╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
— DAY SIX —
season one, episode four, part two

❝𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲...❞

─── • ───

⚠️ TW: mentions of physical abuse and addiction ⚠️

TONI SHALIFOE

"So you were out there all alone?" Agent Young questioned, and his partner shot him a warning look as they flipped through their notes, scribbling in the margins to keep track of the story as it unfolded.

"Sometimes being alone is safer," Toni frowned as memories of the island resurfaced, stirring an emotion within the pit of her stomach, unknown and persistent.

Faber shook his head, "That's not the conventional wisdom."

"Yeah, but when you're by yourself," Toni leaned against the table and rested her head on her palm, "you can only hurt yourself... I'd call that safer."

"You're talking about Blaire, aren't you?" Faber asked her thoughtfully, and Toni tensed at the name, furrowing her eyebrows. "Were you upset that she didn't choose to go with you? It sounded like you two were finally starting to get along."

"Yeah, we were," Toni let out a light, rueful laugh in spite of herself. "B-But I fucked it all up that day, like really fucked it up. Because that's just what happens when you're fucking self-destructive, isn't it? The people you love become collateral damage, even if you don't realize it until it's too late..."

─── • ───

Time had become nebulous, merging with drops of perspiration and sand underneath fingernails. Blaire and the others were just about finished illustrating the foundation of their shelter, which was to be created with pieces of driftwood and what they'd managed to salvage from some of the debris that had washed ashore from the wreckage.

"So were you bothered when your sister didn't pick you?" Shelby asked of Nora as they scribbled down their ideas in the Reid twin's notebook, far from the ears of Martha and Blaire, who were gathering the supplies that might've washed ashore.

"At first, maybe, but... not so much now," Nora admitted, her eyes drifting across the beach to where Rachel and Dot were lugging one of the bigger pieces of driftwood across the sand, both of them laughing as they pushed it towards the frame of their team's shelter. "It's nice to see her laugh," she told Shelby honestly. "She stopped doing that back home."

"That's really big of you," Shelby nodded in appreciation. "Which is more than I could say for some people..." she trailed off, and Nora noticed the way her eyes trailed towards a certain New Yorker.

"Did it bother you?" Nora raised her head and stopped her illustration of the shelter, her eyebrows quirked as she looked at Shelby. "Blaire not picking you for the teams, I mean."

Shelby jerked her head around abruptly, as though the gravity of the Reid girls words had caught her off guard, and Nora physically gulped, wondering if she had overstepped, overthought the lingering glances.

"No," the blonde eventually said, though her tone wasn't convincing in the slightest. "Why would it?"

"Because," Nora drawled out, "you two seem close. But, uh... I don't know, maybe I misinterpreted it. Earlier, I just noticed that you were a bit protective when Toni —"

"Toni was just pissy because Blaire didn't side with her," Shelby, who was so obviously annoyed by the encounter, ran her tongue over her top row of teeth. "And why would she? Unless I've missed something, Blaire doesn't owe her anything! Like, I just don't know what the hell Toni's problem is."

"You, uh, seem pretty angry," Nora pointed out.

"Oh, no, I don't do anger," Shelby waved her off, plastering a fake smile on her face. "Because I know the Lord expects us to be instruments of love."

"Right," Nora sat back on her heels after dusting the sand from her palms. "But, uh, maybe keep that in mind next time you get into it with Toni," she suggested softly. "Because if you're trying to, like, get on Blaire's good side, you should know she's not exactly one for conflict."

Shelby considered this for a moment before she tilted her head, "I didn't realize you two were so close."

"We're not, not really," Nora muttered nervously, her eyes avoiding. "But sometimes people talk, and I, uh... listen. Blaire's been through, like, a lot with her family, with her boyf—"

"Hey, check it out!"

Nora trailed off as Toni's voice rang throughout the campsite, signalling the others to follow the sound. Blaire looked up from the shoreline and watched as Toni made her way towards her and the others, her arms laden with dozens of branches and the pilot's axe. Her converse carrying her across the sand, Blaire went to meet her halfway, with Martha trailing behind her.

"You're back," Blaire breathed aloud as they drew closer, but Toni had yet to look in her direction.

"This is how our frame happens," the basketball player addressed the others with a smug look on her face, which seemed too much to Blaire's judgment. "We'll stick these in the ground and arch them in a row like a ribcage —"

"Toni, that's not what we're doing," Martha interrupted in a whisper, hoping the news would be swallowed easier if it came from her.

"Yeah," Nora stood and showed the illustration of the shelter in her notebook, "we decided that a lean-to design might be a little easier."

"So I just straight-up wasted my time," Toni's jaw tightened. "Who's fucking idea was this?" she asked hotly, her irritation mounting as she turned towards Shelby. "Was it yours?"

"Hey, we all decided this as a team," Blaire chimed in, and Toni's anger seemed to fade at the sight of the dancer's pleading eyes. "So just stop, okay?" she crossed her arms over her chest, her voice shaking ever so slightly. "There's no need to start pointing fingers."

