'I want to build you up brick by brick

I want to tear you down brick by brick

I want to steal your soul brick by brick.'

"I need something classy. Something elegant and timeless. Sophisticated."

"So, not the black dress?" Serena's grin was mischievious; Blair's eyes slanted dangerously.

They were both in their underwear, hair blow-dried, make up flawless, and room sweet with the scents of perfume and straightners. Excpet Blair couldn't work out what to wear. Serena's own floaty orange dress was tossed effortlessly over a chair, selected at random from the wardrobe. And Blair knew she'd look gorgeous.

But Blair needed an outfit that was perfect.

She hadn't been to a proper party in a while - at least, not one that mattered. Not a Hamptons party. Not a party filled with all the Upper East Side matriarchs she needed to impress. Not a party that would be watched - and watched by the right people.

"S," she hissed now, flicking in vain through her large collection of dresses - "This is my re-enrty into society!"

Serena repressed a smile. "I don't think-"

"No," Blair snapped, almost shrill. "You don't." This was hopeless. "Seriously," she wailed; "Who throws a party at this late notice? Everyone knows that you need at least a week to plan for something like this. Who is selfish enough to just demand..."

She trailed off as she realised that Serena had gone silent and there was a noticeable chill in the room. She turned slowly, swallowing.

Evelyn Bass was standing in the doorway.

"Blair," she smiled. Blair was accutely aware of her state of undress as that gaze swept her. Scornful, she was sure. "Darling, I thought you might be panicking about your outfit." The woman's eyes glittered with malice. "I remember what Waldorf women are like." She held out a dress bag. "I doubt you had access to the best couture in that facility-"

"School," Blair was swfit to correct, paling; Evelyn gave her a condescending nod.

"-So I picked this up for you."

Serena choked a little; fortunately, Blair reacted faster and managed to keep a smile fixed on her face. "Thank you," she squeaked. "You really didn't have to-"

"Oh," Evelyn purred. "I insist."

She tossed it to the bed with another unpleasant smile, and then prowled out of the room.

Serena and Blair exchanged looks of horror. Blair moved, quickly, and shut the door. She would not be making that mistake again.

"Oh my god," the blonde breathed. She ran her hands through her hair. "I think this is the most I've ever spoken to Evelyn Bass in my life. And she wasn't even speaking to me!" She stared at her best friend; but Blair was staring at the dress bag.

"What if it's hideous?" she whispered.

She had no choice - she had to wear it now. She had no idea how Evelyn would react if not, and the last thing she wanted was a scene.

Serena gave a helpless shrug. "I mean, it's not like she has bad taste-"

Blair ignored her, picking up the bag. Both girls held their breath as she unzipped it - and then stopped once the dress was out.

"Wow."

It was gorgeous. A fitted dusky pink bodice woven with silver, wispy sleeves and soft white skirt. Perfect for a summer party in the Hamptons.

Just...perfect.

Serena couldn't stop her smile of relief. "See? I knew Evelyn was incapable of choosing something ugly." Blair gave her another look - because the blonde had known nothing of the sort - but returned to the dress with some wonder.

"It's beautiful." She held it up, examining the cut. "I think it's even my size." She reached for the label, frowning. "I wonder who-"

And then she stopped, abruptly. Because woven into the label were two letters she knew better than any. Letters that any one with any level of class of pedigree - any sense of fashion - would know. A curling 'E' and a trademark 'W'.

"What?" Serena was at her side in seconds. "You know, if it's the wrong size, Evelyn hardly ever sees you, and it's not like-"

"It's not the size." Blair's voice was strained, stuck in her throat. "It's the design."

"Blair, I'm sure even if it's GAP no one will ever suspect-"

"It's my mother's," Blair whispered. And, as Serena stared at her, blue eyes uncomprehending - "It's my mother's design. This dress. It's an Eleanor Waldorf original."

Chuck was waiting with Nate in the marble hall, already in a foul mood. He hated his mother's parties at the best of times. And especially now, when he could think of a thousand things he'd rather be doing with a certain returned...friend.

Nate sighed for the thousandth time, shaking his hair out of his eyes. "So just one hour, man, and then we can bail?"

"Let's hope so," Chuck muttered. He was pretty sure Evelyn would have other ideas. This was bound to be the one party she actually demanded his presence for.

"What's taking them so long?"

Chuck did love his best friend, but if he asked that question one. more. time -

"Hi boys."

He turned; and there they were, finally. He couldn't stop the faint smirk as he drank in Blair's appearance - and her descent down the stairs gve him the perfect opportunity to do so. Actually, he reflected as his eyes grazed the curve of her waist and the tight tulle gathered at her chest, he was in a better mood already. Thank God Carter was at a yacht party instead.

Except that when she reached him, he realised something was wrong.

