Notes from the author - And you thought all your Christmas presents had been unwrapped :) this is long overdue, but with finals week, a computer crash, and now the holidays I have been overloaded with stress. Plus, while the chapter was finished, it needed some finishing touches. I didn't want to give you guys an unfinished product. But now it's done, and it's short and all but sweet. But you'll see for yourself :) Read on, minions, read on.

I don't own anything. Except a severe obsession with a certain Bass.

"Fallen to earth, gone in the morning
Only to return without warning
I should have wished when I had the chance
Gone like the water, in my hand."
- Anything, Fran Healy


"Excuse me for a moment, will you? I think I left my clutch in the bathroom."

It was the best she could come up with. A millisecond was all she had to think.

She didn't wait for Bex's answer, and chose to ignore the fact that her Lauren Merkin python clutch was tucked perceptibly under her arm. For in that moment, something washed over her. She couldn't feel her own heart beating; in fact, she felt completely and wholly empty. A shell of the eighteen year old she once was.

She couldn't face herself, and she wouldn't face him.

Bex opened her mouth to speak, but Blair was fifteen steps to the bathroom by that point. The whispers and gasps had faded away and were replaced by the dull humming of the air conditioning of the bathroom.

Slamming her clutch down on the counter, she leaned into the sinks, staring at herself in the mirror. A terrified girl stared back at her. Never in twenty million years would she have ever expected him to come back. And so unannounced, so improper. There were no articles, no text message – hell, even Gossip Girl, whose posts were few and far between now, was sure to expose such a fragile situation. Nothing. Yet, here he was. Arriving solo at a charity event after missing in action for nine long years. It was so not like Chuck Bass.

If she saw him…. if she caught a glimpse of his face…

Blair was suddenly overcome by heaves and threw herself into an empty stall behind her. She leaned into the white porcelain bowl, waiting for the waves to pass. But they never did. She dry heaved for a few more moments before realizing she had nothing left to give up. Defeated, she stood and pointlessly flushed the toilet, returning to the mirror.

Her Blackberry told her it was nearly midnight.

She wondered if Carter had heard about Chuck's arrival.

Assumingly, she thought not. He was pouring himself another Chivas Royal for the road, and feeling up the coat clerk. Her hand trembled as she brought it to her face. She still looked perfect, but somehow she knew that wasn't good enough for him.

But one thing and one thing alone were certain. She couldn't very well hide out in the lavatory all night, though if given the choice, she would have barricaded the door. Her escape would need proper execution, proper planning.

Without another moment of thought, the door was closing behind her.


It was a clandestine move, as she swept through the shades of yellow masses without so much as looking up. Any eye contact would be scourge the attempt entirely. Once she made it out of the building, she would simply wait on the steps for her husband. The wait would be torturous; that within the building she had just exited was him. Not just him, but him. Her him. But she would go back to their penthouse and figure out what to do from there. Not here, though. Anywhere but here.

She could see the marble archway that led to the door. It was within eyesight. Just a few more steps until…

"Blair, you are truly a vision." The voice was direct and important... She had no choice but to stop. Swallowing discretely as to prevent from choking, she turned around and pasted on a burgundy smile.

"Mayor Bloomberg, so nice to see- "

There he stood. Next to the authoritative mayor of New York City, Michael Bloomberg, who smiled with the anticipation of her greeting. The darkest brown eyes that sucked the life out of her. Her eyes adjusted to renew the painting etched in her subconscious of his features. The same boy that she had once promised forever to, only matured in a way that could only be explained as beautiful. He stood gallantly in his dark Prada suit, more muscle, more stability than she had ever remembered. But the same smirk, the same parade, the same presence that he once had. She was staring into the face of a ghost.

"You." The word came out miraculously without any breath support at all. She feared that she would faint, dramatically and cinematic, like in an old Humphrey Bogart movie. But she chose confidence, as much as she could muster rather. Stiffening her gate and straightening her back, she tried as effortlessly as possible to look unfazed by his company.

