Summary: They were both in love with her, that much was certain. In very different ways, sure, but it was love just the same. Carter was there to guide her from every dark bar to wild party, and Chuck was there to pick up the pieces. Carter/Blair. Chuck/Blair.

It was weird.

Blair had spent her entire life building herself. Her personality, her appearance, her grades, her friends…everything. Every second, planned to the very last detail. Not a minute went to waste. Everything she did had a plan. Everything had to go right. Her future was set in stone, not the slightest opportunity for change or spontaneity. It was perfect. And it was the way she liked it. It was the way she'd grown used to living.

And yet it could be unraveled so quickly. One tiny tug against the usual grain of her life, and the entire thing went spinning out of control. It was all she could do it give into it. It wasn't meant to be fixed. She'd spent so long just DOING, not living or feeling or loving or really seeing anything. Life without rules, without responsibilities…the very thing she'd been avoiding all her life turned out to be the one thing she needed to survive.

Nothing was right anymore, but Blair wasn't sure what 'right' even was now. Yale, her parents, Nate, even Serena…it wasn't for her. She was sure of it. It was time for a new leaf, a new image…

Which was why she toasted Carter right now, in a back booth of a club she'd never even heard of before. The flashing lights set colored patterns on her tanned skin, flashing off her straight, white teeth opened in a grin. Her dark hair was let loose in curls that flowed past her shoulders, and she was clad in an electric blue, tight, mini dress. Usually she wouldn't be caught ANYWHERE in a dress so…revealing. But this wasn't usual. Nothing about her now was usual. Besides, she felt sexy. And she knew she looked like it too.

"A toast." Carter said proudly, clinking his glass against hers, careful that neither of their drinks spilled out.

"A toast," Blair repeated, her thin bracelets sliding down her wrist as she raised her glass to his. "To a new Blair." They both tilted their shot glasses back against their lips, and swallowed the liquid simultaneously. Blair closed her eyes for a second in bliss, the slightly warm liquid settling in her stomach with a small burning sensation.

Carter set his shot glass back on the table, turning his green eyes to Blair's chocolate ones, a small grin set on his face. "As honored as I am that you showed tonight, Blair, I must say, I am surprised. I didn't think you were like this." He leaned back in the booth.

Blair was very aware of his arm around her shoulders, but said nothing. It was actually very comfortable, sitting in this private booth with just Carter. His smoldering gaze lingered on her for a second longer, and Blair forced herself to look away from his mesmerizing eyes. "Is that an insult?"

He didn't hesitate for even a second. "Definitely not." He said, using his free hand to grab two more shot glasses off a passing waiters tray. He slid one to her, and gulped his own down immediately. "It was just an innocent question."

She paused, then shrugged, downing the drink with a single tilt of her head. It shot down her through like a burst of flames. "It was time." She said simply, her eyes locked on the now empty glass she was turning carefully in her fingers.

"I have no objections," Carter spoke, his hand rubbing soothing patterns on her shoulder. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and the feeling was only intensified as the two of them drank each shot quickly.

Blair had no idea what she was drinking, but she liked it. Before long, several shot glasses lay between the two of them, and she had settle into a comfortable haze, unable to remember exactly how many she had had. While every drink seemed to be just that—another drink, meaningless, it was so much more. Every drink was another person who'd wronged her in her life. There were too many to count. Her mother, her father, Chuck, Nate, Serena, Jenny, Rachel, her clique…she couldn't keep track anymore. So she drank until their faces and names were just distant specks on the horizon.

"Whatever that was…" She murmured, her head on his shoulder. "It was…strong," Carter said nothing, his own stare was gazing across the booth at the empty seats. Instead, he leaned down to kiss her on top of the head.

Suddenly, the lights were too bright. It was crowded. The music pounded in her head. The room was way, way too hot. Blair sat up from Carter, grabbing her purse and hooking it over her arm, and without another thought, grabbed his hand. "Can we get out of here? Please?"

Carter led her through the club, careful that no one got in their way. Even Blair, in however drunken a stupor she was, saw the leering glances and lust-filled smirks of various men they walked past. Carter's gaze was fixed straight ahead, ignoring everything around them.

