A/N: Okay, first, I apologize for the lull between updates for this chapter. I was having a really hard week. So I'm sorry about that.

If you've noticed, the Chuck in this story is more along the lines of the Chuck we start to see after Tuscany. I thought that if he had been helping Blair get through her bulimia for so long, his evolvement into the more mature Chuck would not take nearly as long as it does in the show. So I apologize if anyone was suspicious of out-of-characterization.

Also, thank you all so much for all the wonderful reviews this past chapter! They were much appreciated.

Finally, I didn't realize that if you reviewed the last chapter, you can't review this chapter because I deleted the prologue. That makes me really sad :( So now I will proceed to really annoy everyone and add the prologue again so anyone who wants to review this chapter can. I apologize for the extra email you will get saying I added this chapter, but I really see no other way to fix this. I'm sorry :(

Sorry for the long author's note. Thanks for reading! Enjoy :)

P.S. The title is from Sonnet XLIII by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Chapter 7

By Sun and Candle-Light

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and in her eyes
- "She Walks in Beauty" by Lord George Gordon Byron

Chuck left Blair's room hesitantly, her soft words ringing in his ears, each and every cadence shuddering through his body. He could not breathe, could not think; his nostrils tingled with the lingering scent of vanilla, tangled in her tumbling curls. He could not escape the sight of her, folded on the floor, wringing her hands, gasping for air. And calling after him in a voice filled with love he did not deserve.

Love. How could she, Blair Waldorf, the very epitome of perfection, love him, Chuck Bass? He was the scum of the earth. He simply could not fathom that she could care about him. It wasn't possible.

And so he ran.

He almost wished she had seen the glance he threw over his shoulder at her as he strode out her door for the second time that day. Maybe then, she would have seen what she looked like to him. Maybe then, she would have understood that he could not mar the beauty of such a delicate flower.

Rough touches could not save her. Only caresses could, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could comfort her.

He would ruin them both, he knew.

But he could not rid himself of the nagging ache in his stomach. She had said she loved him. He didn't want to run away from that truth. Not anymore.

He wanted to turn around, to run back into her bedroom and into her arms. He wanted to hold her and tell her she was beautiful. He wanted to promise her he would never leave her. But it was a promise he could not keep.

And so he ran.

He found himself abandoning the limo parked by her street once he left her house. He didn't want to succumb to the darkness of tinted windows, not yet. He didn't want to see the black leather of the seats and think of the dark lust that consumed him whenever he held her in his arms. He just didn't want it, any of it.

He wanted to be free. Free of her. Because it was dangerous to care about her. She was his best friend's ex-girlfriend. And no matter how angry he was at Nathaniel at the moment – for being stupid enough to sleep with anyone other than Blair, of course – he still cared enough about his best friend to worry about what he was doing. He could not fall for Blair. It was against every rule he himself had established.

Then again, when it came to Blair, breaking rules was more than warranted.

He could not rid himself of the memory of her hair splayed across the pillow as she lay in his arms, of her tears moistening his skin as her eyes glazed, of her broken voice, laced with sorrow and pain, detailing every trial she had endured lately.

It had been a sight he could not reconcile with everything else he knew about Blair. She was strong, stubborn, determined. He could not help but realize that he had seen a side of her that she had allowed no one else to see. The thought made him smile.

And he wasn't entirely sure how, but he ended up on Nathaniel's doorstep.

He didn't hesitate. Not as Blair had the day before. Instead, he simply flung open the door and strode through the dark hallway, fully prepared to yell at Nathaniel for abandoning the utter perfection of his long-time girlfriend.

Of course, though, as Chuck soon realized, Nate was much too clueless to even begin to comprehend the enigma that was Blair. Least of all appreciate her.

Chuck understood her, he fumed to himself. Why couldn't he have her, if he was the only one who truly understood the convoluted recesses of her mind?

But he scowled, his mouth twisting into a permanent grimace. He had a single purpose in coming to this lifeless penthouse, a single reason he was even talking to Nathaniel: to convince the taller, more popular, more respectable boy that he should not try to win Blair back. It wouldn't be a clear-cut case, a question of yes or no, that much Chuck knew. Nathaniel would no doubt want her back – in retrospect, who wouldn't, really? – but mostly because he was afraid of disappointing the Captain. He wouldn't really think of winning her back just so he could be with her.

And Chuck knew Nathaniel was easily deterred from such questionable motives as those. This should be easy, he thought to himself.

Still, he panicked.

He found Nathaniel on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his glittering blue eyes hazy with alcohol and – was that regret? Chuck cringed at the thought.

"My dearest brother," the shorter man chuckled, wincing at how easily the name rolled off his tongue – especially since he fully intended to betray said brother in the cruelest way possible the next chance he got. "What escapade are you wasting your time on now?"

