Takes place in Season 5 between Episodes 10 and 11.
On anniversary three, it's Nate who won't leave him alone. Blair, on the other hand, has been radio silent since the accident. From their friends, he's learned that she lived, but her child didn't. That's all Nate and Serena can tell him. They don't know why she changed her mind about being with him. And all he knows is that one second she was telling him she loved him, kissing him, planning their lives together, and the next the limo crashed, he woke up in the hospital and everything had changed. She changed. He needs to know why.
It's been consuming him. It's all he can think about. Every time he closes his eyes, he hears her saying "I love you." He sees her sitting in the seat next to him, and even though it's dark out, he's never seen her more clearly. He feels her lips on his and everything is okay again. But then the pain meds wear off and he can't feel her anymore, just that dull, post-surgery ache.
Memories of his father compete with those of Blair, and even though they're no match, they aren't doing anything to help him. So he takes a couple more pain killers and swallows them down with Scotch.
"You sure you should be doing that, man?" Nate asks. Nate hasn't mentioned Bart, but he took the day off from the rest of his life and made it his full time job to follow Chuck around the penthouse.
"I'm fine, Nathaniel," Chuck lies for the hundredth time that day. "I don't need a babysitter."
"Look, Chuck, I know between your dad and Blair and …."
"Don't!"
Just hearing her name is like a knife to the heart. It causes him physical pain. Thank God for the painkillers. He takes more than he knows he should at once, desperate for some kind of defense mechanism against everything he's feeling.
"Dude," Nate starts, but Chuck's already halfway to his room.
He slams the door in Nate's face and locks it just before his roommate can turn the handle. Then, he does his best to numb himself as quickly as possible, because he can't take another second. He can't take another second of his best friend walking on eggshells around him and babying him and looking at him like he might break. He can't take not knowing what the fuck happened to make Blair change her mind about them so quickly and with so much certainty. He can't take never being able to be strong. He can't take living in a world where he doesn't have a parent who might be able to offer advice or comfort. He can't take living.
When he comes to, he's in the hospital again. Nate's sitting on one side of his bed looking pissed and brooding, and Serena's sitting on the other looking worried and slightly confused. His eyes flash repeatedly around the room as if someone is about to walk out of the walls.
"I didn't call Blair," Nate says. "I didn't call anyone besides Serena. We don't need this to blow up and give Gossip Girl something to come back for."
As soon as she sees he's awake, Serena's perched on the side of Chuck's bed, making a misguided attempt to comfort him.
"But you know Blair would have been here if she knew," Serena tells him.
It doesn't help.
"How about we avoid any discussion of Blair," Chuck says.
"What would you like to discuss?" Nate asks somewhat curtly.
"I'd like to discuss nothing at all, if that's okay with you Nathaniel."
"No, it's actually not okay with me."
Before Chuck has the chance to reply, Nate's out of his chair and yelling.
"What the fuck were you thinking? Overdosing on painkillers? Are you kidding me?"
Chuck closes his eyes and tries to breathe while Serena encourages Nate to do the same. But it's hard. He's scared. And ashamed and guilty and just sad. He wasn't trying to die. He just needed a break. Needed something stronger than Scotch to shut of his brain. Just for little while. He wasn't thinking. He wasn't thinking that if anything happened to him, Nate would have to be the one to find him. The thought of Nate's concern for him only adds to the huge weight on his chest that he can't seem to push off. It refuses to budge, and it's suffocating him.
"I'm sorry," he says, eyes still closed.
The pressure lessens a little, but he still can't quite take a deep breath. Nate walks back over to his chair and pulls it closer to the hospital bed.
"What were you thinking?" Nate asks, calmer now.
"Can we not do this?" Chuck asks, desperately trying to avoid any discussion about how he might be feeling.
"Before my dad went to rehab, I was the one who found him when he overdosed," Nate says.
"I didn't know." Chuck can't meet Nate's eyes. "I wasn't thinking that anything like this would happen. I didn't mean … I just didn't want to have to think anymore. I wasn't thinking."
"I know you've had a lot on you mind," Nate hedges.
"I'm sorry," Chuck forces out. It's hard for him to apologize, to admit he fucked up.
"I'm just worried about you, man. I know you're seeing that therapist, but if you want ... you know you could talk to me about whatever."
"I don't need to talk."
Not to Nate and Serena, at least. It's not that they haven't been good friends to him. They have. But the person he needs to talk to is avoiding him again.
"How do you feel?" Serena asks. "Do you need anything."