His eyes were locked permanently to her.

She fought her own and kept them on Mayor Bloomberg, who was going on about the enormous amount of money that the Sunshine Guild had raised that evening. "Somewhere between sixty and seventy thousand, I am told!" He laughed heartily, patting the statuesque figure next to him on the back. "Of course, a good third of that came from this gentleman. Blair, have you been introduced to Mr. Charles Bass?"

Blair didn't blink. "No sir, I do not believe I have."

There was a brief moment, before Chuck politely took Blair's hand and kissed it. His eyes still bore into hers. "The pleasure is mine."

The voice was what struck her the hardest. As smooth, as daunting as she remembered. She was soaked in the liquid of his raspy word. It was deeper, much, much deeper. And she was drowning.

"Mine as well." Why couldn't her voice be equally intoxicating?

Chuck suddenly turned to the mayor and shook his hand. "Well, Mayor, I have some business to take care of. If you'll excuse me…" Then he turned to Blair and simply nodded.

A nod.

Surely this wasn't it.

After nine years of absence, not a letter, not a phone call, not a word of his whereabouts, she was only worth a mere nod? But what did she really expect? Him to take her in his arms, throw her down and kiss her like she'd never been kissed before? She was married. He was different. They didn't even know each other anymore.

She smiled which morphed unintentionally into a grimace and nodded back.

Chuck brushed past her, and she inhaled his Clive Christian No. 1 cologne. His favorite, she remembered. Suddenly, her hand was discretely being forced open at her side. She whipped her head around, but Chuck had already disappeared into the crowd. Opening her palm, a folded up napkin rested boldly. She bid farwell to the mayor, kisses planted on both of his cheeks, and once alone at last opened the napkin.

Meet me in the exhibit in three minutes.

Paranoia. She looked over her shoulder and took in her surroundings. Mindless chatter of the aristocrats to their respected associates. The exchange had gone unnoticed. She sucked her cheeks in and took a huge, ragged breath; the first real dose of oxygen since Chuck's mysterious arrival some fifteen minutes ago. There were two ways the events following could play out.

She could find Carter amidst the crowd; link her arm in his, whisper in his ear and head for the awaiting limo on the curb. She would drink another glass of champagne on the way to their abode, and then rub her hand across his knee. Drunk as he was, he would react more than favorably. They would stumble over to the elevator, make out the whole way to the top and arrive to a dark foyer. Blair would fumble around in the dark for the light switch, and make a dash to the bedroom. Without a word, she would straddle him, not looking directly into his glazed eyes but just over his head to the gold stitching beneath him. And she would make the most unattached, indulgent love to him – all while completely forgetting about Chuck Bass.

Or, she could give in to the crumbling feeling in the pit of her stomach and hurry to the exhibits. She did, after all, have only three minutes. Now only two minutes and eighteen seconds. She knew that if she didn't choose the latter, she would regret it until the last day of her life.

Those were odds she didn't wish to defy.


The scarlet red velvet rope that separated the darkened hallways of the galleries from the ballroom festivities mimicked the scarlet red hue of her cheeks. A small gold plated sign read, "Exhibit strictly off limits." What was left of her former self scoffed at the instructions. Blair had rarely ever listened to signs, and she wasn't about to start on this evening.

She could hardly believe her bravado.

Her fists, which wound tightly around her clutch, trembled with the mere anticipation of what was to come. With ease, she brushed through the narrow space between the wall and the rope. The space was illuminated only by security lights, dim and pre-cautious. Three minutes somehow felt like three lifetimes. She wasn't interrogated or followed to the back of the ballroom, for that she was thankful. But she knew it wouldn't be long before Carter began to look for her. Long she couldn't stay. But she just had to say something.

What she would say, however, was another complication entirely.

Engrossed in her thoughts, she spotted the first of the row of local art that dwindled down to a larger rotunda and broke off towards the more famous pieces. It was a heart, she was sure. But so abstract, so scattered and bleeding out on the canvas, it looked more like a massacre. If she kept staring at it, she knew she would rip it off of the wall, therefore setting off a silent alarm, therefore notifying security of her trespassing and therefore spotlighting her for the secrecy of her intentions her. But she hated it. No one even deserved the pain caused to look at such an idea, much less feel it. And continue to feel it every day of their life.

"It's painted from life experiences."

Hair stood straight on the nape of her neck. She was choking, she was sure of it. Yet, her lungs continued to work properly. Still, the sensation of being lightheaded didn't go away. He was behind her.

The painting in front of her seemed almost like a mirror, with her completely invisible, but reflecting the image of Chuck behind her. What he had done to her, how he had made her feel. Her eyes blinked rapidly and uncontrollably. "Whoever painted it must have gone through something heart wrenching."

"Yes, I imagine so." Though he was a good four or five feet away, she presumed, she was positive she could feel his breath on her back as he spoke. It was soothing, but not at all welcomed. Closing her eyes as to stop their constant fluttering, she twirled around to face him. He stood vulnerable, his hands in his coat pockets, eyes soft and lips softer. Like a watercolor. A work of art that belonged on display along with the other countless, priceless works of art that made a namesake for this museum. She knew that if given the chance, she could focus on just his face in this moment for days. But reality tugged her back down from her fanciful clouds, and she knew she only had minutes if that.

The point of her meeting him. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckled lightly. "My publicist thought this would be a beneficial and charitable way to announce my arrival back in town. And I happen to believe in alternative energy."

A hand shot up from Blair's side, shutting him up. She only just realized it was her own. "No. Not at the benefit. What are you doing here? In Manhattan? In the United States?"

Momentary silence and Chuck shuffled around pacing. He rubbed his chin. "I know I owe a lot to you. I just wasn't sure I'd every have the opportunity to explain myself, or have the slim chance that you would care to listen."

"So you didn't know I was here?" Blair crossed her arms, her voice frosty. She hadn't intended to get angry so soon, but the bottled up emotions stirring in her chest slowly began to release.

He shook his head. "I saw you avoiding me through the crowd." Another misplaced chuckle from him.

Blair shrugged. "I don't know what more you expected of me."

The pacing stopped, and Chuck stood solemnly staring straight into her. Deep down into her, where it hurt. She had to advert her eyes or risk losing it all right then. Embarrassed, her face grew hot and her palms began to sweat into the beaded silk of her clutch. This display continued for longer than she could bear. Finally, she frustratingly squirmed in her heels. "What?" Short and demanding.

"You're luminous." He purred.

This wasn't supposed to happen. She was the horse driver here, not the damn trick pony. The shots were hers to call. And the emotions built up again. "Don't. You aren't allowed to say that to me."

"Aren't I? I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries." He said it without a hint of sarcasm. Just genuine, heartfelt concern.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I wasn't going to come back. When I boarded my jet at JFK, I was certain it would be my last time in the States altogether. I didn't have a destination, no plan. I just went. Ended up somewhere in the Ukraine. I was mindless. Soulless. I drifted from bar to bar, brothel to brothel in search of something. And I never found it..." He drifted off, eyes somewhere otherworldly.

Blair's stomach turned. Expectantly, while she was busy moving on and starting anew, he was drowning in scotch and fucking anything that winked. But she pressed on. "Th – then what happened?"

"Five years had passed. I was breathing, but I wasn't alive. I wanted to die. The world would've been better if I had just ended it all. Then one day, it came down to a choice. Either live or either die. I couldn't exist anymore in the middle. And I chose to live."

The moment death was discussed, Blair's eyes widened. Of course, she had scanned the papers and web feed constantly after breakfast every morning, looking for any headline that read "Billionaire industry heir found dead in the Krishna River." Or something of that taste. Carter noticed her searchings, and one day called her out. She said it was important for a lady to be "cultured" and informed with what was going on in the universe. And he actually bought it.

Chuck noticed her reaction. He simply nodded in agreement of the situation and continued. "I made my way to South Asia and met with a guru who set me on the path to sobriety. I made phone calls to people I hadn't contacted in years. I always underhandedly had ties with Bass Industries but I more or less had handed over everything to my advisers but mostly to Lily. She was surprised to hear from me, to say the least. I took the initiative to turn myself into rehabilitation in India, and I've been sober for three years."

"Why come back?" Blair blurted.

He shrugged irregularly. "Unfinished business," He saw the flash in Blair's eyes and quickly rephrased himself. "With the company. I knew my father would've never wanted what I chose. But I have to try to pick up the pieces. I have to start somewhere." This seemed to wrap up his explanation, as he shrugged again. His hand absentmindedly lifted and softly pushed her falling strap from her gown back on her shoulder, from her rigid shoulders. Electricity flowed from his single fingertip and jolted straight down to the marrow of her bones. Nights had gone wasted dreaming about that velvet, warm touch. And so simply it had returned. It was coming, and Blair knew there would be no way to control it once it stopped. The result of it all – the flood of emotions that was swelling into her made up eyes. Tears had been shed for Chuck Bass mercilessly as the years passed. But they would not be shed tonight, standing just inches away from his chest that she knew she would curl into like a child.

"I – I have to go. It was – interesting – to catch up with you." The inflection of her voice was unnatural and water based, as she attempted to brush past him.

He grabbed her hand, not forcefully, but pleadingly. She whipped around. In his eyes, she knew what he was thinking as his brow furrowed looking down at her abnormally tiny wrist. "Blair, wait."

In return, she jerked it away without much effort. Chuck's hand stayed still as if he were still holding hers. "I can't look at you anymore. I can't – I can't do anything. I just have to leave now."

"Just let it out, tell me what you're afraid of." This was a side she had never seen in Chuck. Another layer of another person, but certainly not the devilish, snide boy she had once fell in love with. His eyes begged her. Hers just filled up in return. What erupted from her next was purely induced by loss of control.

"You may have only been half alive out there, finding yourself. But back here, back with everything you left behind, you were dead. You're a goddamn ghost."

With this, his hand fell listlessly at his side. He opened his mouth dryly and tried just one more time. She turned away from him, staring back into indirect light of the ballroom.

"I just need a few more minutes – please."

Her lip grew thin. She knew what she was doing the moment she said it. "My husband is waiting for me." For whatever reason, she felt the need to draw out the word "husband".

A sharp intake of breath behind her. The words had dug into him like a carving knife, she knew. But surely he knew. Surely he had seen their wedding announcement published in the New York Times, Town and Country, not to mention USA Today and People magazine. It was the grandest affair the city had seen prior. A million dollar wedding. One that Blair had hated every moment of it. But surely Chuck heard. "Your husband… "

"Yes." Cold as stone.

Chuck's voice was even, but thick with density. Almost conclusive; Blair shuddered as he said, "Then you shouldn't keep him waiting."

She nodded. Without bothering to turn around, she whispered. "Goodbye, Chuck."

Faster than her heels could travel she exited the forbidden corridors of the exhibits, leaving a troubled man in her wake. She would find Carter by the presentations and the stage, talking and talking about a new brandy they were thinking of endorsing. He would kiss her on the cheek, but firmly so she knew he was weary in her long absence. They would excuse themselves and check their coats. The limo would be quiet and demure. And Carter would fall into his drunken coma on the opposite side of the bed, without so much as taking his dress shoes off. Blair would cry herself to sleep. But not before she heard a final voice behind her.

"Good evening, Blair."


Short, I know. But the next chapter is so SUPER PACKED, promise. The reviews were GREAT by the way. Every time I got a notification to my email, it just made my day :) keep em' coming! I love feedback. Hope you had the most dysfunctional, fattening and tacky Christmas.

Xoxo.