Toni scoffed once again, her expression unreadable as she tore her gaze away, and Blaire knew she'd done the right thing, no matter how much it pained her to admit it. While her mind had been telling her to side with the girls, as they seemed to have good intentions and a solid foundation, her heart was still screaming at her for not choosing to defend Toni's hardwork.

"Can you just go with it?" Martha pleaded with her best friend, and Blaire became cautiously aware of how Shelby's eyes lingered on the side of her face. She was unnerved, watching the New Yorker like she was a burning building, contemplating Nora's earlier words.

"How about we just get to work, okay?" Shelby asked to diffuse the tension. "We need to get this finished before sundown."

"Whatever," Toni sneered, her insides still disrelishing.

Blaire slumped her shoulders at her tone, eyes gentle. The tips of her fingers met her lips out of stress, giving Toni the time to look towards her. Her eyes wanted Blaire's reassuring and affectionate attention.

That was what fucked everything up.

What the hell was going on?

─── • ───

"It always happens, doesn't it?" Toni let the question hang rhetorically in the air for a moment, both Faber and Agent Young unsure of where the conversation was heading. "People change on you, what you had with them goes sour... shit explodes," she let out another light, rueful laugh. "So the billion-dollar question is, you know, how are we such idiots? We keep doing the sad, stupid thing of letting people in. And thinking that this time, just this time... maybe it won't fall apart."

─── • ───

The sun had reached its apex in the cloudless blue sky, and Blaire found herself lost in her own thoughts as she tied pieces of driftwood together to make a slate for the roof of their shelter. She felt the aftershock of the crash finally starting to catch-up to her; not being able to save Jeanette, almost falling from the edge of the cliff, and even her fights with Toni left Blaire to bite the bullet of a reality check.

Her memories weren't helping either, especially when they filled her head with unworthy comparisons and troubling nonsense. Truth be told, Blaire hated sitting alone with her own thoughts because she never lasted long without overthinking, without trying to find reasons to blame herself for everything.

If only she knew what she was doing wrong...

Maybe if Blaire understood that, she could justify why she felt so drawn to Toni on the island, why her father made her come on the retreat, why she'd been stupid enough to leave her sister behind, why Finn never showed her the love she deserved —

Blaire hadn't even realized that she had been standing idly on the shore, drowning in her own thoughts, until the distant mumbles of Martha and Shelby's conversation pulled her from her own reverie.

"We'll have to make a special trip to Waco," Blaire overheard Shelby telling Martha, and she internally hoped that this wasn't some deranged effort to provoke Toni, who still wore the look of irritation as she tried to build the foundation of the shelter Nora had drawn.

Blaire stood nearby, having finished her task earlier than the others, and watched as Nora paced the sand anxiously to check that the illustration was coming to life the way she imagined it. Shelby, who was knelt in the sand a few yards away, was cuddled up close to Martha as they discussed their hypothetical trip to Texas if they were to ever make it off the island.

Their laughter carried across the camp, and from where she was, Blaire could see the hotheaded temper ignite in Toni's eyes at the sound.

"Are you serious?" Martha asked, eyes wide with serotonin at the thought.

Shelby nodded, "Wouldn't that be so much fun?"

"Oh my God, yes! Just the two of us?" Martha practically beamed, and due to the fact that Toni's frustration became apparent in her work, Blaire knew exactly where the conversation was headed.

"Fuck!" Toni cursed under her breath, and both Blaire and Nora shared a look before approaching her.

From what Blaire could gather, one of the branches had slipped from Toni's hands when she heard the conversation between Shelby and her best friend. Their interaction provoked a response, and Blaire felt her shoulders tense as she braced for impact —

"Let me help you with that," Nora offered kindly, helping Toni pick back up the branch she'd dropped, trying to diffuse the spark of tension before it ignited.

"No, I've got it," the basketball player shrugged her off, though Nora appeared suddenly relentless as Toni kept trying to position the branch without success.

"No, I don't think —"

"Nora, I said that I got it!"

And just like that, Toni had snapped.

With a harsh nudge of her shoulder, she'd roughly pushed Nora to the ground and out of her way, making Blaire immediately react to help her friend stand upright again. Nora, who was somewhat stunned by Toni's attitude despite foreseeing her irritation, let Blaire pull her to her feet and steadied herself. Her eyes wide in horror, Blaire watched as Toni stopped struggling with the branch, her hands trembling with rage, before their gazes met in fear.

"Toni..." Blaire's voice cracked on her name.

Before the girl in question could give a response, the branch collided into the remnants of the shelter they'd created, and then knocked over the rest of the upright supports over with a loud CRASH! Martha and Shelby's heads had turned at the sound, and even the members of the opposite team had abandoned their own shelter to investigate the commotion on the other side of the beach, casting quite an eerie silence over the island.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Nora breathed aloud as the aftershock wore off, and Blaire felt a shiver run down her spine at the merciless expression in Toni's eyes.

