Title: Finish my Sentences
Summary: When an unwelcome visitor returns to the Upper East, she brings along her Louis Vuitton luggage full of devious scams and schemes. This time, she's not only aimed at Serena, but the whole lot of the Constance upperclassmen. Only two people are scandalous enough to play her game. Separately, they have no chance against her. But can these two work through their differences when they find out that said visitor is more dangerous than she seems? Chuck/Blair; various other pairings. Set after 2.16.
Disclaimer: Do not own any characters.
Rating: PG-13; possible to have one or two M-rated chapters.
Author's Note: Chapter two is here. I have been trying to write really hard, but in general, this story is going to be less feelings and emotioned based and more action based. If that makes any sense. Anyhow, I got wonderful reviews last chapter, and they really made my day. It's a little sad how excited I get when I see that I got reviews. Oh yeah! I got 17 story alerts so thank you to everyone who alerted! Najet and Abby still kick ass.
Enjoy. Reviews are appreciated.
II. Twists
Blair's eyes flashed with uncertainty. The culprit was here. In Butter. Watching them eat. Should she tell Serena? Before her brain could tell her otherwise, she pulled Serena over.
"Serena…you got another note," Blair stammered. Why was she so nervous? She was Blair Waldorf, for God's sake. She was Queen B. Somehow, though, Blair could sense that this wasn't a prank that had gone too far. This was the real thing.
"Oh, god. Are those kids stalking us at Butter now? That's just desperate," Serena said, scanning the note.
"Serena…I really don't think it's a joke," Blair shivered, a little from the air conditioning in the restaurant, but more from fear.
"Oh, please, Blair. You really think someone's out to kill us?" Serena giggled, "You know what? It's probably Chuck being an asshole as always."
And then it hit her. Notes. Presents. Chuck. It all made sense now. Blair stumbled outside, letting the cool air flood her flushed face. Even knowing the answer didn't make her feel any better. In fact, she was sure that it was way more dangerous than even she had expected.
…
Who should she tell?
Blair pondered diligently as she threw her phone from hand to hand. This wasn't a Gossip Girl secret, this was a real people could get hurt kind of secret. Pacing her room, she picked at her nails. Blair was supposed to be the confident, in charge type of girl. This secret was eating her alive. Finally, she rephrased the question in her head: Who should she tell that would ensure the problem be rid of as soon as possible, and promised to place as few people as possible in danger?
But, she got dizzy just thinking about the question itself and soon fell asleep on her fluffy duvet, nails picked raw, phone clutched tightly in her hand, and a deadly secret crawling through her veins trying to escape.
…
School the next day was torture. Everywhere she turned, daunting eyes stared at her, tempting her to release the secret. She couldn't tell Serena; she would do something stupid that would land them both in more trouble than they needed to be. She couldn't tell Nate. He, too, would do something stupid. Probably more physical than Serena's plan, but nevertheless, just as unintelligent. She could tell…
She shook her head; he was dead to her. He was dead to her. Chuck Bass was as dead as his father was dead. However, she couldn't shake it out of her mind that he was her best bet on an actual revenge plan.
Smiling to her herself, she made a resolution. She would get to the bottom of this no matter what. She would get proof that she was right, even if it cost her the world. And she was going to do it solo.
…
Chuck rubbed at his throbbing temples from the alcohol he had drank the night prior. Maybe he had gone a little overboard. But what other solution did he have to fight against Blair's pleading voice on a reel? The scotch, however, had not made the voices subside, but increased their volume, until he had fell over onto the bed, moaning in pain.
He was determined to forget about her. Smoking a little hash, snorting a little cocaine, drinking hazardous amounts of alcohol. He had all different methods for coping. The only problem was that none of them worked.
Her words still confused him. It had to do with Serena? The problem had to do with Serena? What did that mean?
"Hey, man," Nate pounded him on the back, jolting him out of his thoughts.
"Hey…Nathaniel," Chuck grimaced, removing his shoulder from under Nate's broad grip.
"Dude, you were so wasted last night. It was fucking hilarious," Nathaniel laughed, hitching his backpack up.
"What? I never get wasted. I have invincible alcohol tolerance," Chuck retorted.
"Okay, whatever. You ripped off your shirt and told us you were Shakira. Then you did a Hips Don't Lie routine. And dude, your hips do not lie," Nathaniel replied, shaking with laughter.
"Fuck no. What the hell are you talking about?" Chuck groaned. Somehow, the image was starting to form in his memory, and it did seem slightly probable that said events had really occurred.
