Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to Cecily von Zeigesar and The CW.
"Blair, will you go check on your mother," her father suggested the next morning as they prepared to leave for the funeral. The penthouse had been almost awkwardly quiet that morning as everyone prepared for Cyrus's funeral. Blair's father had a curious look on his face all morning as he closely watched the engaged pair's interactions with each other.
Eleanor had yet to grace them with her presence as she had been hauled up in her room all morning, and they were going to be late if they didn't leave soon.
Blair nodded as she climbed the steps and walked towards her mother's bedroom, knocking lightly before entering.
"Mother, we need to leave soon," Blair spoke as she looked around the bedroom for her mother. The room was completely empty put there was a rustling in her closet. Blair found her sitting on the floor in her vast closet organizing her shoe collection. Her hair was still in rollers and she was wrapped up in her bathrobe. She wasn't anywhere near ready to leave.
"I can't leave right now," Eleanor told her as she continued to sort through the shoes, "This is such a mess, and you know how untidy things make me anxious. Once I finish with these shoes, I need to go through my clothes. It's so disorganized in here. I think Dorota has been sifting through it all when I'm away in Paris."
"Mother, we need to leave," Blair repeated as she knelt down carefully next to her mother.
"Go ahead," Eleanor told her, "I'll catch up with everyone after I finish this. It shouldn't be more than a few hours."
"We can't leave without you," Blair told her gently, "You need to be there for Cyrus's funeral and burial."
"What is the point?" Eleanor hissed, "It's not like he'll know that I wasn't there."
"You'll know," Blair replied, "And you'll hate yourself for missing it."
"Why should I attend the funeral for the man that has just abandoned me?" Eleanor snapped as she continued on with her task.
"Mother, please don't do this," Blair began to cry softly, "You know Cyrus didn't abandon you. If he'd been given a choice, you know he would have stayed with you. He loved you."
"If he loved me, he wouldn't have died," Eleanor rationalized.
"If I have to force you into the limo, I will," Blair replied as wiped away her tears quickly. Now was not the time to be emotional. She had to be the adult as she hauled Eleanor to her feet, "Curlers and all."
"Blair, what do you think you're doing? I'm in my bathrobe!" Eleanor exclaimed as she tried to free herself from Blair grasp as she was pulled towards the bedroom door.
"Then get dressed," Blair replied calmly. "We are leaving in ten minutes. However you look in those ten minutes is up to you, but you are going to Cyrus's funeral."
"You can't talk to me like that," Eleanor hissed, "I'm your mother and I deserve your respect."
"You're wasting time," Blair sighed. "You now have nine and a half minutes. I'll drag Daddy up here if I have to."
Eleanor began muttering obscenities as she disappeared into her bathroom to finish getting ready. Blair wiped away the unshed tears and headed back downstairs to assure everyone that her mother would be ready to leave in a few minutes.
Only Chuck noticed the redness of her eyes, which was a tell tale sign that she'd been crying. He hugged her close and kissed her forehead. She smiled up at him as a silent thank you for how incredible he had been the past few days.
Eleanor came down in less than the ten minutes that Blair had given her, not letting on that she'd only just finished getting dressed. "What is everyone waiting for?" she snapped, "Let's go."
Harold handed Eleanor her purse and guided her into the awaiting elevator. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for everyone else to file in. Then she began muttering about how slow the elevator was. It was clear to everyone that Eleanor was not going to make this an easy day foranyone. Harold silently volunteered to be Eleanor's punching bag, so everyone else could grieve as needed.
Blair felt a little guilty, but also grateful to her father. This day was going to be tough enough without having to deal with Eleanor's incessant complaining about what wasn't meeting to her expectations. It was bad enough that Blair had to deal with most of the funeral arrangements herself the previous day before the house full of guests arrived, which she entertained mostly on her own.
Sure enough as soon as they got to the funeral home, Eleanor was outraged at the flower arrangements that greeted them, and then the memorial photo that had been selected. The funeral programs were also not up to her standards. Blair tried to dismiss the comments as those of the grieving widow, and not of the mother she'd grown up with that had impossible expectations that her daughter failed to meet.
Chuck didn't leave Blair's side the entire day for which she was enormously grateful. He played the doting fiancé perfectly, stepping in to continue conversations when Blair began to choke up, seeing to it that she always had a bottle of water in her hands so that her throat wouldn't get dry from the sheer volume of the conversations she had, and he made sure that she ate enough to keep her strength has she hadn't been eating much since Cyrus went into the hospital.
