A/N - After episode 6x08, I had to do this. I hope you guys like it. The inspiration for the title comes from one of the definitions of the word itself, all of these can apply to DS and how Serena is feeling:

Forgotten -

a : to lose the remembrance of : be unable to think of or recall I forget his nameb obsolete : to cease from doing

2

: to treat with inattention or disregard forgot their old friends

3

a : to disregard intentionally : overlook —usually used in the imperative I shouldn't have said that, so just forget itb : to give up hope for or expectation of —usually used in the imperative as for prompt service, forget it

"I have a plan. And it's working."

That was what he'd told Rufus just two days ago, but Dan Humphrey was quickly realizing that he was wrong. He pushes his typewriter several feet away from him, as if it too was mad at him for his hurtful behavior and would cease to speak to him anymore. He could still feel Nate's punch on the side of his face.

Maybe Nate was still in love with Serena too. Who knew? He didn't know anything anymore, so who was he to judge? But that was just the thing. That was all he ever did now. Dan Humphrey lived to judge. He sighs loudly and runs one hand through his mop of dark hair. Saying he was frustrated would be a huge understatement.

He couldn't do it anymore; he was done for the day. He pulls on his shoes and walks into the living room of the loft. Rufus is leaning against the counter, reading his mail. At Dan's entrance, he glances up, raising an eyebrow as he watches Dan put on his coat.

"You're going out? You haven't left this place since Thanksgiving." Says Rufus.

Dan shrugs. "I need some fresh air."

"Fresh air? Who's heart are you going to break now?" Rufus asks, going back to skimming his mail.

"Ever consider that maybe I'm the one with the broken heart?" asks Dan, though he already knows the answer.

"No, son, I don't."

Dan doesn't wait for his father to say anything else. He walks out of the loft, slamming the door behind him. He knows he's being very childish. But he can't help feeling that he's been nursing a broken heart ever since his very first break up with Serena, at her mother's wedding to Bart Bass. Speaking of Bart, Dan can feel his business card practically burning a hole through his coat pocket.

He could easily get a lot of dirt on a lot of people through Bart, prolonging his book. Maybe he'd have enough material for a new one. But he's not stupid enough to think that Bart would do that without expecting anything in return. Yet, he can't bring himself to just throw out the card.

What was wrong with him? Was he really becoming Bart Bass? He was. Or at least, he was trying to be like the guys who always got what they wanted in the end. Because he knew what he wanted and he intended to keep it. Or, rather, to keep her. And there was no way she'd stick around if she didn't respect him. Maybe even fear him, but only just enough to never leave. He'd momentarily given her up, but it was all part of the plan.

And that's when he sees her. She's sitting in a little café, by the window, reading a book and absentmindedly swirling her spoon in her coffee. What was she doing here, in Brooklyn? Was she here hoping to see him? His heart skips a beat at the thought. He rushes to cross the street and almost gets run over in the process. The commotion grabs her attention and she looks up at him through the glass. Judging by her facial expression, she had not been hoping to see him.

But he was an asshole now, and he'd accepted it. So, naturally, he walked right inside and sat down across from her. They sit there in silence for a while, just looking at each other.

"Serena." He says, finally. How anticlimactic.

"What do you want?" She asks, rolling her eyes. She places a bookmark in her book, closes it, and sets it down on the table. He smiles as he reads the cover.

"Gatsby?" He asks her.

"Fitzgerald is my favorite author. Or have you forgotten that, since all you seem to think I care about is men, being that I'm so starved for love and approval because of my daddy issues?" She replies. He can tell that she meant to sound biting and sarcastic, but instead she sounds like she's going to cry.

"I know he's your favorite. I also know that you've read that book already, and you only reread books when you feel like a particular book can be applied to your life. Are you feeling a little like Daisy today? Torn between many men, a shell of something that's supposed to be great?" He cannot believe how condescending he sounds.

Her face remains impassive as she answers him. "I'm feeling more like Gatsby, actually. Loving someone undeserving, but knowing that you can never turn off that love."

"I loved you and just because we broke up doesn't mean I could turn it off just like that."

He sees the moment from four years ago play out before his very eyes, sees her pretty purple dress and her devastated expression. He recoils.

"I'm sorry."

She rolls her eyes. "Seems like that's all you ever say, but you never really mean it."

He bites down on his bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. "I wasn't lying when I told you everything that I'd said in the elevator, and after that, was true. I meant it Serena. You're what I want."

He must sound as sincere as he feels because this actually slips past her guard. He can see it, just like he can always see her every emotion play out across her face. But as quickly as her expression had softened, it went right back to stone. She didn't even bother responding to him. It was only after another few seconds of silence that Dan realizes where they are.

"We used to get breakfast here our junior year in high school. Vanessa used to work here." He takes another look around. "We sat in this corner almost every morning, at least when you slept over."

Again, silence. She goes back to reading.

"Serena, come on…"

This seems to make her angry because she slams her book down on the table and gives him a look so mean and furious that he has the impulse to run for the door.

"What do you want me to say, Dan? That it's okay that you truly feel that way about me? That I can just learn to live with it?" She pauses, takes a deep breath. It doesn't seem to calm her, though. "You slept with me. Several times. Lying is one thing. But you slept with me to get information for your cruel expose."

