Devil's Playground
By La Fata Aurora
Synopsis: She was Manhattan's Princess. He was, possibly, the Devil's Spawn. She was Heaven. He was Hell. They seem to have nothing in common…until the night falls.
Chapter Nine: Upon the Gates of Tartarus
Somewhere in New York
"You're not well, Nate."
It was one of those secrets. One of those Upper East Side secrets known only to a chosen few, and is hidden, carefully guarded, behind closed doors.
"I'm fine." Nate breathed hard, pushing himself in. Perspiration trickled down his face and he licked his lips, preparing himself for that feeling…that good feeling.
"Natie." He was deflecting. If it was about her or the situation at hand, or both, she wasn't quite sure.
And then Nate moaned, a telling moan.
She's in love with him. She's been in love with him since forever, in love like how God intended a woman to love a man…
"Open wider, S."
But she's not Blair.
"Oh God, you feel so good…" Blasphemy.
And it hurts. It hurts so much, yet what can she do? She loves him so…there's nothing else to do.
"We have to call Blair." She insisted.
"No." Was his stubborn reply, like always.
And Nate came wonderfully. His beautiful face was taut, his blue eyes hard. He pulled out when he was done and Serena had to stop herself from crying over the loss, but she wisely held on to her pride; it's all that she has left.
"Nate—"
She reached out, only to change her mind. Serena slumped back, watching his well sculpted back work on the task of pulling into his shirt. The ripples were smooth yet sinewy, beautifully manly. However, that same back, it was in grave danger. For many, many years, it carried a weight so heavy, it was now threatening to fall apart…
"I've managed all these years." Nate said coolly, perfectly composed. He needed no clarification as to what she was truly pertaining to, that Serena briefly regretted breaching into a topic she knew greatly agitated him. "She doesn't have to be involved."
Of course.
…and the sadder part is, no matter what she does, no matter how hard she tries, it's only Blair who could truly save him. Blair. