A/N: This chapter was hard for me to write, and it's a little shorter than I would have liked. But I feel like if I didn't stop where I stopped, it'd just feel unnatural and forced. So the end result is this.

This week is exam week, so the next update will probably take longer than this one did. Please stick with me :)

Also, I apologize for the confusion in the updating; I think those of you who have this story on story alert (thanks for that by the way!) received two emails saying I had added Chapter 5. Please disregard that. I only added one chapter :)

Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

P.S. The title is taken from a quote by Robert Dodsley.

Chapter 4

One Kind Kiss Before We Part

I watched you sleeping quietly in my bed
You don't know this now but
There's some things that need to be said
And it's all that I can hear
It's more than I can bear
- Hazy (feat. William Fitzsimmons) by Rosi Golan

It was light outside when Blair awoke. The slightly red rays of sunshine streaming in through the open window drifted a lazy smile across her face, and she yawned contentedly, not wanting to open her eyes just yet. The moment was too beautiful, too precious.

She sighed and turned to her side, nuzzling Chuck's chest with her cheek. And then she froze. Chuck.

Somehow, she mused, he had ended up next to her sometime in the night, sometime after he had whispered those three words that she almost hoped she had imagined…His fervent whisper of a goodnight had seen him to the floor, smothered in blankets, arm thrown behind him. And she had been on the bed. No, Chuck had not held Blair in his arms at the beginning, when they had first slipped into dreamless sleep. At least, she hoped he hadn't.

But sometime in the middle of the night, Blair remembered, she had risen from her bed and glided across the cold floor, her gaze falling on the sleeping form of Chuck Bass. She had stood there for a moment, her eyes roaming across the body she had often hoped she could feel the warmth of, her hands instinctively pushing the hair back from his forehead as she leaned over him. Looking at him then, the breath leaving her, a smile ghosting across her face as she marveled at his boyish features, something had changed.

And she had knelt beside him and brought her lips to his forehead, her hands trembling. She had breathed against his skin, her lips murmuring across the smooth expanse of life and exhaustion, "I love you."

She had walked away then, not looking back. She had missed the blush that crept into Chuck's cheeks, had missed the slight flutter of his eyelids as she fluffed the pillows on her bed and slid beneath the covers.

And Blair suddenly remembered that she had felt his arms encircle her only moments later. She had felt him pull back the covers and join her, and she had panicked. He must have heard the words she had whispered…but she hadn't wanted him to leave. She had not flinched when his hands had smoothed the hair brushing her forehead, had not trembled when he had burrowed his face into her neck and murmured, "Sleep, Blair." His words had been comforting, his voice low and urgent.

And so she had slept, restfully, hopefully.

She dared not wake him, not yet. For the moment he opened his eyes, he would surely shrink away from her in disgust, as Nate had always done. And Blair couldn't bear that, not again.

She clutched her stomach and waited for the wave of nausea to pass.

After a moment, she felt Chuck shift beside her, and she snapped her head up worriedly, peering into his tired eyes, amber in the light of dawn. He smiled at her, gently, uncertainty, and Blair faltered for a moment.

She suddenly couldn't remember why Chuck was with her, why he had come, why she felt desperately hungry. She looked away from him and closed her eyes, trying to remember what had happened the night before that had brought Chuck to her. She furrowed her brow in frustration, bracing herself for the onslaught of painful memories. But it didn't come, and she was dazed for a long moment, her eyes half-closed, her body feeling strangely supple as she stretched her arms above her head.

Blair wondered what had happened the night before, wondered why her head was pounding so. She couldn't understand why she didn't feel hung over, or dizzy. If she had been drunk the night before, that would explain her raging headache. But there weren't the usual telltale signs.

For one thing, she was dressed in a silk robe, the kind of robe she usually wore when she went to bed or when she…threw up, she supposed was the word. Her hair was not the mess it would have been if she had fallen into bed unconscious, and when her fingers anxiously traced the sagging skin beneath her eyes, she felt no residue of black smudge, no faint glitter of eye shadow. She obviously hadn't been drunk the night before.

