So I realized tonight that I sorta want to get this completed and up before the new season finale comes around, which means writing about 20-decent length chapters of this as well as it's sequel, and posting them within about two weeks, so then I figured I best get cracking with the writing.

A/N: Normal type is for present time, Italics is for Diary entries (Misty) and Bold is for memories (Eleanor), and here's hoping I don't confuse you all :)

Hope you like…


Chapter One: How Much Do You Influence Me? More Than I'd Likely Admit

"My son started kindergarten today. And for the life of me, I can't even begin to comprehend where all the time has gone. Last time I checked he was still a little baby, resting neatly in my arms, now he's a " big boy", and apparently doesn't need me to do his bowties up for him; because Daddy taught him and now he can do it all on his own.

I swear Bart's 'independence lessons' might be slowly killing me. Is it too much to ask to be able to look after my son as the child he is? Apparently, I forget where I live and in whose company; Eleanor's of the same opinion most of the time.

But I happen to know for a fact that Bart's feeling the effects of our son's seemingly sudden development in the age category – he's fled the country to try and pretend it's not happening for goodness sake! And I just know Eleanor's more than a little upset that her little girl's growing up too fast (she's yet to pull anything as dramatic as my husband, however, to bury her hand in the sand about this rather glaringly obvious fact) not that either would ever let that on, of course. No, I'm the one that has to show all the emotion and appear 'ridiculous' and whatnot; I could throttle the two of them sometimes, except that it's rather tiring acting for three people at once, and I'd probably drop with the mere effort of such an act, maybe one day though. I'll leave the thought to linger in my mind.

My husband informed me yesterday that he had to go to England for business, and left last night for a week-long business trip to London. Needless to say, my son was not best pleased with this; and after spending the better part of the day trying to settle and appease him; I was in need of some solace of my own, before night drew in and it started once more with the goodbyes and broken promises.

I dialled an all too familiar number and immediately told her that Bart couldn't make it to Charles's first day of Kindergarten; that he was out of the country. She scoffed at that, and muttered something that sounded distinctly like "Bass-tard" – my best friend's idea of a little joke. I know, I agree completely, for someone who calls what she sells original, she's not at all; but I sniggered all the same. In my defense at this, however, it was more how she said it, than what she said.

Eleanor asked me if I wanted her to come round and give Bart a piece of her mind, which made me outright laugh this time – it was the mental image. I declined, because I knew she would do just as she suggested, and then let out another laugh as I told her to stop skulking, because I just knew she was pouting at my response; not that she hadn't known what it would be, of course, but that was a moot point.

She huffily asked me what the point in my call was, and I chuckled; such a drama queen, that woman is – no wonder Blair's already perfected the precise combination of diva and actress all rolled into one, by the age of five.

We chitchatted for a little longer and she told me to go and talk to my husband; to tell him that I thought his business trip was a stupid idea; that it came at a stupid time; and that I thought the way he was running away from his own son was stupid too. And then I was to have mad, passionate sex with him, because she just knew that was what we'd end up doing anyway, whether the stupid conversation was included or not – though she was adamant it should be, naturally."

"Do we really need to listen to all this, Eleanor?" Chuck asked, a grimace present on his face as he did so.

By his side, hand in hers, sat his new bride, who was hiding a small smirk at his words, but held somewhat of a disgusted look herself.

"He has a point, Mother," Blair said, after a moment. "Must we hear about all this?"

"Yes," was Eleanor's short reply, and with a smile curling her lips, she returned to the words on the page before her.


"And then she told me to go and talk to my son; to explain to him that men were just stupid, and if he didn't want to be stupid, he'd learn to be a little more in touch with his feelings, and act on them, and not to run away; though being Bart's son it was doubtful how much this would really register with him, or how much he would follow it. And then I was to tell him I loved him, tuck him into bed, and tell him that while his father might not be there with him he would be thinking of him; and that mattered more than anything else.

I followed the abridged version of this, obviously, but Eleanor did have some good advice in her. She was, after all, my best friend; one should've expected nothing less."

x

"I can see this is going to have to be a joint effort," Eleanor sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes.

