Disclaimer:I don't own gossip girl, just the specific story I choose to bring the characters into.
It's nothing but time and a face that you loose. I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose;
I'll write you a postcard, I'll send you the news, from the house down the road
from real love.
-- Stars
Chapter One:
He stood in the wing, staring intently at the profile of the aged man as he spoke; Chuck counted in binary in his head. The only sound audible to him was the squeak of the lint catcher as his assistant nervously rolled it up the lapels of his Gucci suit with an unstable arm.
"And now, the man of the hour … Charles Bass, ladies and gentlemen" Chuck quickly swallowed the remnants of his scotch, wincing as the amber liquid burnt a trail down his throat and briskly strode to the podium, firmly shaking the age spotted hands of the host before turning his attention to the glare of the spotlight.
"Good evening," He began, the trademark Bass smirk tugging at the edges of his lips as the buzz and flash of photographers and camera's filled the air "I'm so glad that you've all come out in support of this cause." His chocolate eyes lightly scanning the seated audience as he continued, "On behalf of Bass Industries I'd like to present the New York Metropolitan Aquarium with a check for one-hundred thousand dollars as a donation to their 'Save the Whales Foundation' for further research and development." The rumbling applause did little to drown out the snaps and flashes of the cameras as a slew of field workers and managers filed onstage for the obligatory photo-op while Chuck, with practiced expertise, obliged and smiled warmly for the media.
It didn't take long to politely meander from conversation to conversation, topics ranging from business, to family and finally rounding off ironically on the subject of golf. Predictable, tiresome, conversation he had upheld while maintaining a feigned sense of keen interest. All the while his eyes searched for a particular shadow amongst the elite, the one thing aside from work that he had bound himself to, with mute distaste at first, which had translated over the years into arbitrary lust.
Finally breaking free of the social circuit, he eagerly made a break for the bar, loosening his bowtie slightly as he walked. Every now and then he would have to stifle a laugh at the air of importance and purity put off by such people who made up for their scandals it seemed, by spending money and flashing diamonds. The wives could very well have been the daughters of the men they had married, and although these facts and occurrences were routine considering the riches and social standings (not that Chuck could warrant an argument that he was unlike them) every now and then one had to admire the humor in how desperately secrets were concealed and images untarnished by time through carefully constructed blockades of truth.
Taking a seat, he waved down a bartender, fingers tapping on the smooth oak of the bar as he waited. He heard the soft crunch of leather a few minutes later as someone took a seat beside him. His nostrils filling with the tasteful sent of lilac perfume as it assaulted his senses and stirred the sleeping lust in his eyes. Slowly, Chuck attempted to gather his wandering reserve back, cautiously keeping an eye on the glass of alcohol as it was placed in front of him. The orchestra played softly in the background; diligently he ignored the automatic tensing of his muscles, feeling the burn of eyes on his skin as he listened to the crescendo.
"Chuck?" Her voice floated to his ears in the form of a question, as the familiarity of the woman's voice bluntly landed on him. This time his muscles tensed and his breath quickened as a million memories suspended themselves above him and pushed eagerly at his previous ignorance. He turned slowly towards her, struggling between wanting to both prolong the moment and fast-forward through it. It was only a matter of time he reminded himself as his guarded eyes met her warm gaze.
He pulled a hand through his auburn hair as he drank sections of her in, careful not to linger too long on the black dress that clung to her curves and gave way to long, muscular legs. Her hair was slightly shorter than the last time he had seen her, reaching only to her shoulders at best. A singular golden chain roped around her bare neck, a ruby in the center that gleamed under the harsh light of the banquet hall. His eyes stopped on her hands, extended on her lap, elbows at her waistline. He had forgotten how to breathe.
"Blair," her name was salty sweet on his tongue "it's been a while."
She smiled pearly white teeth behind rouge lips, lips he had kissed feverishly and lipstick color he had smudged with the gentle stroke of his thumb. Chuck allowed the barrage of unspoken words to sustain his emotion. In an attempt to harness some of the raw energy that had built itself upon the moment, he encircled the top of his glass with a pinkie finger.
"It has ..." She said, her eyes smoldering as she took a small sip of a fresh martini.
A million words were caught on the roof his mouth, things he wanted to say, dreamt of saying, things he needed to tell her, but instead opting to grab hold of another subject, something riveting enough to draw himself away from the strong pull of truth that simmered on his lips.
