Chuck threw back the drink in his hand and sat the glass back down on the bar in front of him. He was making a quick stop before going home to talk to his wife. He needed the liquid courage the scotch provided him. He was pretty sure he was about to have the fight of his life.

And he had nothing to give her to quell some of anger. She had been right. Of course the tip hadn't panned out the way they had hoped. That would have been too easy. If it had, he would be able to march right back into his penthouse apartment and tell her that he had wonderful news. Maybe that would have made her forget the fact that she had more or less thrown him out three days before.

He still couldn't believe that turn of events. He wasn't sure what he wanted to happen between them, but just throwing their hands up and quitting hadn't been an option for him. This was BLAIR. His Blair. He always believed that no matter what happened between them, they would work through it.

That had always been the way it was for them, they worked through things together. He had never imagined, it would come to this. Since the day he had reluctantly admitted that he loved her, he never imagined it would ever end.

He closed his eyes, tossed back another glass and tried to imagine his life without Blair in it. It was bad enough trying to get by without Eve, but without Blair was unbearable. He had never been a big believer in words like impossible and unbearable. He felt that there was nothing that a person couldn't do if they wanted to bad enough, if it meant enough to them. There was no love that couldn't be gotten over, no loss that couldn't be accepted, no task that couldn't be accomplished. You just had to want it bad enough.

Getting over Blair and Eve was unbearable because he simply just couldn't think of anything left for him on the other side. Living didn't seem that important without them to live for. Going through life didn't seem so exciting without them by his side.

One, he might be able to accept, though he could never make that choice himself, but both of them. It was pointless. Meaningless to even try to recover from that. There was nothing worth it on the other side.

Deciding that it was time to do something about the whole situation, he flopped a few bills down on the bar and took off to save his crumbling marriage.

He had a plan. He had been thinking about it for three days now. He had considered all of his options. Did he burst through the door and beg her to forgive him and take him back, even if that meant giving up on his search for his daughter ? Did he try to reason with her, bringing her over to his side ?
He had spent a lot of hours thinking about what to do next.

It was true he wasn't certain about his feelings for her anymore. She was right, they had both changed and neither of them liked the people they'd become. But Chuck had to believe that it was a temporary situation. Once he found Eve, everything would be right between them again.

He didn't like the person she'd become. He didn't understand her anymore. He couldn't see things the way she did.

But there had been flashes, flashes grand enough to send him staggering under the weight of his love for her, the last time they talked. His Blair was still in there somewhere and she was fighting to get out. He had to help her. He couldn't just leave her like that. It was like she was buried alive under the burden of all her suffering and he was determined to help her dig herself back out.

Just knowing she still existed, some small part of her still remained was enough to make him want to fight for whatever they had left between them with everything inside him.

He needed her, needed her like he needed air. That had never changed and recently he was becoming desperate from his lack of having her with him.

His hands balled into fists. He just missed her so DAMNED much. He was finally understanding words like unbearable and he was sorry he ever belittled what people went through while dealing with the unbearable things by not believing in it.

The limo slowed and he straightened his tie and smoothed the lapels of his jacket. He had a plan.

It was a good plan. Tonight he was going to find his Blair. He was going to march up those stairs and tell her in the best way he knew how that they still worked together.

He was going to make her his again.

It was with those possessive, dangerous, lustful thoughts buzzing in his head that he shot from the elevator and dashed up the stairs without preamble, without wasting anytime.

His entire body hummed with electricity and it was the first time in longer than he could remember that he was excited about something. How could he have forgotten what it was like to have her writhing and groaning under him ? How could he have dismissed from his mind the memory of the way she tasted, the way she moved, the way she made him feel ?

He didn't bother knocking. It was his bedroom, after all. Why should he have knocked first ?

The moment the door opened, he truly regretted that decision.

He stood there with his mouth opened, his hands at his side, blinking as he tried to make sense of what was happening in front of him.

She whirled towards the door, anger flashing in her eyes until she realized who had just barged in, then she squealed and grabbed for the sheets laying haphazardly across the foot of the bed.

The man under her was squirming, a look of sheer dread and panic etched across his face.

" Blair." He said, quietly feeling a sudden sense of calm take him over. He knew it was wrong. He should be angry. He should be launching himself across the room and throttling the life out of both of them. But he couldn't move. Something was keeping him in place and making it impossible for him to do more than simply stare at them.

" Chuck," Blair managed as she untangled herself from her partner and pulled the sheet up to her neck. " What are you doing here ?"