"I'm fine. Any chance I can get out of here?"
"They pumped your stomach," she tells him. "I think the nurse said they want to keep you overnight."
He looks to Nate.
"You want to help me? Get me out of here."
Nate looks like he wants to say something, but hesitates.
"I'm fine," Chuck insists. "No more painkillers. I promise."
"Chuck …"
"I won't even drink."
Nate cracks and consents to go talk to the doctors. One drop of the Vanderbilt name and they agree to release Chuck into Nate's custody. The three of them ride back to the Empire in silence. Everyone is uncomfortable. Chuck is indestructible. This is unprecedented.
"You don't have to be here," Chuck tells them when they're back upstairs.
"I'm gonna go take a shower," Nate announces.
"I'll stay," Serena tells him when Nate's door clicks shut. "As long as I can order some food."
Chuck passes her the phone and she immediately calls for room service, ordering way more food than the three of them need.
"Wanna watch a movie?" She asks.
Chuck doesn't reply. He knows she's trying to do what she thinks he wants from her. Take his mind off of things, pretend everything's okay, ignore the problem. He appreciates it, but she can't help him.
"I don't know what you want me to do, Chuck. This was always Blair's area of expertise. You were always Blair's area of expertise."
"Not anymore," he says.
He fills up a glass with water and deposits himself on the couch, thinking of the last time he and Blair had sex in this spot.
"She's really getting married," he continues.
"Looks like it," Serena says.
"It feels so … permanent."
"I'm not so sure about that."
He looks at her skeptically and the conversation dies.
They channel surf until Serena settles on Real Housewives. He consents because he's not really paying attention to what's on TV, but Nate insists on video games when he reappears.
So they play Mario Kart and eat too much room service like they did back when they were in middle school, but Chuck still feels sick and the whole situation just makes Blair's absence seem more wrong. They're the Non-Judging Breakfast Club. They're incomplete without her.
When Serena's Princess Peach laps Chuck's Bowser for the second time, she pauses the game.
"This isn't helping," she says, sounding dejected.
"That's not true," Chuck tells her. "I really am feeling better."
She raises her eyebrows in disbelief.
"At least I'm sober."
"You did just have your stomach pumped," Nate says.
"Oh, let him think he's accomplished something," Serena teases.
Chuck smiles for the first time since the accident.
Serena giggles a little and resumes the game. Chuck loses, but he really does feel better. He feels grateful for the first time in a long time. He's lucky to have Serena and Nate. He lost his father. He lost Blair. But he's not completely alone. He has his friends, who he doesn't even have to thank for saving his life earlier today, for keeping him company when he's sure they both have better things to be doing, for being loyal to him when he needs it most.
He's grateful for them, but they're not enough. He's forced to admit even Blair might not be enough to make him happy. He has to learn to make himself happy. He needs to stop obsessing over her. He needs to try to wrap his head around the fact that he may never know what she changed her mind about them being together. He needs to start accepting the fact that they're not going to end up together. She's marrying someone else. He needs to let her go. He needs to save himself. He vows to try.
"I'm going to shower," he announces.
"Do you want me to…" Nate starts.
"What, Nathaniel? Want to join me? I don't feel that way about you."
Chuck's typical sarcasm relaxes Nate, who turns his attention back to choosing the next road in Mario Kart.
After his shower, Chuck feels considerably better. He dresses, exits his bedroom, and informs Nate and Serena he'll be going out.
"Where?" Serena asks hesitantly.
"The cemetery," he says.
"We can come," Nate offers.
"No need. I won't be long."
"We'll be here," Nate promises.
It's late, but Arthur brings the limo around, and soon enough, he's staring down at his father's grave. He says goodbye. Vows to silence the judgmental voice in his head that sounds like Bart, but promises never to forget their fonder moments. He'll let the memory of his father motivate him to be the best person he can be. Swears to succeed in business like Bart did, but also to succeed in the areas of life where his father failed so miserably. Commits to making himself proud instead of his father.
Then, he says an even harder goodbye. He says goodbye to Blair, to the child that could have been his, to the life that could have been theirs. He buries it all next to his father. He lets go of the pain and the resentment and the heartache. He turns around. Takes one step away. Takes another. Keeps walking. Gets in the limo and drives away. Knows this isn't absolution. Knows he has a long way to go. Knows he'll have good days and bad days. Knows he'll never truly forget those he's lost. Knows he won't be the same without them.
He also knows he has to keep living, keep trying, keep striving to be better. Maybe next year, it won't be so hard. He has to believe that's true.