"I said that I fucking had it!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I was just trying to help!"

And with that, Blaire's mind was running rapid with insufferable thoughts that had finally pushed her over the edge.

Blaire couldn't remember why she'd decided to get into his car after the party. Maybe it was her self-destructive behaviors ebbing up again. Maybe there was a part of her that still yearned for the Finn Hayward she once loved, but she knew now that he was just crafted to manipulate her.

Finn wrapped his hands around the steering wheel with such force that his knuckles had turned white, and Blaire felt that their conversation was bound to circle back to their feelings, to his internal aggression. These things always seemed to be brought up in his truck. It was as though the air just brought out their emotions, forcing them out into the open.

Truth be told, some deranged part of Blaire wanted Finn to want her, to need her, to think about her as much as she thought of him. She shoved that thought down deep though, burying it under all the other things she kept suppressed in her mind. There was now just anger bubbling up in the back of her mouth at the silence, burning her throat. With her arms crossed over her chest, the words were formed without much thought beforehand.

"He's just a friend, you know?"

The words tumbled out in a slurred speech, courtesy of the mixture of drugs and alcohol poisoning her system.

It occurred to her then, on the drive home in the dark, that Finn's demeanour had changed the minute he saw her dancing with Kofi in the midst of the drunken crowd. The simple two-step between them was harmless indeed, though Finn hadn't interpreted it that way. His jealousy had gotten the best of him, and before she had even realized what was happening, Blaire was being pulled from the party and shoved into the passenger's seat of her boyfriend's rundown truck.

Now, as her slight buzz began to wear off, Blaire wanted to confront him. She wanted her words to humiliate him as he had humiliated her in front of all her friends.

But all Finn did was let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh.

Blaire blinked at this response. There was a part of her that wanted him to start yelling. Because maybe if she pressed his buttons, she'd somehow be fulfilled or, at the very least, pretend that this was all worth something.

"You're so fucking infuriating," she spat angrily, digging her nails into her thighs, leaving small red crescents that would scar her legs later. "I'm trying to talk to you!"

Her mind was suddenly frantic, thinking of what Finn might say next.

Or worse, what he might do...

But again, Finn merely let out a bitter laugh and looked over at his girlfriend. His lips quirked up into a slight smirk, obviously proud for managing to make her upset.

"Oh, so now you want to talk?" he asked, his voice full of mock innocence. "Because it didn't seem like you were in the mood back there when you were grinding on Kofi like a two-dollar whore."

Blaire felt her jaw tighten a bit. Now, with her anger mounting, she longed to wipe that arrogant look off his face and wrap her hands around his neck, watching as that dumb smirk was forced to fade.

"I'm surprised you could see anything with your face between Madison Morgan's breasts," she bit the inside of her cheek, staring down into her lap. "So what, was me dancing with a friend somehow a blow to your massive ego? Because if it was, you're such a fucking hypocrite."

Finn didn't say anything, just let out a loud exhale and moved around in his seat. Blaire hoped he was as uncomfortable as she was, that there was a guilty weight in his stomach. She hoped his palms were sweating with anticipation for what was next.

It stayed silent for a few moments, just the rustling of the wind through the trees outside of the truck.

Finn laid his head back onto the headrest, almost casual. Blaire, on the other hand, had opted to try to distance herself as far as she could from him; she leaned her head on the window and pressed her body against the door. She could taste blood in her mouth now; her cheek was rough from how hard she'd been gnawing at it. Her reflection stared back at her through the tinted window, and she dared to ask herself where it all went wrong, realizing far too quickly that there was no answer to such a question.

Because even if she did know, what was the point?

There was nothing capable of taking her back to their happier times.

"What do you want from me, Finn? And I want a fucking honest answer from you," Blaire broke the silence, and her boyfriend glared at her, a judgemental look in his eyes. "One second I'm a two-dollar whore, the next I'm the love of your life. So tell me, what the fuck is it that you want from me?"

"What do I want from you?" Finn chuckled darkly, his eyes trained on her. "I want some fucking honesty from you, Blaire! I want to know that my girlfriend loves me as much as I love her!"

"You want honesty?" Blaire asked aloud in slurred speech, scoffing as she looked back at him. "When have I ever not been honest with you, Finn? Honesty has gotten us fucking nowhere, and why do you think that is? Because it doesn't matter how many times I tell you the truth, you'll still believe whatever it is you want to and put your fucking hands on me! Does that sound like love to you, Finn? Because if you love me as much as you claim to, you have a funny way of showing it."

Finn slammed his hand down repeatedly on the steering wheel, "You know I don't mean —"

"That's what you always say!" Blaire cut him off, rolling her eyes. "If you don't mean to do it, why does it keep happening, huh? Answer me, goddammit! Because I fear for my fucking life whenever I'm in your presence!"

