A/N: It's only been like 2 days, right? *holds breath* Hopefully! Please review. ;p

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

Ch.9—Nothing But the In Between

Her flesh pressed tightly against his. His hand rode up her short, tight mini-skirt, sparkling purple in the dark room. Her tongue was twisting with his and her silken hair floated around his face and neck. They were mere inches away from the bed when he heard a gurgling, hacking noise coming from the bathroom. For awhile he ignored it, but it just kept coming and it seemed even the slut attached to his lips and soon enough dick was becoming slightly distracted. He groaned and pushed her off roughly. She fell to the floor. He pulled up his pants, zipped them and strode over to the adjoining bathroom. It was one party of many and Chuck Bass was in the dark bedroom for a reason. It wouldn't be tainted because someone had had too much to drink.

As he neared the bathroom, he heard the painful moaning coming from the inside. The catch in his throat had nothing to do with the fact that he'd just tripped over the high heel his latest almost conquest had tossed off her foot on the way into the room. He waved off the girl lying still dazed on the floor.

"What?" She lazily moved around, wondering if he wanted her a different position. His head snapped around and he glared at her.

"Leave," he snapped. Her eyes widened, even her drunken state, and she fumbled about the room for the clothes she'd disposed of and her high-heeled shoes. Then, she was out and Chuck strode across the room to close and lock the door. He took a deep breath and opened the barely cracked door. He would have known the sound of Blair Waldorf's breathing anywhere. Suddenly her well-being was the most important thing to him. He would ignore that factor for the time being.

"Blair?" he asked gently. It seemed to take her forever to finally look at him. He noticed that her finger, covered in puke, was very close to her mouth again. Of course it was very possible that she was just trying to get the puke out of her system before it took her by surprise, but his intuition told him something different, something he didn't even want to think about.

She took in rugged appearance, hair tousled all over the place, shirt half-open, shoes off. She shuddered and looked into the toilet bowl to see the puke yet to be flushed away. She sighed shakily, wondering if she could pull off just being too drunk. She was too tired though. She just stared down into the puke, knowing it would make her purge sooner than what was expected. She rose to her knees weakly and leaned over the toilet bowl, starting to heave again.

She was barely aware of Chuck coming in and kneeling slightly behind her, holding back her hair. When she was done, he flushed the toilet and she collapsed against him. Slowly, he sat down on the tiled bathroom floor and held her to him. He felt the sweat seeping through her tights-clad legs and noticed how her silvery skirt was riding up her thighs. He tried to pull it down when he saw her shiver, well aware of the fact that she had some sort of form of the chills.

"Chuck, no…" She weakly batted away his hands and he relented. He sighed and backed away to the wall so he wouldn't be on the verge of falling back too quickly. He dragged her with him, and her head rested in the crook of his neck. She looked like she was sleeping, though having a nightmare seemed more like it. Her closed eyes were moving about and her forehead was creased deeply with the addition of her pouting dried ruby lips.

He sighed and turned his face into the side of hers. He didn't know what to do. He'd never 'taken care' of anybody before. He had no idea what he was doing, and usually avoided this type of situation at all costs. But for some reason this time had been different. It had been the strangest experience of his life, being instantly turned off by the girl fallen onto the floor and in a desperate need to help Blair on the other side of the door.

"Blair…?"

"No," she murmured. "Don't come in." She sniffled on a gasp. His eyes closed in anguish. She was belatedly telling him not to come in. She was too far gone. He rocked her a little and she reached around to pull his arm across her stomach. She nestled closer into him. He pressed his ear against the wall, hearing that the party was far from over. He sighed. He couldn't take her down there, couldn't let her be seen in this condition. Putting her in the bed that he'd nearly had sex on was out of the question too though. But she was shivering. He had to get her out of this bathroom and get her home. He couldn't lie with her in some other bedroom, even if it was available. She needed a good night's sleep and the horror of being found in the morning with him would not do well for her recently established 'queen bee' reputation.

