Title: (A picture/video) Says a Thousand Words
Disclaimer: 'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz, and the CW. No copyright infringement intended.
Characters/Pairings: Chuck, Blair, Bart || Chuck/Blair, Bart/Misty
Rating: K+/PG
Summary: Chuck opens a box and finds secrets into his father's past.
Spoilers: up to 3x12
A/N: I understand 3x12 confirmed the name. I do not care. Chuck's mother/Bart's first wife's name is Misty. Screw you, Josh&Co.
Dedication: This was written for 'Eddicted Secret Holiday Exchange' at Ed Westwick's board FanForum. This one's for you, Carter. Enjoy the new year and never let the Bart Bass love die. I can't do it alone. ;)
Chuck couldn't sleep. Blair was beside him, metaphorically dead to the world. The girl usually wore him out, and she had, but he woke up an hour later.
It was 2:30 a.m. and he didn't want to wake her. She told him he could, but Chuck never wanted to disturb her. Besides, the thing plaguing his mind wasn't something she could help with. This, he needed to face alone.
Slowly, Chuck snuck out of bed and put on pajamas in the form of purple silk. It was still early January.
Another look at his sleeping beauty and Chuck left the bedroom.
He made his way into the office of The Empire's penthouse suite.
In the center of the desk sat an unopened box that Lily had brought over two days ago. She said a lawyer dropped it off from some storage facility that had recently been emptied.
His stepmother offered to stay and help him go through the contents, and Chuck had been tempted to say yes, ask her to open it, but he knew he needed to do this alone.
With a deep breath, he sat in his chair and just stared, heart pounding. He couldn't even imagine what could be inside.
Time passed. How much, he couldn't tell, but the next thing he knew, a silhouette was in the doorway.
Chuck blinked and looked at her. "What are you doing up?"
"I could ask you the same question. You weren't in bed."
He remained silent.
Blair walked into the office; Chuck's gaze followed her. She was in a sapphire blue slip with a white silk robe on top.
And then she was behind him, pressed against the chair, arms wrapping around his neck and resting on his chest. The box was directly in front.
"What's that?"
"I don't know," he whispered.
"Where'd it come from?"
"Lily brought it over a couple days ago."
"For you?"
He nodded.
"Are you going to open it?"
He made no sound or movement.
"Do you want me to leave?" She started to remove her hands, but, lightning fast, his hands stopped her.
"No," came the hoarse response; tone begging her not to leave him. He couldn't open up hidden Bart Bass secrets alone.
She remained still and silent and waited for him to attend to the box, but minutes passed by with nothing.
Finally, she spoke up: "Chuck, are you going to open it?"
"I…" he swallowed, hands clasping over hers.
"We could do it together," she suggested in a soft-spoken, loving voice.
When he didn't object to the idea, Blair slowly moved her right hand off his chest and picked at the tape on the box, pulling it off.
With the flaps half open, Chuck snapped out of his trance and stood up, making Blair take a step backward. Taking a loud breath, he dove in and reached for the first item inside, gasping and letting it fall on the desk before falling back into the chair.
Blair's hands went to his shoulders and began to rub.
It was a lavender album with a yellow rose print and "Bass Family" written in yellow calligraphy.
"It's a photo album," Blair said in awe.
Chuck shook his head. "I can't."
"Yes, you can. You should look inside, Chuck. It's your family."
"It's his," he croaked out.
"Which makes it yours, too," she pointed out with a kiss on his neck.
"Come here." And without waiting for her to move, Chuck pulled Blair around with her arm until she fell into his lap.
Blair giggled. "Oh, there's my Chuck Bass. I missed you there for a few weeks."
He only rolled his eyes at her playful tone, but the words were true. Ever since his father's death anniversary, he had been slightly more detached from his girlfriend. Yes, they had sex and had dinners and spent Christmas and New Years together, but still, he was thinking back to last year; about what his subconscious was projecting in the form of his father that day.
"You can do the honors."
"Why me?" she questioned.
"Because you're my family, Blair."
When she looked up, his eyes were waiting for hers. She could see the fear in those honey-brown orbs. Love did not solve everything, but it was the beginning of the healing process – for both of them.
As she tilted her head up, he met her half way and the gentle kiss was full of passion and love and family. When they broke apart, he was smiling. She returned the expression and took the album into her lap.
Without hesitating, she flipped it open and they were met with a wedding picture. It wasn't a grand Upper East Side wedding. The courthouse was clear. The bride was in a beautiful, white gown and the groom was in a black and white tuxedo with a yellow rose pinned to the jacket. (If there was one thing Chuck had always known about his mother, it was that her favorite flower was a yellow rose.)
"They're so happy," slipped out of Chuck's mouth.
Blair turned from the photo to him, but his gaze was mesmerized on the image. She looked back to the album. "It's their wedding day. Of course they're happy, even if it's tiny and in, ugh, a courthouse." She leaned back into him and Chuck's arms came around her middle, holding her tightly. "They're in love. That's all that matters."
The inscription in purple feminine handwriting – which was the writing throughout – read July 25, 1990.
Blair turned the page. The two-page spread was filled with more wedding pictures, but only a handful of people were seen. In the center was an image that would have made the kids laugh if everything wasn't bitter sweet. Both bride's and groom's faces were filled with cake, but huge smiles were still visible.
