A/N- Another GG story! I was meant to be writing One TreeHill tonight but this came into my head instead so before I lost the idea, I thought I'd better do something about it. So this is just a little Chuck/Blair stuff to pass the horrible time of no new episodes :(

Hope you enjoy :)

Châteaux Salvation

Her father had been right: France was beautiful. He and Ramone had clearly put a lot of effort into decorating both the interior of the chateaux, and the exterior: planting the lawns with sweet-smelling flowers in oranges and pinks and yellows, and her room was nothing short of stunning.

But she didn't want to be in France, not really.

She wanted to be at home, in Manhattan with Nate by her side, in her bed, with the previous week's events nothing but a horrid dream.

Her mother had called, not to beg her to come back as Blair had expected, but to check she was safe, healthy, and to confirm whether she would be attending the meeting that she'd scheduled with her shrink.

She'd met Eleanor's words sarcastically, with "I'm in France Mother", to which had come the reply:

"I'm worried about you."

It was a little too late for that now, she'd decided, and so the last few days had been spent underneath the huge navy and white umbrella above the table on the patio, brilliantly dark sunglasses shielding her eyes so that her father wouldn't notice the tears in them.

"Maybe you should take the train into Paris?" He'd suggested. "Explore a little. There's this perfect little café close to the Eiffel Tower."

But she'd shook her head, no. Exploring was for tourists.

She was just hiding out.

"Perhaps in a few days." She'd replied, emotionless, staring out at the topless gardener watering the hydrangeas. Maybe if she wasn't still in love with Nate, she'd have stripped to one of her bikinis, turning slowly over on the sun chair until she was sure he'd be looking, before rubbing sun tan lotion across her chest.

So when her father had asked again and again if she wanted a train ticket booking, if she'd prefer a helicopter maybe, Blair had finally decided to visit Paris. After all, she'd figured that if she was going to live here now, she'd have to check out the boutiques.

She'd need a new place to put jewellery on hold for her birthday gift.

-

The sun is warmer than it is back in Manhattan, the sky bluer and doted with clouds, with nobody around taking any notice of her. Nobody bats an eyelid at the gorgeous leather jacket she's wearing, the same jacket that cost thousands of dollars at a tiny little store she'd discovered during a trip to LA.

Nobody cares that she'd broken up with Nate Archibald. Nobody cares that she'd slept with his best friend only hours later. Nobody cares that two guys had practically fought over her in front of her entire school, only for the two of them to want nothing more to do with her, neither with any words left to say.

Nobody cares that she's Blair Waldorf, and for that, she's glad. She'd gotten a bit sick of 'herself' anyway.

It's when she's sat in the small café her father had recommended that he calls her, says he's sent his driver to come pick her up because they have a visitor and he wants them to eat together in the dinning room.

She doesn't want to talk to anybody, doesn't want to have diner, especially not in the dinning room. It's painted a light blue, almost the same blue of Chuck's dinning room and she wants nothing more to remind her of the reason she's here in the first place.

But she nods to her father who can't see her, and silently promises that she'll make an effort to be nice. After all, she guesses that she's going to have to make at least one friend while she's here.

-

She stops dead when she enters the formal living room. He's there, sipping tea freshly brewed in the silver teapot with its thin spout, perfect for elegance, perfect for anyone other than him.

"Blair should be here any…oh here she is." Her father smiles, clearly unaware of the disgust written across her face. "Well I'll leave you to it."

He exit's the room, to Ramone's waiting arms no doubt, as Blair closes her eyes wishing for a better scenario.

"Nice little place you've got here Waldorf." He says, placing the china cup back on the saucer. She narrows her eyes at him, dark and chocolate brown, her fingers fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. Suddenly all the things she's wanted to scream at him over the past few days won't leave her mouth, instead:

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugs as though he doesn't know the answer, and Blair feels her chest tighten. "Serena said you'd come to stay with your father for the semester. I thought it was just another one of your games but when you didn't show for the dinner dance the other night, I figured I should bring you home." He raises an over-confident eyebrow at her before picking up the china cup once again. "You know, I wouldn't want you to throw away your hard work in the social scene. Miss a cocktail party and you're history."

"You figured you should bring me home?"

He shrugs again and she flings her purse against the couch he's sitting on, missing his arm by an inch or so.

"Why would I want you of all people to come here?"

"Because contrary to what you want to admit right now, I'm all you've got."

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with me." She says coldly, pressing her painted lips together as he stares up at her.

"Perhaps I was a little…hasty, lets say."

