Eeek. Please read. Apologies for cliffhanger last chapter.

Sorry I have to make that same apology this chapter.

Author's Note: Dedicated to Akimat for a lovely, lovely review. And as always, broadwaybaby4205 for the beta. Also, the medical section of this story is highly unlikely in the real world (I looked it up), but fanfiction is about fiction, so...yeah.

Enjoy!

I still remember your eyes watching and empty body conditional soundtrack
Cold hearted emotionless hit man
Is this all you really wanted?
Do you wanna dance a sweet disaster?
We'll slow it down so hearts beat faster
If nothing lasts forever we'll go on and on and on
Tease me, tell me not to make a sound
If this won't last forever then this won't last forever so kill me now

Subject to Setback
-Danger is my Middle Name

Blair stands over the bathroom sink, rinsing the thick aftertaste of the vomit out of her breath. She isn't sick, she doesn't ever get sick. So why is she throwing up? Then it clicks. The missed periods, the unstable emotions, the random vomiting. How did she not see this? Clutching her stomach, she slides down to the bathroom floor, feeling sicker than ever.

Pulling out her phone, she scans over the numbers. Her eye lands on one in particular. With shaking hands, she manages to place the call.

"Serena? I need you," Blair gasps into the phone just like she had years before, "And could you pick up something?"

-x-

Blair and Serena huddle over the white stick, shaking it over and over.

"Whose is it?" Serena finally asks.

"I don't know," Blair sighs, "I really don't know."

She closes her eyes, sitting down on the white tiled bathroom floor, and puts her head between her knees. What if the baby is Chuck's? He is in no position to be a father. What if the baby is Nate's? Hadn't they just determined that being married wasn't the right option for them? Blair groans as she hears Serena confirm her worst fears. She is pregnant.

-x-

Early the following day, the two women pull up to a stone-covered building. Blair can't risk Gossip Girl or any one of her extremely furtive spies seeing her visit a women's pregnancy clinic.

With the black hood of her jacket pulled over her head and large sunglasses preventing her identity from being revealed, Blair slips into the waiting room with Serena in tow.

"Hi, my name is Blair Waldorf," Blair whispers to the fat, old accountant who is writing her information onto sheets.

"Excuuuse me? Could you speak up?" the lady asks nasally.

"My name is Blair Waldorf and I have an appointment at eleven," Blair raises her voice slightly.

"I'm sorry, I still can't hear ya, sweets," she snaps her gum and points her acrylic nail to the sheet, "You can just fill out the forms because you talk like my little mouse of a grandchild. Her name's Hilda, you see? And that is English for loud, which is quite ironic because her voice just sounds like a little squeak when she talks."

Blair gives the lady a disgusted look as she grabs the clipboard and walks back to Serena.

"Doesn't it just sicken you when people who work at doctor's offices have medical problems? It's like a dentist with crooked teeth," Serena says, making light of the situation.

"That's funny," Blair says sarcastically.

Serena shrugs and looks away.

"S, what am I going to do? Either way, whoever's child it is, I…" Blair's eyes fill with tears again, no doubt due to her pregnancy emotions.

"B, don't worry. We'll figure this out. We always do," Serena reassures, rubbing Blair's back soothingly. A loud, deep voice interrupts their heartfelt moment.

"Blair Waldorf?" a stout lady yells into the waiting room.

Practically running, Blair and Serena almost knock the woman over in attempt to stop her from repeating Blair's name.

"I'm not really supposed to be here," Blair explains to the lady, looking around suspiciously.

"Oh, sorry. Come with me."

The lady, Greta, as the name tag states, leads them to a small room down a secluded hallway.

"Okay, what seems to be the problem?" Greta says, typing numbers into the computer.

"I need to know who the father of my child is," Blair says, looking away from Greta's disapproving eyes.

"I'm sorry, we don't perform that kind of tests," Greta informs her.

"Look, I know you don't. But I'm Blair Waldorf, and I need you to give me that test or else…" Blair looks menacingly into Greta's eyes.

A light bulb seems to go off in Greta's head as she realizes she is dealing with the Blair Waldorf, "I'm sorry ma'am, you're Blair Waldorf? My apologies, I just didn't realize."

Blair looks at the pitiful woman and repeats her question, "So, can you give me this test?"

"Yes, of course."

For the next hour and a half, Blair is poked, prodded, and blood sampled. Serena sits nearby giving Blair support, but Blair still feels anxiety flood through her veins.

As the clinic sends her off, Greta wishes her good luck, "Blair Waldorf, I give you the best of luck with this child and your data should be mailed to you within the next week."