"SHUT UP! Just shut the fuck up!"

And Blaire had no time to think before it happened —

Without warning, her head was slammed into the passenger window with such force that her vision became speckled, her mind disoriented. The blinking street lights slowly flooded back into her consciousness, and Blaire raised her hand to the side of her head as crimson blood coated her fingertips, noticing that the passenger window had cracked ever so slightly. Her eyes wide in horror, she turned slowly to look at Finn, who brushed an exasperated hand through his hair, and immediately unbuckled her seatbelt out of fear.

"Blaire, wait, I'm sorry —"

Finn Hayward pleading for forgiveness would almost be funny if it were real. Too bad Blaire knew better; this was just a manipulative ploy, some way for him to change her mind. She couldn't fall for his mind games, not again...

"Pull over," she demanded, her voice breathless and weak.

"Just let me take care of you, please."

"I said pull the fucking truck over!"

Blaire had screamed herself hoarse, and as Finn's mouth had opened to say something in retort, the words were lost as soon as his girlfriend opened the door and hopped out of the car, slamming it closed behind her, the sound echoing into the neighborhood. She walked back up the street in the direction of her house, not bothering to glance back at him. Breathing heavily, Blaire tried to calm the shakiness coursing throughout her body as she steadied herself against the white picket fence of her neighbour's front lawn.

The adrenaline rushed through her veins, and her heart pounded in her ears. For a moment, there was a part of Blaire that felt powerful in a way. Because she knew Finn wanted someone to control, and she wouldn't let him do that to her again.

But that moment was was quick to dissipate, fleeting under the flickering street lights. The revving sound of her boyfriend's car engine followed her as she walked, and Blaire could see Finn's truck taunt her in her peripheral vision. She gulped hesitantly, trying to walk faster down the sidewalk before she heard the car door slam again.

"STOP! You're being fucking ridiculous!"

Finn's voice had drawn closer with every step as he followed her on foot, yelling curse words and profanity at the back of her head until he gripped her by the shoulder, yanking her back and slamming her against the passenger door. His grip was rough and harsh, pressing her forcefully into the side of the car. Blaire tried to get him to let go of her, but that only led to him digging his nails into her skin; the dancer winced in pain which only succeeded in making Finn more angry somehow.

"Get back in the car," he snapped, growling into her ear with such conviction that his girlfriend trembled in terror.

"Th-There is something seriously wrong with you," Blaire screamed back at him, unaware of the compromised position of her ankle, which was caught on the underside of the vehicle. She hadn't realized what had happened at first, but when the piercing pain shot through her ankle, she let out an high-pitched scream and fell to the floor.

"I know," Finn aggressively pulled his girlfriend back to her feet, holding her tightly in his arms, grinning wickedly against her ear. "But right now, I'm just trying to fucking help... And you need me baby, whether you like it or not."

And without so much as a one-worded response, Blaire's eyes fluttered closed as she faded in and out of reality, with tears of absolution slowly trickling down her face as she found herself trapped within the tight, almost suffocating, confines of Finn's rundown truck again —

The tears remained stained on her cheeks as Blaire returned to consciousness, watching from a distance as Toni destroyed what was left of their shelter with a ferocious swing of the axe, hitting it over and over with such force that the sound carried across the beach like a gunshot.

Toni, who was so obviously blinded by rage, had felt her jaw tighten before she slowly became aware of what she had done. Her hand rose to cover her mouth, a sudden feeling of dread overtaking her as she turned and met the tearful eyes of Blaire, who looked on in horror and flinched as Toni dared to take a step towards her, realizing the traumatic pain she'd put her the dancer through.

"B-Blaire, I... I'm so—"

"Okay, you need to take it down a notch," Shelby's voice cut across her, and Blaire felt more tears fall as the blonde took a step in front of her, stopping Toni in her tracks. "Hey, you okay?" the blonde turned to Blaire, her eyes pleading. "I told you it wasn't just a mistake that day, remember? She just proved that."

Blaire's throat burned and closed up painfully. The other delegates fell into a deafening silence without anything to say, and Blaire felt compelled to let her converse carry her across the beach, rushing to get away from Toni's burning building of aggression.

The ashes were left for Toni to clean up. She watched as Blaire ran from her before shutting her eyes tightly, trying to get the sight of the New Yorker's horrified expression out of her thoughts. The weight of regret had solidified in her stomach, Toni knew, causing the reality of what she lost to feel bigger than anything.

Everything was fucked.

Her regretful eyes blinked, and Toni turned towards the direction where Blaire had ran off, wanting to explain herself desperately, only to become aware of the reproachful look her best friend, Martha, had also been sending her.

"Toni..." the Native American girl trailed off, unsure of what to say in her friend's defence. There was evident disappointment etched in her eyes, unlike the fear once seen in Blaire's, but Toni still felt heartbroken all the same. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, willing herself to keep her own tears at ease over the chaos she'd created.