"I wouldn't expect for you to be here Waldorf, I didn't know you cared so much about the Aquarium," his tone held a lightness to it in attempt to distract from the burden of forgotten moments as he continued, "I didn't see you on the guest list either."
She looked down and away for a moment, the yellow cashmere shawl dipping past her collarbone.
"I was running late," she explained "and I came with my husband; it's Blair Hutlen now."
Chuck nodded as he forced an unidentifiable emotion back down his throat taking in this new information with interest. Specifically the lack of a hyphen which Chuck had always figured was the type of approach Blair would take to the exchanging of a maiden name in place of the grooms.
The honesty of the moment and the slight embarrassment at two former lovers, who had in fact loved each other with deep gut wrenching strength, brought forth the action of stepping around the intimacy of their acquaintance with clumsy feet as they sat not two and a half feet from each other.
He was filled immediately with curiosity, his eyes falling once more on that which appeared to be a solid three carat princess cut diamond, his knowledge spanning little past that assessment if it was even a correct one at that.
"Wow" he maintained a cool tone as he spoke, his hands balled into fists inside his suit pockets, "That's great."
"It is "she answered, her eyes trained on the counter as she spoke."He's the head researcher at the foundation." With little prompting a pressing question had forced its way into Chuck's head as he combed through the faces of the men he had shaken hands with onstage, the uncontrollable desire to know the face of the man who had taken up loving her just as she had learned to stop loving Chuck.
He noticed she looked tired, worn out; there were slight bags under her eyes from too much work he wondered. Was she a designer? Did she finally manage to break free of her mother's rule? Did she still talk to Serena? Did Nate still talk to her and keep it a secret from him out of some kind of unspoken rule formulated the moment news of the breakup had hit everyone else via gossip girl? Come to think of it this seemed plausible. No doubt they still ran in the same social circles but there existed a barrier now, one built by time that Chuck was not surprised in the least to recognize. He had heard very little of her over the years and the knowledge of Blair Waldorf's life got smaller naturally, as if she had moved out of his reality all at once, the gaping hole filled gradually by other things.
"What about you?" She breathed, shaking off the silence and turning to face him once more as she took another longer sip of her drink "Still the head of Bass Industries, no bankruptcy yet I see," she laughed but it didn't reach her eyes. It looked as if the tension had finally barred down on her, as if she had suddenly become uncomfortable about addressing what was different about the man she had devoted herself to in times past.
"It's only my pride and joy if you can believe that," there was a pause in which he debated allowing further perspective into his life or stopping short at workaholic tendencies "We both took the jump" He gestured subtly to his wedding ring as if to assure her that there was no harbored feelings or mis-intentions, that she didn't want him to have, in his eyes. It was a battle of emotion and they both stood on uncertain ground, lacking words to ward off the voids, and so there was no fight left to be won or dealt with. All the armor needed to keep at bay had been coddling their ring fingers like precious jewels, a swift exit past awkward sighs and choppy words.
Her eyes widened in disbelief, he had become used to the reaction by now. In the two years following his marriage he had likened breaking the news to old friends and family like telling someone their preferred brand of ice cream really was not the flavor they had known it to be all the years they had searched it out and enjoyed it. Not to be misguiding, his muscles still tensed slightly at the sight of a beautiful women, a smirk still finding its way onto his lips as any attractive woman would look him over with desire, but he controlled it in a way he previously never thought could be possible. Channeling it instead into the expansion of his business in every possible way which left him wondrous nights alone at the office mulling over idea's and papers with mussed hair and a crumpled suit from hours of concentration.
"W-wow Bass, really?" She stuttered, crossing her legs as she softly touched his shoulder "that's ... amazing, fantastic. Marriage ..." She tilted her head as if searching for the right explanation, "Congratulations."
Chuck's shoulder was pulsing as her hand remained where she had placed it, her eyes looking into his a little too closely. She was scrutinizing and processing this information as gracefully as the Blair Waldorf he knew could have. And for a few moments he imagined breathing her in, capturing her in his flesh, inhaling her scent greedily as he fantasized. They were both guarding themselves, watching their words and actions, and yet a piece of the man and woman they were together had slipped past Blair's watch and presented itself in the form of a seemingly innocent gesture.
She dropped her hand and coughed lightly, restlessness in her movements as she made them.
"Well I have to go find Mark now," She said while re-adjusting her shawl, "It was amazing seeing you, we should do it again sometime."