"You weren't even like your usual drunk. It was a level I've never even seen on you before," Nathaniel gasped for breath in between spurts of laughter.
Chuck shoved him, "Whatever."
He hadn't regretted it at all. For those twenty-three minutes, which he now remembered clearly, he hadn't once thought of Blair Waldorf. If only he could say the same for himself now.
…
He had to see her every day, fifth period, economics class.
Mr. Bentorki was bent over her desk, pressing his fat sausage fingers against her back. He fought back a punch; Mr. Bentorki was a middle-aged balding man who most likely still lived with his mother. The least Chuck could do for the poor guy was let him cop a feel off Blair.
He rested his head on the desk, feeling miserable for himself. He was jealous of his forty-five year old teacher. He was sick.
On his way out of class, he slowed down in front of Blair's desk and caught her talking on the phone with Serena.
"…yeah, so I'm going to leave a camera in your locker today, maybe we'll catch him," Blair whispered into the phone, pulling a little video recorder out of her coat pocket.
He heard some annoyed mutterings on the other side of the line and he could feel Serena rolling her eyes through the phone.
"Serena! This is serious. If it's really not a joke, someone could get hurt. Stop laughing it off. When you're dead, I'm not going to even wonder why," Blair screamed back quietly into the phone, clearly frustrated.
It hit him. There was a way for him to not only respect her wishes by staying away from her, but to help her and Serena out. He would wait for the culprit of whatever prank this unknown person was pulling. He would wait until he had his answer. And Blair would finally forgive him. He laughed a short, harsh laugh. Well, he could dream anyway.
…
Blair's eyes twinkled with pride. She had a plan. All by herself, she had come up with a brilliant, foolproof plan. Chuck Bass her ass. She didn't need him. She didn't need anyone. When it came to scandal, Blair Waldorf flew solo.
She planted the small camera into one of the hooks on Serena's locker. Testing it once or twice, she was satisfied. She'd be back tomorrow to collect and when she had her proof, everyone would know that Blair was a hero. Not that they didn't already know.
She quietly shut the locker and tiptoed away. But something felt weird, as if someone was watching her every move. As if someone were following her. She tried to shake the feeling off, but it too, was following her like a thick cloud of perfume.
The deserted hallway look eerie. The lights had been dimmed to conserve energy, and the only sound was the faint sloshing of the janitor's mop buckets. Blair whipped her head around one more time, just to check no one was behind her. When she saw no one was there, she took of sprinting.
…
Chuck stood in the narrow cove in the hallway, watching Blair run away. His eyes darted to Serena's locker as he kept a close watch. He would find the culprit.
He slid onto the floor, resting his head against the wall. He could wait all night if he had to.
About an hour later, Chuck was jolted awake at the noise of someone fumbling with the dials on Serena's locker. He pressed himself carefully against the wall to avoid being seen, and peeked just the tip of his head out to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Someone was turning the dials of Serena's locker. The person was dressed in all black and had a small plastic bag in his hand. Chuck's eyes zeroed in on the bag. It was definitely some kind of drug.
Suddenly, as if his life had been put on rewind, images of presents, drugs, culprits, and accusations rushed through his mind. He knew who it had to be. There was only one person.
He was in such a shock that he couldn't bring himself to tell the person to freeze where they were. Instead he watched as the cloaked person placed the bag into the locker along with a note. The mystery person went on to rip the tiny camera out of it's socket and throw it at the wall. It was then that Chuck felt himself regain confidence.
Stepping out from his hiding place, he yelled at the figure, "Stop where you are!"
The person's head whipped around and let out a gasp. Then they took off down the hallway, tearing away from the scene.
Chuck hated running. It made him sweat, and was a hassle with his ever-so-precious scarves. But, that wasn't to say that he couldn't, and because it was a case of extreme emergency, he ran. He chased the mysterious figure down the end of the street, down a small alley, until finally he had them cornered.
Chuck caught tufts of hair peeking out of the person's ski mask. Dark brown hair. He was right, he could feel it. The person tried to escape by climbing up a trash bin, but was unsuccessful. Chuck barked out a laugh.
"You think you can get away?" Chuck shot at the figure trying desperately to cling onto the metal handles of the trash can.
When the person didn't answer, Chuck laughed again, stepping closer.
"Give up, Georgina," Chuck cried out, pulling the ski mask off of the mystery person's face.
His eyes widened with surprise as he caught a good look at the culprit.
His mouth dropped open a little before he managed to stutter, "Carter Baizen?"
tbc