"You mean, nobody will talk to you and you need a quick screw. Kinda humiliating that you had to come all the way to France to get that." She replies, forcing a quick smile across her lips to the maid who hurries past them, nodding at her presence.

"No, but if you're going to go there, we could talk about how you're hiding out in Europe because nobody will talk to you either."

Blair curls her nose up at him in disgust as he pours himself another cup of tea, settling himself back against the couch as a smirk works its way across his face.

"I have Serena."

"And when she's with Dan? Which, if you're honest, is now most of the time since they said those.three.words." He annunciates, his eyes still fixed intently on hers. Perhaps if she had the courage to believe something other than the truth he's telling her she could look away.

"They said I love you's?"

He nods, a cock of his left eyebrow. "So when she's not around, who's it going to be, B?"

"Please, everyone wants to be seen with me. There's Jenny and Katy and Isabel…"

"Guess again." He smirks at her. "Little J doesn't need a queen bee, there's always a place for her on the steps…"

"So what?" She shouts, her eyes burning. "You've come all the way to France to torture me? Not exactly doing your bit for the environment Chuck."

"You think I care about the environment right now?"

"Well other than yourself, you don't care about anything so I guess there should be room for a little remorse for the world you live in."

"If I didn't care about anything other than myself, why do you think I'm here?" He asks, his voice softer as her pitch lowers.

"Well if you've come here to make me feel worse, you're not going to win. I don't think I could possibly feel any worse than I do right now."

"I've come to apologise."

"And a phone call wouldn't suffice?"

"You wouldn't have answered my calls." He says knowingly. "And I was hoping, perhaps I could convince you to come back with me."

She rolls her eyes as he stands up, making his way towards her. "Forget it."

"Forget what?"

"You only want me to go back to Manhattan so that there's someone you can eat lunch with every day. I'm fine here."

"C'mon, you're not fine, look at you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Have you eaten since last week?"

"Have you showered since last week?" She retorts, avoiding the question, not just because she doesn't want to answer, but because it's not relevant. Food is the furthest thing from her mind right now.

"Look Blair, I know you still live Nate, but he's moved on, he's…"

"You have no right to pass comment on how I feel about him." She says, her voice almost cracking.

"You're hiding out in France!" He argues. "Everyone knows you love him. Everyone knows you're not going to stop loving him. But everyone knows that he doesn't love you Blair, and you've got to deal with that back home, not hide out in some Chateaux in the middle of nowhere!"

"I…"

"And I'm sorry that it's me who has to tell you that, but you should know the truth. And you should know that people miss you."

"Like who, my Mother?" She shakes her head. "Serena? No, because she has Dan. Jenny? No because she has…"

"I miss you."

"Please." She rolls her eyes.

"I miss you Blair. Not because I don't have anyone to sit with at lunch, or because nobody will partner me in biology. I miss you because…"

"Because what? You love me?" She jokes, her head jerking when he doesn't respond. "No, no, you don't love me. You can't love me."

She feels sick. Shaky. Unstable. Like her knees might buckle beneath her at any moment and she'll pass out.

"I love you." He says softly, his lips not far from hers, but as she stares at his eyes, she can't gather her thoughts fast enough.

She only shakes her head. "No you don't."

"Yes."

"No."

"You think I want to?" He asks, in almost a disgusted manner. "It was bad enough when I realised I actually liked you. Now this is a million times worse."

"You don't love me." She shakes her head again as if trying to convince herself of what she's saying. "You just think you do."

"I know I can't stop thinking about you. I know that every day I don't see you I feel worse and like…"

"So you flew out here to say all of this?" She asks in disbelief.

"No." He admits. "I wasn't going to tell you. I didn't want you to know."

Now she wishes more than anything that she hadn't joked around.

"Why are you doing this to me Chuck?" She asks, not realising tears are running down her cheeks until he wipes at the blackened stains softly with his thumb, brushing each tear away again and again, but still she can't stop them from coming.

"I didn't mean to." He says softly. "I just wanted to apologise for acting like a jerk the other week, for saying that stuff to you."

"But you know…"

"I know." He replies, dipping his head. "You love him, not me."

She doesn't say anything, just tilts his head back up towards her with her fingertips, manicured and perfect.

"But I'll take that." He says, just before she presses her lips onto his, smudging the blush pink shade across his mouth. It's nothing like what they'd shared in that limo, or on her bed, but for that afternoon, for that week, it's enough.

He loves her, she knows that, but she loves Nate. And Nate? Well he doesn't love either of them: not her as a girlfriend, not Chuck as a friend. And she's not sure she'll get past that, not sure if she can move on.

But for now, Chuck's brought her some sort of salvation. And that's enough, for now.

Please review xxx