-x-

Blair's eyes run over the label of the envelope sitting in her trembling hands. To open or not to open…? Curiosity overcomes fear and she steams the envelope open, afraid of the contents. She inhales sharply as she scans through the letter. A name. A name stands out boldly against the rest of the rambling letter. She feels faint as she pulls out her phone to make a call.

"Chuck?"

-x-

An hour later, Blair arrives at a small café near Brooklyn, which is the safest place away from the Upper East Side.

"Blair," Chuck stands up and greets, "What's going on?"

"Chuck, remember how I threw up yesterday?"

"Yeah, what was that about? You never get sick," Chuck says, raising a thick eyebrow in suspicion.

"Look, I'll explain that later," Blair begins playing with the frayed ends of her shirt.

Chuck's look of suspicion turns to confusion as he sees Blair's nervous jitters. Anyone who knows Blair is aware of her always-present confidence. Being nervous is definitely not her forte.

"All I want to tell you right now is that I'm divorcing Nate," Blair starts, "We both agree this is the right thing to do."

"And why would you do that?" Blair can see the anticipation in Chuck's anxious eyes.

"Because I need to. I don't love him," Blair begins and Chuck's shoulders begin to relax, "But before I go any farther, you need to know something."

Chuck's figure tenses again and he looks straight into Blair's eyes, sending chills down Blair's back. Only Chuck is capable of making Blair feel so intimate without even touching her.

"Go ahead, I can take it," Chuck laughs.

"I'm pregnant," Blair says bluntly, carefully examining Chuck's face for any reaction. His face seems to be frozen in an unexpected half-smile. Instead of horror, she sees shock and utter confusion. She senses his incapability to speak, so she continues.

"It's Nate's."

Expecting to see relief, her heart dips as his face begins to register fury and rage. His face changes from the look of shock to one of pure hatred.

"You're kidding me, Blair. Please tell me you're kidding," his eyes are pleading her to say that it's a joke. For a fleeting second, Blair considers taking it all back, pretending it was, in fact, a lie. But it wouldn't be fair to either of them.

"I'm not," Blair says, barely moving her mouth, "But I need your help."

"Why, Blair? I have no part in this child. I have no part in your life, actually. Why did you even tell me this? Did your dear, sweet Nathaniel bail on baby Archibald?" He spits cruelly.

"Chuck…" her voice trails off as he pushes his seat back and grabs his belongings, heading for the door.

"Have a nice life, Blair."

With that, Chuck is gone, leaving Blair to stare at his empty chair.

-x-

Nate picks up her up for dinner. Blair's desperate call to discuss about something "very important" seems like a reconciliation talk, so he agrees.

"Nate," Blair greets with no emotion.

"Hi, Blair," Nate responds, uncertainty washing over his face.

"We need to talk, now."

"Can it wait until we get to the restaurant?" Nate asks.

"Not really."

"Fine, go ahead, let's talk," Nate groans as Blair's eyes darken the mood. He pulls over to the side of the road and turns the engine off.

"I'll just go out and say it," Blair starts hesitantly, "I'm pregnant."

"What the fuck?" Nate's reaction is much more expected, "I'm going to beat the hell out of Chuck right now. Get out, I'll meet you later."

"No, stop. It isn't…his," Blair seems to have trouble saying his name.

"What?" Nate's fury turns to disbelief.

"It's yours," Blair says brusquely.

His facial features turn upwards into a daunting smile, "Blair, this is great," Nate exclaims.

"I thought we agreed divorce was the best option," Blair protests.

"Now that we're having a baby, maybe being a family is our best option," Nate tries convincing Blair.

"No, look. I'm not staying married to you because I'm knocked up," Blair's eyes flash in the dim atmosphere of the car.

"Then what do you plan on doing?" Nate asks, almost mockingly, "You want to ask Chuck to help?"

"Yes. Chuck will help," Blair says with fierce determination, not realizing the words coming out of her mouth "In fact, can you take me there right now?"

With a chuckle, Nate responds, "Sure." As he reignites the engine, he lets out another low chortle, "Besides, I know you're bluffing."

-x-

Blair waits in front of room 1812 similarly to her high school days.

Knocking loudly, she presses her eye against the peephole, "Hello?"

Silence is her only answer.

She waits for ten minutes in front of the hotel room, until finally realizing a better solution. Taking the elevator to the lobby, she rushes to the front desk.

"Hello? Can you tell me if Charles Bass in room 1812 is in?"

The man gives her a skeptic look, "I'm sorry, Mr. Bass has checked out. He left for the airport hours ago."

Blair's stomach surges something sour.

WAHHH. Not my best. WTF did Chuck go?

Review, you guys are awsh. (Yes, I stole this word from AH17)