A/N: So I've ready too many spoilers for upcoming episodes, and it's had me down. I was at the gym listening to "Pieces" by Red, and this came to me. It's really just a therapy fic...my way of making it better for our beloved Chuck and Blair! A few disclaimers before the story begins...first, obviously there are spoilers. Stay away if you don't want to know! Second, I in no way intend for this to be realistic or what I think will happen. It's overly dramatic because it made me feel better! It is not particularly believable and is not meant to be! Finally, there are some very dark themes going on here and some explicit and detailed suicidal behavior. If this sort of thing bothers you, or you are sensitive to self-injury and similar matters, please skip this story! All that said, I hope you'll enjoy my self-indulgent therapy fic. Thanks for reading!
The lyrics at the beginning and end are "Pieces" by Red. I do not own this great song!
I'm here again,
A thousand miles away from you.
A broken mess,
Just scattered pieces of who I am.
I tried so hard,
Thought I could do this on my own.
I've lost so much along the way.
Contrary to popular belief, his life didn't flash before his eyes. If anyone ever asked, he would tell them the truth, he would tell them what really happens in the moments before you die. Because you don't see your entire life; just the really important parts. As his time on Earth drew to its final denouement, the minuted seemed to stretch into hours. In a weird kind of a paradox, he wanted so desperately for them to end, just to stop the pain, but he was suddenly filled with the overwhelming desire to live, and each minute that passed took him farther and farther away from life, from her.
A few things became clear to him in those dark moments, but he wished they occurred to him before he opened the bottle, before he began swallowing small handfuls of pills. He did it slow, and he did it right. If he took them all at once he would gag and waste the precious white tablets he needed to do himself in. There were just enough to do the trick, if his calculations were correct, so he calmly and carefully swallowed just the right amount, washing them down with a few gulps of water, allowing them to settle in his stomach before continuing. If he'd seen it all then, his stomach wouldn't be twisting in pain as he broke out into a cold sweat.
But he didn't see it then. He never had. These were the truths he should have seen all along, but he'd been blinded by the constant haze of scotch and drugs and the paralyzing fear of genuine emotion and self-awareness. For just a few minutes, as the drugs began to take effect, everything slid into place. The pieces finally made sense, and he wanted to just stare at the complete picture of his life, a life that was too good to end this way but too bad to be saved. This was it, no turning back, so he sat against the wall of the bathroom and examined the truths suddenly so clear to him.
Number one: His real mother didn't love him. Mothers who loved their children didn't abandon them, even if they took sweet, heart-warming pictures for lockets. Evelyn Bass, Elizabeth Fisher…whoever she was, she didn't love him. But Lily did. And somehow, that was infinitely more profound than a mother coming back from the dead to claim her long lost son. Lily didn't have to love him. She easily could have forgotten about him once his father died. Instead, she adopted him, accepted him into her home, into her heart. Lily wasn't a perfect person by a longshot, but she genuinely loved her children, and for some insane reason, he was lucky enough to be included among them. Lily Van der Woodsen/Bass/Humphrey could be a confusing contradiction, but for all her faults, she freely offered love and hugs and all the things he'd never been given in nineteen years of life. Lily had her own son she gave up, but she didn't just leave him with a cold and emotionally distant man. She gave him to a family, to people who could care for him better than she, to people who would love him and give him everything he needed. And when he came back into their lives, it wasn't for money or for sport. It was because she was a mother who needed her children.
He had no DNA test to show that Lily Humphrey was his mother. But if Lily had to choose between him and a hotel, he would win every time.
Number two: Big Bad Bart Bass was a bastard. He lied, he deceived, he manipulated, he kept secrets. He looked at his son with disappointment and convinced him that he would never, ever be good enough. But Bart Bass loved him in the only way he knew how. He loved him deeply and truly, even though the words never came. Bart spent his life trying to make up for his past, in one way or another. He crawled out of nothing to become a billionaire, and though love was never in his vocabulary, he provided everything for his son. There had been nothing in Chuck's life that he wanted for. And that was no easy feat for Bart, who had always had nothing, who had always made do with pocket change and built an empire out of his own sweat and blood. He never required the same of Chuck. He gave everything to his son, including the legacy he worked so hard to create. Everyone knew Chuck was a bad choice, that he was irresponsible and prone to fuck ups. But in the end, when it really mattered, Bart made a leap of faith and gave Chuck the thing that mattered most to him.
