Disclaimer: 'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz and the CW. No copyright infringement intended. Title and lyrics by Avril Lavigne.
Spoilers: all season one, plus 2x05
Timeline: right before Lily/Bart's wedding
Author's Note: You know me. You know my love for Bart. I had to write him. And vdB and the Basses in general. This takes play on May 19, 2008. Which means it's Chuck's birthday. Which means his mother died. And, dun dun dun, it's the wedding. (Check it out. Articles and ep air date is May 19, so this is where I stand on this subject.)
Dedication: To Juliette (DaeDreemer). Because you're my vdB soulmate. And for encouraging me and being so excited for this piece.
Key: regular text is present; bolded, italicized texts are flashbacks; underlined, italicized texts are song lyrics
The rehearsal dinner ended early, by eleven. After all the guests left, the only other person around was Eric. Lily had taken Serena someplace, and the groom had seen his son leave with Blair Waldorf.
Lily had yet to return by the time he went to bed, and he fell asleep by midnight.
When he awoke, the sun was still hiding. And his fiancée had not returned. At least he assumed she hadn't. It was, after all, bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony.
Silently, Bart Bass dressed in black pants and a light blue, buttoned-down shirt. Grabbing his wallet and cell phone, he left his bedroom.
His son still slept in his old hotel suite, for now. The new family would be moving out of The Palace during the summer. So, despite acknowledging that Chuck had done no wrong, he let his son stay in the suite.
Bart made his way into the elevator and pressed the button for the 18th floor.
Once out, he strolled over to 1812, retrieved the room key from his wallet, and unlocked the door. Keeping quiet, Bart walked to the bedroom, only to find it empty. He sighed and pulled out his phone to wake his son up.
Before pressing "2" to speed dial Chuck, his eyes caught the picture frame the nightstand.
Bart's throat tightened and he put his phone back into his pocket. Moving toward the frame, he picked it up.
I miss you, miss you so bad
I don't forget you, oh it's so sad
I hope you can hear me
I remember it clearly
*** _ _ _ ***
It was eight o'clock on a Wednesday evening. Bart Bass was still in his office at Bass Industries. He was on a business call with Vancouver, three hours behind.
It was mid-September and Misty Bass was a month into 21, and had nowhere to go. She and her husband had been married for a month and a half now. And it was amazing, but his company was nearing two years old and he had a deal to seal.
And today of all days, he was on a call. And she really needed him. Really, really needed him, she thought as she waited for the minutes to pass and the stupid stick to deliver the news.
Misty had ordered all the staff to leave hours ago. Too many unwanted people in her home made her more anxious than she had been when she awoke. Now it was nine in the evening. Her husband was still out. And the stupid plus sign was making her go crazy. She had wanted to wait for him to arrive home, but she was afraid that she would fall asleep by then.
So, slipping on a coat and heels, she left the penthouse.
Half an hour later, she exited the elevator and strolled through the hallway. No one was around and only the hallway lights were left on, dimmed.
Without knocking, she opened the office door. Her husband looked up at the sound and his gaze followed her as she took a seat on the couch, waiting patiently with a soft smile. He was momentarily distracted by the burnt honey colored eyes, before slowly returning to his documents. He really needed to finish this deal or at least post-pone it until tomorrow. Maybe sleeping on it would help them see the benefits.
It took another hour, but when Bart hung up the phone, he closed the deal, which meant he could spend the following day with Misty without (much) interruption.
He stood up from his chair and walked over to his sleeping wife. Instead of immediately waking her, he just stood over, watching her chest rise and fall.
A minute later, those honey eyes were sleepily gazing back at him.
"Did you get it?" she asked, hopeful.
He nodded. "Of course I did. Now, let's go home. You're tired."
"You look exhausted. Did you even eat?" she said, grabbing his hand and letting him lift her up.
"Of course." He led her to the door and shut off the lights.
"I have something to tell you," she said in the elevator.
"What is it?"
"At home. Alone at home I'll tell you," she kissed him.
Back at the apartment, Bart carried her up to the bedroom and gently set her on the bed. And then climbed in and on top of his young wife.
"Bart," she moaned as he kissed her neck, her throat.
His hands roamed her body and squeezed her breasts.
This brought Misty's attention back to reality.
"Bart, wait, my surprise!" she tried to sit up, breathlessly.
"I thought this was it," he leered.
She laughed and then sat up. He moved to sit beside her. And then she took his hand and brought it to rest on her abdomen.
"What?" he asked, confused, and looked back into those honey orbs that twinkled.
