She was afraid to go in. Everybody else had visited by now, they had all met at the Palace with Bart and Lily to discuss how they should deal with the situation. It turned out the Upper East Siders' were as mortal as everybody else. Everybody else talked, and organised, she barely spoke a word to all the people who knew her better then she did herself, knew the truth better then she would admit. Serena had held her hand, telling her it would be ok, fine even. All she could think is how blonde she could be, inside and out and how morose didn't suit Lily's complexion.

Funny how the mind wanders in times of grief.

Tapping a brand new teal Monolo (purchased on an especially assigned, therapeutic shopping trip just for this occasion), which matched the teal, silk blouse, Blair Waldorf contemplated letting her hair down from the lose tail she had tied in a barrette this morning. Staring at the mirrored elevator doors, glaring at herself. Ashamed of the wrinkles on her 47 year old face, not that she had any, of course, she sighed. Inhaling deeply and allowing time to admire her shoes, "they'd look better on anyone else," she thought as she put on the best Waldorf-Archibald face she could muster and she walked into the suite.

It was exactly the same as it was when they were just teenagers, except the bed had been moved to be more central in the suite. "I suppose when you can't get out of bed…" her thought was cut short as she stifled a gasp of the man she saw in front of her.

Chuck Bass was laying, exhausted on his bed. He wasn't reading, or watching television, simply lying down and thinking, or dreaming, or reminiscing. He looked weak, and abused. His face looked gray, attacked by the cancer that was killing him and the years of being a playboy that had finally caught up with him. But there was something more, a regret, or untold secret. One he wished to release unto the world, but he held his tongue, for the first and only time in his life. His hair had been set free from the manicured boy-fringe she remembered, into the natural waves she had loved. "Thank God the chemo didn't get them" she sighed, relieved. His eyes were the same as ever, the hazel was bright, almost golden today, but they were hidden by bags of sleepless nights spent fighting off the poisons growing and battling in his body.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favourite old conquest." Chuck sat himself up in the bed, cocking his head slightly, triumphantly; first point goes to Bass. But still, even he couldn't deny that his eyes lite up brighter then they had in years. But then again, so did hers.

"How are we today, Bass?" Blair was afraid, he saw this, she sat on the chair next to his bed. "In pain, I hope" She returned his smirk, the one kept solely for her.

"Now that you've arrived, of course." His wicked grin widened. "How's Archibald? Still making you squeeze out more kids? I can think of so many better uses…" He allowed his eyes to travel her whole body. "Four kids", he thought, "And she still looks better then every girl I know."

"He doesn't make me do anything, Bass. Unlike some people." She snapped, her heckles were raised, she'd missed this. She saw he was still as charming as ever, though.

"If you recall correctly, Waldorf, I didn't either." Another point. She simply raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Chuck couldn't help thinking that maybe she still enjoyed remembering it.

"You sure this isn't syphilis, Bass?" she narrowed her eyes, Chuck couldn't help but smile at her, but regreting what they had and lost.

Did they ever have it?

"Quite sure. Why so far away? Afraid you couldn't handle the heat?" He teased, inviting her closer in his own twisted way.

"I think we both know I can more then handle that heat," Almost laughing at herself and Chucks tired grin, she stood up, swaying slightly as she did and sat down on the side of his bed, so they were face-to-face.

"So why are you really here? To tell me that I'm really Charlottes father? I always knew her eyes were too dark. But maybe a bit late for a daddy-daughter day at work."

"You wish, Bass, you could never do create something that perfect." Blair winced at the cruelty, lowering her eyes and hating herself for how mean it sounded.

"That's true," He sighed, leaning further into his pillows, "But you always would've, no matter who the fucker was." He lifted his hand, reaching out to finger a stray curl.

Uncomfortable, Blair began straightening his cushions, averting her gaze, "Never the less, Charles, I'm afraid she's not yours. Regardless of the name."

Her hands were moving quickly, until he gently grabbed one of her wrists. He couldn't take it anymore. Waiting until their eyes met; "I miss you, Blair," he almost whispered, as though the truth would cause the world to explode, or worse, her. "I miss us."

"I miss you too, Chuck." She looked at him sincerely for a moment, before shaking her wrist free. His heart dropped to his stomach as he felt her touch leave him, he felt his eyes swell, but the tears were washed away as Blair engulfed him a hug. It was like water during a drought or food during a famime. She was the only person he knew that could put out fires and light them at the same time.

Walking Contradiction, eh?

Wrapping her arms tightly around him, "I miss us, too."

It took him by surprise, but how safe he felt in her arms came flooding back to him. It was warmer then a mothers touch, and deeper then a lovers. Blair had been starving herself, she needed him just as much as he needed her. It was undeniable, so much so they had spent the last thirty years creating distractions.

Offspring and offshore investments.

She breathed him in, and felt the soft, sweet part of his neck. Whenever she had touched it, it made him smile and if she was lucky, giggle a little bit. Every bit of holding him made her remember everything she loved about him, and would always love. The hidden Chuck that nobody but her was allowed to see, ever. Even after four children, and his four marriages, he was always hers. And, although she would never admit it, she was only his. He closed his eyes as felt alive for the first time since the night before her wedding to Nate Archibald. In that moment when they held each other, they read each others minds, no words were necessary.

Had they ever been?

What seemed like moments later, but in reality was the best part of an hour, Blair released her arms. As he closed his eyes, she kissed him gently on the forehead. Savouring what was her final touch, he released the barrette in her hair, allowing her curls to escape. They locked eyes, and wordlessly loved each other for another few moments, until Blair stood up, and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Waldorf?"

Hiding and wiping a stray tear, she turned, replying as though she were annoyed, "What is it Bass?"

"Make sure you wear a skirt to the funeral, I want to have something good to look at from down there"

Blair looked once more at the elevator doors, but she did not glare at herself this time. As the doors opened she strolled in, head held high. She turned, facing Chuck. "I'll wear something low-cute too, just in case." Winking, the doors shut. She would always be his.