A dark laugh slipped through Nate's pursed lips, and he offered lazily, "Nothing much. Wondering what Blair's up to, really. And thinking about Serena…"

His voice trailed off, not suggestively, but wistfully, as if he was remembering the day he had spent with the blonde, before everything fell apart. But, in truth, he suddenly realized, everything had fallen apart long before then. That moment had only been the culmination of days past, of battles lost and lovers reconciled. It hadn't mattered – still didn't matter, really – what he and Serena had done. They had all been going to hell anyway.

But next to him, Chuck clenched his fists in unconcealed disgust. He wondered how his best friend, whom he cared about more than anyone else, could possibly say Blair and Serena's names in the same sentence. They were too different. Serena was all light and laughter and hair, all blondeness and long legs and flashy smiles. And Blair…Blair was quiet, dark. And mesmerizing.

How could Nate think about Serena, even for one moment?

Chuck didn't understand it, because to him, Blair was the only girl – woman, he instinctively corrected himself – who he would ever care about.

"I think I want her back."

But that one sentence wrenched Chuck back to reality, and he remembered painfully that despite how he may have deluded himself, Blair belonged with Nathaniel. He would still try, of course, try to persuade Nathaniel to give her up, try to persuade Blair that she should not be with the golden boy. But Chuck wouldn't win. It was a truth he knew he must resign himself to.

He sighed heavily and replied, "Of course you want her back. The question is, why do you want her back?"

Chuck could almost see Nathaniel falter. This was his weakness. Whenever the Prince of the Upper East Side paused to think about why when it came to Blair, he could never quite come up with an answer. And now Chuck was hoping fervently that that would hold true.

Honestly, Chuck had no idea what he was doing. He didn't really know if he wanted to be with Blair. He knew he could never measure up to Nathaniel. Not in her mind. Not in anyone else's. As long as Nathaniel wanted to be with Blair – and even perhaps when he didn't, thought Chuck ruefully – Blair would want to be with him.

Which was why Chuck had to make sure Nathaniel didn't try to get her back.

The silence stretched on.

Finally, when he could stand it no longer, Chuck ran a hand nervously through his perfectly styled bangs, asking bluntly, "Do you love her?"

Nathaniel answered without hesitation, as he always had. "Of course!" His voice was almost, almost indignant. But not quite. Because the question was completely justified. Chuck – and perhaps, Chuck alone – knew the doubt that often trilled in Nathaniel's heart. Nathaniel loved Blair. They both knew he did. But maybe, it wasn't enough anymore.

Had it ever been?

Nathaniel pulled himself to his feet, looking down on his best friend in almost forced contempt. "This is none of your business, man."

Chuck shook his head vehemently, placing one manicured hand on Nathaniel's broad chest, his voice pleading, urgent, fierce as his lips formed the words that voiced the fears he could not admit to himself. "Nathaniel, I assure you, it is. And, to be fair, there is a strong argument for the case that you are not exactly enamored of the Queen B. Lest we forget, you fucked her best friend not too long ago."

Nathaniel flinched at Chuck's crude language and cowered defensively, stuttering, "Well…it was more than that. Serena isn't just some girl I slept with. She's more."

Affection alighted in Nathaniel's blank eyes, and Chuck took a step back, pausing to reassess the situation. If he cared as little about Blair as it seemed he did, then maybe…

Chuck cautiously asked his dearest friend, averting his caramel-colored eyes in a feeble attempt to avoid inciting spiteful wrath, "What is she, then?"

Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck in dreamy contemplation, whispering reverently, "I don't know. She's…Serena." He shook his head ruefully, as if that ought to be enough explanation. And to a certain extent, it was. Serena was Serena.

And Blair was Blair. Two completely different girls. Yet somehow, they had so much in common. Always rising from the ashes, as if they were meant to survive even when others did not.

Chuck let a small smile curve his lips. He understood. It wasn't easy to articulate feelings. Not for guys. And not when it came to either of the girls that made up the Upper East Side's most formidable friendship.

He ventured, "Then I'm assuming you're not going to try and win your ice princess back?"

Nathaniel chuckled uneasily and murmured in reply, "I don't know. Blair and I have been together so long. I don't want to break up over this."

Haven't you already?

Chuck wanted to scream this, wanted to shake Nathaniel and make him see that there was no in between here. Either he wanted to be with Blair or he didn't. The area was more than just black and white; it was so clear-cut that a single misstep completely blurred the lines. Gray was a color none of them could afford.