The guilt, however, became far too overwhelming as Martha stormed off after Blaire, shaking her head, leaving Toni to deal with the consequences of her own mistakes for once. Shelby cleared her throat loud enough for everyone else to hear, and she joined Nora, who still had a guilty look on her face, as they walked over to the other side of the beach, the shelter building contest becoming a pointless effort now that everything was destroyed.

And Toni hung her head low, letting the tears fall.

─── • ───

"Well," Faber cleared his throat, trying to battle the silence at what he and Agent Young had been told in the interrogation room. "It sounds to me like it was a pretty unsettling loss of control —"

"'Control'," Toni cut across the counsellor with a rueful laugh, her guilt ebbing up again. "Adults love to throw that word around. They're always telling us to use it, not to lose it, to get ourselves under it. Like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like I could just take a deep breath or walk around the goddamn block. But every ignorant shit who's ever told you to get yourself under control should just try being young and scared with your heart on the line. Control's not easy. Control's a fucking fantasy..."

─── • ───

Blaire held her breath, sickened as she stared at the endless flow of water on the horizon in front of her. Her tears had left her eyes bloodshot from having cried so much that she couldn't see or breathe properly. For a moment, she pressed her devastated face into her palms which trembled along with her.

They were cold to the touch, just like how she felt.

The hot burn of her forehead, the throb in her head, the disgusting sweat she had everywhere from shaking so much for so long, and the lonely afternoon with only guilt and painful tears keeping her company, made it so Blaire could see the truth for what it was.

It killed her to admit that Toni had reminded her of Finn, of the brief intervals between the seconds where lightening struck, engulfing everything in flame.

It all sunk in, blazon and unashamed.

Blaire didn't figure it out. She only suffered from it.

Her fingers trailed down her face, her thumb grazing the bruises on her neck when she did it. The rustling of the wilderness behind her caused her chest to heave up and down nervously, and Blaire hadn't dared to turn around out of fear of whom she would lock eyes with.

"Hey, I don't mean to pry," the approaching voice startled her for a second, but Blaire quickly breathed out in relief as Martha stood alongside her. "But I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Blaire knew the answer, so she turned her head up to look into Martha's eyes that held weight. There was no audible response that Blaire offered, though she wiped the tears from her cheeks and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to pull herself together.

"I'm sorry about Toni," Martha broke the silence with a whisper, the crashing of the waves echoing around them. "There's not much else I can say other than —"

"I'm f-fine," Blaire sounded like she was about to burst out crying. She stayed silent, biting her bottom lip to keep it in for as long as she could, glancing away from Martha to control her tears. "Everything's fine."

"But it's okay if it's not," Martha pushed a little, not a single crack in her voice like how Blaire's came out. "And I'm here if you, like, need to talk about it."

Blaire sniffled again, "Thanks, Martha —"

"Marty..."

Toni had approached them from behind, leaving footprints behind her in the sand of the beach. Blaire didn't know what happened, only that she was faster than Martha and took a step towards the shore while the Native American rounded on her best friend.

"Don't," Martha raised a hand to Toni, silencing her with a tired glance. "Why can't you ever just walk away? Or run, even, you know? And not make your shit everyone else's problem? You ruin things! You destroy things! You break things!" She screamed in Toni's face, and Blaire flinched again. "And I'm done picking up the pieces for you. You're exhausting..."

The brutal rant made Toni's apologetic teardrops white-hot as they trickled down her face, slowly becoming aware that she'd gone too far this time. Martha turned to Blaire again and placed her hand on her arm in comfort, eyes showing care and patience. The two of them shared a look, nodding in silence, before Martha stormed off again, brushing past Toni in the direction of the campsite, having said her peace.

And now that only Blaire and Toni remained on the beach, there was a strained tension that hung in the air. Blaire had turned around at last, her gaze trained everywhere other than Toni's eyes. The realization that Toni had a temper just like Finn had surprised her more than it should of, and Blaire felt as though she'd taken ten steps forward, only to now have taken twenty steps backwards. She slumped her shoulders at the silence, her eyes glossed over with fearful tears.

Toni had guilt in her eyes, too. "I'm sorry," she choked out when the silence became too much to handle. "Blaire... fuck, I'm so sorry —"

"That first day," Blaire cut across her and took in a breath of air out of fear, holding herself. "After the accident with Shelby, do you remember what we talked about?" She gulped hesitantly. "Because I do. As much as I tried to forget it, I still remember every word. And for a second, just a second, I thought that maybe you were telling the truth, that maybe you'd be, like, the first person to actually understand —"

"And I do," Toni had her lips parted with stuck cries. "Maybe not the whole story, sure, because I never wanted to force you into telling me what happened. Because you have every right to keep your personal shit to yourself, Blaire." She voiced, never tearing her eyes away from her. "But, judging by the way you can't even stand to fucking look at me right now, I know you're upset with me — I know that I've fucked everything up, that I've scared the hell out of you. But please, you have to believe me, I meant what I said on the ridge, I'd never hurt —"

"But you'd hurt Nora?" Blaire's eyes had unbalanced questions, wanting to say more than she could handle. "And Shelby? And even Martha? What the fuck is the difference? How can I trust anything you have to say?"

