Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to Cecily von Zeigesar and The CW.

To my loyal readers, I will be returning to my Chair series with the next story, but this has been floating around in my head for a while. In this story, I have taken certain pieces of the current storyline and mixed them around in my head to fit what I would want to happen.

This starts off after an abruptly ended engagement party for Blair and Louis, where Chuck has stepped in and stolen away the bride-to-be with a romantic proposal of his own. I could have written that piece into the story, but I wanted to pick up the action just after.

Enjoy.

"Where are you taking me?" Blair inquired as she fidgeted in her seat. She had tried to get interested in the many fashion magazines the flight attendant had brought her early in the flight, but she was too keyed up to concentrate. Too much had happened in that day to focus.

"Away," he responded simply as he continued reading from the novel he'd brought to fill the hours between take off and touch down.

"You'll have to do better than that," she scolded him as her hand went to his knee and gave it a painful squeeze.

"What is life without a little intrigue, my fair Waldorf?" was his sinister response as his lips curled into a devilish smile.

"Chuck, I mean it, if you don't tell me where this plane is heading, I'm going to find a parachute and jump," she replied in what was meant to be a threat, but only made Chuck laugh a little harder. Not appreciating his finding humor at her expense, she smacked his chest, "I mean it, Chuck, tell me right now."

Chuck merely shook his head in response, so Blair called for the flight attendant.

"Yes, Ms. Waldorf," the flight attendant inquired as she dutifully appeared.

"Find me a parachute, I'm jumping out of this plane," Blair stated calmly.

"I'm sorry?" the attendant looked at her in confusion.

"I'm jumping out of the plane," Blair repeated, "To land safely, I'm in need of a parachute."

"I don't think we have any," the attendant fumbled for a response.

"Thank you, Jessica, I'll take it from here," Chuck told the attendant as he shoed her away as he set his book aside, "Blair, we've fifty thousand feet over the Atlantic Ocean. We both know you have no intention of jumping as you aren't that good of a swimmer."

"I believe I'll manage," she crossed her arms as she huffed.

"How about a hint?" he offered up a compromise.

"How about simply telling me where we're going?" she countered. "I've had enough of the games this past year. You promised me things would be different when you slipped this ring onto my finger, and I'm holding you to that."

"I did make that promise to you, didn't I," he sighed as he took the hand she held up to show off the new engagement ring and kissed it lightly.

It had been quite the whirlwind of emotions over the past few hours. It hadn't even been more than a few hours ago that she'd worn another man's ring. The ring had sent Chuck into a deep spiral for which everyone was certain he would never recover.

He knew his dreams would haunt him. He done some pretty unforgiveable things to her. From the night he'd nearly attacked her, to trading her to his uncle for a piece of real estate, to stringing her long for too long. The one that haunted him the most was when he punched his hand through the glass window instead of hitting her directly. He was certain that she had a tiny scar on her cheek that she'd cover with makeup until it faded away, but he couldn't feel any more horrible about the mark if it had left a hideously uncoverable permanent scar.

He'd tried to recover. He'd sobered up, rescued her from a mad man, and even made love to her. Everything in his world began to make sense again, and then he began listening to her talk about the differences in her relationship with him to the relationship with Louis. Suddenly nothing made sense anymore. The only thing he was hearing was that he was going to drag her down into his pit. He tried to be honorable, but in being honorable he lit his own match that reignited his downfall.

He'd sunk into a deep pit. His depression ran so deep that he couldn't even call it a depression anymore. He had been completely devoid of feeling yet he didn't even know it. Somehow Clueless Nate managed to see it. He'd forced him to check into the Ostroff Center, but not after a knock down fight between the best friends that opened up Chuck's hand that had just begun to heal.

Finding himself trapped, he knew the only way to get out of the treatment facility was to open up, to show the doctors everything he was afraid to show everyone else, even Blair. He wasn't cured, but he was better, better enough to believe that he could be what Blair needed. He burst into her engagement party, without an invitation, got down on one knee and proposed. He shook his head at the absurdity of it all, especially hearing her say the one word he never truly expected, yes.

How she was sitting beside him with his engagement ring on her finger was still the mystery above all other mysteries. The shock hadn't yet worn off when Chuck whisked Blair away from her engagement luncheon to the other man and had her board the plane they were currently flying into the metaphorical sunset on.

"This makes more sense," Blair replied as she suddenly switched conversations as her head came to rest on his shoulder.

"Elaborate, please," he requested as her fingers ran tenderly along his still healing knuckles. She knew he'd punched out his best friend in a rage, and the gashes he'd opened in the tangle with the glass reopened. He wasn't healed yet. She just didn't know the whole story. "Eventually," he thought to himself.

"I was pretending with Louis," Blair sighed, "I wanted the fairytale, and since you couldn't give it to me I was determined to find someone who could. I should have known better."

"You had feelings for him," Chuck reminded her.

