Author's Note: I haven't written FanFiction in years (I couldn't even find my original account, so I made this one), but the ending of Gossip Girl hit me hard. I know this isn't long, but if you like it, let me know, and I'll write more. Enjoy!
It had been thirteen months since he had seen her.
His former lover, coming towards him, could have been a mere illusion for all he knew. Her spine was soft bone but strictly straight, as strict and straight as her typically discolored intentions, and her legs, stiff and elegant in their gait, seemed to follow her rather than lead her through the park. Her figure was beguilingly fragile, only manifestly offset by the hard heartiness of her eyes. So dark in color they were, always flapping widely at their subject, sunken slightly above porcelain cheeks so pale that she appeared sickly at times.
"Hello, Chuck," she said crisply. There was something inadvertently seductive about the way she said his name, its last sound lodged in her throat. Rich dark hair was coiled at the back of her head in an impeccable bun.
"Hello, Blair. Thank you for meeting me," he said in his characteristically gruff voice, as masterfully phlegmatic as ever.
"If you're wondering, Paris was just extravagant, absolutely exquisite. Truly, I had an extremely happy and satisfying stay," Blair announced in a leveled but piercing tone. There was a controlled exuberance about her, one that did not necessarily speak of internal happiness but rather of intimidating alertness and self-assuredness. "I shopped every day, I ate my macaroons, I walked the Seine every afternoon. Oh, the lights down les Champs-Elysées during Christmastime were dashing. And I dined very often at the club for Columbia alumnae living in Paris. Very productive in relaxation."
Chuck gave her an amused smirk, able to detect the subtext of her lies.
"I didn't cry over you, if that's why you're giving me that look, Bass," Blair snapped upon noting Chuck's familiar expression, rolling her eyes. "I have far better things to do."
"You might be interested to know that I made the Empire a franchise," Chuck retorted with his arrogance fully intact now, leaning back and sliding his hands into his pant pockets. "We now have hotels in Los Angeles, Chicago, and Miami, and there are currently being plans made for hotels to be erected in San Francisco, London, Paris, and Milan."
Blair only just perceptibly flinched, but Chuck always caught even her most minor of movements. He studied her for a moment, as it seemed she wasn't quite sure what to say for once. It wasn't necessarily his success that made her speechless with jealousy (and, admittedly, with some proud admiration) but more so the regrettable condition of their situation. Their once beautiful love seemed to have faded away more than a childhood memory—it almost seemed codified into their respective personal histories now, the detailed blurred, the emotions blanched. Thirteen months had done the work of thirteen years. The tension between them was like salt causing her eyes to tear. She glanced down at her feet, which were adorned with Christian Louboutin heels she had purchased in Paris.
"Félicitations," she said finally. When she looked back up and smiled at him, her eyes did not crease. Her mouth looked strangely like that of a doll with its rosy innocence, her lips thin and pursed in polite impatience.
Chuck gave a slight, cheeky bow.
"Thank you."
He led a cigarette to his lips and lit it before Blair could object. He thought he saw a flash of raw sadness cross her face, but it was gone as quickly as it seemed to have come.
"I thought you quit," Blair murmured.
"I only quit for you."
A funnel of smoke protruded from Chuck's lips, and Blair took a step back away from him, crossing her arms.
Blair felt a twinge in her heart with every one of Chuck's exhalations, of frustration and tenderness, and irritation and sorrow. Both former lovers were trying so hard to avoid speaking of the incident that had provoked their separation, but the matter only stood between them with a presence more significant than that of silence.
"I think I better go," Blair said quietly, looking in Chuck's direction but not caring if her eyes met his.
"We haven't discussed the reason why I asked you to come meet me here," Chuck said with surprising vociferousness, his thick brow furrowing.
"Maybe you should've thought about that before you began behaving so rudely," Blair scoffed.
"You are being rude, Blair, by leaving so soon and abruptly. Don't give me that snotty attitude. You don't have a say in me anymore."
Her breath caught in her throat at Chuck's last assertion, for she realized its sore truth with fresh gravity.
"Fine. Chip chop," she said with a shard of annoyance.
"I need to take down Gossip Girl," Chuck declared.
Blair produced a small, ridiculing laugh.
"Well, don't we all."
"I'm serious. It's complicated and my only choice. But I'm afraid I can't tell you the details until I know you are fully devoted."
"Why, you don't trust me?" Blair wanted to laugh again, and it showed in her eyes. "Oh, please. Two can play at this game, Chuck."
"No games, Blair," Chuck said seriously. "I didn't want to ask for your assistance, but I know that you…."
"I what?" she demanded.
"You have a certain talent for mean-spirited games," Chuck said, having wanted to avoid praising her. Now he had to confront the part of him that did enjoy seeing the delight creeping up Blair's cheeks. "I just ask you this one favor, and then we can go back to being strangers. We've done it for thirteen months. I can do it for millions more." His gravelly voice was latent with such despair that Blair felt her heart falter.
Stony silence settled uncomfortably between the two. Only the faint tweeting of birds rang above them, as well as the subdued hiss of cars racing down the streets beyond the hedges.
"I can't, Chuck," Blair said finally. "I can't…." She shook her head and looked at her feet again.
Chuck took a swift step towards her.
"Please, Blair. You're my best bet."
"I can't be rash. Love is rash, and I was rash with you, but if that's what love is like—if that's what love does to people—then I don't want love anymore," Blair said with an amount of passion that surprised herself. With more composure, and rather coldly, she then proclaimed, "I can't act like a child anymore, Chuck." She nearly added, I suggest you don't act like one either, but she could see in his eyes that he had already grasped her insinuation.
Her heels clacked against the pavement as she stalked away. Chuck dropped his cigarette and mushed it with his heel against the floor, rain beginning to fall from the sky in a placid drizzle. Eighty feet down the footpath, Blair's shrunken form walked continually further away from him, her arms now covering her head as she hustled comically away in her heels to shelter from the rain. Normally such a sight would have made him chuckle, but now he only frowned with heaviness in heart.