If there was complete silence on the beach, both of them would've been able to hear Toni's heart falling and breaking on the ground. "The difference is they're not you," she admitted, and Blaire struggled to understand if it was genuine. "Because they haven't been through what you've fucking been through. They're not covered in bruises, they weren't —"

Blaire's heart sank as she muttered, "Abused?"

The word carried an unconventional heaviness as it lingered in the air, and Blaire realized it was the first time she'd ever said the word out loud to anyone. They looked at each other, sadness creeping behind both of their eyes for their own reasons, for maybe common reasons.

Her cheeks stained with tears, Toni dared to take another step towards the New Yorker, unsure of what to say to make everything go back to the way it was.

"Don't," Blaire warned her, her voice cracking as she raised a hand to halt Toni in her tracks. "I don't need you to feel sorry for me, all right? Or worse, pity me."

"I'm not pitying you, Blaire," Toni thought about her words carefully. "But I am sorry that those fucked up things happened to you."

"That's the problem, don't you get that?" Blaire breathed out, taking a step back and clearing her throat. "You don't get to just be sorry, Toni. Because when trust is broken, sorry doesn't exactly mean much, does it?" She asked rhetorically. "And yeah, you scared me today. Because the way you lashed out at Nora reminded me of him, of everything I left behind in New York. And now, as much as it hurts to admit, I don't know how to look at you and not see... him."

Toni paused her breathing to process her words, "But it's not like that — I'm not like that," she rationalized. "And you know that... I know you do. Please Blaire, why can't we just go back to the way things were?"

"Because I can't trust you anymore," Blaire's eyes laid low, her lips turned down, everything inside her frozen. "And I tried... I really fucking tried, Toni."

"Then I'll earn it back," Toni reached for her wrist, forcing Blaire to look at her. "And I know you don't like that promise shit or whatever, so just know that I'll do it, okay?"

"It's too late for that," Blaire pulled her wrist from Toni's grasp, resisting the heartbreaking need to leave before she regretted it. "Because Martha's right, and it's taken me too long to realize it. There's always going to be something that'll set you off, just like that. And I can't handle that, Toni... not again, not anymore."

Toni's breath caught, her eyes hardening, "So what does that mean?"

"It means that I can't be around you," Blaire tried to keep herself together, her words quiet and strained. "We'll be off the island soon enough, and that'll be the end of whatever the fuck this is."

Things got suddenly quiet and still.

"And y-you — what, you think avoiding me is going to magically fix everything?" Toni asked after a moment, her inhaled breath sounding like a gasp. "Please don't do this just to spite me, Blaire. We both know it won't solve anything."

"And fighting will?" Blaire challenged, her fingertips anxiously toying between the locket and 'B' initial necklace around her neck. "I'm not staying for that, for you. I mean it, Toni, this — this is too much."

Toni still couldn't understand. "I'm sorry, Blaire!" Her heart shook violently, her skin hot. "What the fuck am I supposed to do to fix this?"

But Blaire had already started walking away before Toni could even stop her, swallowing the lump in her throat, wiping away her tears.

"Figure it out," she trembled, not bothering to look back over her shoulder.

"Blaire, please!"

And all Toni could do was watch until Blaire had finally faded from her sights, trying to understand what she still couldn't.

─── • ───

The moon was pasted against the dark canvas sky, running so identically parallel to the ocean that the two surfaces appeared to blend together seamlessly. Dot's team had been crowned the winners of the shelter building competition after Toni's fit of rage, and everyone — except Toni, who never returned after her and Blaire's heated conversation — sat cross-legged in the tight confines of the canopy-like shelter they'd forged together.

Blaire, however, was not in the mood to talk to anyone and sat by herself a few yards away from the tent entrance, her face aglow from the light of the campfire. She hugged her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knee, her thoughts running rampant with gut-wrenching comparisons between Finn and Toni, comparisons she longed to clear from her mind.

"Well, it's humble, but it's home," Dot's optimistic voice graciously freed Blaire from her own thoughts, and the New Yorker listened from a distance as the delegates in the tent cracked open the valued bag of Takis."Here," the redheaded Texan offered the bag of chips to Shelby after grabbing a few for herself.

"That's all right," Shelby politely shook her head in refusal. "We didn't win."

"Who cares? We're all in this clusterfuck together," Dot shrugged and shook the Takis enticingly, and with a smile, Shelby took the bag, grabbing some for herself before offering them to Martha.

Blaire watched the flames of the campfire dance under the shimmering of the moon, trying not to let her thoughts wander with possibilities of where Toni might've been. With a shake of her head, she tiredly closed her eyes for a moment, ready to call it a night.