He pulled her wrist into his hand, running his finger over hers. And he was surprised to feel that her skin was cold. "Well you look beautiful," he murmured, lips curving. "But what's with the pale face?" He studied her - because it was more than that. There was an odd look in her eyes.

She rolled them. "You should learn how to deliver a compliment, Bass."

She went to push past him, but he caught her elbow, gaze flickering briefly to Serena. The blonde was no help. Too busy locking lips with Nate.

Convenient.

"Not so fast." Had he thought he'd get an answer, he would have asked what was wrong. He was tempted to demand one. Instead, he tucked her arm in his. He would work it out - and in the meantime, she could stay within eyesight. "Let's not forget Evelyn."

He caught it - the flinch. Or was it a shudder? But she was already pressing on into the main reception room. "Come on, then."

The room was large enough, and lavishly decorated; the bar, as in all Evelyn Bass parties, the centrepiece. Evelyn never bothered with themes or meticulous planning. Decadence was enough. She herself held centre court, oozing sleek perfection in a black dress with her dark hair swept up.

She pounced on them as soon as they entered, and Blair managed not to drop her smile. But she felt sick. If not for Chuck's firm grip and his heat at her side, she might have fled. Heads turned as they entered, looking with varying degrees of interest and envy at the Waldorf heiress. Accompanied by Chuck Bass, too.

Some older parents smiled and exchanged nods - there was a couple planned from birth. And after such a tragedy, and such a beautiful girl, it was good to see the plan back on track. A few younger girls gazed with trepadition and longing - was that the girl who could tame Chuck Bass? The womanizer's one true love, surely? And some boys with barely concealed dislike - a gorgeous heiress back, and she still wasn't on the market.

But most just looked with genuine curiosity.

Something Evelyn was very aware of, and ready to capatalise on. Blair Waldorf was fresh meat. She was going to build her up into the paradigm of perfection.

To start with, she was careful to guide the girl in the direction of the most important wives. The ones that ran in the same circles as board members; the ones who had impressions and opinions that actually mattered. She told Chuck to fetch her a drink (everyone had already seen them enter as a couple, and one didn't want to be too obvious).

She was a kind woman, guiding the poor girl around. Treating her like family. Which she would be - soon.

Blair wanted nothing more than to yank her arm out of Evelyn's - but the woman was too influential. She was introducing (or re-introducing) her to exactly the people Blair needed. And wasn't this just the impression she'd needed to make? Weren't these just the looks she'd wanted? The dress felt tight, and her face ached regardless of how well she'd been trained in the art of smiling and nodding. At boarding school, she'd never been steered around like a show puppy on display. She'd never had this many eyes on her - not for several years, anyway.

Chuck, meanwhile, had agreed to fetch her a drink so that he could question Serena. Of course, the first place she and Nate had headed to was the bar.

"What's up with Waldorf?" he demanded now, still watching the brunette out of the corner of his eye. He could see from across the room that her smile was fake. He'd seen enough of them. Especially after -

"Uh." Serena was chewing her lip. Not a good sign. "It may have something to do with the dress she's wearing."

It had happened. The very thing Blair had been hoping to avoid. "Blair, sweetheart - I love your dress!" Miranda Coates beamed as held out her hands; and Blair felt Evelyn's satisfaction.

"Actually," the woman murmured, "I think I know why you love it so much."

Blair froze, eyes lifting to hers. She wouldn't. But she would - this was exactly what she'd planned. Blair could tell from just a glance. Of course it was. Why else get her to wear the dress?

"It's an Eleanor Waldorf."

At the name, a hush fell. And the looks, just like that, turned to pity. Poor little Blair Waldorf, wearing her dead mother's design.

The dress was suddenly constricting her breathing, too hot as she felt her cheeks burn with shame. And icy sweat at the same time. She wasn't ready for this. Not those looks, not again. Not now.

And then there was a grip like iron at her side.

"Mother."

Evelyn smiled down at the intimdating sight of those black eyes, burning with hate in a pale clenched face. Mother and son faced each other, and mother didn't bat an eyelid.

"How nice of you to join us, Charles."

"We were just leaving."

He didn't give Blair a chance to protest - he was already dragging her out of there. He was so set on leaving that he didn't realise she was pulling back until she gave him a hard pinch.

"Chuck."

He finally paused, staring at her. She'd got through the wall of rage - but only just. He stared at her; at her white face and wide brown eyes, burning so fiercely that he couldn't tell if it was pain or anger. She looked too near the verge of tears for it to be the latter. That, and her hand was trembling in his. He didn't think she'd even realised.

"I can't leave."

He continued to stare - and her eyes held his, as close to pleading as Blair Waldorf would ever get. I can't leave. Not like this. It had been six years. If she didn't deal with the looks now, then what was the point in going back? She had to face them sooner or later.