Chuck clenched his fists, willing himself to remain calm. But he couldn't quite expel the darkness creeping into the once-amber depths of his soulless eyes. Why couldn't Nathaniel see that he couldn't just dangle Blair on a string? What was it that compelled him to torture her until she fell so deeply that she couldn't ever recover? She might be resilient, but Nathaniel had done enough damage already. She was so fragile now. He could not be trusted with her.

And so Chuck resigned himself to this one last mission. He might lose his best friend over this, but Blair was the one thing he would not sacrifice.

He could not sacrifice her.

"You don't want her back." He affirmed coldly, crossing his arms over his chest. He had to do this, for himself, for Blair. Nathaniel did not matter now. If he ever had.

Nathaniel blinked, dazed for a moment. His voice was confused. "I don't?"

Ah, Chuck thought amusedly, laughing quietly to himself. Here was a person he could bend and break for his own satisfaction. Nathaniel was malleable. He could be changed. And he would be changed. For all their sakes.

"No," Chuck repeated slowly, raising his eyes to meet Nathaniel's skeptical gaze, "You don't."

"Why not?" Nathaniel's eyes were still glazed, still lacking comprehension. Chuck was tempted to hit his friend on the side of his head. You know, knock some sense into him. But he couldn't do that. Nathaniel had too few brain cells as it was.

And so Chuck sighed heavily and explained, his words blending as the effects of the scotch he hadn't drank finally sunk in. It was withdrawal, he assumed. Both from Blair and from alcohol. "Dearest Nathaniel, obviously you haven't figured it out yet."

He waited for some sort of understanding to alight in Nathaniel's emotionless eyes, but the golden planes of the prince's face remained blank.

Chuck scowled. "You don't love her!" he finally screamed, his frustration bleeding into his words. He struggled to retain serenity as comprehension slowly flickered on Nathaniel's face, his voice raw and hoarse as he spoke. "If you did, you wouldn't have slept with Serena."

Nathaniel shook his head in clear bemusement, faltering. "I still think I love Blair, though."

Chuck growled and whispered menacingly, "No, you don't. You love Serena. Don't you understand?"

Silence. Only the whisper of the wind through the open window. Too austere, most unwelcome. Broken, beaten.

But weren't they all?

"Reconcile with the lovely Blair if you'd like, Nathaniel," Chuck continued quietly, the words burning his throat on the way out, "But know that I only have your best interests at heart when I say that I don't think that is your best option."

And with those words finally behind him, Chuck strode out the door, not bothering to look back at Nathaniel. He may have looked back at Blair when he left her, but he was done looking back. It was time to look forward.

Blair closed, opened, closed her eyes. But the darkness remained. Empty, devoid of emotion. And lacking Chuck.

Could it even be possible that he had left her again? She thought that things had changed, that maybe, they could finally admit what they had both known for too many years. She had told him she cared, told him she needed him. But he had only given a whispered confirmation of the truth she had been desperately trying to avoid. The truth of the discrepancy between how they felt about each other and how they were supposed to feel.

She hugged her knees to her chest, trying to control the urge to throw up. She couldn't, physically couldn't, run to the bathroom and expunge the contents of her stomach. Not this time. Perhaps never again. Because somehow, it seemed that every time Chuck left her, he took every part of her with him. Even the part that usually begged for release.

She should have been grateful, but she needed to do it. It was all that could save her.

And without him, she could not even do that. He had robbed her of her only chance at survival.

With him, though, she might have a chance.

And so Blair Waldorf knew she needed to find him, needed to win him back. She had never really had him, she knew. He was Chuck Bass. No one could ever really have him. But she could lay some claim to him, couldn't she? He had held her in his arms, had wiped away her tears. Surely, that meant that their fates were now entwined, just as their legs had been only a few minutes ago.

Had it really been only a few minutes ago?

The thought was so foreign, so alien. Too much had passed between them now. Everything else only seemed to fade away. Time, status, wealth…it didn't really matter anymore.

She had to find Chuck. Because they couldn't give up on what they had.

It was too important.

It would be Friday when she next woke, Friday when she next saw him, she mused. She had already missed a day of school. It was so uncharacteristic – and so risky. Now, she knew, everyone would think that the news of Nate and Serena's betrayal had broken her heart. And she couldn't have them think that. She knew she had to go back to school, if only to prove it really didn't bother her. No matter how much it would hurt to see the two of them again, she had to go back.

But a whisper of doubt flew into her thoughts. To see them separately had been painful enough. But together? She didn't know if she could handle it.

Not without Chuck, at least.

She would have to find him before Nate and Serena found her, she realized. She would have to corner him and tell him she wanted to be with him, tell him he treated her far better than Nate ever had, tell him…

But she had drifted into a dreamless sleep, curled up on the wood floor, before she could complete the thought.