He texted his limo driver to come around the back entrance and managed to find his way to the servants' elevator. He got her out of there and home. Then he called Serena. Normally he didn't call Serena for any other reason than to hit on her – that's all it had been for years, since puberty practically. But this time it was different. The blonde agreed to come and stay with Blair through the night, to talk to her in the morning and see if Chuck's suspicions were remotely true or something just to get her worked up, like she probably thought. He stayed with Blair until Serena came. They didn't say a word, but he called in the morning to see if she was alright. He also didn't spill a word of this to Nathaniel per request of both girls. Blair didn't want to ruin the image of herself as the perfect girlfriend, and under the circumstances, Serena was not one to argue.

Nate dropped an empty scotch glass on the floor and didn't even look as it shattered on the floor. Chuck came awake instantly, shooting up from his laying back position on the bed. Nate looked at him amused. The almost scared expression on Chuck's face vanished the instant he realized what had happened. He'd been dreaming about Blair again, about when he'd helped her through what she was dealing with now, and Nate had come to wake him from that once upon a time.

"You're awake," the blonde said knowingly. Chuck did not roll his eyes or glare, but he pulled the covers back and walked across the room, careful to avoid the shattered glass on the floor.

"I'll have to call room service to get the mess cleaned up," he muttered as he headed towards the kitchen. Nate did not even pretend to be surprised. He just followed him down the hall. H stopped at the end of the long stretch and leaned against the wall, quite amused as he watched Chuck's somewhat composed demeanor dissolve into nothing when he couldn't find any scotch, condoms, or his new little black book for strippers. Now he looked up at Nate and glared.

"You took them," he said, knowingly instantly. Nate shrugged.

"I did what I had to."

Chuck scoffed and found his way over to the large window placed on the far side of the living room. He looked out into the city like it had betrayed him just by existing. Nate saw his fists clench at his sides and was almost afraid that he would attempt to punch the unbreakable glass.

"Chuck."

The brunette loosened his hand's grip on itself slightly. He turned to look at him. "What?" he snapped. Nate walked over to him and sighed, slipping his hands in his pockets.

"You brought this on yourself, you know," he said. Chuck glared.

"So, what? It's your turn to war on me? You're taking away everything that makes me numb? You do realize I'm Chuck Bass and I can go and fill up on anything you even attempt to take away from me," he said roughly. Nate's brows furrowed a little.

"No."

Chuck looked at him strangely, not believing, despite his best friend's hardly warring nature.

"I want you to go visit Blair."

He sighed and moved over to the couch, collapsing onto it. He placed a hand on his forehead as if he were suffering from an enormous migraine.

"It's been a week, Chuck," Nate said. Chuck sighed loudly again. "You have to see her. You owe her at least that much." Chuck removed his hand and looked at his best friend, sitting up a little in his position on the couch.

"You see that's where you're wrong, Nathaniel." He looked into his best friend's eyes, willing him to understand what he was thinking and feeling. In the back of his mind, he knew very obviously he couldn't comprehend unless he told him directly. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but in order to go back to becoming numb and remembering a time when he was Blair's savior instead of destroyer, he knew he had to.

"I may 'owe her' for everything I've done, but going to visit her will only make things worse." Nate watched him carefully. "I told her I would do anything to make sure she was happy. For almost six months now, I have done nothing but hurt her. I wanted to keep that connection, but…" he sighed, trailing off. "I've only ever made things worse. This is my attempt to make it better."

"Chuck—"

"I mean, it's true she was very persistent to be with me before we first got together. I warned her I couldn't make her happy, but…" He shook his head. "Well, that's not an excuse I can use. I still let her have me, and she will never be to blame for anything that happened after that. It's my fault." He nodded. "All of it." His eyes flickered to Nate. "So please, Nate, give me what I need to forget."

He looked so desperate right there, Nate almost gave in. He blinked and shook himself free of the reverie emotional Chuck had on him. He opened his mouth to say something but once again his best friend interrupted him.

"You don't get it, do you?" Tears welled up in his eyes, and Nate tensed. He'd never seen Chuck cry. Ever. He'd never even seen tears in his eyes. He'd always been calm, confident, even when he was angry. "I destroyed the only thing I've ever loved," he said, half-remembering the first time he'd said the words. He shook his head and looked away, focusing his gaze on his intertwined fingers lying in his lap. He leaned forward and braced his arms on his thighs. "It seems every time I tell Blair something horrible I've done to her, she denies it, and then we both pay for it because somewhere in my subconscious I have the need to prove her wrong."