More than that, more than any of that, Bart told a lie. A lie that he perpetuated for nineteen years. He played the widower and paid off the woman who gave him a son just to keep her out of their lives. He tried to protect his son from that kind of rejection, from ever learning the truth that his own mother didn't want him. Chuck spent most of his life thinking his father didn't want him, but now he knew the real truth: his father wanted him so very much that he paid off the person who just may have been the love of his life, all so he could have his child. In his own twisted way, Bart Bass was the greatest parent who ever lived.
Number three: Blair Waldorf was the single brightest point in his universe. All things began and ended with Blair, and she had always, always been there. When his father died she made him a promise. The worst thing he'd ever done, the darkest thought he'd ever had…she would be there. So he did the worst thing he could do, acted out his darkest thoughts. And he could say it was for his hotel, to get back what he lost, but he knew the truth all along. He wanted her gone, wanted to see her walk away. He was toxic, and he would destroy her. She loved him with such purity and passion and he could not watch that fall apart. His father was done, his mother wanted nothing to do with him, and Blair Waldorf could not become the next in a very long list of Chuck Bass casualties. He never intended to let it happen, but it didn't matter. As soon as she knew he was the one behind the scheme she was gone.
Except, she was never really gone. Blair Waldorf did not break promises, and she did not betray the people she loved, no matter how little they deserved that kind of loyalty. He could see now what he missed in these last miserable weeks without her as he drank himself into oblivion and hoped the darkness would let him surrender. He could see now that she was there, that she was always there. She was no longer his girlfriend, but even after what he'd done to her, she didn't avoid him, didn't refuse to look at him. When Serena came to check on him, it wasn't Serena who was doing the asking, it was Blair. When Nate asked him out to lunch, it wasn't because Nate wanted his company, it was because Blair wanted reassurance.
Blair Waldorf loved a spotlight, but for him, she would move behind the scenes. For him she would sacrifice her dignity, her self-respect, and if it had come to it, she would have sacrificed her body. For him. All for him.
And now he wanted it. He wanted it all. He wanted Lily to be his mother, wanted to see her face when he called her 'Mom' for the first time. He wanted to remember Bart, wanted to lay flowers at his grave and tell his friends about that one time that he woke up and saw his dad standing in the doorway watching him sleep. And he wanted a life with Blair. He wanted to see her eyes tear up when he got down on one knee, wanted to see her take command as she planned a wedding, he wanted to see her walk down the aisle like a goddess in white. He wanted to watch her stomach swell with his child, wanted to see her rock their baby to sleep at night. If he'd had any sense at all, when he looked at the pathetic failure of his life he would have bought a ring and asked her to marry him. He would have realised that he'd been given a gift and done everything in his power to make sure he never lost it instead of driving it away.
A few hours ago, all he wanted was to escape. He lost everything he ever cared about, and he did not want another second of breaking and hurting the things he held dear. Now he'd do anything to see her face, to tell her what he knew now, to tell her why he'd done it. He convinced himself this was best for her, but he now felt himself wracked with guilt for what he'd done and what he was about to do. The tears began, and he wanted to crawl into his bedroom to pick up his phone and call for help, but his muscles felt turned to liquid, incapable of supporting him now.
"Chuck," he heard her voice calling to him, and he relaxed a little, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. Almost over now, almost done. He'd leave this world as cold and alone as he entered it, but at least he'd hear her voice on his way out. "Chuck!" her voice continued to call, and he decided it was appropriate that she sounded irritated and put out, even in his drug-addled and near-death delirium. "Chuck, I know you're here, so why don't you come out and tell me why you absolutely refuse to let me move on," she demanded.