Chuck nodded in agreement, grabbing his drink and standing, awaiting her departure into the crowd of drinking and dancing peers.
"Lunch maybe?" It was a question, such a question that caused shivers down Chuck's spine. He could end it, ignore that it had been said, walk in the opposite direction and curl up at home with the image of her as she was in the moment lulling him to sleep.
"You know where to find me," He responded as she smiled again, pulling him into a loose hug, mindful of the drinks.
It was true; she still knew how to find him, granted she had always known.
And he prayed that she would, as he watched her disappear into the crowd.
Blair realized her heart had stopped beating the second he released her from his intense gaze and she had stumbled in the direction, any direction, away from Chuck Bass. She rushed for a dark corner, counting her breaths as she took them, trying to combat the fervor with soft calm. He was not the same man and she was not the same woman and yet she still forgot how to breathe, how to move, how to think, whenever he was around, even after all that time.
She gathered her thoughts as she searched for Mark, hoping that the flush in her cheeks and the pace of her thoughts would slow as she looked. She found him on the other side of the banquet hall, talking to another couple, no doubt impressing them with one of his many anecdotes causing peals of laughter to erupt as he rolled back on his heels in triumph. She appeared beside him quietly, grabbing hold of his hand as she stood. His blue eyes caught hers briefly, his grin expanding with her presence.
"Mr. and Mrs. Rulyen, May I introduce my wife Blair," Two pairs of eyes trained on her a small eternity before Mrs. Rulyen spoke "Well Mark, she's beautiful"
"Absolutely gorgeous," Mr. Rulyen added in the way that husbands and wife's finished each other's sentences and thoughts without a second thought.
"Thank you" she exclaimed, feeling the blush re-surface. The unexpected encounter with Chuck had worn down her guard and left her feeling larky and tiresome as Mark checked his Rolex and sighed "We should probably get going" He stated into the stuffy air "The twins will want us to be there when Dorota puts them to bed."
Mr. and Mrs. Rulyen's eyes lit at the mention of children, "Twins?" Mrs. Rulyen inquired.
The subject of their children was a source of great pride normally, but under the same roof as Chuck Bass Blair found more use of swallowing her secrets and biting her lip than gushing to the Rulyens about the absolute perfection of her offspring in case he should emerge from some unseen corner.
Stop it, she scolded herself, you're being utterly stupid.
"Henry and Tula" Mark beamed, squeezing his wife's hand.
"Sweet sweet names," Mrs. Rulyen complimented.
Blair twitched with laughter.
"All thanks to their mother, I'm afraid I'm no good at names" he admitted, sipping at his champagne.
As if they had known each other for a number of years rather than twenty five minutes, Mrs. Rulyen remarked with fondness in her tone "Just like my Bob, why if he had, had his way my children would be named after vegetables!"
Bob Ruylen laughed, Blair assumed, at the truth in this statement. Although to be fair, she had the names of her babies long before she gave birth to them, nothing could have changed her mind in the slightest. Of all the things she was accepting of in those moments as they placed her newborn children into her arms - a name debate was not one of them. And so, in honesty, Mark could have been fantastic at naming children, even if he was of male gender.
"How old are they?" Mrs. Ruylen continued as her husband waved down another glass of bubbly for his wife.
"They're eight," Blair answered.
"We have grandchildren that are about that age, oh what a wonderful age it is."
"It really is" she agreed with a smile, "it really is."
Mark leaned over, whispering softly in her ear "It's almost 7:30, whadya say we blow this pop stand?"
She stood on her tiptoes, answering him with the soft collision of their warm, wet lips.
"Well it seems we need to be heading out now..."
"Oh yes, it was nice meeting you" The Ruylen's exclaimed.
"You too" Blair giggled; as she turned and started towards the entrance with Mark "Have a good night!" she called behind her shoulder.
Two lace adorned hands reached around and covered Chuck's eyes "Guess who" she purred, moving to take a seat next to him once he had guessed correctly.
"I thought you weren't coming," he questioned, seeing as she'd brought up mention of some business dinner she would have to attend on exactly the same night of the charity event.
"I skipped out early Mr. Bass and came to find you."
His irritation dissolved as a cold finger trailed his bottom lip.
"Abby I'm trying to stay mad at you ..." he growled, biting at her playfully, as his eyes slid down her form fitting red dress in appreciation.
"But you can't so give it up" She hummed in his ear.