"But not the important ones," Blair stated as she admired her ring yet again. It was everything she had hoped to receive one day, far better than the colossal one that Louis had given her. His ring had always felt like a dead weight against her hand. Chuck's ring felt lighter than air.

Chuck's finger spun the ring around her finger a few times. He'd never doubted that it would be a perfect fit. It was clearly different than the one he tried to force onto her the night he referred to as 'the incident'. He had chucked that one into the Hudson during his manic state. The word 'bipolar' suddenly rang through his mind. It was the diagnosis that the doctor at the Ostroff Center had given him. It was a difficult pill to swallow, one that he'd have to swallow probably everyday for the rest of his life, but it made sense.

"You're quiet," she told him as he stared blankly at the book he was once again holding. She could tell by the stillness of his eyes that he wasn't reading. "There is too much self reflection going on in that mind of yours. Stop it."

"Blair, there is something that I haven't told you yet," Chuck replied as he entwined his fingers into hers, "Something that I've just found out."

Blair looked at him expectantly but didn't comment. She knew better. This was going to be a slow process back to each other. While it was true that they were engaged, there probably wouldn't be a wedding for quite awhile. They still had much to work out. There had only been one promise made, and that was that the games and hiding of truths were over.

"When I was at the Ostroff Center, I was diagnosed as bipolar," he told her.

She stared at him blankly.

"Did you hear me?" he asked.

She nodded, but said nothing.

"If that changes things between us, I'll understand," he added.

"It changes nothing," she assured him, "This honestly doesn't come as much of a surprise. When you're good, you're really good. When you're bad, you're Satan incarnate."

"It could be genetic," he told her, "Bart may have had it, maybe perhaps my mother. Any children in our future could be inflicted."

"It changes nothing," she repeated as she gave his hand a light squeeze.

"It means medication for probably the rest of my life," he continued on, "More potential outbursts, more potential hurt."

"One step at a time, Bass," she told him as she stroked his chest softly as her head came to rest against one of his shoulder. She fit perfectly against him.

"About that night," he began as he slowly traced her cheek where the faintest red line laid beneath the skillfully applied makeup. "I hope you know that I would never intentionally hurt you. I was. . ."

"I should have stayed away," Blair cut off the apology that he was intending to make, "You weren't in the right frame of mind, and I was going to make it much worse."

"I scared you," he replied.

"I was scared for you," she stated.

"I scared you," he repeated, "I nearly forced myself on you. Blair, I'm so sorry."

"It's in the past," she assured him. "We started fresh today."

"You've given me too many chances. I've hurt you too many times," he stated.

"Don't finish that thought," she scolded him, "I made my choice. I choose to stand by you through anything, including this diagnosis."

"I love you," he told her as he kissed her temple softly.

"Where are you taking me?" she repeated.

"Away," he responded simply.

"Chuck," she scolded him.

"Let me have this, and then I'll tell you everything else from here on out, I promise."

She conceded to his request. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that he'd actually be able to keep that promise. He was a man that internalized everything. It would be baby steps to get him to open up to her again. As much as he'd hurt her over the past year, she'd done a lot of damage to him as well. There wasn't a scorecard anymore, nor would there ever be again. Their relationship wasn't going to be magically repaired overnight, but it would be repaired. She wouldn't settle for anything less. He held her heart. She was done denying or trying to substitute in another.

"I could use a little bubbly," she announced, "Would you like some as well?"

"I can't," he shook his head as he spoke softly, "No more drinking."

"Why?" she gasped.

"It reacts with the medication I've been given," he explained, "It would be like giving adrenaline to the Hulk, not a good idea."

"So no more drinking ever again?" she pressed for clarification.

"For the foreseeable future anyways," he nodded, "There may come a time in which the doctors feel the medication is no longer necessary, but for now I'll be the designated sober driver."

"If you knew how to drive," she threw in for good measure.

He smirked in reply as she relaxed against him again. His arm came around her shoulder. "No bubbly?"

"Not today," she shook her head slightly, "I'll be sober with you."

"That's not necessary," he assured her, "I don't expect you to sacrifice for my benefit."

"You're taking the medication for my benefit, so I can do this for you," she explained.

"It's not just for your benefit," he sighed as he ran his fingers through the locks of her hair, "It's for the benefit of all of society. I was out of control."

"Let's put that all aside for now. We have a lifetime to deal with this and work out the kinks," she sighed, "We've been given another chance. Let's use it."

"Mister Bass, we've begun our descent. The pilot expects up to land in thirty minutes," their flight attendant announced suddenly.

"Perfect timing," Blair smiled as she kissed his cheek softly.

TBC. . .

Dedicated to my best writing pal Lori2279 on her birthday. Happy Birthday, Lori! If you haven't checked out our co-authored story "What More Could We Ask For?" I highly encourage you to do so.

Let me know what you all think.