The next spread was titled August 1, 1990 – the big 30!
"Old man," Chuck commented as they viewed the birthday pictures at a Bass Industries event.
Blair turned to the next, another birthday spread. August 7, 1990. 21 years and legally drunk.
Blair was surprised at how young the woman had been, especially compared with the previous page and how old Bart was. But when she heard and felt the sharp intake of breath, she glanced at the photos of the beautiful dark hair woman full of so much life, even if most of the pictures contained her getting drunk or being hung-over the morning after.
Over the next 30 minutes, the two of them looked through the entire album filled with holidays, events, and just genuine happiness of the two people featured.
When Blair closed the album and looked at her boyfriend, she saw water in his eyes, but no tears had fallen. She wanted to tell him it was okay to cry; she wouldn't tell anyone, promise. But she did nothing but kiss his cheek.
She held back the Are you all right? because she already knew the answer. He wasn't, but one day, he would be. Instead she went with: "Is there anything else?"
Blindly, he reached forward, stuck his hand into the box, and pulled out another album. This one was baby blue, again with yellow roses decorating the cover. In the same shade of yellow, the inscription stated Charles Bartholomew Bass.
"It's a baby book, Chuck," Blair gasped.
He shook his head. "It has to be empty. He never kept record," Chuck denied.
Testing his hypothesis, he flipped it open and was met with a sonogram image. In the same purple handwriting as the first album, the words read baby's first picture/September 30, 1990/six weeks.
The next three two-page spreads were filled with pictures of a pregnant Misty with random words describing each. Half of them included Bart, happy and glowing with fatherly pride.
Before turning the page, Chuck read the date on the last picture, May 18, 1991.
"She's so happy..so alive," she barely heard, despite how close his mouth was to her ear.
"She was very happy. She wanted you, Chuck. They both did. This – all this – proves that they wanted you so much. You have to realize this," Blair stressed.
Instead of acknowledging her words, he flipped the next page. It was no longer glowing with Misty's twinkling eyes and contagious smile. The left side was blank, but the right had a picture of a newborn baby with Chuck's full name written underneath; only this time, it was in black and in, he recognized, his father's handwriting.
After a minute of staring, Blair said, "Turn the page, Bass," which finally made him flip to the next.
Bart was holding a baby boy and staring down at the bundle in his arms. Another held baby Chuck in his crib. The pictures continued in the same fashion, and even had text in Bart's handwriting. Chuck flipped page after page. Crawling, walking, first word, first day of school, play dates, piano recitals. It went on and on for years.
Chuck was shaking his head. "No, this isn't right. These aren't real." He reached the end and then threw the album on the desk. "There are no pictures of these moments. He was never there!"
Blair waiting a few minutes before voicing her thoughts, letting him try to calm down. "Chuck, maybe it's true. Maybe he wasn't there –"
"He wasn't!"
She ignored his outburst and continued. "But he probably had his staff, the nannies, keep a record. It's his writing; it's his album, I doubt he'd let anyone see what was kept here. He might not have physically been there, but he was continuing their memories. Can you even understand what I'm saying?"
"I hear you. But it's hard to believe he's had these. I always thought…" he sighed in frustration. "Everything I've thought doesn't make sense anymore. And what am I supposed to do now?"
This time, Blair reached into the box and found a video tape. She stood up and pulled the tape out before turning to him. "Watch this. Try to understand his actions based on the person he used to be. Grief changes people. It's not an excuse for the man he was to you, but it's a way to try to understand why." She held her hand out to him.
Chuck stood up and grasped her helping hand, letting her lead the way to the couch. He took the tape out of her other hand and put it into the VCR player – yes, Chuck Bass still had one of those. Some of his favorite porn movies were still on tape, thank you very much – while Blair took a seat. He pushed play and sat beside his girlfriend.
~*~
"Bart!" a young woman shrieked as her body appeared on screen. The dark haired, dark eyed beauty was in a deep purple maternity dress that went down to her ankles. The background scenery looked like a park. "Get that camcorder out of my face this instant!"
Naturally, the man ignored her, barking a joyous laugh.
"I cannot believe you brought that here," she shook her head and sat down on a purple and yellow checkered blanket.
"I stuffed it into the picnic basket that you are not allowed to carry," came the reply, followed by a yellow rose on screen. A hand held the flower as he carefully weaved it into his wife's soft wavy hair.
Misty tried to glare, but a smile won out. "I am eight months pregnant. Do not treat me like I cannot sneeze without you holding a tissue for me."
"I'm sorry for being so protective, but I enjoy treating you like the queen that you are."
She reached out and removed the camera, placing it on the blanket. Grass and trees and people were in view, but the sound of kissing was distinct.
"I love you, Misty," her husband said without hesitation.
"I love you, Bart," was his wife's giggly reply.
"Oh! He kicked," she squealed and the camera was moving again, focusing on the small family, but this time, in the hands of the pregnant woman.
"I didn't forget about you, kiddo. I love you, too, Charles." And Bart placed a kissed on the dress over her belly, his hand on her abdomen.
~*~
Blair looked away from the television screen and saw Chuck silently crying as his eyes fixation on his parents in action. She snuggled in closer and returned to the home video, knowing that one day, he would finally understand that he was wanted and loved.
.end.