Part 1:

1 year after finale

"Ugh, as if it wasn't enough to be fat, maternity apparel leaves much to be desired," Blair pouted and briskly scraped metal hangers down the clothes rack.

"Well, B, I happen to have a best friend who has her own fashion empire that could probably rectify this situation. Maybe you've heard of her? She runs Eleanor Waldorf Designs," Serena playfully sparred.

"Poppy Lifton?" Blair quipped.

"Laugh all you want, but I don't know why you haven't already started your own maternity line. That'd solve all your swollen problems."

Blair gasped. "S, I thought you said I wasn't that big yet!"

Serena rolled her eyes. "You're not. But I know what I say and what you see are two different things."

"Still, it's not nice to provoke me. You know how sensitive I've been lately," Blair sniffed.

Serena knew all too well. At only three months along, everything about Blair was sensitive: her sense of smell, her stomach, her breasts (Serena wished she didn't know this one). Blair had requested their shopping date be moved up to 2pm so she'd have time to get home for her now-regular 4pm nap. Hence the pair was now circling the women's department at Bergdorf Goodman's before Blair's fatigue kicked in full force.

"Blair, you're three months along. I hardly think the best time to freak out about how big you are is during the first trimester, since you're never going to be as small as you are right now throughout the rest of your pregnancy. Besides I don't remember you acting like this last time," Serena hesitated to include the comparison. Although it had been about three years, she still wasn't sure how Blair felt about everything that had happened. She had opened up to Dan, but for the most part, her pregnancy and healing after losing the baby had been kept mostly to herself.

Blair took the turn in conversation in stride. "Well, it was different then. I was younger and had dignified muumuus to cover up the royal bump. Now that I'm Pregnant Blair Bass, I can't stop looking like Blair Bass. I have a fashion reputation to uphold."

Serena jabbed her elbow into her friend's side in good humor. "Another person living inside of you hasn't taken away any of your ego. If anything, I think your opinion of yourself has inflated."

Blair snorted, "And what's so wrong about that? This baby I'm baking contains the DNA of Chuck Bass. How could I not absorb some of that into my own bloodstream?" Blair patted her slightly rounded stomach.

Chuck had been beside himself when she told him. It was understood they wanted to wait a little while before starting a family. They were so young when they had gotten married. Although the timing was partially out of necessity, Blair had considered marrying before, and if she was being honest with herself, she had only ever wanted to consider marrying Chuck Bass. But babies could wait, they had both decided.

In theory, they would have liked to have waited until they were at least 25. In reality, it was hard to avoid given their penchant for sex, perpetual attraction to one another, and less than reliable forms of birth control. How was a businesswoman like Blair expected to remember to take a pill at the same time each day when her schedule was never the same? How could Chuck, as a husband, be expected to use a condom every single time?

And so it wasn't a total surprise when less than a year after their "I Do's," Blair decided to hunt down her elusive period with a narrow plastic stick.

She knew he wouldn't be upset, but she was still anxious to tell him. She paced for the rest of the afternoon in their suite at the Empire, driving Monkey crazy as he followed her, nearly underfoot. She'd shush him when he'd bark, afraid to miss the ding of the elevator as her husband arrived home from work, almost always right before 6—Chuck never wanted to keep her waiting too long. But tonight, as the minutes ticked past 5:30, she tried to find things to keep her busy, like pouring Chuck a tumbler of scotch, ordering dinner from the room service menu, straightening the end tables in the living room that were already perfectly arranged, fluffing the pillows on their bed and lint rolling their comforter. Blair had nearly distracted herself when the doors of the elevator slid open.

Before he could even get a word out in greeting, Blair had rushed to the entryway, sliding to a stop, and looked her husband in the eyes, blurting out, "I'm pregnant."

Chuck's hearing grew fuzzy, and he could hardly see Blair standing in front of him as his vision blurred and then sharpened in psychedelic hues. Blair watched as his facial expression rearranged from one of shock to the same grin he wore when she shared this news with him a few years back, right before she crushed him when she revealed the biological father of the fetus. This time, there was no mistaking Chuck's role.

Before she could say anything else, Chuck had engulfed her in his arms, dropping his sport coat and briefcase with a clatter, Monkey scampering over to investigate. "I love you," he breathed into her ear. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

Blair started to cry, and he kissed her fully on the mouth, pulling away to stroke her cheek and dry her tears.

"This is a lot sooner than we planned," she started, unsure why she was trying to temper his excitement.

"It doesn't matter, Blair. You know we can do it. You also know that waiting until we were 25 probably wasn't going to happen anyway. In fact, I'm surprised we made it through the honeymoon without procreating."

Blair chuckled and sniffed in agreement, waiting for Chuck to remove his arms from her waist. He didn't though. He just held her and looked right into her eyes, as if he was now looking at the mother of his children instead of his wife. He pulled her close again, shut his eyes, and breathed out a sigh of contentment.

A twinge in her back pulled Blair out of her reverie.

"I'm going to need a break soon," she warned Serena. The blonde was distractedly looking through swimsuits that Blair refused to even consider for herself and her bump.

"Well, it's almost your naptime anyway. Are you starting to get a little fussy?" Serena teased.