She awoke when her alarm rang, the piercing tone blaring in her ears. She sat up wearily, wincing at the light that seeped in through the open window, surprised that Dorota had not come in and moved her to her bed sometime in the middle of the night. That was so unlike her. So very unlike her. So unlike her that perhaps someone else had had a hand in it…but no. That was a ridiculous thought.

And as Blair looked around her room, she realized that there were far too many reminders of Chuck buried deep in the recesses of her clothes and her bed. A checkered scarf hanging on the window. A bright blue ascot perched on her nightstand.

And worst of all: a grey, silk tie that he had worn the very day before. That same tie nestled within the sheets of her comforter.

Blair groaned.

But she couldn't deny that she liked that he had made his mark on her room. It was a meaningful gesture, and one that was not lost on her.

And so she wrenched herself to her feet, crying out from the pain that rippled through her legs as the weight of his departure weighed on her for the first time that morning. And she strode over to her extensive closet, flinging off her purple sundress, the dress she had worn since the day before, raising the fabric to her nose in a futile attempt to catch the elusive, intoxicating scent that trailed Chuck Bass.

Only a faint note of scotch lingered on the neckline, and she breathed it in, her eyes fluttering closed in unthinking pleasure.

But she shook her head vehemently and reached for the outfit she wore when she needed to win. She stepped into a silver Donna Karan skirt and pulled a deep green Dior blouse over her head, smiling a little as the smooth silk slid across her skin. A string of pearls flitted around her neck, and she stepped into pale grey Prada heels with a subtle shimmer. A headband nestled into her carefully arranged curls, a touch of blush on her cheeks, a hint of foundation to conceal the bags beneath her eyes.

She was ready.

She sighed, butterflies engulfing her throat. She wasn't used to feeling this anxious. Not about a guy.

And that was the problem, she suspected. Chuck made her nervous. This thing between them was so unfamiliar. He was so unfamiliar. Because she had only ever felt safe and peaceful when she was with Nate. And with Chuck, it was all so very different, so very nerve-wracking. And perhaps that was dangerous.

She simply felt too much with him. Too much, too soon.

But she banished the thought, flicking a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear as she rushed down the stairs and out the door, ignoring Dorota's frantic calls. That woman fretted entirely too much.

Blair decided to walk the short distance to school, reveling in the cool spring air. It was exactly the right kind of day for the mission she had in mind. It was fresh, clear. It was reminiscent of everything that had been beautiful about Nate and Blair's relationship before the fires of winter had burned them both in their tracks. But now, at least, there was still beauty lurking somewhere. In the most unexpected of places, to be sure. But still beauty there.

The beauty that was Chuck Bass.

Blair laughed quietly to herself at the thought.

But when she saw Chuck's limo pass her by – she knew instinctively that it was Chuck gazing at her through the tinted window, although of course she couldn't see him – she gulped and considered running back right where she came from.

No. She had come too far. And so she squared her shoulders and marched right into school. It was time to be Queen B.

She nodded authoritatively to Penelope, Iz and Hazel as she approached them, suppressing the urge to scold them for staring at her so pityingly, and sniffed imperiously, "Where's my latte?"

The three girls exchanged incredulous looks, as if they couldn't quite believe that Blair didn't look distraught and heartbroken. But then they shrugged nonchalantly, because they of all people knew how stoic and unfeeling Blair could be when she really wanted to be. It was a weapon she often used, that cool exterior.

And here she was again, on a rampage.

Hazel perked up, murmuring brightly, "It's right here, Blair."

Blair nodded, wrenching the coffee from Hazel's outstretched hands, and strode off, ignoring the girls' shocked gasps as she left them in the dust.

Blair brushed past Nate, her eyes never rising to meet his. She knew he was astonished, but she ignored it. She felt a momentary spark of heat flash between them, but it was too foreign, long forgotten. Who they had been, back then, before he slept with Serena and she fell in love with Chuck…those people were gone. Her fairytale prince was no longer perfect. And somehow, she was okay with that.

Serena, though, was a different story.

As Blair headed for a secluded corner of the courtyard, the place she knew she was most likely to find Chuck, she caught Serena's eye across the crowded space. And for reasons she'd dissect even years later, she smiled.

No doubt the entire school would know about it by second period, but Blair simply couldn't resist. She was her best friend. She couldn't just ignore her.

But even that ceased to matter when she saw him.

He was standing by the brick wall, lounging lazily, a hat resting precariously on his mussed hair. His trademark scarf – or a copy of it, Blair mused laughingly, since the original was somewhere in her room at the moment – was curled around his neck, and disgust flashed in his eyes.

And without a second thought, Blair walked towards him.

Because suddenly, it didn't matter that he thought that he could never compete with Nate. It didn't matter that she could never be worthy of his…not love, but companionship, even. None of it mattered anymore.

All she saw was him.