Fists formed from his hands again. Nate wondered briefly if he was going to physically hurt himself. He looked about like he was going to burst.

"Chuck," he managed to squeak out, but his best friend didn't seem to hear him and Nate couldn't make himself do anything more. His eyes widened dramatically when he saw tears finally flowing rapidly down Chuck's his face. Closing his eyes only made them come harder and faster. Finally, Chuck punched his leg. He was so tense he couldn't stand it. He stood to his feet, strode across the room and punched the wall. Nate was shocked by the action, but pulled himself together when he saw that his best friend didn't stop. He wouldn't stop punching. He kept going harder and faster until his knuckles were bleeding and blood was dripping all over his hands.

"Chuck, Chuck…" He pulled him away from the wall and brought him back to the couch, pushing the coffee table away so he wouldn't try to use that as his next target. Reluctantly, Chuck sat back down, but a moment later he proceeded to yank at his hair, trying to pull it out it seemed. Nate jumped over from where he sat on the chair to right beside him on the couch. He held his hands at his sides so he couldn't do anything else. Angry, hurt, desperate, guilty, furious hazel-brown eyes flashed to him.

"Let me go," he whispered roughly. Nate's eyes, just as piercing as his refused to look away.

"No," he ground out. Chuck breathed harshly for too long but eventually it settled back to the normal rate. "Fix this," Nate said quietly. "Visit her."

Chuck looked up at him. "That won't fix anyth—"

"It's a start," Nate said fiercely. Chuck blinked and looked away.

"I can't face her," he said softly. "I can't." Chuck's watery gaze turned away from the blonde, and he pulled free of Nate's loosened grip and trudged back down the hall, making a point of walking through the shattered glass.

Later that afternoon, Nate made it to the Ostroff Center. Serena was sitting next to Blair in the same chair he'd seen her in the last time he'd come. She must have felt a shift in the vicinity, because she let go of Blair's hand she'd been holding and got to her feet, walking over to where he stood in the vicinity.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," he returned, his voice so very solemn under the circumstances.

"How's she doing?" he asked, gesturing to Blair's sleeping form on the bed.

"She's good," Serena said, nodding to encourage him. She smiled a little, holding back the sadness on her face that was so very hard to hide. "Sleeping," she said. He nodded, his eyes flickering over to her. She was breathing evenly and she looked peaceful. "Which is good," she continued on. Nate looked back at Serena.

"You doing okay too?" he asked, concern filling his entire face. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked at her intently. Serena blinked, taken off guard. They'd hardly been on good terms with each other since she'd come back. It was true that when something was wrong with the four of them it tended to calm down tempers, but still, she hadn't expected the question.

"I'm fine," she said shrugging. She could see that he didn't believe her. "If Blair's okay, I'm okay," she said. He seemed to accept that.

"Well, Chuck won't be coming." He sighed, resigned. Serena's head reared back a little.

"Well, that's good," she said, sounding very surprised by his disappointment. "After what he's done, I don't him anywhere near her."

Nate shook his head, a tight smile forcing its way through. "He's not who he was before," he said. Serena scoffed.

"Well that's for damn sure." Her voice started to rise. "He's heartless, totally out of control, practically the devil himself, and not in the way we used to refer to him before. He's so much, so much worse." She was practically shrieking. Nate pulled her into the hall when he saw Blair move a little in her bed. He certainly didn't want to wake her, most especially not because her best friend was raving on about how much she hated Chuck.

"Serena." He gripped her upper arms and pressed her against the wall directly behind her. His blue eyes were wild seas of persistence. One look and she knew she had gone too far. She sighed and nodded, her head dropping down and her eyes closing out of the floor's view.

"Too much. I know."

He released her. She took a deep breath and looked back up at him. He was still watching her intently, but concern had replaced the fierceness in his eyes. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. She seemed to shiver under his touch. He knew that if he tried to convince her again that Chuck had officially backed off and was in fact physically hurting himself she would never buy it. She wouldn't buy into any of it, not after all he'd done. It was true he'd done some pretty awful things before and they'd all forgiven him in the end, but this had crossed a serious line. This was the uncrossable line, despite the fact that they'd said the same thing about all the previous lines he'd crossed.