The droplet diamond fastened to her neck was distracting and he had been stuck all day inside the board room arguing, convincing, and planning, he felt himself yearn for a break in activity where words were not needed.
Abigail's blonde hair was fastened with bobby pins to the back of her head in a messy bun, tendrils framing her tanned face as she inched closer to Chuck, walking two fingers past the spot on his shoulder that still burnt with another woman's touch.
"Let's get out of here" she whined, eliciting a loud sigh for show.
Chuck grabbed her hand and stood up as she slid her hand through the crook of his elbow. He said the necessary good-byes as they swiftly exited the hall, eyes scanning past the red carpet and sea of black limo's for their own.
His breath caught on the cold air as he saw her.
Blair.
She ducked into a limo, a secure hand placed on the small of her back. His eyes remained glued to the scene, willing a glimpse at his face to satisfy the blank of her husband's identity. If he could hold onto nothing more, he wanted to be able to hold onto that. The man that signified a love Chuck did not prompt or want to acknowledge. The first person he knew that had probably driven her from the darkness of their breakup and into the light of a crisp and trusting relationship.
He had dark brown hair, much like Chuck's, and as if an answer to his prayer, the man turned, his eyes, boldly blue, his mouth pale pink, he drew a sharp breath before sliding in beside Blair and closing the door.
Hutlen.
Mark Hutlen, if Chuck remembered the night's introductions correctly.
They made their way up the stairs to the brownstone quietly, his lips on the bare of her neck as they moved. Laughter as silent as could be managed given the ebullience that surrounded them.
Upon unlocking the door, Blair took off her heels and placed them on the hardwood, padding up the stairs and into their bedroom; where she removed her shawl and put away her clutch. Mark retreated to the kitchen in search of food.
She had missed her babies all night long; it was difficult watching them grow up. In so many ways it seemed like the momentous event of their birth was still yesterday instead of almost nine years previous. It made her feel older but it had also instilled in her selflessness and a love she had never known before.
"Mommy?" Tula called groggily, stepping out from behind the doorframe, teddy bear in tow. Blair opened her arms and lifted her daughter into the air, placing her naturally on her hip with a grin as Tula's bubbling laughter filled the silence.
"Hi baby, how was your night?"
"It was good, Dorota let us eat cookies and Henry ate so many he burped, and guess what mommy!" all traces of exhaustion from her voice as she filled her mother in on the night's happenings at home.
"What?" Blair questioned softly.
"He didn't even say excuse me!"
Blair gasped, "oh no" she jokingly remarked "I hope you reminded him Tula"
"I did! I said 'mommy said to say excuse me' and Dorota agreed and so he did."
"Phew," Blair exclaimed, wiping the feigned sweat from her brow as she headed towards her daughters room, "Thank goodness."
She pressed cold lips to her daughter's warm forehead as Tula grinned in satisfaction at her good deed.
Blair entered the pink room and carefully placed her daughter on the comforter climbing in beside her as she lay down. Her little girl curling into a ball against her stomach as she fell asleep, teddy tucked in on the other side "Where's daddy?"
"He'll be up in a minute, go to sleep, I love you baby girl"
"I love you too mommy" Tula yawned and closed her eyes once more.
Blair did not allow the thought of Chuck Bass to enter her head while she stroked her daughters chocolate curls, the image of him did not fit in her Brooklyn brownstone or in her life anymore, she repeated to herself.
She passed Mark exiting Henry's room, catching his lips for a second before venturing into her son's room where she tucked him in and placed a whispering kiss on his forehead, careful not to jostle the bed, she returned to the hallway.
She fell into bed, listening to the rush of water and gurgle of mouthwash as Mark brushed his teeth in the adjoining bathroom.
Her thoughts wandered as they usually did, towards her twins. Tula had beautiful softly curled brown hair while Henry's was cut short in the typical boy fashion. Their brown eyes were always warm and questioning never judgmental. They both had the porcelain complexion of their mother and her plump lips, Blair was wary of attaching any resemblance of their father to the twins and most days this was an easy enough task, even though she had begun to turn a blind eye towards the similarities the first day that Tula had flashed that infamous smirk on her tiny lips at ten months and every day since either of them had wanted anything badly enough.
No, Henry Charles and Tula Victrola were all her own, they had been practically since conception.
A/N: Hello hello! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. What do you think, should I continue onwards? Reviews are greatly appreciated but if you don't have the time I'd like to thank you for the read!
