Summary: What if the ghost of Bart Bass saves Chuck from committing suicide instead of Blair and Jack? Chuck sees how those he cared about would be affected if he had succeeded in his suicide attempt. Starts during 2.14. Loosely based off of the film "It's A Wonderful Life"

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, etc.

Free-Fall

The Bass men were not known as fools, as pariahs, as people who should be pitied; no, they never backed down from their challenges – not until tonight, at least.

Chuck Bass is throwing in the towel, thought the seventeen-year-old billionaire in despair, as he teetered upon the ledge of a rooftop above the only people who ever cared about him. Taking another desperate swig of his near-empty bottle of scotch, Chuck closed his eyes and stumbled backwards a bit. The familiar warmth that came with inebriation didn't comfort Chuck this evening. Instead, the cold and punishing wind chilled the youngest Bass to the very bone.

Looking down at the traffic below, Chuck laughed. The cars were tiny toy cars, the drivers hurried little ants scurrying around the city, too busy to notice the human being about to land on one of their hundred-thousand dollar cars. "Oh how the mighty Bass has fallen!" Chuck taunted himself bitterly before finishing off the scotch. "You're pathetic. You're so insignificant that not a single person would even care if you were gone!" He wound his arm back and whipped the empty bottle into the New York night. Chuck's voice lowered dramatically, his voice taking on a sudden and dangerous tone of finality. "Fuck it."

Chuck turned to face the countless skyscrapers protruding into the night sky. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly terrified of the rush of air that was about to befall him. Christ, maybe this was a mistake, he thought – a thought that came a second too late as Chuck Bass began plummeting downwards, falling towards the pavement like an asteroid breaching Earth's atmosphere.

All of a sudden, the sound of rushing air stopped. The world was black and quiet as death. All that Chuck could hear was his own heart beating – fast, and then slow, and then not at all. So this is what it's like to die. Amazing it didn't hurt more.

"Actually Charles, if you had died during this… error in judgment, you wouldn't have time to have that little thought of yours because you'd have died upon impact." A deep, soothing voice penetrated the silence. Chuck struggled to open his eyes, blinking away spots of darkness until he was looking up at Bart Bass, in the flesh. He was speechless.

Bart bent down to offer Chuck a hand. "Get up, Charles. I think we have a lot to discuss."

Chuck realized he was sprawled on his back upon the very same rooftop off of which he could have sworn he jumped. Hesitantly, he reached up and grabbed his father's hand; Bart's touch was freezing. Standing up with shaky legs, Chuck immediately dropped his hand from Bart's and stepped backwards. "F-father… What are you doing here?" he asked nervously. Bart looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Well?" Chuck crossed his arms impatiently before chuckling. "Oh, I get it now. This is Hell - no booze, no Blair, and Bart Bass. Well I suppose the man upstairs has a sense of humor, huh?"

Bart shook his head. "Really, Charles? You're laughing at a time like this? You've just tried to kill yourself, son. That's hardly a reason for joviality."

The smile faded from Chuck's face. "What do you mean tried? I jumped off a building, father. Trust me, I was there. Besides, there's no other explanation for your sudden reappearance besides my being in Hell."

"I'm well aware of your behavior as of late, Charles. I've been watching," Bart replied sternly.

Chuck furrowed his eyebrows. "How have you been watching? You're -"

Bart cut him off. "Dead? Yes. The problem, you see, is that I have not yet passed over to the other side. As you know, I wasn't exactly the most upstanding human being. I have done a lot of terrible things and for me to cross over, I need to help change somebody's life for the better. That somebody is you, Charles. Understand that I've been watching you since my death, son. I have seen everything you have done since the car accident, and I have also heard everything you've said or thought. You have a lot of issues, just like I did – and that is not a good thing."

Chuck took a deep breath and ran his trembling hands through his hair. He began pacing back and forth slowly. "Let me get this straight. I'm not dead – just fucked up, then. And you… you're my father's ghost?"

The elder Bass chuckled. "You make it all sound so ridiculous. I suppose it is. But yes, that's correct. And you, son, have a lot to learn about yourself."

"And how do you suggest I do that, father?" Chuck snapped harshly before letting out a sigh. "I apologize. This is too much to process. People don't just jump off of buildings only to end up alive and talking to ghosts. It's ludicrous."

Bart shrugged. "Ludicrous as it is, the situation is still a reality, and we must deal accordingly. Earlier I heard you say that no one would care if you died. Did I hear incorrectly, Charles?"

Chuck shook his head. "No, father. I said it and I meant it. I still do."

"That's what I thought. How about we investigate your supposition, hm?" Bart proposed with a smirk.

"Fine, and you'll see that it is a waste of time because I'll have been right all along," Chuck answered. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes just to make sure he wasn't going crazy. Nope, Bart was still there, standing in front of Chuck with crossed arms and an amused expression.

"You most certainly have the Bass stubbornness." He remarked dryly. "Now, close your eyes and don't open them until I say."

A/N: I know this is a very cliche story topic but I thought I could do a different spin on it. Let me know if I should continue or not, because I don't want to write if no one is going to read it =)