"But he really…" he tried again. When Serena focused more intently on him though, he knew he couldn't do it, not yet at least. It was too soon. She'd gone through too much just trying to save Blair, trying to keep her from giving up on it all. She begged him not to say anything more, not to try to win her over to team Chuck, even just a little. She begged him with her eyes. So, he just sighed and wrapped his arms around her. She relaxed against him, treasuring in how safe she'd always felt in his arms. She hadn't been able to break down with anybody, didn't trust Dan with this kind of problem and had been trying to constantly be so brave for Blair. This, right now, Nate holding her, was exactly what she needed.

"Why'd this have to happen to her?" she asked on a sharp cry. Nate's eyes closed in anguish and he wrapped his hand around the back of her head. "Why did he have to go so far?"

"I don't know," he whispered softly, because he honestly didn't. He didn't understand why Chuck and Blair hurt each other so much, even when the other wasn't willing to participate. His insides were screaming at him to just tell Serena that Chuck had finally ended his pursuit of torturing Blair. Despite her cries, he should tell her. Chuck sure as hell didn't deserve anyone's forgiveness at this point, but Blair had never given up on him, no matter what. Even when she said she was done with him, she wasn't. She still cared, even if it was only a little, she still cared. Nate found that mentality coming to him easily now. Seeing Chuck torment himself day in, day out made it all the more easier. He'd had no idea his best friend would actually physically hurt himself when his numbing 'medications' were taken away. He'd never seen him like that. Never. For a few torturous moments he wondered if at this time in his life he'd want to go back to Prague and get shot all over again, and make sure he got killed. A shudder ran through him, despite all the circumstances.

"Nate," Serena said suddenly. He was jerked from his thoughts, pulling his head back to look at her. He waited for what would come next. "I-I…I'm going to get some coffee," she said, putting on a tiny smile, one she was sure would make her look brave. He relaxed and mourned for her in that single gaze. "And more water for Blair," she said nodding. She looked like she was trying to laugh light-heartedly at the addition to the statement, but Nate knew she couldn't. He let her slip away and walk down the hallway.

When she turned the corner, he turned to look back into the room. He sighed and walked inside, almost feeling like he was entering forbidden territory. He felt like he was in a hospital and Blair was dying. It almost seemed like he just couldn't see the wires and tubes running through her, like nurses rushing through the halls and the computer monitors were just out of his vision. His inability to hear must've tainted too. That's what it felt like walking into that room and sitting down on the chair opposite Serena's on the other side of the bed. He leaned his arms on his thighs and looked intently over Blair's form but particularly on her sleeping face that seemed completely at peace. He wondered if it ever looked that way when she was awake anymore.

"You're always taking care of us…" he trailed off, talking quietly to her. "Why can't we take care of you?"

…...

He'd left a note with Nate, saying he'd be out "getting numb" since he apparently wasn't allowed to do that in his own hotel. He wasn't normally someone who left notes, but he didn't want his best friend to go around calling all the local bars and have him brought home – not that he was the type of person to do that anyways, but it was a precaution he felt he had to take. He also left his phone back in his room too – another precaution. No one would be able to get a hold of him. He didn't want to be found. He was going somewhere where no one could interrupt him. He just hoped Serena wasn't still there. He knew how insistent she was on staying by Blair's side constantly. It was after midnight though. He hoped she wasn't still there that long. People hardly slept over at the Ostroff Center, at least not several days in a row.

He hadn't planned on going to see Blair. In fact, he'd been pretty clear to Nate that that was the last thing he planned to do. He'd meant every word he said to him earlier. There wasn't nearly enough blood spewing out from his knuckles when he'd punched the wall earlier. He'd waited until Nate left to bloody up three of the four walls in his room. Then he'd bandaged his hands, Blair's words ringing through him like an extremely loud resounding bell.

"…if you were really hurt, I would want to know."