So why couldn't she remember anything?

Blair forced her eyes back to Chuck's and looked at him questioningly, ignoring the tongue of fire that ripped through her when his hand reached out to her cheek, nonchalantly stroking the tautly stretched skin there. She swallowed and looked away, smiling involuntarily when his words floated over her, lulling her into a sense of security she knew wasn't false. "What? The floor's bad for my back."

Blair scoffed lightheartedly but refrained from answering. She didn't remember what had brought him to her, what had resulted in him sleeping on the floor. It was all a blur, a painful, suppressed blur that she didn't care to succumb to.

She smiled at Chuck and extracted herself from the comforting hold of his arms, lifted herself off the bed, walked to the center of the room. Stifling a yawn, she looked around the room worriedly, her heart racing in its desperate attempt to understand everything Chuck had done for her recently. The touch of his fingers when she went to talk to Nate, the wait with her in the infirmary, his instant agreement to stay with her that night…But no. She didn't want to understand.

She turned her back on him, closed her eyes, tried to find the strength to stay standing. She wanted to run into the bathroom, wanted to empty her stomach. This was all wrong, all of it.

Chuck's even, calm voice surprised her. "Don't, Blair."

She nodded, her eyes sweeping across the floor. She didn't want to disappoint him, not now. Because she'd have to later.

"Oh my god." she whispered, her voice dead, her body slumping to the floor. What had she done?

Blair subconsciously heard Chuck spring from the bed and run over to her, felt the creak of the wood as he positioned himself behind her, convulsed at the soft pressure of his hand on the base of her neck. Her eyes rolled back into her head in pure terror, and she forced them open, watching as Chuck looked up at her confusedly, his lower lip trembling endearingly.

"What's wrong?" Blair could hear the concern in his voice, and she struggled to repress the memory of that first fall day he had found her in the bathroom.

She shook her head, ignoring the pain in his eyes. She only whispered, "What happened?"

He gulped, suddenly averting his eyes. "You mean you don't remember?" He looked almost…hurt.

Blair stared at him stubbornly, chocolate meeting caramel, resisting the memories that were fighting, pulling, screaming. But the sudden droop of his mouth made her hesitate, and the memories suddenly rushed at her. She didn't suppress them. She didn't have to. She didn't want to. It was night, not day. Love, not lust.

Love. She didn't mean to think that. She didn't love Chuck Bass. She couldn't love Chuck Bass. Even if he had whispered the words, even if she had returned them. He was the most notorious playboy in all of Manhattan, and she was…well, untouched, she thought bitterly. She was known for her resistance when she was with Nate. She hadn't let him take it that far. It had been something special to her. And she had thought it had meant something to him.

But then he had given it away to Blair's best friend, and he and Blair had faded into oblivion. They had been beautiful, yes. But they were perfect no more.

She cringed at the thought. It hurt to think of her and Nate in the past tense, even though she had been preparing for that moment for almost two years. She had to get him back, if only for her sanity. She didn't love him, not anymore – she wondered if she ever had – but she and Nate were the Upper East Side's golden couple. She could not give that up.

She tore her gaze from Chuck's, ignoring the intensity of his eyes, and whispered, "No, I remember."

Chuck sighed in relief, and Blair touched his lips with one finger apologetically, hating to bring pain into those loving eyes. Her voice was firm, certain, resigned. And desperate. "We can't do this."

"Do what?" His voice was soft, light, easy. He sounded completely devoid of emotion.

But Blair knew better. She always had. He actually cared about what had happened. He had wanted the night to mean something to her, had wanted it to change things between them. And it had. But was that enough? How could she justify this night to her mother? To Serena?

She couldn't. The very idea was unthinkable.

Yes, nothing had happened between them, nothing she couldn't erase, nothing she couldn't forget. And yet…it meant more to her than any night she had spent with Nate ever had.