" I live here." He bit out between gritted teeth.

She shifted and drew several strands of hair from her face. " I thought we talked about you not living here anymore." She told him.

" THREE DAYS AGO !" There was the rage that he had been anticipating since opening the door. It bubbled out of him unhindered and it took everything inside him to keep himself where he was. He knew better than to get any closer.

The man in the bed with her looked so startled and terrified he almost felt sorry for him. But then he remembered his very naked condition and the image of His Blair straddling him and all thoughts of compassion flew out the window.

" GET THE FUCK OUT !" Chuck yelled making him jump as if he'd been shot and snatch at a sheet to pull around himself.

He scrambled to his feet still without saying a word and managed to keep himself covered as he got upright. Then he paused, glancing around him like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. The only way for him to go anywhere would be for him to brush past Chuck in the process. He really didn't look like he thought much for that option. So he just stood there in the middle of the room, clutching the sheet at his waist and looking helplessly from one of them to the other.

" For God's sake, Chuck, let him by." Blair finally said in exasperation.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. Blair had never been one for casual relationships. Which left him with only one conclusion. She knew this quivering, small, ridiculous little man. He wasn't tall by any means, less than six foot for certain. His shoulders were slender, his chest more rounded than planed. He was lanky and weak looking, pale and skinny. His hair was dark was cut short and worn neat. His eyes small and more than a little beady.

As Chuck stood there eying him so intently it suddenly occurred to him that he knew exactly who this man was. He was absolutely certain of it.

He moved slowly as if afraid a sudden move would startle the already trembling man and send him running. Chuck didn't want that. It would only deny him the satisfaction he deserved.

" Dr. Hearst ?" Chuck asked as he came within touching distance of him.

"Chuck, leave him alone." Blair told him as she scrambled to her feet as well. " This isn't his fault."

He turned his head towards her slowly not believing the words that were coming out of her mouth.

Not his fault ? He had manipulated her, turned her against her own husband, caused her to give every one of his daughters possessions away. How was this by any stretch of the imagination not HIS fault ?

He caught a movement from the corner of his eye and it spurred him into action. He didn't bothering turning his head back, he just raised his fist and buried it as deeply as he could into the man's stomach. Then without waiting for a response, he rared back again and let his hand connect with the doctor's face.

Blair was on her feet now, snatching and grabbing at him to pull him away. And he really thought he should probably listen and stop hitting the man, but something inside him wouldn't let go and he couldn't make his arm stopping swinging as all the frustration and horror of the last few months of his life poured out of him and into the man that Blair was sleeping with.

" Chuck !" Blair was crying again, moaning and wailing and it really did nothing but spike his anger even further. His Blair didn't cry and sob constantly. His Blair didn't fall apart every time she turned around. His Blair was strong and capable. This person, the person that was currently pulling him away from the good doctor, wasn't his wife. She wasn't anything like his wife.

He had been kidding himself, seeing what he wanted to see and hearing what he wanted to hear. The flashes he had dreamed up the last time they talked, where just that, dreams. Make believe and fantasies and he didn't believe in any of those things. There was nothing of his Blair left in the pathetic little weakling that tugged at his sleeve and begged him to stop. His Blair would have grabbed a weapon and made him stop if she really wanted him to. His Blair would have dropped him on his ass if that was her intention.

He staggered upright and gave the doctor one last kick before turning to her with murder in his eyes. This woman was responsible for the death of his wife. This woman let his wife die without even fighting to save her. She allowed herself to turn her back on, not just herself but them, Chuck and Blair.

His vision blurred around the edges as he watched her cry and wail. Her eyes fell to the man on the floor behind him and he backed away from her quickly. He couldn't stay within reaching distance of her, it wasn't safe. He didn't trust himself not to snatch her up and break her.

It would be so easy. She was so ridiculously pathetic and fragile. It wouldn't much at all really.

Chuck Bass wasn't a violent man. He never had been. Passive aggression was more his mode of operation. He didn't play violent video games or enjoy action movies the way most men did. He never really saw the point of violence.

But as he slowly backed away from the woman he imagined an hour ago was everything in the world to him, he completely understood violence.

" Chuck, wait." She wailed and started towards him. Something in his eyes must have warned her against the stupidity of the move and she halted her progression abruptly.

He turned on his heel, no longer able to look at her, no longer able to take the sight of the man on the ground that had been in his bed only a few minutes before.

Now he understood. Now he really knew what people meant when they claimed something was unbearable.