AN: Allow me to take a deep breath. Now you…

Part 7

There was one night that stood above all other nights in the horror of it all, in the regret that followed. Every one of them were creatures of the night. When others thrived on fantasy, theirs was a reality that could not be washed away by waking.

There was one night in each of their lives that they would soon rather have forgotten.

For Serena van der Woodsen, it was a youthful mistake. Sixteen years old, too young to realize better and so old that she was free to roam the world and waste herself. It was a night in Santorini that haunted her still. And try as she might, she would never get her husband to understand. Mistakes like the one she made were not part of Dan's every day, or once a year, of that chance in a lifetime.

Serena's one night of shame—only Carter Baizen could tell the tale.

And Carter would never tell—not at threat of his life, not in exchange for a million dollars. Even after he promised, Serena doubted that Carter would ever tell Blair.

For Carter, it was the night he found her for the first time, cut and bleeding from a wound she made herself. The sight of the dark hair floating in the pink water, while some of it stuck to her cheek, was terrifying. He had been on a plane that landed on water, been on a mountain trail that collapsed into a mudslide, nearly mauled by a wild animal in a cheap safari escapade.

Carter's one night he wished could fade away—only Blair Waldorf could tell the tale.

She wore diamonds upon diamonds, emeralds and sapphires and amethysts, in certain moods she pulled up gloves. Blair would never show them, never share. And even when Carter pleaded, she never once promised that it would not happen again.

For Blair, it would always be the night she had lost all sense and reason. The week before Serena's wedding, nursing hurt pride and soothing an angry heart took its toll on her control. She had stared down at the pictures of Chuck on her phone, with another woman's tongue down his throat, and she had sidled up against the next man that she knew should grace a Gossip Girl blast. She kissed him, asked him for a drink, then tossed the drink down so quickly. For a split second she regretted the action, then calmed herself with the fact that one glass should not hurt the baby. But Serena was gyrating on the dance floor, Nate's hands on her hips, and Blair was drunk within seconds, almost limp, passive and yielding to unfamiliar arms around her, pulling her up against a strange chest.

They found her when it was done, when her dress was in place, her hair polished, her make up on. They found her when her face was dry.

Her shamed recollection, only Chuck would eventually hear—in bed, in frantic whimpers, in those days they barely talked.

Blair's one night she wished she could change—only Chuck Bass could tell the tale. And he would never tell it well, from the bits and pieces he had gathered.

For Chuck, it was not surprising. It was a constant. The night was a companion of all the nights that succeeded it. He slept in bed with that night beside him, under his pillow, over him and pressing down until he almost could not breathe. It was anger, so much anger he wondered where the love had been. He had wanted to punish her, to hurt her, to strangle her, to melt inside her.

Chuck's one night he wished would stay with him forever—if only to hold close the last time he was ever buried himself inside her. Only Blair Waldorf could tell the tale, but she would not tell it well. It was almost like her brain had wiped away the memory.

Everyone told the tale.

Versions of the tale. Spun and wound into fascinating stories. Sometimes told well enough for him to believe.

They had offered to take her to the door. Blair refused and gave the two an assuring smile. She could not wait one second longer. There was someone else on her, sticky, and warm, and the bile was rising in her throat until it almost drowned her. She made her way halfway through the lobby, feeling the wetness on her, her eyes becoming blurred.

Someone had been there. She stumbled towards the bathroom, but found herself crouched, throwing up the liquid contents of her stomach on the marble floor.

"Miss Waldorf, we'll call Mr Bass," Sarah, the pretty receptionist who greeted her and Chuck every morning, assured her.

Blair shook her head. "He's not home." He was in Victrola, together with his whores, hellbent on forgetting that she was angling for a ring.

Sarah straightened, and motioned to the doorman. "Mr Bass arrived a couple of hours ago."

She could not even remember what happened two hours ago. Blair allowed Sarah to lead her to the large armchairs in the lobby where guests waited. She settled back with a sigh and closed her eyes. A few minutes later, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped in surprise. Her eyes flew open.

He was looking down at her, with that same stubborn set of his jaw. But his eyes were warm, concerned. "Let's get you to bed."

His arm was around her waist as they made their way to the elevator. They passed by the spot she had made a mess on, where two people were hard at work cleaning up.

He opened the door of the suite for her, and Blair blinked at the sight of a set table for two, of candles and pink roses.

"Chuck," she breathed.

"Never mind," he said quietly.

But she made her way to the dinner table and picked up one of the roses from the vase. This was how tonight was supposed to be. She lowered the rose on the plate, then turned to him.

It was going to be better. It was going to work.

She could forget about everything that happened tonight if he could do the same. And they could count until from now. Blair rose on tiptoes and placed her hands on his shoulders. She pressed a kiss on his lips, which he took and returned until she was breathless.

"I need to get out of these clothes. I need to shower. I need to get the night off me," she told him. "And then we can do it like you planned."

Where the girls from Victrola figured in, she would not ask.

If he asked about the man in the bar, she could not answer anyway.

She stepped into the shower and stripped off her dress. Blair looked down at the faint bruises on her thighs. She rested her head against the tile, felt the tears trickle down her cheeks, then reached towards the shower knob.

And his hand closed over hers, brought her knuckles to his lips. He pressed up behind her and she felt him hard and naked and straining between the cheeks of her ass.

"Chuck, wait!" she gasped.

And then she cried out, because his fingers were delving inside her.

Where she was wet.

Dirty.

Slowly, he lowered his head until his lips almost touched her ear. "Fuck you," he said, his voice strangled. "One mistake. You couldn't let me explain. You couldn't let me make it up to you."

