A/N: Next chapter. I wasn't going to end this chapter here, but it seemed like a good place, even though I could have extended it. I hope what Blair found wasn't to predictable or lame. Some of you were asking why Chuck and Blair weren't together and that's answered this chapter.

Summary:

"I came here for Penelope. But I'm done."

"We're never done," Chuck husked to her.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. All the amazingness that is Chuck and Blair belongs to Gossip Girl.


"I'm sure its nothing," Eric said reassuringly. Blair hadn't even looked up yet. Eric cringed when he heard the familiar tapping of expensive leather. Blair knew that sound too as well. Her eyes finally snapped up as Chuck walked up the staircase, not giving a moment's notice to Blair. Oh, he would. She would make sure of that.

"Where are you going?" Eric asked desperately as Blair snatched up the incriminating evidence and followed in hot pursuit.

Blair didn't answer. It was only when she slammed his bedroom door behind him that his gaze met hers. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking around at the suitcases with servants packing them as Chuck supervised.

"Going somewhere?" Blair asked dangerously.

Chuck smirked lightly, but she knew that he had no idea what she was doing here.

"Yes," he said. "I'm going on a business trip..."

Blair honestly didn't care. She cut him off by whipping out what she was hiding.

"What the hell is this?"

Chuck's eyes scoped what she was holding and his face fell.

"If you'll excuse us," he said courteously to the servants who quickly obliged. No one wanted to face the wrath of Chuck Bass. It was when the servants left that Chuck laid down his hand.

"Where did you get that?" Chuck snapped, snatching the picture from her hands.

Blair was trying to not to explode. She really wasn't. But where the hell did he get off keeping something like that?

"Where you left it," Blair said simply. "Between the pages of a dirty martini and a single malt scotch. But you weren't opening that book anyway. You already know how to mix it."

"Clever," Chuck sneered.

"That's more than I can say for you," Blair spat. "What the hell are you doing? Keeping a picture of us?"

Chuck looked down at the picture he was holding. They were young. Younger than they were now. Identical burning eyes paired with that familiar smirk. Chuck and Blair as teenagers right after everything had worked out. Chuck's hand was lecherously on Blair's shoulder as if the innocent gesture was just asking to be suggestive. That picture wasn't distributed to anyone else. Blair's touseled hair could point as to why. In her inhibitions, she didn't let anyone but Chuck see. When she was the most free... and his silk sheets in the background showed why. And they were in love. And Chuck kept it.

"Nostalgia," he said simply. "It was the only picture you didn't get your hands on to burn."

He scowled at the memory. Luckily he had rescued his scarf from the Blair Waldorf bonfire that destroyed many of his possessions after that certain blow out.

"Chuck," she said softly. "What are you doing?"

"What's the problem?" Chuck asked. "It's not a big deal. Its just a picture."

"Of us," Blair said again. "You're getting married."

"True..." Chuck said vaguely as he slipped the picture into his jacket. Blair froze and took a hesitant step backwards.

"Chuck..." she said warningly.

He just raised his eyebrows.

"No."

He still didn't answer, his eyes still boring into her.

"Chuck," she said again with conviction.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Tell me you're really marrying Penelope."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Tell me you're really going through with this marriage. Tell me this isn't just a..."

"Facade?" he asked coolly.

"What are you doing, Bass?" she asked for about the third time.

"Business investment," Chuck shrugged, trying his hand at nonchalance.

"You don't need a business investment," she informed him. "You're the richest man in New York."

"As much as I never tire of hearing those words," he said, "you can never have enough money."

"And as much as I would never disagree with that statement," she said, "why her? What's so special about her?"

"Why the sudden interest, Waldorf?" he asked. "Wish it was you?"

"How dare you?" Blair snapped. "How dare you do this to me?"

"What are you talking about?" Chuck asked. "How the hell did I know that my vindictive fiancé would invite her enemy?"

"You yourself said you hoped I'd come."

"Yes," he said. "And I admit that. But I never actually thought that you would and if you did... maybe you'd come for me. But I suppose that's just my overactive ego again, now isn't it?"

"For you?" Blair sneered. "Why would I come here for you? After everything..."

"That was your doing, not mine," Chuck said darkly.

"You caught me by surprise," Blair said stiffly.

"So that merits running off to Paris for two years?" he asked. "Talk about melodrama, Waldorf. If you hadn't, maybe it would be you and me in this position instead of me and Penelope."

"Please," Blair scoffed. "You would never propose."

"I proposed to her," he offered.

"For a business investment," Blair threw his words right back in his face. Chuck smirked.

"And you know I would have, Waldorf," he said quietly. "That's why you ran, wasn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It wasn't because you thought I was having an affair," Chuck said, "which I wasn't, by the way. You saw that ring and you freaked."

"I don't recall," Blair said averting her gaze.

"It wasn't for you," he said. "But I would have given it to you. We weren't ready, but we could have been."

"And now the same ring that 'could have' been meant for me is adorning Penelope's finger."

"Please," Chuck rolled his eyes. "I would never give it to her."

"What?" Blair asked. "You bought another one?"
"I never bought the first one," he said. "It was my mother's. I didn't buy it for you. I didn't buy it. But I would have given it to you. You knew that and you ran."

"So instead," Blair reasoned. "You hopped into bed with the next socialite you saw, immediately chaining yourself in matrimony."

"What a romantic notion," Chuck said sarcastically. "But as difficult as it might seem, I didn't propose."

"But you don't deny sleeping with her," Blair said, hoping her jealousy wasn't seeping into her voice.

"Not that its any of your business," he grinned. "But no, I haven't."

"I don't believe you," Blair said.

"And that was always the problem," Chuck said, hiding the hurt on his face. "You always think the worst of me."

"You know that's not it," Blair said, disgusted with that notion. "She's Penelope Shafai. Getting engaged to her would make any man jump into bed with her. Humphrey would jump into bed with her. She's beautiful. You don't deny that."

"Maybe," Chuck said. "But she doesn't even compare to you."

"Stop," Blair said taking another step back. "Just... stop."

"Why?" Chuck asked, following her. "Its the truth."

"Don't," she whispered.

"Why did you follow me up here?" he asked. "It wasn't just because of that picture. You know its not."

"I..." Blair stuttered. She only became flustered in the presence of him and she hated it. He was her kryptonite.

"Why are you here, Blair?" Chuck asked softly. But she could hear him so clearly. His breath shuddered in her ear.

"That's it," she returned. "I came here for Penelope. But I'm done."

"We're never done," Chuck husked to her.

"You should go downstairs," Blair told him. "Your fiancé's waiting."

"This is my room," he told her.

This forced her to look into his eyes and she hated him for it.

But she loved him.

She was defenseless against him and that was probably how his large hand had found its way to the back of her fragile neck, pulling her in.

"Why are you with her?" Blair asked quietly.

"Because you weren't with me," he told her. "But you're here now. Aren't you?"