Collection Title: Diamond Dust and City Lights

Author: Zee

Piece Title: Sixteen Headbands

Fandom: Gossip Girl [TV]

Characters/Ships: Blair Waldorf, Eleanor Waldorf

Word Count: 2,392

Spoilers: None!

Rating: G

Summary: A birthday fairy gives Blair the one present her mother never could.

Notes: The title corresponds to the movie, Sixteen Candles, and is not actually a result of my inability to do basic math.

Disclaimer: As always, I am neither the CW nor Cecily von Ziegesar, so I own nothing but the story itself. : )

Blair could not remember a single time when she had her mother's attention all to herself. It seemed that, from the day Blair was born, Eleanor Waldorf had proved that she had all the makings of a top high-class fashion designer and none of the makings of a caring and devoted mother who could, or would, unconditionally love her daughter. Blair had even heard rumors that hours after she had been born, her mother had taken it upon herself to meet with a few clients who were not wholly convinced that the Waldorf line was what they wanted to display in their upcoming fashion show.

Blair was thankful, to a certain extent, that her mother seemed unable to survive without working or designing something - after all, none of the other children at the unreasonably expensive pre-kindergarten preparatory school that Eleanor had enrolled her in could really say that they were wearing an original piece made by their mother and that the piece probably cost more than a working class family earned in two weeks time – but her father had always certainly managed his career as a nationally acclaimed fashion photographer while still making her feel like his little girl. And that's what Blair always had been - Daddy's little girl. As she grew older and her own body matured, she came to look more and more like her mother, but that hardly mattered to her. While Harold Waldorf always had been, and always would be, Daddy, Eleanor Waldorf had never been, and probably never would be, anything more than a cold and distant, Mother.

Not that Blair hadn't tried to develop a relationship with her mother. In fact, Blair couldn't remember a time when she hadn't tried and certainly couldn't remember a time when Eleanor Waldorf hadn't ended those efforts with a cold smile and a thoughtlessly critical comment. Oh sure, sometimes she did something right. When she wore an Eleanor original to a party or brought back perfect grades from school. Every once in a while when she showed her mother glowing comments that her preparatory school teachers had made on her grade report or commendations that had been given to her at a philanthropic event that she had helped host. Every so often, her mother would give her a smile that didn't seem completely frozen and Eleanor had, once or twice, even brushed the top of Blair's head lightly, as though she could symbolize a kiss or a hug without giving one at all.

Those were the few times that Blair thought that maybe, just maybe, Eleanor Waldorf actually did think of her as her own daughter and that, maybe, she actually did love her, to some extent. There would never be the same degree of affection shown towards her that Harold bestowed; no welcoming hugs or proud kisses or winks when she had done well, but it was all of the affection Blair could ever hope to receive, so she never did deceive herself by hoping for any more.

/

Blair selected the lavender headband today. It was made of pure silk and had a sweet little bow fastened to the side of it. The headband complemented her dark Valentino dress perfectly. It was her birthday and she had invited Nate and Serena and Chuck and Isabel and Kati and a few others who had merited an invitation from Blair Waldorf herself. The evening would go absolutely perfectly. Nate would come bearing a present, as any good boyfriend should, and Serena would come with a grin on her face and lots of wishes of Happy Birthday, B!, as any good best friend should, and the rest would show up and want nothing more than to live a day in the life of Blair Waldorf. And while the catered food would, undoubtedly, be delicious and the decorations would be perfect and the atmosphere just right, Blair knew that the perfect birthday and the perfect evening began with the selection of just the right headband.

It wasn't a superstition, really. Blair knew better than to believe in superstitions—superstitions were the lower class's way of making themselves feel better that they hadn't been born into high society. No, what it was was a little bit of hope, a wish of the heart, and a birthday miracle. And it wasn't one that Blair Waldorf would ever forget.

She had been five years old. Well, to be more accurate, she had been four years and 364 days old and she would be turning five years old the next day. It was a strange age, really; old enough that she could later remember almost everything that had happened, but young enough that the memory was set in an atmosphere of mystery and magic. Either way, Blair Waldorf had been set to turn five years old. And neither of her parents had been in the country.

That night, Blair ate everything on her plate at dinner, finished reading from her first grade-level reader, took a bath all by herself, gave her nanny a hug, brushed her teeth, and was promptly in bed by 8 pm. She had been the perfect little girl, she reasoned, so her Mommy and Daddy would just have to come back for her birthday. She was positive that they would.

The next morning, Blair woke up bright and early, a grin on her face and hope in her heart. She had had a dream that her Mommy and Daddy had arrived from Paris that morning just for her birthday and since she had dreamt it, she knew that it had to be true. She rolled out of bed, went straight to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and washed her face, dressed herself in the birthday dress that Dorota had laid out for her, brushed her hair very very neatly, and even made the bed all by herself. Since her Mommy and Daddy were going to fly in just to spend time with her on her birthday, she figured she would be extra good and show them that they could count on her and then they would love her even more and probably spend at least a few more days with her before returning to Paris.

She skipped downstairs in her pink dress, her brown waves touching the top of her shoulders, and walked into the kitchen expectedly.

Only to find that it was empty.

Frowning, Blair turned on her heels and walked to the living room.

Once again, completely empty.

One by one, she checked each and every room, until there were no rooms left to check and her nanny found her red-eyed, with wet trails along her face, sitting alone in the corner of her play room.

"Miss Blair, your mother and father couldn't take time off to spend birthday with you," Dorota tried coaxing her out, but Blair refused to listen. "Please, Miss Blair. Miss Eleanor said to make special birthday breakfast for you and special birthday cake. And Miss Serena will come play later."