"I'll be in the hall."

He made no attempt to move though; he stood there, gaze still dark, and waited. Watched, as she took a breath and marched back to his mother and Mrs. Coates.

"Sorry about that." She smiled bright. "Chuck double booked us for tonight." Evelyn watched her coolly, almost amused. "I guess that's what happens," Blair simpered back, "When these things are thrown together so last minute! Really, Mrs Bass." She gazed evenly up at the woman. "I admire your organisation skills."

Evelyn rolled her eyes.

"Now, what were we talking about?"

Miranda paused. "I was just saying how lovely your dress is, dear." Her eyes glistened. (Blair had known Eleanor's friends. Miranda Coates wasn't one of them). "Really, your mother was so talented."

"She was." Blair spared Evelyn a glance. "I loved all of her designs. Although - I meant to ask you, Mrs. Bass. I don't think this dress was ever in her public line. How did you manage to get hold of it?"

Evelyn's face was expressionless. "We were very good friends, sweetheart."

Blair smiled again. "Of course."

The Bass woman curled her lip - and Blair wasn't sure what the expression meant. If it was disgust. Or something else. "I'm sure you've spent long enough with the adults now," Evelyn drawled. "You and Charles can run along."

The two of them faced each other. "Are you sure?" Blair pressed. "I'd be happy to stay."

The woman's full lips pursed. "I'd hate to keep the two of you apart." She gave the girl a final look before smiling coldly and turning her back on her.

Serena leapt on Blair the second she was out of the party. "B! What just happened? Are you ok?"

Chuck gave a little eye roll. "Of course she is. What did you think she was going to do, break down?"

Blair smirked a little, at that. They exchanged the briefest of glances; her face was still whiter than normal, his eyes darker. But he smirked back.

"Now are we getting out of here or not?"

Groaning in relief, Nate loosened his tie. "Finally."

The four of them were sitting round the hot tub of the van der Woodsen cabana, well supplied with Lily's alcohol stock. Blair had wrinked her nose at the idea of sitting on the floor in her dress, slapped Chuck for his suggestion that she take it off - and now, cautiously, was debating dipping her toes into the water.

Serena had no such qualms, dress rolled up just like Nates shirt sleeves, shoes discarded with his jacket. With much grumbling - this is Armani - Chuck had given Blair his jacket to sit on.

They were currently more than halfway through their second bottle of champagne, the air sweet with lemon from the expensive scented candles.

"Never have I ever," Nate declared, "...Got an A+."

Serena giggled and glanced at Blair; sighing, she drank. Chuck smirked and drank too. And, at Nate and Serena's looks of amazement - "Home ec. Fifth grade." He tipped his glass at Blair, and Serena frowned.

"It doesn't count if she was your partner!"

"It's on my report card," Chuck retorted. "It does." His eyes settled on Blair again with another smirk. "You're up."

Blair shifted on his jacket. "Do we have to play this?" she complained. "It's not that fun when you're playing with Chuck Bass and Serena van der Woodsen."

"What are you talking about?" Nate protested.

"You drank the last four goes!"

Blair arched an eyebrow at her best friend. "Never have I ever finished an assignment on time, gone to bed when I was told, or kept to a curfew?"

Nate, however, was shaking his head. "No," his insisted, "I mean what about me?" And, at their blank looks - "You're playing with Nate Archibald too!" Silence. He frowned. "I'm wild."

Chuck and Blair looked at each other in slight disbelief.

And then even Serena was laughing at her boyfriend. Nate was highly disgruntled for all of five minutes. "Ok," Serena managed, when she'd calmed down a little and Nate had 'forgiven' her. "How about truth or dare?"

"How old are we," Chuck groaned. "Ten?" Then, as he remembered just how competitive Blair got - "Actually, that could be interesting." He grinned over at her, tawny eyed in the low light. "Waldorf, I dare you to take off your dress."

"The game is truth or dare, you moron."

"Fine," he shot back. "Who's Damien Dalgaard?"

Serena blinked for a moment. "Wait, you were listening to our conversation?"

Blair's eyes had narrowed on him.

"I can't help it," Chuck sighed, "If your inane giggling woke me up. You need to work on your morning voice, blondie." He gestured to something at Blair's side. "And I'm actually asking because you have a missed call from him."

Blair glanced down at her phone - in fact, she had three missed calls from him.

"Persistent," Chuck murmured, watching her. "Isn't he?"

"Like a bad smell," Blair replied in annoyance. That brought a smirk to his lips. (She saw it, even if no one else did). And she really was supposed to be making him jealous. "Actually, he's the son of an ambassador." She paused for effect. "Very well connected."

At that, Nate started chuckling. "You mean he's a drug dealer?"

His mirth died a little at the glare Blair shot him. "Opinion, Archibald?"