His mouth drops open. He hadn't even thought of it that way. "I slept with you because I wanted to, not because I needed information. I had five years of information. I didn't need to sleep with you to get it." For the first time since his horrible ending with Blair, and his falling out with Serena before last summer, Dan feels really hurt.

"That's not true." She practically hisses.

"I've done some terrible things. But I would never do something like that, especially not to you." Dan says each word slowly and carefully, as if that would give them more meaning and she'd be forced to believe him.

Her eyes narrow a little, as she considers what he's saying. She seems to let it go because she doesn't say another word on the subject. She goes right back to reading.

"I've been feeling a little like Gatsby myself." He says.

No response.

"Serena, I feel like I've been in love with you for years and in the end you'll just run off with someone who's better suited for you. Who does Daisy end up with in the end? Tom or Gatsby, huh? She ends up with her loser of a rich husband Tom, leaving Gatsby dead because he was always wrapped around her finger and she never respected him enough to want to stay with him." He takes the book out of her hands, leaving her looking startled.

"Give it back, Dan."

"You know I'm right." He says, keeping the book out of her reach.

She glares at him, hands clasping and unclasping. She's trying to stay calm. "Please just stay out of my life."

"I know you don't want that, Serena. And neither do I." He puts the book back down on the table and moves his chair closer to hers, but she just leans away from him in response.

"How do you kill a feeling?"

"I don't know."

He looks at her intently as she turns page after page of her book, as if she forgot he was even there. Kind of like how he'd forgotten all about her last year. Or how she seemed to forget about him once Ben had come into her life. He suddenly has a question and it comes out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop himself.

"Why were you single for a year?" He asks her. At first, she gives no indication of hearing him, and turns to the next page of her book. But then she closes it slowly, and without looking at him, answers his question.

"Because I loved you, and I didn't want to get over you. I still had hope, even while you were with Blair. When I saw that she was realizing that she still loved Chuck, I knew I just had to wait a little longer." She pauses and turns to look at him. "Only, I was a little too impatient and tried to speed up the process. And then you said that I was nothing to you, and I gave up. I ran. I hated myself. You loved me so much, for years. And I made you hate me—"

"I never hated you, Serena. I was just blaming you for ruining any chance I had with Blair. I should have known I never really had a chance anyway." He doesn't sound bitter about that, he only sounds as though he is stating a fact.

She raises an eyebrow in question. "I don't want to be a second choice."

"You're not."

It seems as though his reassurances only make her sadder because when she speaks her voice breaks towards the end, and she takes a shaky breath, trying to clear her throat. "Yeah, right. You lost your faith in me. I'm a golden shell."

"I wasn't wrong to believe in you. I still do. I always will."

Had he lied? He'd meant what he'd said at the time. He'd said a lot of things to her.

"I've waited my entire life for a date with this girl. Serena van der Woodsen."

She looks down at her coffee, her golden hair fanning between them, covering her face, sending the scent of her vanilla shampoo towards him. He thinks she might be crying. Just like all those years ago, he reaches a hand towards her to comfort her, but lets it drop before it can reach her shoulder.

"I was invited to a party where I met a girl. She only spoke two sentences to me, but I've never forgotten her."

"Do you even still remember the girl you fell in love with?"

"Serena, let's get out of here."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." He was right, she was crying. Thank goodness the place was empty and in Brooklyn where no one could snap a picture of them.

"I just wanted you to see me as your equal, you always remind me that I'm not a part—"

She turns to him suddenly, tears falling quickly from her eyes, and her expression is so fierce that he can't even finish his sentence. It's left caught in his throat, the words still trying to get out. Of course, her eyes aren't red and puffy, nor is her skin blotchy. Trust Serena to make crying a very beautiful thing. She broke everything she touched, but when she wanted to, she could make anything beautiful. Could she make them beautiful again? Would he let her?

"What? I always remind you that you're not a part of my world? Because I have never done that. Chuck did that. Blair did that more than anyone you know. But not me. I have always fought to keep you in my world. And I don't just mean the Upper East Side." He's never seen her this angry, never heard her so upset. He's seen her broken, and he's seen her lost. But he's never seen her like this. And he's never seen anyone more beautiful.

He tries to think back to a time where Serena specifically reminded him he could not be a part of her world, but nothing substantial comes to mind. No, that had always been Blair's job, which she took right back after they had broken up.

"I like you. Only you."

He feels something strange in the pit of his stomach, something he hasn't felt in a long time. Maybe not since he was in high school. He feels sincerely nervous. So nervous, as she stares him down. He knows it is the absolute wrong thing to do, but he kisses her anyway, and she lets him. They'd kissed in that very spot, years ago and he'd felt just as nervous. She lets him kiss her for a few minutes, until he finally gives up.

"You don't want this." He says lamely.

"Dan, I've wanted a lot of things with a lot of men. Or, at least that's what I thought. I know I fall fast and hard, and I always get hurt in the end. But the one constant was always you. No matter what, I could never shake you. We said we'd have one more shot, and we'd either swim or sink for good." Their faces are still very close together, and he can feel her warm breath tickling his skin. He just wants to make everything better. He thinks about how all the previous men were said to be her life rafts, but she never seemed to need them after they were gone.

"So can we finally swim?" He asks her.

She kisses him once, quickly. But it feels more like a goodbye than it does a hello.

"No, because you already drowned us."

And at these words, that is exactly how he feels. He's suffocating. He's drowning.