Chapter One
"If ignorance is bliss, why aren't more people happy? What you don't know will always hurt you."
- First Law of Blissful Ignorance
Apparently, there was a photo of Chuck in his father's wallet. The same wallet that they'd had to pry out of the dead man's hand: cold and unyielding, even then; maybe, especially then. And the photo now rests between his son's fingers, the edges curling in on themselves; worried even further atop years of weathering the storm.
She sits down beside him on the couch, doesn't make a sound; she's well aware of what he can be like when
"I don't even remember when this was taken," he says the words so quietly she almost has to strain to hear them.
"I think it was after I started High School, but I can't be sure," he continues, eyes boring into the worn card.
The rawness in his voice, like skin across gravel, nearly breaks her when he says, "Why don't I remember?"
He turns to look at her then, silence passing between them.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, brow furrowing slightly. "Why aren't you in Tuscany?"
She reaches over, her eyes never leaving his, and takes his hand in her own, as she tells him, "I'm with you, Chuck, wherever you are, I'm with you there."
X
She leaves Chuck lying in his bed, finally having succumbed to exhaustion, and meanders her way silently through the penthouse to find Serena. Who she finds, however, is Eric.
"Hey," she says softly, and walks towards him.
He looks up from his place on the large sofa and gives her a small smile, "Hey."
She sits down next to him, and turns to face him, asking, "How are you?"
He shrugs in a half-hearted motion, "Ok, I guess."
She tilts her head, and he gives her a small reassuring smile in response, telling her, "I'm not going to do anything, if that's what you're worried about."
"I wasn't," she answers him simply.
He nods, because he believes her, but for some reason he still feels the need to placate her thoughts. "Well done."
She lifts her head sharply to eye him. "Excuse me?"
He nods in recognition of the red mark on her arm, and she knows he probably heard; heard the crashes, the bangs, the terrorized screaming and the shattering of glass and mirror; the walls aren't that thick.
"I'm sorry if he hurt you, I know he'd never intentionally do that," he expands, his words sincere.
"No, he wouldn't," she agrees softly, and is grateful to at least be able to share this common thought with another; because Chuck wouldn't hurt her, not if he could help it: he cares about her too much.
And it was almost a relief to know she isn't the only one who can see this; the only one who can feel it.
"But in the space of a few hours you seem to have been able to evoke more reaction in him than any of us have since it happened," he explains.
A silence settles over them then, and after a short while she turns to look at him again, and asks, "How did he find out?"
"He was on his way to meet you, and his limo stopped at the scene," he tells her, watching her eyes. "My mother was in a mess, crying, on the sidewalk, and Chuck – "
He stops, and it's like he's choked, and she thinks his eyes have suddenly become more glassy than they were before, more glassy than they should be.
"He got out and went over to my mother, helped her up and took her to his own limo, and sent her to the hospital," the younger boy tells her then.
And then suddenly it's like his eyes are boring straight into hers, piercing her very soul, with his next words, "He walked through the throng of people and went straight to where his father's body lay. There was a sheet over his body; it was disrespectful, and cold and – I guess he felt he had to do something about it."
"Oh no," she breathes out, and her hands fly to her face; she knows exactly what Chuck had done.
He nods, his face showing her he shares her sentiment, and he continues, "He knelt down, put his arms around him and lifted him up. Then he carried his body over to the private ambulance that was waiting nearby, and placed his father inside, and rode with him to the hospital."
"Why?" she asks: the younger boy's already answered it, and she knows herself, but she can't help the word escaping from her lips.
He shakes his head. "He came back from the hospital alone. In all honesty, Serena and I had our hands full with our mother, and he slipped away before we could do anything."
She nods, because she understands. She doesn't like it; that he was alone, left to his own devices, his solitude more apparent than ever. But she can understand.
"He hasn't left his room since," he tells her then. "Hasn't eaten or drank anything, hasn't slept. Hasn't said a word to anyone."
"And he hasn't let go of that photo the entire time."
She looks at him suddenly, and he nods.
"I think the fact that his father loved him has hit him harder than his death has," Eric says.
And Blair nods, because she knows he's right.
Saying goodbye to a man he never knew; a father who was never there; a Daddy that never truly loved him, that he could do. Saying goodbye to a misconception was something different entirely.
"The hardest thing in life is letting go of what you thought was real."
- Unknown
TBC…
Well, this is the longest chapter, which is saying something. I'm not used to the ultra-short instalments, but they fit here, so… I hope they're not too bad :)
Also, apologies for any indiscrepancies with the tense, I pretty much suck at present tense, and this is one of my attempts at improving on it ;)
Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you thought – means a lot!
Steph
xxx