Blair shook her head and refused. Refused. Her mother hadn't told Dorota to do anything of the sort, she was positive. And if her Mommy and Daddy really didn't love her enough to spend her birthday with her, then she wouldn't have a birthday at all.

It took Dorota approximately one hour to realize that she would be getting nowhere with Blair. After a few more pleadings, she gave up and left, and then Blair was left all alone again, to sit in her play corner and wonder what she had done wrong to make her parents not love her.

At approximately 4 pm, Blair realized that she was cold and hungry and that her dress was wrinkled and that Serena was coming to play with her in an hour and that she should probably wear something pretty again because it was still her birthday. She stood up, shook her dress out, and sulked all the way back upstairs to her room. It was only when she had walked past her bed and was looking for another pretty dress to wear when she saw it.

There, on the corner of the dresser, was a small present that she hadn't seen this morning. It was a small box, covered in a lovely flowered wrapping paper and with a cute little bow on top. It was absolutely adorable and Blair found herself trembling as she neared it. It was a present! And on her birthday. She wondered if it was from her parents, but as she picked it up, she didn't see the letters that spelled 'Mommy' or 'Daddy'. Only her own name in a pretty cursive writing.

Wondering who it could have been from and why they hadn't written their names on it, Blair carefully untied the bow and neatly tore open the wrapping paper. Underneath was a slim, rectangular white box. Even more curious now, Blair took off the lid.

Inside the white box, on a bed of soft, cottony material, was a pretty pink headband. It was made of a really smooth and shiny material and had little sparkles all over it and it was the most beautiful thing that Blair had ever seen before. She carefully lifted it out of its box, eyes still wide with wonder, and slipped it onto her neck, before pushing it up and over her hair into place.

It was perfect and made her look just as pretty as she had that morning—maybe even prettier. Blair turned her head this way and that and every time the light caught on the sparkles, it glittered. She giggled a little and found that her eyes were wet again, but this time the tears weren't because she was sad. This time, she was crying because the birthday fairy had visited her and left her the best birthday present ever: a beautiful, perfect headband.

Blair smiled at her reflection in the mirror, admiring the lavender headband she was wearing. For ten consecutive birthdays after that magical one, she had kept receiving boxes on her dresser with headbands in them. She never could catch who was leaving them, no matter how many times she had pretended to be asleep when she wasn't or set Dorota on high alert. After a while, she had stopped trying, choosing, instead, to believe that there really was a birthday fairy leaving presents for her on the most special day of the year.

She made it a tradition to wear the headband she had received the previous birthday on her next birthday and plan her outfit accordingly. It was strange, really, how easily that worked out for her. Her mother always seemed to have a birthday outfit on hand that matched the color of her headband perfectly. Every year, it made Blair believe more and more that there really was someone or something out there watching over her and caring for her in a way that her mother never would.

Blair patted the lavender headband, courtesy of her fifteenth birthday, and finally turned away. She was a little disappointed that her birthday headband hadn't been sitting on her dresser this morning when she had awoken, but her mother and father had gotten in from Milan just last night and Blair had been up all night planning for the perfect sixteenth birthday party. She assumed that her fairy, like her, was just running a little late. In the end, though, she knew that her fairy wouldn't let her down; it was one thing Blair never lost hope in.

As Blair left her room, pleased that she could already hear Nate and Serena's voices downstairs, she noticed that her mother's door was open. It was odd, really, considering Eleanor Waldorf's bedroom door was never left open and, even more so because there seemed to be things left lying on the bed. Although Nate and Serena were waiting for her downstairs, Blair decided that a quick look into her mother's room couldn't hurt. Her mother's voice could be heard downstairs as well, so she certainly wouldn't be caught.

Raising an eyebrow, Blair walked into her mother and father's bedroom, staring quizzically at the mess. These seemed to be clothes strewn here and there and an unpacked suitcase on the floor. Her father's suits were splayed carelessly across the expensive mahogany chair to the side of his own dresser, and his shoes had been pulled out of their place in the closet. Frowning, Blair picked her way around some of the mess, wondering what on earth could have been going on. Her parents had recently returned from Milan, sure, but unless they were opting to throw out her father's closet and replace his wardrobe entirely, this was certainly strange. It wasn't unpacking, it was changing, and something about that made Blair feel incredibly uncomfortable.

She was about to pick her way through the room again to leave through the door when something small and white caught her attention. It was lying on the bed, under her mother's purse, and was shaped curiously like a box.

Blair stepped towards it automatically, her frown deepening and accompanying an anxious feeling in her stomach. It was a slim, rectangular box, not yet wrapped, with a dark navy bow, and her name written in a pretty cursive writing on top. She picked it up and swallowed, an eerie feeling making the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Slowly, carefully, Blair picked up the box that had been underneath her mother's purse. The box that had been so carefully placed in her mother's room, on her mother's side of the bed.

As she pulled off the top of the lid, she could feel her throat burning and her eyes watering. There, on a bed of soft, cottony material, was a bright, lime green headband.

/

Blair stood there for a minute, maybe. Or maybe it was two or three or ten or twenty. She wasn't sure, really, but suddenly she could hear her mother's voice calling up to her from downstairs.

"Blair! Your friends are waiting. Where are you?"

For a minute, Blair Waldorf could say nothing at all. Then, just as quickly, she set the lid back on the box, placed it under her mother's purse again, and hurried out of the room.

"Coming, Mother!"

Or Mommy. Either one, really.