"Stop it, Chuck! When I said I didn't want to go I had my reasons, and they haven't changed overnight!" she snaps at him when he brings up the topic of going home once again.
"Well, why don't you at least share them with me then, I think I have a right to know why my wife doesn't want to live in our house when she's perfectly allowed to!" he snaps back, losing his temper.
Why does she have to be so damn difficult?
Ah, she's Blair Bass (ex-Waldorf).
And usually, he loves her for that.
But right now she's just getting on his nerves.
"Oh, do I have to ask your permission now as to where to stay?" she asks with angry sarcasm.
"Yes you do, if it concerns your wellbeing! The best oncologist in this city thinks it would make a positive impact on you to move from the hospital for the break in your treatment! What is it in 'positive impact' that you don't get?" he yells at her, frustrated.
"Yelling at me has a positive impact too, I guess…" she says, her voice perfectly calm and steady.
He feels like he's about to explode with anger.

How dare she turn it around like he's the bad guy?

He's just trying to make her face the stupid demon that doesn't let her come home.
"Yes it has, it might knock some sense into your pretty head!" he exclaims.
He regrets it instantly – he's being rude, and it's inexcusable.
But he just couldn't help it, really.
"Get out," she hisses at him.
"Wait, Blair, I'm sorry, I…" he tries to say something to save the situation, but his eyes meet with hers and he's at loss for words.
"I would've left if I could, but I can't. So if you have just the tiniest bit of respect for me, get out of here," she repeats.
"I didn't mean to hurt you", he says softly.
It's true. He actually wanted to make it better.
But instead, he just made it worse.
She's right; all the fighting can't be good for her.
Remorseful, he leaves the room to let her cool down.

As he closes the door he hears a muffled sob.


He glances at his watch anxiously – it's been only 35 minutes, but he physically can't wait any longer.

He knocks on the door lightly, hoping it would count as giving her some space.
"Come in," she replies quietly and so he does.
"Look, Blair, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," he says, his head slightly bowed.
"It's okay, you were right, if I let you be here with me, I should be honest," her voice is hoarse, and he can bet she's been crying after he had left.
Perfect, Asshole, that's exactly what you to do support your loved one – bring her to tears! He thinks, angry again, but this time with himself.
"Sit, we need to talk," she tilts her head towards the plastic chair at her bedside and he obeys silently.
"Please, don't interrupt me, just listen to the whole story," he can already see tears filling her eyes, and he suddenly is scared that there is something more, something Dr. Clark hadn't told him.
"There really is a reason why I'd prefer you to stay away or, at least, limit seeing me to this hospital. You seem to still think that there is some magical cure that will save me and let us move on in a couple of month. That's not true. Even if I don't die," she lets out a shaky breath, and he so much wants to just hold her in his arms and tell her it would be okay, but he knows it's not what she wants, so he stays away, only giving her an encouraging look. "It won't be the same afterwards. I…" she pauses to gather her strength. "Because of the treatment, I might lose fertility", she blurts out finally.
"That's it?" he manages in disbelief when she falls silent.
He had already prepared for the worst.
For a second, he thought her illness wasn't curable.
In comparison to that, the prospect of not having children is nothing short of the 'happily-ever-after'.
"Isn't that enough? I might never be able to have a child!" she repeats, as if thinking he hadn't heard her the first time, and there is so much self-loathing in her voice it overwhelms him for a second.
Then, he covers her hand with his and gives it a gentle squeeze.
"I know, Dr. Clark told me when we talked yesterday," he says softly.
"And… you still want to be with me?" she asks, blinking back tears.
"Of course I do, Blair. I love you," he says like it's the most obvious thing in the word.
For him it is, actually.
"But you wanted children. When we talked about it, you said you wanted children!" she exclaims, something frantic in her voice.
"No, Blair, I didn't say that. I said I wanted children with you", he corrects her. "I've dreamt of us being a big happy family since our senior year, I guess. We'd live in a huge apartment facing the Central Park, so we'd have a place for pick-nicks and walks. I've always imagined our firstborn to be a girl. She'd have your chestnut curls and ruby lips, but my smirk and jawline. She'd wear the cutest headbands and rule over Constance like no one in the history ever had, because a Waldorf-Bass mix is something this world hasn't seen. One thing, though, she wouldn't be allowed to ride in limos or even town cars with boys until she reached 18, and I would certainly prohibit any burlesque clubs… I'd be very overprotective, and every once in a while you'd help her to sneak out to a party and keep me occupied for the evening so that I don't notice. But mostly, we'd spend our evenings together – watching movies, reading books to her, eating ice cream and macaroons and talking… She'd tell us about her day at school…" as he speaks, he gets lost in his thoughts, dreams even.
He is snapped back to reality by a soft, but very distinct sob escaping Blair's lips.
Immediately, he is by her side, wrapping his arms around her once again shaking shoulders.
She buries her head in the nape of his neck and cries quietly.
"You described it… perfectly", she whispers through her tears.
"I know. But the whole point of having this girl is having it with you. And if you won't be able to have children, we'll adopt. We both know how horrible it is to have part-time parents, imagine what a nightmare it must be not to have them at all. And if we adopt, we will save a child, or two, or three from that hell. Give them a proper family everyone deserves. So whether we share our biological children in future, or have adopted ones, we still will be that big happy family from my dreams. Because you and me, we already are a family. I love you, stop forgetting it, please", he says and places an affectionate kiss on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry", she mumbles.
"It's okay. And even if it's not, it will be", he muses.