Blair stuck her tongue out at her best friend. "I'm going to remember how mean you were to me when you get knocked up."

"Oh, Blair, by the time that happens, you'll have your baby and won't even be able to pull your eyes away from its face to glance my way and hurl an insult," Serena retorted.

"Her face," Blair corrected, a smile growing wide. "It's a girl."

Blair was not alarmed at the decibel of the screech that left her friend's mouth, but every employee and customer in the store was. Blair temporarily lost her sight as a cascade of blonde hair covered her face when her best friend threw her arms around her shoulders.

"It's a girl! It's a girl! It had to be a girl! I knew it would be a girl!" Serena shouted as she jostled Blair with her every movement.

"Okay, calm down, Auntie," Blair attempted to diffuse the spectacle. Of course, she really wanted to act the same way. She had always wanted a little girl to throw tea parties, and dress up, and essentially be her Mini-Me. Chuck was elated to hear he would be having a daughter, too. He had always been concerned at fostering a father/son relationship after the example he had.

Serena finally pulled away, but Blair thought her face looked like it would be permanently frozen in that over-the-top smile.

"A niece! I'm going to have a niece! I can't tell you how thrilled I am!"

"You don't have to," Blair laughed. "I can tell."

"Come on, B," Serena tugged her friend by the crook of her arm. "Let's get you back to your room so you can keep baking my niece till she's golden brown and not soggy in the middle."

"That's a delightful image of my precious baby infant, thank you," Blair sneered.

Serena just laughed as she nudged her along to the waiting limousine, deciding that Blair's body wasn't the only thing that needed a rest.

Chuck was working late tonight. She hated it. He hated it. But it happened sometimes.

After her nap, Blair had decided to take her dinner in the dining room with the hotel guests. She was seated immediately at the intimate booth that was reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Bass whenever they didn't eat in their suite. After a satisfying dinner and a special dessert that hadn't even been printed on the menu, Blair couldn't keep her eyes open, and she decided to call it an early night. She called a valet to take Monkey on a brief stroll (if she had more energy tonight, she would have done it herself), drew herself a bath, and texted Chuck that she'd be asleep when he got home. After drying off and rubbing cocoa butter around the tiny bump, Blair tucked herself into bed, Monkey at her feet.

Chuck groaned when he felt sunlight hit his eyelids. He had crawled into the suite and his bed far later than he had planned, but his late meeting had run into a later dinner and was topped off with drinks at midnight. Needless to say, he was glad that Blair had already gone to sleep and wasn't waiting for him to get home since he didn't his car didn't pull up until 1:30 in the morning.

Given his productive evening, Chuck was inclined to go to the office a little later today, hopefully treating his pregnant wife to brunch first to make up for his absence.

He was still in awe that she was pregnant, even though he had several weeks to get used to the idea. He looked at his wife every chance that he got—granted, he did this even before she was expecting—taking in the minute changes that he was probably the only one to notice, aside from the almost nonexistent bump, of course. Her cheeks had widened, just a little bit, and she'd be horrified if he revealed that he detected it. Her walk had changed, not into a waddle, merely a slight indication that her back was a bit uncomfortable (he made sure to massage it as often as he could). Chuck believed Blair was proof positive that the pregnancy glow was not a myth, though Blair was wont to contradict him when she was bent over the toilet, heaving through morning sickness during the first trimester. And of course, her breasts had swelled, not that she had been in the mood to let him experience them himself, though.

He rolled over onto his side so he could look at her, eyes still closed. The baby really took up a lot of her energy. She looked pale, even though she was resting. Chuck thought maybe she'd be in the mood for a romp since her morning sickness was on its way out. At the very least, he wanted her to have plenty of time to get ready for brunch.

He gave her a kiss on the lips, their preferred method of waking each other up. But it didn't startle her. Usually, she'd release a moan and start to stretch. Sometimes she'd scrunch up her nose and push him away, asking for 10 more minutes. The best days were when she'd start to kiss him back, eyes still closed, him collapsing on her 20 minutes later, spent and satisfied before they even said "Good Morning."

She felt cold, and Chuck felt panic rise. He touched her cheek, and it didn't feel like Blair. He gently shook her several times and called her name, desperate for a response. Nothing. Chuck turned to his nightstand and reached for his phone. He leapt out of bed, mistakenly shoving his shoes on without socks and trying to pull his pajama pants on over them all while dialing 911.

"911, what is your emergency?" the dispatcher droned.

"My wife isn't waking up! She's pregnant, and she's really pale, and I'm trying to wake her up, and she won't!" Chuck relayed, shouting and nearly in tears. He continued to jostle Blair's shoulder. "You need to send an ambulance to the Empire Hotel. Penthouse."

"Sir, I just need a little bit more information. How far along—" the dispatcher was cut off.

"I need you to get someone on their way here now! A team of the best paramedics New York City has to offer," Chuck felt himself growing delirious. He threw back the covers, wanting to expedite the amount of time emergency workers would need to spend getting his wife ready to leave for the hospital and almost dropped the phone.

"Blood," he whispered. "There's a lot of blood."

To Be Continued. . .