Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This disclaimer will serve for all future chapters as well
A/N: This story came to me while I was waiting at the Laundromat. Oh Georgie, you silly silly character you.
If there was one thing that Georgina Sparks inherited from her business-savvy tycoon of a father, it was the ability to kick someone when she was down. From the moment she booked it from that God-forsaken bootcamp, G had been living it up. Booze, sex, drugs... and once she'd gorged herself and was satisfied, she sat down at her laptop and did some research just like she'd said she would when she asked her father for it. So maybe she may have said that it's for school, but half a truth is certainly better than what she usually dished.
She scrolled down a few useless entries (really, since when did anyone care about how desperate Hazel is?) until she struck gold. Gossip Girl never did disappoint her. Seemed like she missed a hell of a lot while she was gone. Ah, nothing brought a smile to Georgina's face like someone else's misery for a change, and lately it seemed like the Upper East Side had enough of that to feed a small country.
"... our condolences, Ms. Waldorf," she read aloud the last entry she found on her latest victim. She took a sip of her martini and twirled the glass slowly in her hand, an eyebrow raised and a tongue darted to the corner of her smiling lips. "Our condolences indeed."
She stared at her reflection in the mirror and wiped her eyes - something she had done entirely too much lately. Cyrus was wrong. She had waited, and waited, and waited, and not once did he return her frantic calls or texts. Even an 'I hate you' would provide the comfort that he was alive at the very least. But nothing. After everything they'd been through, this was what she got, this was what she had waited on and, to be honest, as she stared at her face completely devoid of makeup, she wasn't sure how much longer she would last.
The heaving had gotten painful and the acid burned her throat. It wasn't as bad as before, she told herself. She didn't do it quite as often. The rest of the time she had spent looking for Chuck and only when the search came out completely fruitless would she lose the will to resist.
School, on top of everything else, sucked out the remnants of her soul. It seemed like everyone wanted a piece of her when there was barely enough to stitch back together. Christmas holiday for everyone else was a reprieve. Time to regroup for the next semester. For Blair Waldorf, however, it meant preparing for the events of the coming six months. Last year, she was all aglow in her planning. Things were all right with her and Nate, she had reached a truce with Roman. She was right in her element as she planned the upcoming fundraisers and whatnot. It was a good escape from the fact that she was being blackmailed by him.
This year, however, all she wanted to do was look for Chuck. She didn't care that S had, once again, ditched her in her time of need or that Eleanor was on her honeymoon while she spent Christmas alone. All she wanted was for him to come home. Everything with school just forced her to put on her fake smile and talk to vendors she didn't care for.
It was all too much and something needed to happen. Anything. After all, it's like Hazels always says - beggars can't be choosers.
It felt pretty damn good to be back in the city, she must say. Las Vegas got old real quick, but it did serve her binging purposes well. She tapped her foot as the elegant elevator made its way up to the Waldorf penthouse. What could she say? She got down to business when it came to things like revenge.
All right, so maybe she stopped at a bar in Chelsea before making her way over. She was thirsty. Go ahead and sue.
Her whole being from her toes to the ends of her hair hummed in excitement as she tried to imagine the state that Snow White was in. The powers that be were practically begging her to take advantage of the situation. Damsel in distress left all alone to pine after her prince in the big city. What kind of self-respecting Big Bad Wolf would pass up on that sort of cosmic alignment?
It was a shame that Chuck had to be collateral damage in all this. Despite the hand that he undoubtedly had in her exile, she had a soft spot for the boy she deflowered at the tender age of eleven. Ah well, he would live, Georgina thought as she pulled off her shades. Snow White, on the other hand, she wasn't too sure about.
"Well, I can't say my feelings are hurt."
"That would require you to have feelings."
"Ah, so there's still some bite in you. Good." She wandered to the closet that contained enough lace to make her gag. "I was afraid that this was going to be no fun when I thought you were going to be some lifeless corpse crying in the dark. But no, this has been good for you. You lost some fat around your face."
"Too bad you didn't lose the ugly in yours." Blair sighed and watched her arch-nemesis flip through her dresses like they were besties. "Sparks, I don't have the energy to deal with you right now. What do you want and how did you get up here in the first place?" And really, she ought to be more cautious and defensive around the little witch, but her fatigue only allowed her to plop down on her bed.
"You mean Dorota? Oh, you know she's been afraid of me since I set her hair on fire by complete accident in the fifth grade." Blair scoffed. Nothing was ever an accident when it came to Georgina Sparks. Well, except maybe her birth. She was so sorry for the Sparks'. "Besides, sweetie. You didn't think you could just walk away from what you did to me unscathed, did you?" Georgina usually liked to attack with an element of surprise, but Blair Waldorf, she knew, was a formidable opponent. So instead, she decided to lay down the gauntlet.
"To be honest, you're the furthest thing from my mind right now." She ran a hand through her curls. "Look, just do what you came to do and be on your way. I'm a busy girl." She collapsed backwards on her bed in complete submission. She knew she couldn't handle Georgina on top of everything else so the sooner she got out of her life, the better.
"Don't you have anything short with sequins? Something fun?"
Blair shrugged, eyes still glued to the ceiling. "Not a whore."
Georgina blanched at a white lace number that must have been from the 1600s. She looked at the label on the dress: Eleanor Waldorf Designs. No wonder Blair thought that her mother hated her. She dug and dug until something shiny caught her eye - satin, cream, black lace, thin straps, mid thigh. Not the most scandalous thing she'd ever seen, but it would do for the prissy little princess. She threw the garment at the girl on the bed. "Here, put this on, we're going out."
Blair picked it up from the straps and looked at it. "Georgina, this is a slip."
"Good. Just slip into it and let's get out of here. The Eleanor-esque decor is starting to freak me out."
"I'm not running around Manhattan in my underwear, Georgina."
"Waldorf, it looks like a cute little party dress, all right? Now put it on, and we'll go out for a drink. I was going to come to torture you, but you're pathetic and I'm thirsty. Let's go. I'll get you so trashed that you won't even remember the poor little orphan."
Blair should have known better. She did, actually. God's answers never came in the form of Georgina Sparks. In fact mentioning his name in her presence would probably make her burst into flames. However, the idea of a moment's reprieve from thinking about him was so appealing that within ten minutes, she was out the door, dressed in a long coat, a slip, lace stockings, and a pair of 4-inch heels.
She would worry about everything else in the morning.