Guilt, a gossip girl fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl.

A/N-This was written while procrastinating on my English paper. It's different and definitely rather angsty, just to pre-warn anyone. Special thanks to Meg for staying up late to edit for me! Reviews are always appreciated!

Every day she would stand in the doorway, just staring at the room. She wouldn't see the furniture that was inside; all she would be able to see was the regret for everything that went wrong.

As soon as she closed the door, she pretended to forget. She pretended that it had never happened, that she wasn't alone now. She would shove those memories away, trying to desperately forget them, even though they would never really go away.

Every day he regretted the decision that he made. He shouldn't have left her. It had never been in their plans.

They had been the happy married couple that everyone wished they could be. There hadn't been a bit of doubt that either loved one another. They had their beautiful son; they had been the ideal family.

The day they lost their baby was the worst day of their lives.

She constantly wondered what their lives would be like if they hadn't lost their baby boy.

He would still be by her side, helping her raise their son. She wouldn't be alone anymore.

She wished that James Patrick Bass had lived. She wished that her life hadn't fallen apart.

He often thought about his decision to leave her. He hated himself everyday for leaving her in such a time, but it was something that he had to do.

The day the divorce papers were sent to him was the day he thought about it the most. He couldn't bring himself to sign them.

They had been apart for a year, but he couldn't sign them. He still loved her.

She didn't know why she sent the divorce papers. She still loved him. She always would.

She had been looking into that room though and she had to do something. The fact that she was still married to him was the constant reminder about all that she had lost. So she decided it was time to act for the divorce finally.

He had the papers for two weeks. Two long weeks.

He didn't sign them.

And he wasn't going to sign them. He was going to get her back.

It had been exactly one year. One year since he had walked out of her life; four months after they had received news that their son was lost forever.

She sat down in the middle of the nursery, holding one of the blankets in her arms. She sobbed into it for hours, not knowing if she was going to be able to stop.

Only when a pair of arms wrapped around her was she able to stop.

He went to their old home, realizing that she hadn't changed a thing.

He couldn't find her at first. Then he heard her sobs coming from the nursery and he knew that was where she was.

She was on the floor, a blanket clutched in her hands. He instinctively walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He never wanted to let her go.

She leaned back against him and her sobs stopped soon after. He kissed her hair gently.

They sat there for an hour, not saying a word to one another. She rested her head on his chest and didn't want his arms to ever leave from their spot around her.

They weren't sure what was going on. They had so much to confront about the past year, things that they hadn't been able to talk about when it had happened at the time.

But she didn't want to confront him about anything at this moment. Confrontation was the last thing on her mind as she pressed her lips to his.

His first instinct was to pick her up off the floor and carry her into their (her) bedroom. He didn't do it mainly because she (he) seemed to be afraid of what was going to happen.

He pulled himself away, though it hurt. He had missed the feel of her lips against his. And, judging by the look in her eyes, he knew she felt the same.

She wanted him. She had missed him.

She had missed the feel of his body flush against hers. She had missed the way that he knew all the places that started to drive her to the edge. He knew every little piece of her by heart and that hadn't changed in their time apart.

Their emotions were everywhere. He didn't know if this was good or bad what they were about to do.

He had carried her to their bedroom and had laid her down across their bed. He had hesitated, unsure if this was what she wanted to do.

She didn't know when she started crying. It might have been when he slowly removed her shirt and she knew that he was looking at her faded scars. She had done everything she could to get rid of them but the faint marks had stayed there, a constant reminder of what she had lost.

"It was my fault."

Those are the first words that she said to him. He turned his head to look at her, shaking his head slowly.

"No. Don't think that."

"It was my fault."

She repeated the words over and over. He couldn't get her saying them out of his head.

"It wasn't your fault."

She wanted to believe him. She so badly wanted to believe the words that he was telling her but she didn't know if she could.

She was the one who had decided to take James to the park that day. She hadn't thought anything of it. There had never been any problems before. In the year that he had been alive (how she wished he would have lived longer) every time they went to the park, they had always been fine.

That day had been different.

He would always remember the phone call he got that his wife was in the hospital and his son was missing. He couldn't remember what he did after that but he would always remember the words being said to him over the phone.

He did remember seeing his wife, his beautiful wife, curled up in the hospital bed, crying hysterically. No one had been able to sooth her. She was bruised and bandaged up from the attack.

"It was my fault, Blair. My fault."

"No, it wasn't. It was my fault."

It's the argument they had constantly been having before he had left. It was a pointless argument.

It had been the people who wanted to take their baby, who wanted to get money from their family.

She still didn't understand why she never got her baby back in her arms. He was supposed to be back in her arms. They had paid the money that they were asked for.

They didn't get their baby back. It had been a lie all along.

"I just want him back."

He was the first one to say these words. By the tears spilling out of her eyes, he knew that she felt the same. They both just wanted their son back.

They fell asleep in each other's arms that night for the first time since James left them. For once, she felt like she was safe again, like everything was normal.

She just wanted everything to go back the way it was.

He woke up before she did in the morning. It was surprising how easy he was able to fall back into routine at the home he had been gone from for a year.

The first thing he did was rip the divorce papers in half.

She woke up to the smell of him. He was there next to her.

It was alarming at first. She wasn't used to him there. She had gotten used to the empty space next to her.

It was nice to have someone there with her.

He found her standing in the door way to the nursery. He knew it was her routine to do this.

He stood with her. She didn't deserve to be alone during this all.

"I'm sorry I left you."

She kissed him gently when he said those words to her.

"I'm sorry I left you."

He had her back.

Not completely. Never completely.

She would never be the way she was before.

He would never have her back completely, not unless they had James back.

And that was never going to happen.

They would spend days and nights alone together, talking and going through pictures. Sometimes there would be laughter, sometimes tears, and sometimes anger.

They were healing. It was taking time (years) for them to get over what they had been through. They still brought up the argument about whose fault it was and sometimes, he would leave for a few days when it became too hard. When she became to unresponsive and when he didn't realize he needed to let it go.

But slowly, they were healing.

They hadn't been able to before. They hadn't realized how much they needed each other before.

They did now.