Blair smiled bitterly at the boy who had saved her so many times and murmured gently, touching a soft hand to his flushed cheek, "You and me. That's what isn't going to happen. It can't happen."

He only shook his head, and she winced at the pain in his eyes.

She didn't want to be the cause of that break, that loss. Not now. Not ever. He meant too much to her.

And so she sighed and whispered, "But I wish it could."

She leaned towards him, her lips hovering close to his, waiting, just waiting. She didn't have the strength to breathe in the air in between them, didn't know how to ask Chuck Bass for what she needed most: love. How could she ask him for something he didn't even believe in?

But he smiled at her, and his lips found hers in the next moment.

Blair lost herself in the moment, relished the tug of his hands on her hair, reveled in the pain, intertwined with pleasure, that pierced her to the core when his tongue clashed with hers. His breath poured into her, and she felt her chest rise and fall with his, felt his lips engulf hers as she unashamedly pulled him closer to her. The heat rippling through her flooded her every thought, and she clung to him weakly.

But then they pulled away, and they looked at each other, and the tears welled up in Blair's haunted eyes as she realized that she had just kissed Chuck Bass, and he had just kissed her, and no one but them would ever understand why.

She had spent the night with him. It was a night she should have regretted, a night she should have cried over, a night she should have been ashamed of. Because she had once promised herself that she wouldn't be one of Chuck Bass' many conquests. True, they had not slept together, but she had spent the night in his arms, fully clothed. That was almost worse.

And yet...she wasn't sorry it had happened. She had needed him, and he was there.

His eyes searched her face, but there was no hope there. She only shook her head, and he whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn't think..."

Blair waved off his apology with a curt, "No worries."

He blinked at her, his expression twisting into something resembling confusion. "What are we going to do?"

Blair glared at him, her words cold, her voice emotionless, reminiscent of the woman she used to be before Chuck snapped her back to life. "We are going to do nothing. I am going to make sure that this never happens again."

Her gaze softened, her features transforming. "Do you have any idea the kind of social ruin we would suffer if anyone found about us?"

Chuck returned her uncharacteristically affectionate gaze with a heated, determined stare. "Come on, Waldorf. The concept of you and me doesn't even exist. All I did was help a friend in need. You can't consider that something Gossip Girl would condemn. Or Nate, for that matter."

Blair flinched, the thought of Nate making her clench her heart in pain. She sank to the floor, images she had fought to push away making a reappearance. Golden heads close together, navy blue meeting piercing blue…it was all too much.

Chuck froze. "Oh god, Blair, I didn't mean to…"

She simply nodded, too weak to speak.

He stood up fluidly and walked over to her, holding her gaze as her eyes rose to meet his. His arms snaked around her waist, and she eased into his embrace, breathing a soft sigh of relief. His mouth close to her ear, he whispered sincerely, "I really am sorry." He kissed her shoulder.

She shuddered guiltily at his touch and whispered, "I know you are. But if anyone knew…"

"If anyone knew?" His voice was defiant.

She twined her fingers through his, lightly squeezing his hand. She wanted nothing more than to hold him close to her. He was the only person who knew, the only person who helped. How could she give that up?

But they both had reputations to save. And they both had people to impress.

She replied gently, "It would ruin you. Chuck Bass, falling for a girl?" She scoffed. She couldn't quite believe it herself.

He was silent for a long moment, and she wondered if he would leave now, leave because she had just accused him – yes, accused, because to love, to fall for someone, was a crime to Chuck – of falling for her.

Blair winced. She didn't know how she'd survive her episodes without him. Because the night before, the night he had stayed with her without even trying to sleep with her, the love that had flashed through his eyes when her tears had kissed his cheeks had saved her, healed her. That moment had almost, almost numbed the pain of Nate and Serena's betrayal. She had found him, found someone who truly cared about her, and for that she would walk through fire. He was everything.

But he wasn't, really. He was just Chuck Bass. And she was just Blair Waldorf. They could never work.