The turn out for Cyrus's service was enormous. All of the Upper East Side elite came to pay their respects along with several of the celebrity clients he'd represented over the years. Page Six was going to be running pictures of those in attendance for a week or more.
Eleanor was curiously absent through almost everything. Many asked where she was, but were understanding when Blair made excuses for her absence.
By the end of the afternoon, Blair was as exhausted as she had ever been, and begging to be taken home. Eleanor had left long ago.
"Your chariot awaits," Chuck told her as he walked her to his waiting limo, opening the door for her as Arthur hadn't the time to get out and do it himself. Arthur began to apologize to his boss, but Chuck quickly assured him it was okay.
"Back to your mothers or our penthouse?" he inquired as he slid in next to her as Arthur held the door open to await their destination instructions.
"I should check on Eleanor," Blair sighed. Arthur nodded as he closed the door.
Blair immediately snuggled against Chuck and the movement of the limo lulled her to sleep.
"Arthur, drive around the city for a little while. Let Blair rest for a few minutes," Chuck told his driver after lowering the glass partition.
"Of course, Mister Bass," Arthur nodded.
"Give her about thirty minutes," Chuck replied, "She'll strangle me if it's any longer."
"We'll blame it on traffic, Sir," Arthur grinned.
"You know me well," Chuck laughed softly as he slid the glass back up.
Back at Eleanor's penthouse, Blair and Chuck arrived to find Eleanor back in her bathrobe drawing on one of her sketch pads in the dining room with a cup of Dorota's now semi-hot chocolate sitting next to her completely untouched.
"What are you working on, Mother?" Blair inquired as she peered over her mother's shoulder to take a look. She gasped in mortification when she realized it was an exact replica of the dress the pair had designed for her wedding. She must have redrawn it from memory. She quickly turned Chuck away so he couldn't see it, but it was too late.
"Oh, god, Blair, I'm so sorry," Eleanor gasped in horror at the realization of what had just happened, "I didn't even realize I was doing it. Oh, god, please don't hate me."
"I don't hate you, Mother," Blair responded tearfully at the realization that they had to start over from square one. There was no way she could get married in the dress that he'd just seen. She'd had a difficult enough time coming up with this design. She didn't know what she was going to do now.
"Blair, I barely saw anything," Chuck lied in the hopes that Blair wouldn't see through his words. She knew him too well and saw through it immediately.
"I have to start all over," Blair replied as tears continued to fall.
"I'm sorry," Eleanor replied as she hugged her daughter. "I'm so sorry. We'll start right now."
"No," Blair shook her head, "We need a few days to clear our minds. Then we will start again, and you, Mister Bass, are not allowed anywhere near my loft until after we say 'I do'. Is that understood?"
"Of course," he nodded. He'd been jokingly trying to see her design since she proclaimed it to be nearly finished, but now that he had, he felt horrible. He wished he could have gone temporarily blind in those brief moments.
She sighed in disappointment as she inquired how her mother was doing.
"I'm fine," Eleanor tried to assure her.
"We can stay another night, if you want," Blair replied.
"And listen to a repeat of last night, I'd rather not," Eleanor shook her head.
Blair's face turned beet red at the realization her mother had heard them making love the previous evening which also meant that her father had heard them.
"I'm so sorry, Eleanor," Chuck spoke up first, "It was completely my fault and highly inappropriate."
"I somehow doubt that to be true," Eleanor smirked for the first time since Cyrus had passed away. "Blair, Sweetheart, profanity is not acceptable even in the throes of passion. Try to remember that next time."
"Oh my god!" Blair exclaimed as she buried her face in Chuck's chest.
"That sounds familiar," Eleanor chuckled.
"Make it stop," Blair mumbled against Chuck's chest as she covered her ears so she wouldn't have to hear her mother's teasing anymore.
Both Eleanor and Chuck were laughing hysterically to the point they had tears in their eyes.
"Oh it feels good to laugh again," Eleanor proclaimed as she wiped away her happy tears. "I know how upset Cyrus would be with me if he knew how many tears I've shed for him already."
"Are you sure you don't want us to stay?" Blair inquired, "I can promise that Chuck will keep his hands to himself."
"I'm sure he can," Eleanor couldn't resist teasing her daughter a bit more, "But I'm not so sure about you."
"That's it, we're leaving," Blair announced as she began pulling Chuck towards the elevator. Chuck was still laughing as they climbed into their limo and were driven home.
TBC . . .
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