I can hear my train comin'

It's a lonesome and distant cry

I can hear my train comin'

Now I'm runnin' for my life

What makes a man walk away from his mind?

I think I know

I think I might know

"Mr. Bass?"

Andrew Tyler's voice sounded more annoying than it ever had done before, Chuck had always considered him to a little bit of a mercenary but lately, he just couldn't stand the sight of him, especially not when he seemed to take some glee from all of this shit surrounding Bart. It was like he took a sick satisfaction from telling Chuck his father was a no-good murderer, it angered him, it was almost frightening how much he wanted to physically maim Andrew Tyler in his current state, the man was no better than he was so why should he have the opportunity to be so happy when Chuck was borderline suicidal.

Worryingly, he could already picture his hands wrapped around Tyler's neck.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his navy blue trench coat, Andrew Tyler cautiously made his way through the mess that was Chuck's suite, the fact not a single light had been turned on unnerved him somewhat which was bizarre as he had never been intimidated by Chuck, he was just aware that he'd not been in what you would call a "good frame of mind" lately.

It wasn't like he cared though; Chuck paid more than Bart ever did for his services. Andrew didn't give a shit about Chuck Bass, just his chequebook.

Tyler ran his hand over the wall closest until he found the light switch he had known was there. Once the lights had flickered on, he was almost startled by Chuck's weary appearance on his plush leather couch. His usually dishevelled hair was a mess; his hand looked as though it had a bloody fungal infection and it looked as though he had been in that suit for far too long.

It was worse than the night Chuck paid him for the information of Lily two years ago. He always thought Chuck would be a failure; it seemed to be ringing true.

Chuck downed the rest of the scotch in the glass within his bloody hand and loosely placed it down on the table before haphazardly getting himself up off of the couch. What more could this monkey possibly have to tell him? At this point, he wouldn't have been surprised if Tyler revealed his family tree was rooted to Adolf Hitler.

"Rough night?" Tyler asked sheepishly, he was smart enough to recognize an unbalanced individual when he saw one.

"More like three. What do you want? I told you before, I was done and you convinced me to follow through. As far as I'm concerned, our business is over." Chuck was drunk but it didn't deter from just how stern his bullish tone was, he was in no mood to discuss anything involving his father of Bass Industries.

He lost everything for a fantasy. How much more pain could he take?

"I have more information that might be of use to you." He responded coolly and reached down in to the inside pocket of his coat, retrieving a wad of documents.

Chuck closed his eyes and bit his lip in a weak bid to pour some cold water over his constant boiling frustration. "I don't care, now if you'd see yourself out, I'd greatly appreciate it. I have more important matters to tend to; I don't need a voyeur like my father did." Chuck's eyes were cold and fixated on Tyler's face.

His hands involuntarily dropped by his sides and balled in to fists. Despite his tender years, Chuck was a veteran drinker, he knew he was merely projecting all his anger and sadness on Tyler but quite frankly, he didn't give a shit, being selfish was something he'd done pretty well for the past year, another few minutes couldn't hurt.

"Drinking at two PM is an important matter?" Tyler's tone was defiant and that was only consolidated by the patronising smirk that had crept into his face. "Listen, Chuck."

"I told you, I don't care." Chuck cut in hastily before once again retrieving his empty glass. He grabbed one of the nearby scotch bottles and refilled his glass for what probably was the sixth time in the last half hour. He was surprised he hadn't completely thrown etiquette out of the window yet and actually drank from the bottle.

It was probably only a matter of time, really.

"Believe me; you'll really want to know this." Tyler persisted, somehow more confident than he was before.

Chuck took a long sip from his beverage but he almost choked on the liquid once he heard Tyler continue. Slamming down his glass on the table top, he aggressively approached Tyler and knocked the documents out of his hand before grabbing the lapels of Tyler's coat.

"When are you going to get it?" Chuck spat the words at him with uncontrollable anger and gave Tyler a violent shake. "I DON'T care!" Pushing Tyler back, he glared at him with unstinting hate, he'd never felt like this before, he feared what he could actually do. Both men seemed to be glued to their respective spots, Chuck out of rage, Tyler out of fear and shock.

"Good luck, kid." Tyler straightened out his clothing and shook his head for the second time. "You'll need it." With that, he turned from Chuck and quickly exited the penthouse. The spring in his step suggested he was just as frightened and shocked as Blair had been on that night.

Chuck glanced around at the strewn papers Tyler had wanted to show him, there was a lingering curiosity to see what the information was, but he was already too much of a masochist and in his current state, he knew better to go looking for anything that would exacerbate it.

Instead, he casually swept them up all in to one nice pile and placed them down on the coffee table top.

He knew there would come a time when he would read them.

It could wait.

AN: Thank you so much to those who reviewed, favorited and subscribed, it really means a lot! Reviews keep me motivated to do this, so please don't be shy!

Also, these first two chapters are very much an introduction. I've already started on Chapter Three and I'm excited about it (: