serena Van der Woodsen; she watches her world fall apart around her and doesn't lift a finger to stop it.

Tripp's the first to speak, his teeth flashing in the dim light. He smiles, his politician's smile that says "I'm sorry" and "I'm in trouble" all in one curve of his mouth. "I'm going to need you to rescue me again, Nate."

Nate's eyes round a bit but his smile doesn't fall. "What happened? Did Maureen tell the truth about the Hudson Hero?"

Tripp shakes his head and the smile doesn't leave his face but his eyes tell a different story; he wants this mess to be anything but what it really is. "Serena's in a bind – "

"I'm pregnant," she cuts in before he can say more. He might be from politics and she might be from the Upper East Side but she's tired of the half-truths.

The smile disappears from Nate's face but worse is the look in his eyes. She has to look away because she can feel the disappointment there in her soul. It's a long moment before he speaks and when he does his voice is steady but he stares straight ahead, a blank expression plastered across his face. "How can I help?"

Tripp lets out a deep breath and his smile widens. "I was hoping you would say that. We're going to need you to take responsibility."

Nate's eyes drift closed and he swallows heavily. "Of course."

"Nate," Serena breaks in. "This is ridiculous. You have your own life. You don't need to save the day this time."

He finally looks at her and his eyes aren't the warm blue she remembers. They're cold and empty and match the tone of his voice. "Actually, I do." He turns to Tripp and it's only when they're looking at each other head on that the practiced smile leaves his face. "If I do this for you, Tripp, you had better never ask for anything ever again."

Tripp doesn't respond but he does nod and reaches across the desk to shake Nate's hand, seal the deal, shove another blight on the Van der Bilt name under the rug.

Serena keeps her eyes focused on the gilded gold of Maureen's portrait, tunes out the lie that will probably sink them all.

They never once ask Serena what she thinks or what she feels. They don't remember that this is happening to her too. When it's over and the particulars are all worked out and her future has been decided by people other than herself, Nate rises and reaches out one hand to help her to her feet.

She doesn't say a word of protest. She's used to men determining her fate.

---

She's not sure what to say to him on the ride home.

He sits beside her, close enough to touch but a million miles away, his profile like carved stone as he stares into the bright lights.

"Nate…" she tries and slides her hand across the worn leather to grasp his. He doesn't push her away but his fingers don't wrap around hers either. "You don't have to do this," she says again. "I'll figure something out."

He laughs, bitter and without humor, and pulls his hand away. "Let's not fool ourselves," he bites out. "Blair's the one with the brains." He leaves it unsaid what she has to offer.

She slinks back against her seat, fingers clasped tightly over her abdomen. It's flat, like it's always been, and she still can't believe there's something alive in there. She's never been able to take care of herself let alone another human being. She's never had to take care of herself. She's not sure she's ready even now.

"Nate," she whispers, tries to jump start the conversation, but her words die at the sudden storminess in his stoic expression. He's supposed to be her Nate but in the dim glimmer of the streetlights he looks like every black knight whisking her further and further from grace.

"I told you I loved you," he says quietly and his words cut right through her, precise and even like the lines that took Pete Fairman's life. "I told you I loved you and you ran off with my cousin." His eyes linger on her stomach, bright red nails catching the tarnished glow. "Now you're having his baby and you think I'm okay with it?"

"But you said – "

He smiles but it's cold and empty and nothing like the Nate she remembers. It's like looking into Chuck's face, the cheshire grin curving his lips in a mocking smile right before he tried to kiss her, use her, and she can't withhold the shudder. "I'm a loyal soldier, Serena, but it doesn't mean this doesn't hurt. I'll help you the way I've always helped you, but right now, can you just not talk?"

She slumps back against the seat in silence, closes her eyes to block out the deadness in Nate's. It's not the first time she's ruined someone else's life, but she presses a hand to her still flat belly. She hopes it's the last.

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