Chapter Four
What We Know and What We Don't

'ciò che sappiamo e ciò che non'

They had spent the first few hours since the fight with Alexandre in silence, letting Blair wash and clean his open wounds rather than the hotel's medics, her hands supple and silky against his burning skin. He concentrated on the focal point in the shape of an end table as she washed his skin till it was free of sangria hued blood that had dried against his face long ago.

"Chuck, what are you doing here?" she questioned lightly as she daubed the cut across his forehead, watching him flinch as the basalt fibre was stroked across the length of the wound.

"I found out. About…it."

Blair responded with a heavy sigh, briefly glancing down at her abdomen. It was still as shapely and toned as ever, concealed with Prada attire and designer adornments. No sign of a baby bump, whatsoever.

"Oh."

She continued to dab the incisions in silence. He continued to cringe at the smarting that seared through the cuts and bruises. Maybe he'd leave the fighting to Nate in the future; it simply wasn't his domain.

"Have you got anywhere to stay?" Blair spoke again, watching Chuck as he mentally chided himself for nothing thinking about that. His departure had been impulsive; find Blair and bring her home had been his motto. He didn't think about scraps and stays, arguments and Alexandre's, Paris and its perils.

"No."

"Oh," her words were open-ended, he noted, as she began work on the bruise on his jaw. "Do you want to stay here?"

Chuck was never the one who had to be invited to stay. He had houses all over, there had never been the need. He didn't respond.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"You know me too well, Waldorf, but…Ow, goddamn it!" he gestured to the daubing of his scars. "Will you stop doing that?"

Blair could only laugh. Laugh genuinely.

"Good morning, Chuck," Blair's dulcet tones made him jump as she emerged at the kitchenette's doorway. Chuck was surprised. Even after waking from a night's sleep, there wasn't a hair out of place and she literally glowed without the mask of slap. He liked her like that; just like when they had woken up together all those mornings ago. All those years ago. When they were still together.

"Good morning, Waldorf," he drawled. "Did you sleep well?"

She didn't respond until she had sat down opposite him at the kitchenette's mahogany table.

"Not really, no."

"And why would that be?"

"I just can't stop thinking about…everything."

Chuck's sarcastic remarks died down when he took in her dejected mood. "And what's that everything…"

"You know, Chuck. The baby. How are we going to handle being parents."

"We? I thought you were with that asshole, Alexandre."

"Alexandre? What? No! He's just a friend, Chuck!"

"Good. I can't stand that bastard's hands all over you."

Blair didn't a double take. "Since when did he have his hands all over me? And since when did you care? About him...and me?"

"We'll talk about that later. What were you on about before," he changed the topic smoothly, dictating; "Something to do with 'being a parent'?"

"Yes," Blair settled her hands on her lap, glancing down at the floor.

"Blair, don't get mad at me for suggesting this, but what about an abortion?"

"An abortion?" she cried, incredulous. The literal reaction Chuck had been expecting. "I am not getting an abortion! Ever! I know I don't have the most motherly conduct; I'm hardly the maternal type, but I am not getting an abortion. I don't want to go through with this, I don't want to be a mother, but I'm not killing it. I'm not a murderer, Chuck!"

Chuck sighed, sceptical of his initial thought. Of course not. When it came down to it, he didn't want to kill the thing. He wasn't a murderer, either.

"Why did you leave, Blair?" he countered heavily, changing the subject. She didn't reply straight away, leaving a lingering silence lynching their deep and profound conversation.

"Chuck, I…" she tailed off, as if she didn't know the answer herself. Her words were stammered. "I…I didn't want you to know, C-Chuck. I knew, and I didn't know how you would take it."

"You should have told me." Chuck was hardly the benevolent type, so he was slightly taken aback that he could muster such integrity in his words. Blair really did play an important role in his life.

"I know, Chuck," her voice was nothing more than a feeble whisper. The room was plunged into silence once more, but it was hardly as gauche as before. She gazed at him longingly. Instinctively, he leant in, his lips fusing together with hers ever so tenderly. Slowly, the kiss spawned more fervour, as Chuck's hands began to know in Blair's russet locks, her touch all over his body. As Chuck began to kiss her neck, settling his mouth just below her ear and placating her racing pulse with his lips, a sudden wave of nausea hit Blair. Morning sickness. Lost and inebriated in one another, Chuck didn't even notice that her dainty hands had begun to push against his chest, trying to set a distance between the two of them.

"Chuck," she muttered against his mouth, yet he still appeared oblivious. Biting down on his lip as hard as she could, she watched him guiltily as he recoiled."What the hell was that for, Blair?" He rubbed his lip, both irritation and concern marring his callous words. Blair smirked; half amused, half sympathetic, but as queasiness washed over her again. She hurried to the en suite, slamming the mahogany door shut on her way.

"Blair. Are you all right?" he placed the palm of his hand on the wall, cringing at the rather too vivid sound effects from behind the closed door. Morning sickness; ugh, his bad mood was back. How could he forget? That Blair's pregnancy wasn't just an unpleasantly vivid nightmare. He wasn't ready to be a father, and she wasn't ready to be a mother. It was as simple as that.

"I forgot," she stated surreptitiously, appearing at the bathroom door, eyes dark. "I forgot about that thing, inside of me. How could I forget, Chuck?" Her question was rhetorical.

They were definitely not ready for parenthood.

She glanced at the ground bitterly, Chuck never taking his eyes off her petite, refined poise. Out of the blue, a loud knock ricocheted from the doorway, shattering the silence and bringing both out of their dreamlike reveries.

Blair smiled half-heartedly at him, as if it wasn't quite genuine, but not before gliding elegantly towards the suite's entrance, opening the softwood door. Her acerbic smile diminished quickly and evidently. Chuck knew who was out there before either spoke.

The smile died on her lips, as did her light-hearted tone.

"Alexandre."

A/N: I know it's short but I really wanted to update soon, and I had to find a way to add the drama coming soon. So I grovel for your forgiveness - ;) And Alexandre? What could he be doing here? The drama ensues! Thanks for the reviews - they truly keep me inspired! Length-wise, I like to keep them short 'n' sweet. Therefore, I get to update more regularly, rather than posting it in one big load hardly ever. Chapter Five coming soon. Rated T for language.

Reviews keep me motivated - Keep 'em coming! ;)

Slaying the Dreamer x