"All I taste is dry," Leah, who disappointedly glanced at the Taki bag now in her hands, wiped the red dust coating from her fingers as she chewed on a couple.

"Hey, mind if I have some?" Rachel asked from beside the brunette. "And I'll be careful not to make any sudden movements, you know? You might be pretty jumpy sitting next to a psychopath," she added, her tongue sharp with sarcastic wit, and Blaire was too overwhelmed with own misery to even begin to understand the inner turmoil of the other team.

Leah's glacial eyes flicked knowingly to Fatin, who was sitting idly at the end of the build alongside Nora, holding onto an empty can of Diet Coke.

"Does anyone have any spare drinks they could loan me?" The Pakistani-American girl asked. "I've officially tapped out."

"Dude, we're all running low." Dot's face was riddled with disbelief as she looked over at her friend. "You're supposed to manage your own rations."

"How'd you get so thirsty? It's not like you were exerting yourself," Leah took a subliminal jab, and Blaire found herself covering her ears in attempt to tune out any further arguments.

"It could be the sodium bicarbonate." Nora suggested innocently, taking some of the Takis for herself.

"You know what, I'm sick of hearing this shit." Fatin laughed dryly as she tossed her hands up in annoyance. "Let me ask you something, all of you! Whose hypoallergenic pajamas were shredded to bind together logs? And whose sweaters are keeping you ingrates from freezing?" She scanned the group of girls. "Some people provide goods. Some provide services. I'm a goods provider, therefore I get a pass on the services."

"That is such bullshit!" Leah snapped, tugging the front strands of her hair behind her ears. "You're a goods provider because you had the stupid good fortune to find your fucking bag."

"You need to get your fucking talons out of my back, girl. For your own health," Fatin warned viciously, sending Leah a glare before she turned towards the others. "Can I please just have someone's drink? A sip?"

"We vote," Leah decided, glancing over at Shelby as she took to the blonde's way of doing things. "Anyone who wants to give up a drink they saved for someone who did jack shit all day, raise your hand," she demanded, and sensibly, no one even lifted a finger.

"Oh my God," Fatin shook her head, having heard enough. "You know what? I'm out of here."

And with that, she pushed herself up and out of the shelter before stalking off towards the campfire, her eyes staring longingly at the Diet Coke cans that rested beside her as she sat down on her suitcase. Blaire raised her head when Fatin joined her, noticing the look of disdain etched on her friend's face as the others in the tent carried on with their meaningless conversations.

"You can have it," Blaire offered in a weak voice, her kindhearted nature shining through as Fatin looked to her with a quirked eyebrow. "One of the Diet Cokes is mine, so you can go ahead and take it."

Fatin smiled appreciatively, "You sure?"

"Yeah, go for it," Blaire nodded slowly, her dark eyes fixated on the crackling campfire in front of her, which mimicked the fire that was ignited inside of her. "But only because you're clearly suffering from severe dehydration."

"See, this is exactly why you're my favourite," Fatin laughed softly, cracking open the can as quietly as she could before taking a much-needed swig. "Fuck, that hit the spot," she said once she was finished, and Blaire's eyes became vacant again. "Rough day, huh?"

"This place is fucking exhausting," Blaire whispered lowly, slumping her shoulders. "I'm just so tired, Fatin..."

Fatin's chest ached at the sound of Blaire's cracked voice. Blaire was crying into her hands, trying to hide it, exposing more feelings than Fatin could imagine.

"Come here," Fatin gestured, and without even waiting for a reply or an action, she pulled Blaire into her, settling her between her legs, letting her cry into her chest; the Pakistani-American girl held the New Yorker until her shirt was soaked. "Fuck, who knew shelter-building contests brought out the worst in people?" She tried to joke to lighten the mood, and Blaire laughed lightly into her chest. "But hey, don't let that shit get to you, okay? Because I know you're stronger than that, even if you don't."

"God, I feel like such an idiot," Blaire berated herself through her sniffles and pulled away from Fatin's embrace. "Imagine being this worked up over a girl you met six days ago."

"The feminine urge to never emotionally recover from anything can be excruciating," Fatin poked again, managing to earn an eye roll in response. Then, with an idea forming in her head, she stood, "Come on, let's get out of here."

Blaire furrowed her eyebrows, "Where would we go?"

"Literally anywhere," Fatin replied, no hint of irony in her voice. "I think we've got a point to prove," she reached out a hand towards her friend, "so, bitch, what do you say? Will you be the Blair to my Serena?"

Blaire's eyes darkened a little; maybe from the darkness of the night, maybe from the darkness within her, though she felt her lips quirk upwards as she looked back at Fatin, her thoughts contemplating for a moment.

"Okay, I'm in," Blaire let Fatin pull her to her feet after a moment or two. "But only because of the Gossip Girl reference."

