Title: Shattered Mirrors

Author: Miss Anthrope

Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish that I do own Gossip Girl…Maybe if I did, I wouldn't be this frustrated over the damn books! …Er, sorry 'bout that. I just finished the last one. And yes, I wasn't happy.

Rating: T for tenacity. Nothing here is explicit, so I'm guessing you all can take this.

Warning(s): As you can probably tell from the summary, I'm not too kind with Nate here. He's a jerk in the show, and I just realized that I hate him too in the books. Not only is he not good enough for Blair (at least until he finds a way to make amends and make a one-eighty), but he's also a very indecisive prick!

Author's Note(s): This is my first GG fic in a long time, and definitely my first try at this pairing. At first I was slightly repulsed by the thought since I wasn't very familiar with the TV show, and the one I knew was the gay and perverted version from the books. But now…go BLAIR/CHUCK!

Dedication(s): A lot actually…this is for J, M, G, and E. Oh, and of course my cousin, C.

Summary: I only wished that it were enough time for Blair and Chuck to finish, and that neither of noticed the coat I've forgotten on the way out.

Your lipstick, his collar

Don't bother, Angel

I know exactly what goes on…

-- Excerpt from Cute Without the 'E' by TBS

…27…28…29…30

I watched the golden arrow above me stop at the last floor, the resounding ding of the elevator coming just in time as the gilded doors parted to the deserted living room. Carefully folding my coat over the back of a chair, I managed to take a deep calming breath before peeking into the dining room, ready for the usual round of questions—and maybe a salad fork or two—that were sure to be headed my way.

…

'Huh, that's weird. Where is she?'

Double-checking the area, I was surprised to see that I was right. Instead of a fuming Blair Waldorf with her eyes looking like they could kill me right there on her favorite Persian carpet, all I saw was a finished plate of steak, an untouched bowl of salad, and a nearly empty plate of my favorite brand of Belgian praline chocolates. Just as I leaned over to blow out the half-melted candle, I noticed that the usual bottle of chardonnay was missing along with the two glass flutes.

'Maybe she's in a good mood tonight…'

Taking this as a good sign, I quickened my steps towards the master's bedroom. Sure I still had to find an explanation why I'd been nearly five hours late for our anniversary dinner, but that glass or two of wine had made it easier for me. I'm sure my smile got even wider when I heard familiar dialogues being exchanged from the TV.

'Maybe I don't even have to explain anything.'

Silently thanking TNT for showing a rerun of Breakfast at Tiffany's at this hour, I was just about to walk through the door when I thought I heard something strange. I waited for a second before I heard it again. This time, I was sure that it wasn't just the alcohol making me imagine things. There was definitely someone else whispering on the other side of the door; though I couldn't make out any of the words, I could tell well enough that it was a man.

I watched my hand linger on the doorknob, completely undecided if I should still step through or come back an hour later. Maybe Blair was just having a hands-free conversation with her dad? Harold Waldorf always did have a habit of checking in when it was early morning here in New York. Or maybe it was just Aaron or Tyler checking up on their sister…

A sudden string of moans from the bedroom crushed those thoughts as soon as it came.

It was only when I felt a sharp grip on my chest did I realize that I'd been holding my breath. I knew very well that I hadn't been the most faithful of boyfriends, or even the most caring fiancé just as I had proved that night, but it still didn't help to ease the suffocating feeling I got when I began to think of just who Blair had with her tonight.

'What if it's not the first time? What if—'

I cut off my own thoughts there. I didn't want myself to think about anything else. The anger that was creeping inside of me was something I could deal with, unlike that stab of pain I knew would grow worse had I continued down that road of What Ifs. Taking one last deep breath—though now it did little to calm the rage I felt—I quickly opened the door, ready to maul the bastard behind it to the ground, before I threw him out the window.

The thing is, though, I didn't.

No matter how much my arms were screaming at me to tighten them around his neck, my feet refused to move a millimeter from where I stood watching Blair and my best friend (or at least I thought he was) Chuck Bass screaming out each other's names on the bed, the very one that she and I slept together almost every night for these past three years. They didn't even notice me standing there, trying my best to smother a number of feelings that I had first been familiar with when I had caught Blair and Eric Van der Woodsen in Sun Valley. But that was nothing compared to this.

'Maybe this is what Blair felt when she learned about what Serena and I did for the first time…'

But, no, I couldn't bring the rest of me to believe that. Despite a voice telling me that what had happened to her was worse, not having been the first one to hear it after how many years, I just couldn't. I told myself that at least she didn't have to see it happening because nothing is worse than watching it all unfold before her.

I was in autopilot when I saw myself closing the door just as quietly behind me and begin walking into the elevator I had just left ten minutes ago. I didn't know exactly where I was going, or what I was going to do, but I still managed to get myself a cab, ready to sneak away for an hour. I only wished that it were enough time for Blair and Chuck to finish, and that neither of noticed the coat I've forgotten on the way out.