Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to Cecily von Zeigesar and The CW.

A sequel to Healing His Heart. Enjoy.

Chuck was feeling real guilty as he made his way from his limo to the lobby of his building with a bouquet of purple peonies in one hand and his briefcase in the other. The doorman nodded in greeting, his eyes sympathetic as if he knew what awaited Chuck as soon as he stepped off the elevator into his penthouse apartment.

He was so late getting home, and he expected his love to be livid. It was her spring break, and she had forgone following Nate and Serena too some tropical hideaway in favor of staying with him when he announced that he regrettably couldn't get the time off from work to join them.

She understood his reasons. There was a huge business venture that he had been working on . . . the crown jewel of his short stint as the head of Bass Industries. They were so close to making the deal happen, and he couldn't risk a week away. She was so proud of him that she put up no fight, made no indication of her disappointment as she quickly called Serena and put the breaks on their vacation plans.

Chuck took a deep breath and braced himself for the inevitable argument that was waiting for him as he stepped off the elevator and into their apartment. The usual butterflies in his stomach at the prospect of seeing her were fluttering faster than normal, perhaps reacting to the wrath that he knew awaited him.

"Blair," he called out to her as he set his briefcase on the hall table and unloaded his cell phone and money clip from his pockets, as was his routine. His assistant had specific instructions to not bother him each evening unless the fate of Bass Industries was to crumble if he couldn't be reached.

He smoothed his jacket and held on to the flowers tightly.

She didn't call out to him and that worried him even more. She'd never been that upset with him. Just as he found her in the dining room, she was up off her chair and running away from him, her hand over her mouth as she ran towards the nearest bathroom.

His heart stopped beating for five full beats at the slight before him, both gourmet meals that their chef had prepared had been consumed, in a rather hasty fashion he concluded. The flowers fell to the floor forgotten as he ran to the bathroom.

"Blair, open the door," he called out to her as he pounded viscously against it after he concluded that she had engaged the door lock.

"Go away, Chuck," she shouted through the door.

"Blair, I'm so sorry I'm late," he tried to make amends, foolishly thinking that he was the reason for what he was hoping to prevent from happening on the other side of the door.

"Go away," she repeated.

"Open this door, Waldorf, or I'm breaking it down," he commanded. His stomach dropped as he heard the heartbreaking sound of her retching. He didn't hesitate a moment in throwing his shoulder against the door violently. The hinges gave way instantly. He ignored the severe pain in his shoulder as he caught sight of her heaving into the porcelain toilet. Please god, let this be a bad dream, he pleaded silently as he knelt next to her, gathering her curls away from her shoulders, his hand caressing her back gently.

"Go away," she managed to cough out before she unloaded more of her stomach into the bowl.

"Please stop," he pleaded with her, "You're hurting yourself."

"I know," she replied as she rested her head against the side of the bowl, the porcelain cooling her fiery skin as she seemed to regain a hold on her gag reflex for the moment at least.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated.

"This wasn't your fault," she assured him quickly as he continued to caress the bare skin of her back, a thin sheen of sweat had formed during her episode, "I'm not mad at you for being late. I understand how important this business deal is.

"But I told you an hour ago that I was on my way home, and then I got sidetracked," he responded feebly.

She lost her battle yet again as she unloaded the last remnants in her stomach. His stomach churned along with hers, his forehead pressing against her back as tears formed in his eyes. He felt so helpless at the moment. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know enough about her disease to know how to help her.

He began searching his brain, trying to come up with a plan to make this better. He should call Serena, get the Bass jet to her tropical vacation and get her back here as quick as possible. Surely she would know what to do. She had been there for Blair when she relapsed before.

Chuck even hazarded a few moments to consider calling Eleanor, but that was going to be more of a hindrance. Blair and Eleanor had another argument a few weeks ago and were not on speaking terms at the present time.

"What happened?" he whispered as she finally pulled herself away from the bowl and turned to look in his eyes. He could see that she was done with the episode. She looked exhausted and scared.

"I got into Yale," she spoke softly.

"What? When did you even apply?" he inquired, the confusion reading all across his facial features. She would have told him if she had made a decision that important, wouldn't she?

"I didn't," Blair replied as she closed her eyes, not wanting to look into his eyes. She couldn't bear to see the look of disappointment she was sure to find. "Eleanor sent in the application a few months ago without telling me. The letter came in the mail today."

"Blair, this is what you wanted," he frowned, not understanding why this appeared to be upsetting her so much. She had dreamt about Yale since she was a small child. "I don't understand."

"I wanted Yale," she nodded as she continued to keep her eyes closed as she licked her suddenly parched lips. Her face scrunching up in disgust at the acidic taste, "So much so that I hazed a teacher. When I got rejected, I almost destroyed myself and everything around me. Yale isn't good for me."

"It's one of the most respected universities in the world," he stated as he caressed her forehead, the sweat still clinching to her skin.

"That's why I always wanted to go," she replied, "I wanted to have everyone's respect, as if going to that university automatically assured me of that."

"Please help me understand this," he requested as he reached up towards the sink and wet a towel to wipe her skin. Her face was still flush as if she had a fever. "I don't understand what sent you in here to do this. You've been doing so well for two years."

"I don't know if I understand it," she shook her head, "I've been staring at this piece of paper on and off all day, ever since it arrived." He saw her holding something crumpled up in her hand. He took it from her and read it through. Sure enough it was her acceptance letter. If she had received this the previous year, he knew that she would have had it framed, but now it appeared to be nothing more than garbage that she wanted to dispose of.

"Blair, if this is about us . . . if your worried about what the separation could do to us, don't. We'll figure this out. We'll make your dream happen," he tried to assured her.

"It's not what I want anymore," she stated as she reached out to silence him by placing her fingers on his lips.

"Please don't give up on that dream for me," he requested as he forced her to look in his eyes. If she was making herself sick because of him, he would never forgive himself. "Please, Blair."

"I'm not," she assured him, smiling warmly at him for the first time since he'd gotten home. "Yale gave up on me. I'm just returning the favor. I'm happy at NYU. When I first started, I never thought I'd say that, but I am. What is more important is that I love this life that we have together."

"We don't have to decide anything right now," he stated as he stood up and gathered her into his arms and lifted her easily as her eyes drooped shut, "Right now, you look like you need sleep, and you'll want to shower before you do that."

"You know me well," she mused as she snuggled against his chest affectionately.

"Not as well as I should," he mumbled softly so that she wouldn't hear. His thoughts consumed him as he carried her into their bedroom. How the hell was he going to fix this?

TBC. . .