"Fuck, yeah!" Fatin exclaimed, and Blaire smiled so widely, her dimples showed at the corners of her lips. "Let's bring some nail polish with us, though," she added, rummaging through Dot's inventory of items. "We'll mark the trees so we can find our way back."

Blaire nodded her head as Fatin grabbed the small bottle of apple-red nail polish and left behind a bracelet of hers that read, 'zero fucks', as though it was her calling card. Fatin took what she needed and started towards the inland forest, unaware that Blaire had hesitated for a moment, her eyes subconsciously drawn towards the packet of yellow pills that were poking out of the pilot's bag of medications.

Her bottom lip now between her teeth, Blaire felt the intrusive thoughts ebbing away at her mind. And while she knew she shouldn't do it, while she knew she'd promised herself she'd never use again, she felt herself slipping. She'd never wanted a hit more in her life.

Something had changed.

Blaire had been able to cope with her withdrawal on the island before, but now, as she stared face-to-face with temptation, she couldn't make herself care much about consequence. Maybe she was too numb to care. Maybe losing Toni had meant losing a fix in itself. She kept telling herself that everything was fine, that she was fine. But maybe this time, it wasn't.

Everyone knows you don't steal from the Devil...

And, after much internal conflict and debate, Blaire acted on her impulse. Before she knew what was happening, she had swiped the packet of Oxycodone from the bag and stuffed it in her pocket, checking her surroundings to avoid suspicion; the girls in the tent had drifted off to sleep, while Fatin stood idly a few yards away, completely oblivious.

Blaire supposed she was setting herself up for her own failure by stealing the drugs, but, at that moment, she couldn't quite care. She was desperate for some sort of a fix, and she wanted it more than anything.

"B, let's go!" Fatin's distant whispers echoed in the dark, and Blaire ran a hand over her face, exhausted.

And with that, she met Fatin at the edge of the inland forest before they forged on together, with only a single can of Diet Cole, their thoughts, and, in Blaire's case, eleven pills of Oxycodone to keep them going.

─── • ───

MEANWHILE...

Gretchen Klein stared blankly at the computer monitor in her office, which was just off the control room, while her black coffee sat untouched at the corner of the desk, growing colder by the second. The screen was turning more white and fuzzy for every hour Gretchen sat in front of it, her electronic headache worsening by the minute.

This was a bi-weekly occurrence, courtesy of her latest experiment. Gretchen had the video-conferencing application open on her desktop, her name and ID number visible in the top-right corner. She watched as names came and went for hours, conducting conference call after conference call.

Her last meeting of the day was with the one person she'd dreaded speaking to the most: Peter Diamante, Blaire's father. His image loaded in, and Gretchen said her quick greetings out of formalities, tension stirring already stirring between them.

"Blaire's doing beautifully, Peter," Gretchen linked her hands atop her lap, her eyes trained on the screen. "She's generous with her cohort, eager to participate, and even making a few friends. We call these pro-social behaviours, and they're an incredibly good sign."

"Please don't act like I'm just another one of your subject's naive parents," Peter demanded, pinching the bridge of his nose from his principal's office in New York. "Now, while I know we both agreed on these terms, I still feel guilty for having lied to my daughter."

"We did this to save her," Gretchen reminded him in a familiar tone, a sigh falling from her lips. "Believe me, I don't like seeing her like this anymore than you do. But don't forget that Blaire is stepping back from a very dark precipice, and the three of us were only trying to help her by having her participate in —"

"One big family, aren't we? The three of us," Peter scoffed at the screen, his frustration mounting. "God, do you have any idea how difficult it's been to be a bystander in all of this? I've been completely sidelined, while the two of you have made all of the decisions. That's not what we agreed on, Gretchen. What, do I need to remind you that she's my daughter too — ?"

"We're almost out of time," Gretchen silenced him at once, wilful determination in her voice. "If you have any further concerns, I suggest you take them up with someone else. Because I'm just doing my job, Peter... don't forget that." She cleared her throat. "We'll talk again in two weeks as planned. Please, if you can, tell Maya Rose that I said hello. Other than that, I'll be here if you need anything else. Goodbye for now, Peter."

And with a press of the ESC button on her keyboard, the conference call ended without much time for Peter to rebuttal. Gretchen sighed and unbuttoned her blazer to breathe, her fingertips now massaging her temples. Her eyes drifted to the case files sprawled out against the surface of her desk, and almost against her will, she couldn't stop herself from reading the headline of one file over and over again:

SUBJECT NO. 3: BLAIRE DIAMANTE

─── • ───

author's note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

uh... yeah, that just happened.

I should've apologized in advance lmfao, but I hope you enjoyed regardless! lmk what you thought bc I love reading comments <33

how do we feel about blaire's relationships so far?? i told you things would be heating up... 👀

also... peter wtf.

[insert begging for comments and votes]

see you in the next one!

xo,

p.s. the B initial necklace... 👀

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