She shook her head, wanted to turn around but he gripped her waist so tightly. "You don't understand," she cried.

And she felt them. They were hot, and they came fast. One after another that it was almost like it was raining. They fell on her back, between her shoulders. But she could not see. He would not let her see.

"Falling in love with you," he choked out, "was the worst decision of my life."

And he could not have hurt her more than if he took a fistful of her hair and slammed her head against the tiles.

"I'll see you in Serena's wedding."

And then he was gone. Blair turned and hurried after him, but he had hurriedly thrown on his clothes and stalked out of the suite.

"Ask him about Santorini," Serena whispered into her ear when they said goodbye for the night.

Her fiancé strolled out of the bathroom patting his face with a towel. When he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, he gave her a lopsided smile and offered his hand. She smiled, then took his hand. Carter pulled her up to stand, then unzipped the back of her dress.

"Raise your arms."

He pulled the dress away and set it aside for the maid. She stood in her slip, and she turned around to tell him, "Thank you, Carter."

Because there was just so much that it was almost overwhelming. If she listed them all down, she wondered if she would owe the man for life.

But then again, she was going to marry him. That should be close enough.

"I love you," he said. He bent down to kiss her.

Before their lips met, she replied, "Tell me about Santorini."

Carter paused. "Serena," he concluded.

"Yes, Serena." It was better if he knew from the start what truth she expected, what truth she could just as easily know if he did not tell.

He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, rested his elbows on his knees. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I was young," he began. "It shouldn't make a difference to us, Blair." He had always shown her she could lean on him, depend on his strength. Once, he promised her he would carry her. And those days, in those strange lands, the words were exactly what she needed.

Not today.

Today she was in Manhattan. And she had Serena.

She had Serena, at the very least.

"It does to me," Blair insisted. She kept her voice firm as she continued, "I've done things I regret. Had them done to me. They always come back to haunt you, even when you think it shouldn't matter."

Because when there was love, everything else should have paled and fallen away.

She was a ghost.

And she was haunting them all.

Carter snagged her hand as she passed by him. He clutched it tightly, held it against his chin. "Promise me that I won't lose you over this."

"Promises get broken, Carter. Don't believe in them."

Serena laughed like he knew she had never laughed before. She certainly did not have this much fun with her weird brother, who always hung about looking like he had the heaviest burden in the world. And he was quite sure Serena did not have any fun at all with the stuffy, straight-laced girl she hung around with.

Just sixteen and the girl was a vixen in bed. Willing to try anything with one snort.

Man, Carter couldn't wait to give her some E. If she was wild now, she was going to bounce from the walls on E.

"Are you tired, Carter?" Serena teased, hopping up on him on the bed and trailing her long blonde hair over his abdomen. Carter hissed when the taunting hair played around his penis.

"Bitch," he said in endearment, making her grin proudly to elicit such passionate response.

"I am a bitch," Serena agreed. And then she started laughing. "Not as much as my best friend though."

Carter set her aside, then rolled to his side to reach for his jeans. Serena draped her body along his back, urging him to come back to her. Horny bitch, didn't he say? He fished for a small case of breath mints, then grabbed her hand, let one fall onto her palm.

"Is my breath that bad?"

He smirked, shook his head, then pushed the white pill into her mouth. Serena sputtered, then swallowed. She grimaced at swallowing the pill dry. "What is it?"

"It's a special blend you can only find in Santorini." Carter picked up a glass of water, and Serena reached eagerly for it. He wagged his finger at her. "Not for you." He dropped two of the pills in the water. "We have a visitor," he informed her.

Carter placed the glass on the nightstand, then rolled on top of Serena. Her face was flushed, her breathing shallow. "What do you feel?" he asked.

"Oh God!" she exclaimed. "My skin is burning."

He ran his tongue from his nipple to the hollow in her throat. "How does that feel?"

Her eyes rolled back in her head. "Carter, you're amazing. I love Santorini!"

He gripped the backs of her knees then pulled apart her legs to rest between her thighs. Carter probed against her. Serena thrust up her hips. "Now, now, now."

He teased, then got up off her and walked to the door. Serena called to him, but he gestured for her to wait. And then he pulled a young girl into the room. She looked to Serena about fifteen, and she was crying.

"Carter, who's that?" Serena gasped, pulling up her discarded blouse over her breasts.

"She's our visitor." Carter picked up the glass of water and handed it to the girl. The girl grabbed the glass and chugged the water to calm her nerves.

"I didn't sign up for this!" she protested as Carter pulled the reluctant girl towards the bed where Serena was.

He pushed the girl on the bed, then settled down above the girl while her struggles slowly ceased. "See, Serena. She wants it as much as you do." He pushed the girl's shorts down over her hips.

Carter licked his lips. In the middle of the story, and he could not even look at Blair.

"The police came the next day to my room. Serena was still there. She told the police that the girl wanted it, initiated it."

Her best friend. Her fiancé.

It was all in the past.

But some things from the past you never forget. It never lets itself be forgotten.

"The girl contacted me through my father's lawyer a few months later, demanding I do something about the fact that she was pregnant."

Blair froze. She pulled her hand away.

Finally, Carter met her eyes. "I sent her money to get rid of it."

And then, without any reason she thought, her own hand rose to cover her empty belly. At the movement, he rose, tried to hold her. Blair flinched, strode to the other side of the room as far from him as she could.

"That's not who I am anymore," he repeated, pleading with her.

Blair threw open the closet doors and grabbed the first dress she could. She threw it over her head. "I need to get out of here. Don't follow me, Carter. Just leave me alone." Blair picked up a few bills, then headed out the door.

tbc