The night air was incredibly refreshing against Blair's skin, and suddenly everything changed—she felt free. Free of regret. Free of the past. Free to live right now, right here, in this moment. The streets were sparse with cars—it was late, and a Saturday night. The working people were pretty much asleep. The teenagers were already at their destinations. It was Blair, it was Carter, it was the moon shining down on the two of them.

Blair spun around in a circle, enjoying the rush of air that wove through her hair and encircled her body. Her heels were only limiting her. She leaned down and un-strapped them, and a few minutes later, they lay on the sidewalk, forgotten, as Blair and Carter walked ahead, hand-in-hand.

"You seem happy." Carter said. However drunk he was, it didn't show at all. His words weren't slurred. Blair had the feeling he was more used to it then she was.

"Happy." Blair repeated, the word feeling strange coming out of her mouth. It wasn't right, it wasn't supposed to be used here, like this, now, but it was. She was. "I am." Her chocolate eyes sparkled with amusement at her discovery. Carter merely smiled.

"Don't you feel it?" She demanded, when his reaction didn't seem satisfactory to her. Blair let go of his hand. He looked at her with those eyes, those electrifying eyes, and she looked back, and that's how they stood for several moments, facing off on the sidewalk.

"Feel it?" Carter repeated, which was a thing the two of them seemed to do a lot when they were together. At least, when they were drunk, to put to frankly. "What, exactly, am I supposed to be feeling?" He said, a slow grin creeping onto his face as Blair's arms wound around his neck, and his wound around her waist, and he pulled her closer to him.

"This." She said urgently, like he should know exactly what she was referring to. Their faces were a few short inches away, their bodies just almost touching. "All of it. The freedom. Like you could do anything in the world. Like everything's just out there, waiting for you to find it."

Carter hesitated for a split second. "Yeah. I feel it."

Blair was satisfied with his answer, for she took tiny steps forward, which made him take steps backwards, until he was pressed up against the wall of a building and just like before, their bodies were just about touching. "What do you want?" She asked, locking her eyes to his once more.

His mouth opened, and his breath fanned against Blair's face, smelling like alcohol and yet she found it the most attractive thing she could think of. Because it's what brought them here, to this very spot, right now, just centimeters away. Blair didn't know how long it would last, but she loved every second of it.

"You." He said, and with that the deal was finalized. As Blair's lips crushed against his, as his hands roamed against her body and mouths opened and tongues danced and the smallest of a moan could be heard, they both started on a long wind of journeys. Together. Something only for the two of them. It wasn't love they felt for each other, at least, not yet. But it was something. Something close to love. A sense of adventure, of friendship, of spirit and comfort. A solace they could only find in each other.

It seemed only fit that moments like these were meant to be interrupted and slightly ruined, at least, that's the way it was on the Upper East Side. Neither of them could have ever seen it coming, for they were both occupied and besides, drunk. Carter had flipped them so that Blair was pressed against the wall, and he alternated between kissing her mouth and her neck, and Blair was content with responding to his touch, her hands playing with his dark hair. It could only be described as cliché that a very familiar limo was driving down the very road which they were right by. It was just another thing to be expected as the limo braked to a stop. And yet, neither of them expected it, for the very reason it only seemed to happen in books and movies, never real life.

Chuck Bass was, to say the very least, a jealous, possessive, and angry young man, and Blair Waldorf knew this. Needless to say, if she had seen him coming, she probably would have pushed Carter off of her, or ducked into an alley, or just ran away. However, she had NOT seen him get out of the limo, a murderous scowl on his face, and she did NOT see him appear suddenly at Carter's side.

What she did see, though, was Chuck jerk Carter away from her with as much force as possible, and then Chuck's fist flying up and punching him in the face. She heard Chuck growl, "What the hell do you think your doing?" or something along those lines. Before Carter could retaliate, Blair had grabbed Carters hand, pulling him to her side. "Don't," She whispered to him, and it amazed her how quickly her expression had changed so completely. Just a few moments before, he'd been so serene, so calm, so...Carter, and now he'd transformed, his face twisted into an expression of pure anger and hate.