He whispered, interrupting her rumination, "I don't care what people say."

But she did. It was what had brought her to him, crying, staring at the mess in the toilet. And he had not admitted that he had, indeed, fallen for her, that the way he had felt when she had lain in his arms, her tangled, beautiful mess of chestnut curls fanned across the pillow…that feeling, the feeling of loving and holding and needing, that feeling could never be replaced.

And so Blair did not tell him they would find a way to be together. She only turned around and smoothly wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. "You were wonderful, really. But you and I both have lives, reputations. We can't do this."

He sighed in resignation, pulling her close to him. "Waldorf," he growled, lifting her chin, smiling playfully, "you are making this entirely too difficult for me."

Blair laughed breathlessly and countered, her words muffled by tears, "Well, Bass, if you recall, being difficult is my forte. Just ask my mother."

She had intended the comment to sound offhand, but her voice cracked as she spoke, and Chuck looked at her for a long moment, concern embedded in the coffee-colored depths of his eyes. His gaze penetrated hers for a moment, and with a sad, lopsided smile, he brought his lips to her cheek and dragged his mouth over her chilled skin, holding her tightly as she swayed a little.

"I guess this is goodbye then."

Blair nodded, lost in a silent sob, and reached for his hand. She needed to feel his skin on hers, just for a moment.

Chuck willingly laced his fingers through hers and closed his eyes, whispering, "Blair, I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked lightly, smiling ruefully, gratefully. "You saved me."

A whisper of emotion flew into Chuck's eyes, as if Blair's candid, frank mention of the night before had surprised him. But then he blinked it away, and the warmth in his face quickly froze. And everything Blair thought had changed between them suddenly seemed the way it had always been.

But she didn't flinch, didn't move, didn't worry. This was just Chuck's way of surviving, his way of pushing her away when he needed her most.

And so Blair murmured, reaching for the chance to salvage the last bit of hope in Chuck's dead eyes, wondering if she could ever really let go of him, "Don't give up on me yet. I'll be ready someday."

Chuck sharply inhaled, and Blair faltered, afraid she had said too much. She had spoken the truth, had taken the moment that had almost slipped away and forced him to see that she wasn't leaving him. But she would hurt him in the next moment, because the words that would leave her mouth were words that would scream agony and fire and loss.

And she had to say them. He deserved to know the truth, even if it killed her to say the words.

And so before he could speak, she dropped her gaze and whispered, "But I've got to go back to Nate."

She didn't have to look at Chuck to see the anger burning in his eyes. She could feel it. And she opened her mouth again, ready to tell him everything, to make him see that she didn't love Nate, not really, but that he was all she had ever known and that she couldn't let her mother have another excuse to hate her.

But Chuck wrenched her face up to his and hissed, "You're going back to him."

Blair nodded and murmured, "But only because – "

"There is no 'because,' Waldorf." His voice was bleak, and Blair longed to kiss his pain away. But she couldn't tell him she wasn't going back to Nate. She was.

Chuck didn't understand, of course. How could he? He only knew that Nate had broken Blair's heart. He couldn't understand that Blair needed Nate. Not so much their relationship, or even him. She needed the status, needed to know that she was still admired and that people still felt jealous of her.

And how could she tell Chuck that she would choose perfection over him, that she would rather be admired and miserable than scorned and impossibly, incandescently happy?

She couldn't. She didn't want Chuck to know that she was so desperate for perfection that she'd risk being with someone who didn't care about her just so society would accept her.

Blair could be happy with Chuck. She knew she could. But it wasn't enough.

And so she didn't reply when Chuck spat at her, his voice raw with pain and rage, "Enjoy poor Nathaniel's company."

And she let him stride out the door. She didn't plead with him not to leave her. It was better this way, she told herself, better that they not be friends. Or whatever they were.

And besides, she had Nate. She would get Nate back, and everything would be okay.

But Blair was falling, falling. The room spun around her, and she rushed to the bathroom, Chuck's face swimming in her mind.

He was gone.