He frowned. That certainly wasn't what he hoped awaited him on the other side. And then he heard the distant click of Louboutins, felt a shadow darken the doorway. And then she fell down in front of him.
Seeing her face, he felt certain he could die now. Not a single hair was out of place, and the way the light bathed down on her pale skin, she looked like an angel with a halo of chocolate curls. She was a vision, and he was hers. He always had been. He wanted to stay, wanted to be with her, but after what he put her through, having her here was more than he deserved.
"Chuck?" she asked frantically, an edge of hysteria in her frightened voice.
"B-blair," he managed, embarrassed by the way his voice croaked out the single syllable.
"Oh my God, what have you done?"
She whipped out her cell phone and started to make a call, but suddenly his stomach was churning and he felt as though his insides were twisting together, tying themselves into knots and squeezing until he could hardly breathe. He knew what was about to happen, but he couldn't form the words to warn her. Instead, he just lurched forward and threw up on her new black heels and then nearly fell into the mess he'd made on top of her. If she displayed any disgust with him he couldn't tell, but at the moment his main concern was the fact that he was fairly certain everything inside of him was liquifying. Whoever said overdosing was painless had obviously never done it.
"Chuck," Blair whispered, leaning down beside him as he heaved again.
"Get out," he growled, not wanting her to see this, not wanting this to be her last memory of him. He was disgusting himself, his muscles were trembling, and if the massive pain in his gut wasn't enough to stir the nausea again, the stench certainly was.
"You need to get up," she told him, ignoring his command as she tried to place her hands beneath his shoulders and lift him off the floor. He struggled to comply, but everything had turned to jelly now and he fell forward instead, nearly slamming his head against the hard ground. "Chuck, please," she begged him, and even in this state he could hear the tears. "Don't do this to me."
"You're not supposed to be here."
He vomited again, and Blair somehow managed to drag him towards the toilet. It was a losing battle to make this process any neater, but he let her try it anyway. "I told you," she whispered as she smoothed back his hair and wiped the sweat from his brow. "The worst thing you've ever done….the darkest thought you've ever had."
"But…" his protest was cut short by a violent tremor, and he once more found himself wishing this would end and end quickly, just to put him out of his misery.
"I don't have to be your girlfriend to be here for you," she murmured tearfully as she tried in vain to comfort him and keep him calm. He felt her arms wrapping around him to still the tremors, felt her cool lips bring relief to his burning cheeks. "I don't have to be your girlfriend to love you," she added, her voice dropping a little as she brushed back his damp hair.
It was a cliché now to apologise, to tell her how much he loved her and hated himself for hurting her. His head was spinning from the effects of the drugs and the overwhelming exhaustrion taking over, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to conjure the words if he wanted to. Before he could even try, Blair spoke again.
"Why don't you ever listen to me?" she asked mournfully. "I told you I'd stand by you. Through everything."
"What I did…" he managed, then ripped out of her arms and vomited once more. This last time sent him over the edge, a d he felt consciousness beginning to fade. It wasn't an entirely new sensation; he'd overdone it before and had a few bad trips, but it was exponentially more frightening with the possibility that he wouldn't come back this time. His heart seized with panic, and he clawed at her arms, trying to force her to move, trying to communicate what he wanted her to do. She was confused at first but finally figured it out and moved into his line of sight.
"You're going to be okay," she told him even as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm not nearly done yelling at you yet. And believe me, you are going to hear about this later."
He couldn't think of anything that sounded better.
"Through everything," she repeated firmly, then bent down and kissed his forehead.
He looked up into her eyes as he felt the darkness closing in on him. She was still here, determined, unwavering, frightened and crying but showing no signs of leaving him. He was hers, no matter what he did, and he wasn't giving up without a fight.
Then I see your face,
I know I'm finally yours.
I find everything
I thought I lost before.
You call my name,
I come to you in pieces,
So you can make me whole.