So obviously he had to tell her he'd beat the hell out of his hands that afternoon and evening. It was a lame excuse to get out of the house and go to her, but it was the only one his mind allowed him to accept. Everything else just didn't make sense. It couldn't make it to the category of reasons for justification. But he knew as he approached the dimly lit lights on the outside of the building that there was no way in hell he was going to tell her he was torturing himself because of her. That would make her feel guilty, or maybe she'd taunt him, saying he deserved it. Maybe she wouldn't say anything and just refuse to look at him. Maybe she absolutely wouldn't care. A lot had happened since they'd met on that train station in Paris. Too much. She'd stopped loving him after all, after she'd believed that so fiercely with all her heart. She'd changed her mind. He had done something for him to break her devotion, even though she'd been so insistent that there was nothing he could do to keep her from loving him. Maybe he'd just imagined those words, he thought. Maybe he'd just assumed that from all her 'I love you's and precious, passionate emotions. After all, she hadn't anticipated him almost trading her in for a hotel or sleeping with her most cursed almost once upon a time possible friend, now ever constant nemesis.

Guilt was the only emotion he knew anymore. From the moment she'd left him standing in her room as she moved here, until now – when she was still there and he was still the cause and he still had no idea what to do, no strength to even attempt anything either.

His breath caught in his throat as he approached her room. The halls were silent, barely lit. The receptionist who should have been at the desk had briefly vacated it, courtesy of him having water almost constantly at her side today. Having connections in high places meant power even in deserts like this. It was also what got him in without security check or entrance to other floors.

The door was open. He was frozen there in the middle of the hall just watching her sleep in the dark room. He swallowed hard and summoned the strength to keep walking. It felt like he was breaking some thick barrier when he finally made it into her room. His first instinct was to close the door behind him so they could have some privacy, but then he again, what did they need privacy for? He wasn't supposed to be there. He was sure Serena was the last person who'd want him there, next to Blair of course. It occurred to him now as very odd that Nate would be persistent. He decided not to think about it for the time being.

She was getting closer. Either that or he was still walking. He couldn't feel his legs anymore, obviously his numbness had kicked in. He was shaking a little when he finally stood right beside her lying in the bed. The chair was so close. The backs of his knees nearly touching it, but he just couldn't let him give in to the temptation of sitting down. That would mean he wouldn't be able to leave. He'd stay in that chair and watch her sleep all night, just like he used to. He'd made it all the way here, to the Ostroff Center, but he hadn't planned on staying long. He just wanted to see her, wanted to be near to her, wanted to make sure she was still okay. He hadn't lied when he told Nate that he didn't have it in him to face her, that he was too broken to summon the courage. He'd come this late on purpose. With no parties or boyfriends or gossip, he knew Blair Waldorf had to be asleep. His insistence on not coming and his particularly impressive talent of tapping into the security would make no one suspicious of him. Nobody would know that he'd been there.

He sighed and reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingertips on her hand and then brushing over her long neck and the side of her face. She was so beautiful. He'd never forgotten that. Not for one moment had he forgotten the silken brunette goddess she was, soft and fierce and intoxicating. He was scared that he wouldn't see that if she opened her eyes. He was scared of seeing wariness and the need to destroy herself if he saw those dark brown orbs. Now when she slept everything was fine in her world. He wondered if she slept a lot.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, brushing his hand over her satin skin and luscious locks before bringing it back to his side. He was shaky and consumed with guilt and he needed to leave. He knew he had to. He couldn't get lost in her, not here, not anymore. She was better without him, and the only way to fix her was to stay away.

"I never meant to do this to you." He sighed. "I just wanted…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I just wanted you to love me again. I needed to keep that connection, I…" He found himself starting to sit down, starting to confess everything that had gone wrong and how little logic had actually been put into his scheme to 'destroy her/get her back'.

He caught himself as he bent down. He would not sit down. He wouldn't. Ultimately though, it was not his insistence on the matter that made him straighten and leave. It was the fact that Blair moved a little and moaned in her sleep. A breath caught in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it, quietly straightened and walked out of the room. The receptionist was still not there when he left, and when he was gone Blair Waldorf opened her eyes.

A/N: Wow. That was long. *blank stare* (lol) Please review! =D And…vote on my newest poll. ;p Thanks much! ;D