Blair should have been yelling, glaring, verbally or physically abusing Chuck for what he had just done. After all, what was his problem? What right did he think he had? She'd waited for him. She was done with him. She'd drunken him away with her shots of alcohol, casting the very memory of him away into the rest of her problems. He was meaningless to her now. Still, his expression made her want to reach out to him, comfort him, apologize to him, although she'd done nothing wrong.

She did nothing. Her expression was merely blank, gazing at a spot somewhere behind him. It scared Chuck to see, that look of quiet desperation, utter defeat. She'd completely given up, released herself to the self-medication Chuck had turned to so many times before.

"Chuck." Carter snarled, his hand slipping around Blair's waist and pulling her close to him, in an act of protection. It also made Chuck only angrier beyond belief, but Blair wasn't even aware of his anger anymore. Her eyes were closed, and she leaned her head against Carter's shoulder, his body heat comforting her more then anything she could imagine.

Chuck didn't speak Carter's name, instead, he focused his dark eyes on Blair's angelic face. "Blair," He said, his tone slightly pleading. Her eyes flew open when she heard her name, an automatic reaction. Her eyes were distant, and Chuck had the feeling she wasn't really seeing him, wasn't really seeing Carter for what he was. Obviously, or she wouldn't be with him. She wouldn't have been pressed up against him a moment ago.

She didn't respond, instead she tried to focus on him, just him. Carter's arm lingered around her. Just the simplest touch from him sent her pulse racing. It was like the effect Chuck had on her. She tried not to think of that.

"You don't know what your doing." Chuck started, and Carter's senses were clearly alert now, because he retorted immediately.

"She's none of your business." Carter replied coolly, his eyes locked in a stare-down with Chuck. Chuck fought the urge to punch Carter again, instead speaking again to Blair directly. It was important that she understood. It was. He knew it.

"You don't know Carter. He's dangerous. Blair, listen to me." He said sharply, noticing her eyelids beginning to close again.

Blair ignored him. "I wanna go home," She murmured, eyes closed completely now. Carter started to nod, but this was where Chuck drew the line, this is where this…relationship between Carter and Blair, ended.

"There is no way in hell I'm letting you go home with this scum bag." Chuck said sharply, with more force behind his words then he intended. Blair merely shrugged, half-oblivious to him, half-oblivious to everything, and yet she was in pure delight. This is what she needed. This, right here. Well, maybe besides the whole fight thing, but this feeling of emptiness, that anything could happen it didn't affect her. That the world could just be a meaningless blur to her.

"Blair, my building isn't far from here. We could just walk there." Carter's voice was soothing and calm again as he whispered in her ear, and even if Blair hadn't been completely wasted she probably would have gone back to his apartment with him. His whisper had been quiet, but Chuck was alert, and he stepped forward and literately wrenched Blair out of Carter's grasp, and this time he was sure he'd used too much force, for Blair cried out a small gasp of pain, but Chuck was too pissed off to notice now. He held on to her wrists harshly, in case Carter tried anything.

"She's not going anywhere with you," Chuck hissed, his dark eyes daring Carter to come any closer.

Carter's green eyes were sharp as he assessed the situation. "You think your so good for her." He scoffed. "All you've done is hurt her. Repeatedly. You're the main reason she's even like this right now. Although…" He trailed off for a moment, a small smirk on his face. "I can only thank you for that idiotic mistake. And look at yourself, Chuck Bass. You're hurting her again, right now. And that's all you'll ever do."

Chuck dropped his gaze to Blair, releasing his grip on her immediately. Even in the dark, he could see the faint outline of a bruise beginning to form. His stomach twisted horribly as Blair fell back to Carter, and Carter's arm slithered around her waist once more. He almost felt like he'd marked her. Destroyed by Chuck Bass. Humiliated by Chuck Bass. Left broken and helpless by yours truly, Chuck Bass.

He stumbled back, Carter's words stinging him with more hurt then he could have thought. His mouth felt strangely dry, and he found he could retort even if he could have thought of something to say. He just walked back to his waiting limo, drowning in his own defeated thoughts. Because that's what he was, for basically the first time in his life. Defeated.

So that's the first chapter. Should I continue? Reviews are loved!