"Not required," he sighed, raising his hands. "I know."

The brunette folded her arms, regal even on the floor. "Well, that was a boring truth." Her head tilted at Chuck. "I expected better."

Chuck gazed right back. "Dare it is."

"I told you, I am not taking off-"

"Don't get your La Pearlas in a twist," Chuck sighed. He paused, thinking about her La Pearlas and satisfied that she hadn't contradicted him. Blair gave him a look; she knew damn well what he was thinking. He smirked. "I'll start with an easy one. I dare you to kiss Serena." Very third grade, but just as effective. He leaned back comfortably. "Thirty seconds, tongues. Obviously."

Nate perked up and the girls rolled their eyes at each other.

"Done."

Chuck watched as the blonde's hands tangled in Blair's dark curls; aware of his gaze, Blair maoned into the other girl's mouth. Then they were both laughing too hard to carry on.

"Ok," Serena spluttered, wiping off Blair's lip gloss (Chuck wondered if it was fruity). "Your turn."

Nate started to protest, but Chuck was already leaning in with a lazy smirk. It wasn't like he'd never kissed a guy before. Blair found her eyes tracking the hard slant of his jaw.

"Tongues!" Serena demanded; and Nate yanked back at that.

"No way. No offense man," he complained, "But I don't know where your tongue's been. This dare isn't fair."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Jeez, Archibald. I never knew you were such a whiny baby."

Serena shot a sly glance at her boyfriend, and then between Chuck and Blair. "Ok, B." Her grin was wide. "You do it." Nate grinned too.

"It's not my turn," Blair informed her sweetly.

"We can make it your turn," Chuck was swift to intercut.

His eyes slanted at her, his smile wicked in the flickering scented candle light. And then, of course, Blair was thinking about his tongue. Her eyes fell on his mouth. She was pretty sure he had to be an amazing kisser. She thought of her own rather lukewarm experiences with lacrosse players and found herself wondering if Chuck's lips were as hot as his skin. Well. Not wondering, really.

"As you forfeited, Nate, you get another dare." She dragged her gaze away from Chuck and back to the unfortnate blond. "I think this calls for streaking."

The dress was finally off, folded carefully on one of the chairs. Her teddy was draped in Chuck's dress shirt - he wore just his vest over his trousers - as a result of another forfeit.

Nate and Serena were quiet for once, and they could hear the sea in the distance and the faint sound of music somewhere.

Chuck angled his head so that he could glance at her. Her cheeks glowed, luminous, as they lay on their backs on the cabana porch. He could smell the shampoo from her hair brushing his. She turned to face him too; and they gazed at each other in the darkness. Too tempted from the heat of her body and the scent of her, he leaned his head in so that his lips almost brushed hers. He'd been thinking about the kiss he was denied in the game; but a memory sprang to his mind unbidden.

The day she was leaving. Bags packed and goodbyes said to Serena and Nate. He'd slipped into the car before it had departed. They were alone because Carter was still sorting the last of her things in the penthouse. She'd been thin and pale in the new uniform - even slighter than she was now - hands clasped rigidly in her lap. "I thought you weren't going to bother saying goodbye."

He'd just about managed a smirk. "Best for last, Waldorf. You know that."

She'd smiled too tightly.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't."

"Not much, then." She'd closed her eyes, so he'd given her a nudge.

"You'll have them under your thumb in hours."

She'd nodded.

"I expect regular updates."

She'd swallowed, and suddenly opened her eyes and looked at him. And he'd seen fear; real fear. "I don't want to go."

It was somewhere between a whisper and a plea, blurted out in shame. Trembling. And he'd looked at her, and realised she didn't look like Blair Waldorf any more. Or not the Blair Waldorf he was used to. She just looked like a little girl. Scared.

And he didn't know what else to do - so he'd leaned forward and kissed her, hard. He'd tasted the salt of a single tear and felt her heart thumping under his.

Then Carter had come back. Chuck had only given her a glance before he left; but once the car drove away he'd stood there, staring after it in silence, long after it had disappeared.

He glanced down at her now. There were no tears, just her dark eyes in the porchlight and champagne so close he could almost taste it. He could almost taste her.

She leaned forwards too, nose brushing his. "Chuck," she murmured. Her fingers cupped his face - and she smiled, slowly. "Chuck, we haven't even had our first date yet." Her tone was sweet as she patted his cheek. "Who do you think you're dealing with?"

And then, still smirking, she jumped to her feet. He tried not to groan at the loss of contact and she stood there, sillouhetted in the light with her arms folded. He remained on his back, gazing up at her. "You really are a bitch," he sighed in admiration. "Aren't you?"

She grinned, content. "Yes."

He propped himself up on his elbows; and he watched as she sauntered away from him, still smirking, with a last glance over her shoulder that practically dried his mouth.