She turned to her son-in-law and with her tone light, told him, "You know, for a woman who goes into so much description about things, she really is rather vague about the plot details."

And then she turned back to look at the diary, scanning a few lines as she said, "Now where were we? … Ah, yes, your first day of Kindergarten."

Eleanor let out a small chuckle at this, smiling as she commented, "Now this was an interesting day to say the least."


When I arrived, I didn't even bother knocking, just breezed straight through the entrance and called out Misty's name.

"I'm upstairs, I'll be down in a minute," came the response.

I rolled my eyes; woman had a time all of her own, and walked into the front room.

I found Charles standing in front of the large mirror, tongue poking out his mouth, and a look of intense concentration fixed across his features.

"Having a little trouble?" I ventured, with an amused raise of an eyebrow.

His scowl met my eyes in the mirror, but he said nothing.

"Suit yourself," I shrugged my shoulders lightly, and turned to see Misty descending the stairs in front of me.

She looked over my shoulder and saw her son struggling with his bowtie.

"How are you getting on in there, Charles?" she asked him, meeting his reflected eyes with a soft smile. "Almost done?"

He nodded, and went back to the task at hand.

I followed her into the kitchen; taking a seat on one of the high chairs at the side breakfast-bar as she went about collecting the things the maids had set out for her son's first day.

"I don't know why you let him wear those things, they're incredibly tricky to put on and if he's trying to look like a miniature Bart, he's failing and he'd be just as well wearing a tie," I told her simply.

She turned to face me, back against the marble countertop, and tilted her head, giving me that look she liked to give me at times like these; the one that said 'he's a child, best friend of mine, let him be'; to which I simply rolled my eyes, obviously. And people said I indulged my child too much.

"And what have you got him wearing that scarf for anyway?" I continued. "It's barely cold enough outside to require an overcoat – give it another month, then maybe I'd let him wear it, though in a different color, obviously."

She released a laugh when I finished, and simply said, "Well, someone's in an exceptionally wonderful mood this morning."

I fobbed her off with a dismissive wave, and started once more, "Back to the scarf – why?"

"He likes them," was all the defense she apparently needed.

I rolled my eyes at that, and scoffed, "He's six, he doesn't know any better."

"I'll have you know my son has exceptional taste in fashion; the likes of which, I know you'd call original," and she sent me a smug look at her own little joke, before raising her eye brows.

I let out an un-ladylike snort at that, "And if he doesn't turn out to be gay, I'll let him marry my daughter."

"You thought I'd turn out to be gay?" Chuck asked incredulously, and sent a half-glare at his new wife as she stifled a laugh – unsuccessfully.

"You spent half of your time running around your mother's model agency surrounded by half naked men – "

" – and women!" Chuck spluttered, eyes still wide with disbelief.

Eleanor rolled her eyes, ignored him, and merely carried on with, " – and the other half in front of a mirror or strutting the catwalk in my latest designs, a habit not your mother nor I, nor even your father – who practically rules the business world with a ruddy iron fist – could break, so sue me for thinking you might grow up to swing the other way."

"Still can't believe you thought I'd turn out gay," he muttered at this.

"It matters not, I was held accountable for my assumption was I not?" Eleanor questioned.

He rolled his eyes as he raised his head once more, and nodded.

"Well, there you go then, case dismissed."

"So, why are you here, anyway?" Misty finally asked me, methodically spreading strawberry jam over the already present thin layer of butter on her brown-breaded toast; woman had weird eating fetish's too, how she managed to keep that figure of hers I'll never know. Well, I would, I did, but that's beside the point; it was unnatural, that was the point.

She looked up at me, and prompted, "Well?"

Apparently I'd been lost in my inner ramblings; something I knew Misty was well aware of as I caught her smiling that knowing little smile of hers, the one that seemed to resemble something closer to a smirk than anything else.

I rolled my eyes. "My daughter was having a mini-freak-out. Something about Bear not fitting into her new bag and her simply having to have him with her on her first day, or some other such equally distressing matter to a five-year-old."