"I'm pregnant. We're having a baby!" she answered.
Bart's face contracted, and then her contagious smile appeared on his face and he moved back on top of her.
"You…I…we're…"
Misty nodded, "Yes."
And no other words were exchanged but moans and expletives, as Bart showed his wife how happy he was that she was carrying his child. Their child.
*** _ _ _ ***
He looked into those eyes every day, and as the years went on, their son looked more and more like the angel in the photo he was holding.
Bart caressed his fingers over the glass and sighed. Seventeen years without her. He was finally ready to move on. Almost.
Setting the frame back on the nightstand, he left the suite and exited the hotel.
The city that never sleeps, true to its name, was busy with traffic. He managed to still easily hail a cab.
After first stopping at a flower shop and buying a bushel of orchids, he arrived at the cemetery.
With the early hour, no one was around. This was a yearly ritual the Bass men had, but with his son apparently still with Blair Waldorf, Bart came alone. Something he was thankful for today.
In front of him was the headstone of his dead wife. Today marked 17 years.
Having the wedding on this day might well have been selfish, but Bart Bass needed something happy to celebrate. His son's birth wasn't enough, unfortunately.
*** _ _ _ ***
It was Sunday when it happened.
"Bart Bass," he spoke into his office phone as he continued looking over his paperwork.
"Bart," came the whimpering voice.
He straightened and took his eyes off the documents. "Misty? What's wrong? Are you okay? Is it the baby?" he panicked.
She let out a groan. "I think it's time!"
"Now? No, you're early!" he gasped.
"No, I'm not. Three days. That's not early. Bart, please! I'm in a cab, please come now."
He shot out of his seat and ran out the door. "I'll be right there, Misty. I love you."
*** _ _ _ ***
Instead of squatting, he kneeled beside the marker and laid the flowers in a vase he kept there.
There were other flowers. Newer than the last time he had been there.
Bart gave a soft smile and fixed the pink carnation bouquet.
*** _ _ _ ***
When he finally arrived at the hospital an hour later, he strolled up to the front desk and without waiting for a nurse, demanded: "Misty Bass. Where is she?"
The nurse knew the last name, and she recognized the man in front of her as Bart Bass, and knew better than to use proper protocol. Quickly, she looked up his wife in the database and directed the father-to-be in the right direction.
In under five minutes, he was pushing open the door and saw his wife sweating and pushing and crying on the bed, apparently already in delivery.
She looked up as he entered and gave him a small smile. "Bart, you made it. I was so afraid you'd miss this."
She extended her right hand to him and he rushed to her side, clasping his hand with hers.
"I'm here, Misty. I'm always here," he whispered and kissed her forehead as another contraction hit.
"Misty, now that your husband is here, are you ready to push?" a female doctor spoke.
The young brunette nodded. "Yes, I'm ready for Charles to arrive," she let out a watery laugh.
Bart pecked his wife on the lips this time.
It took 15 minutes for the little boy to pop out, and as the nurse went to clean and check him over, Bart took his wife's cheek in his hand and planted a long, explosive kiss on her lips again.
He was so happy for this moment.
But when he felt her weaken the kiss, he moved away and her once vibrate burnt honey eyes turned blank and her face contorted in pain.
"Misty?" he questioned and then turned to the doctor, who was ordering the nurses to do something or get something.
"What's going on?" he exclaimed.
And then he saw the blood soaking the sheets and slipping onto the floor. He paled and turned back to his wife. "Misty!"
"Mr. Bass, please! Why don't you take your son and stand outside for a moment," a nurse suggested and walked to him, holding the small child.
Bart didn't even look her (or his) way. Instead he focused on the doctor. "What is going on?"
"Mr. Bass, please, calm down."
"I will not calm down until you tell me what is happening to my wife," he boomed.
The heart monitor began to flat line as the doctor yelled for blood.
Nurses and doctors came in and out and the nurse holding his son continued to get him to leave or at least hold the child, but Bart didn't care for the child. He wanted his wife back. Without her, he had no family. Without her, who would help him after long hours at work to calm him down or celebrate? No one. What was he to do with a child? She was supposed to care for Charles while he was away.
"Time of death…"
The day you slipped away
Was the day I found it won't be the same
*** _ _ _ ***
An hour had passed of silent conversation. The sun was shining and it was soon time to prepare for the festivities.
Gently standing, he brushed the dirt and grass off his pants, though it would stain.
After kissing his fingertips, he pressed them against the headstone.
"Goodbye, Misty."