Eva/Chuck/Blair

Eva's POV

I haven't written any Chair fic in so long. It's kinda refreshing :)

I was alone when the package was delivered. It was sent right up to Charles' suite.

When I opened it up I was not surprised, he told me he was having a few things delivered for me to try for our event the next day. I love clothes and never would imagine being able to have any of the thing that now hang in my closet. My modest frocks still hanging beside them.

Charles says he likes how I dress, but I wonder then why is he having all these clothes delivered?

It does not matter, I cannot complain.

I open the package to find a jewelry box. It is a designer I have not heard of. Playfully I take it out of the box and fit the clasp around my neck. It is wonderfully beautiful and to thank Charles I decide to wear it, and not much else whilst I wait in bed for him to return.

I hear the door open and Charles shuffle in. He seems to have a certain weight ever since he has returned to New York.

But we all have baggage, I will not be one to judge him.

I straighten up in bed and pull the covers down a bit because the deep crimson of the duvet compliments the pale color of my collarbone and the sparkle of my new gift.

Charles opens the door to the bedroom and a sly type of smile crosses his face. He takes a few steps closer but then stops mid stride.

I could swear he recoiled a bit.

I cock my head to the side slightly asking a question without moving my lips.

He clears his throat then responds.

"Where did you get that necklace?"

I still try and keep up the playful act, "You sent it to me silly."

I don't think he knows what to say and it scares me a bit. I self-consciously pull the cover over my shoulders.

" That wasn't meant for you. Can you please…take it off."

" I'm so sorry I didn't know… I…"

I fumble with the clasp and in my nervousness I can't take it off, "I feel so stupid" I say and I still can't manage the clasp.

"Don't feel stupid." But his tone of voice doesn't fit his words. Charles steps over and quickly releases the clasp and I feel the cool metal of the intricate shapes leave my skin.

"I need to take care of some business." He leaves and the door slams in his wake.

There's muffled noise on the other side but I can't tell what it is. At first I think he is talking on the phone, but I cannot make out a conversation.

Quietly I peek my head out of the door. I know I shouldn't. But I do.

His fingers are tracing over the gold lettering on the box, Erickson Beamon. His other hand holds his phone indecisively as he looks at the screen.

I decide to go to him because, he chose me, brought me out here, the least I can do is help. When I ask him what is wrong his voice cracks and he mumbles a few things saying he has to do some business and not to wait up.

As he closes the door I can't help but to feel sick to my stomach.

I go to sit down on the sofa and see he has left his phone. I look to see what was troubling him so before.

I read the screen.

Blair Waldorf, it says. It looks like was going to call her. I feel like I have violated some type of privacy and it makes my stomach ache worse.

I feel like Charles is not going to return. I feel like Charles didn't make it very far off the jet.

But Chuck, I think, Chuck is alive and well again.

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