She really did smirk then, "And you left Harold to deal with it?"

I just looked at her.

"Alone?" Misty questioned then, still amused.

I shrugged, "He has Dorota."

"Oh, that's cruel," she stated, and let out a brief laugh.

"Why? The woman dotes on her," I commented.

"Not for her, for Harold," she emphasized.

"Oh," I voiced.

Then after a moment I shrugged, saying, "He'll be fine. I dare say Charles is around her often enough when she has these… episodes, and he's hardly suffered."

Misty choked on a bite of her toast then, and made a face at me, "Indeed. Says the woman who escapes said 'episodes' at every turn – aren't you supposed to be Mrs. Fashionista? Couldn't you have added a compartment or something?"

"And ruin a perfectly good Chanel bag?" I clucked my teeth. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You could always call it an Eleanor Original," she commented, taking another bite of her toast; this time, between grinning lips.

"Oh, hush you," I told her with a roll of the eyes, and picked up her other slice and threw it at her; not even bothering to suppress my wide smile as she nearly fell over while trying to duck from the flying sticky red substance coming straight towards her, which then promptly landed with a splat against the newly-installed and cleaned-only-moments-before-my-entrance silver overhead oven.

Glancing behind her to survey the 'damage', she turned back to me with child-like, Cheshire grin and delightedly told me, "Oh, I'm so telling Constanza on you."

I nearly picked up the plate to throw at her next.

Woman brought out the worst in me, I swear.

And it was no wonder our children practically ran wild, together or not, when they were hanging around with the likes of Misty.

"Besides," I replied airily. "She's been perfecting her little introduction routine for long enough, but apparently she keeps missing out Cornelia – or so your son's been repeatedly telling her, anywayso, naturally, she'll have to practice that in the vanity another twenty or so times; and we all know Harold's the public speaker in the family."

She rolled her eyes at me, and then said, "Stop trying to distract me – I'm still telling Constanza."

I sighed dramatically, rolling my eyes at her; she would be the death of me this woman.

XxX

When I arrived at the Kindergarten, my daughter by my side, and my husband on her other, Misty was already there with Charles standing just in front of her, like a shield.

I smiled at the sight, despite myself, knowing it was all her son's doing.

I sidled up to my best friend and she and Harold said their hellos.

"Wow, seems like ages," she remarked, holding back a smile.

"Doesn't it just," I agreed, matching the look on her face.

Then we got down to business.

"So, sussed out the who's who yet?" I asked.

"Somewhat," she replied, and then proceeded to rattle off a series of names of those around us, directing me every so often to their presence.

"How long have you been here?"

She shrugged, "Around five minutes or so."

I gave her an incredulous look.

"What?" she asked. "I work fast."

"Don't you just," I muttered.

Misty nodded her to the side then, directing my attention over, a look of sheer amusement on her face as she did so.

And there were our children; conversing as the wonderful pair they were.

I rolled my eyes; she'd clearly corrupted them.

x


"I'm Blair, by the way," my daughter introduced herself, holding out her hand. "Blair
Cornelia Waldorf."

"I know," I watched him merely responded, eyeing her outstretched hand in what seemed to be thinly veiled amusement, though I noticed the slight nod of the head in appraisal as she uttered her middle name.

So, now I knew what they did with all their time when they were at Misty's together, and were left to their own devices. Blair set out a plan, and Charles helped her both extract and perfect it. Wonderful, I thought, I was in the presence of two potentially perfect schemers, and one was my own daughter. I knew my friendship with Misty Bass would come back to bite me in my Eleanor Waldorf Original-behind one day, now I just had to wait for that moment, knowing it involved my only child. I wouldn't have bee surprised if I started to gray right there and then; and I'd be charging the account to one best friend of mine.

"The correct response would have been to give me your name," she hmph-ed, retracting her hand, and placing it by her side once more.

"I know that, too," he told her, smirking at the infuriated look on her face.

"Chu-uck!" Blair whined then. "Why aren't you playing along? You said you would."

