A/N 1: Thank you my dear readers. Looking forward to reviews - As every author :)
A/N 2: For god's sake have you seen the EW-scan? OMFG! ;-)
CHAPTER 9 – Prophylaxis
He woke to her absence, and lifted his head, listening. She wasn't in their bathroom either. Alarmed, he slid out of bed, snatched up his robe, pulling it on as he trotted down the stairs.
He finally found Blair in her atelier, sitting solitary in the colossal fauteuil, next to a window bank overviewing Central Park. Grand, silent tears were running down her cheeks. He took a quick look at the great wall clock they stole from a french café during their trip to Paris last spring. Half past 4. How long had she been lingering here?
Another of Blair's lachrymose hiccups brought him back to reality. He moved forward to take her into his arms, but he remembered how she had winced hours ago, when he tried to hug her. He caught himself at the last moment, kneeled in front of her fauteuil and caressed her bare feet. "Hey…"
She sniveled at his touch but tried to stop the tears. She wasn't successful.
"Hey sweetie, it's okay. Cry it all out. I am here." He continued to stroke her toes and as he mustered all the strength he even moved over her ankles up to her knees. He hoped he could calm her down with his touches. It seemed like him touching her had always a magical effect. But not this time, instead she began to cry even harder, gasping out a stream of words he could scarcely make out, much less understand. She looked completely frail to him right now.
"…how…why….choose…yours….his…"
It was when he thought she was going to break apart – She lost her body control and a small brown pharmacy bottle dropped from her left hand. The impact of the bottle when hitting ground was accompanied by a loud crash. Almost in slow motion the bottle rolled on the dark wooden floor towards the large window bank. The two lovers observed they glassy object like the gambler's eyes a stallion on the race track.
With a targeted gesture Chuck ended the ludicrous moment. He picked up the bottle and turned it around to read the label:
Blair C. Waldorf, 09/30/2015, Cryselle, NYC Presbyterian
It must be something they had given her in the hospital. He didn't recognize the name of the medication. "What are they?"
She had to say it thrice before he understood that the pills are an emergency contraceptive. She stared at him with tear-filled bambi eyes:
"It's my fertile period and we have been trying so hard. What if I am pregnant? What if I was already pregnant?" Her breathing was now coming in heavy sobs: "I mean… What if it's your baby… and these pills…"
A heavy sob overtook her body again. He couldn't bare it any longer. His inner being was in a complete turmoil. How had they blundered in such a preposterous situation? He wrapped his arms gently around her and cradled them both. He kissed her fore head charily.
"Would they work if…" He let the question trail away, not sure how to phrase it.
She tried to answer a couple of times, but she couldn't find her voice. At the fifth attempt she finally managed to say: „5 days".
„What if… „ He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, before he completed his question: „..it's not mine?"
She answered as if she wouldn't be involved in the situation at all: "That's why I haven't flushed them."
"Baby no… That's why you are sitting here all alone and crying the hell out of you. ", he finished for her.
"I don't know what to do.", she admitted with her head bent.
Even this situation was god-awful, a small smile escaped him. Blair Waldorf didn't know what to do – He never thought he would see that day!
„Darling, I don't know either. We are in a kind of a tricky situation." He cupped her face with his comely hands and continued: "I can only promise you, whatever you choose, you have my full support. I am behind you, I cherish you, I love you"
Incomprehension was written all over her face: "Whatever I decide…?"
„Whatever", he stated, as set in stone.
She took the bottle from his hand and shook it, rattling the pills inside. She remembered the phone call from Dr. Robertson and was back to neglect mode again: "I am probably not even pregnant. We shouldn't make a big deal out of it," she whispered. "We've been trying for nearly year now, and it's never happened. Why should it have happened now? Come on, let's go back to sleep"
He recognized avoidance when he saw it, but he didn't know how to deflect her. He moved the bottle to a safer spot on the kitchen counter and followed her upstairs.