"Well, I changed my mind," he replied simply, pretending to be bored as he looked around her for something else to occupy his interest – Ha! As if! I shared a look at Misty then, and knew she shared my sentiment.

"But you said," my daughter insisted.

"And now I'm saying something else."

"Chuck, please," she asked of him, Bambi eyes full in place.

He rolled his eyes ever-so-dramatically, sighing in a similar fashion also, and then said deliberately, "Oh, alright."

"Thank-you, Chuck," she said, positively beaming at him.

"Who am I to leave a pretty girl stranded?" he replied to no-one in particular.

"Chuck Bass," he announced, taking her hand in his own, a smile on his face as he murmured, "Honored."

x

"Shall we get cracking then?" I asked, smiling, and raising an eyebrow at her.

"I think that would be wise, do you not?" she said, raising her own perfectly styled eyebrow.

"Indeed I do," I concurred.

And at that we each faced our children, turning each of them round in a different direction, as we said simultaneously.

"Charles, come meet Nathaniel Archibald."

"Blair, how about you introduce yourself to Serena van der Woodson?"

We shared a backwards glance then, as we took our children to meet their future bff's, knowing that two would soon become four. It was only natural, after all, what with Blair and Chuck already acquainted. Besides, girls, boys; it was a natural instinct to migrate towards what was the most appealing in a room, and our children were certainly that.


"See you later?" she asked, a hopeful lilt to her words.

"Of course," I replied easily, and gave her a small smirk of my own.

XxX

"Oh, and did I mention that he's told me to reiterate to all his teachers, that from this point onwards he is to be known as Chuck Bass – in case they didn't listen to him."

I scoffed at that part, "Not likely."

"But Chuck?" I said, eyeing her, and trying to decipher what the meaning behind this was.

"Yes, Chuck," she repeated. "Apparently, Blair took a likening to my pet name for him, and thinks it suits him, so he'd rather be known as that."

"Oh."

"Yes, exactly," Misty rolled her eyes.

I smiled at her, "Well, if that's all, then I best be off. Attend to my dear daughter and all that."

I turned, stepped down from the high stool, and made my way towards the door.

"Thank her for her lovely compliments on my son's scarf, will you?" she called to me, still standing behind the island in the kitchen, and I could practically hear the smirk emanating from each word.

I turned slowly and met her eyes; "Chuck will be wearing it tomorrow then, I suppose."

"However did you guess?" came her amused reply, as she shook her head at the antics of our children.

I repeated the action, before turning to continue my path to the front door, calling out a goodbye to Misty as I did so; and hearing her shout to my retreating form, "Bring Blair tomorrow, she's much more entertaining company than you could ever claim to be in the morning."

I slammed the door on my best friend's laughter.

She was an annoying little bint at times, that one, and what's more; she loved every minute of it.

Bitch.

And yes, I'm well aware that it takes one to know one.

Why do you think we've lasted this long in one another's company?

We're two of a kind, my best friend and I.

TBC…


A/N: I apologise for the lack of B/C interaction, that should remedy itself in later chapters, but I guess it just depends how they play out et al.

Also, if anyone thinks this is too OOC, I'm just gonna put it down to the fact this was about 20 years ago, people change; especially if you've lost someone close to you, which is basically what happened to Eleanor – and I doubt I'm spoiling anything by saying that since most who've read the two 'prequels' to this know I'm going with the 'Bart is a widower' angle.

Oh, and this is all canon, up to like the last couple of chapters, which have been ruined by S2 promos ;)

Oh, AND I doubt all chaps or even many will be this length – I hadn't intended it, but my fingers got a-typing, an what can I say? They have a mind of their own at times (just check out the length of these author's notes ;) )

I also have to apologise for some of the spacing - it went a bit askew on me :S

Hope you liked, and please let me know what you think – means a lot! (And since it's after 5am in the morning, and I've been at this since midnight, it would really mean a lot! ;) - I'll try correct typos and whatnot in the morning... well, later morning)

Thanks
Steph
xxx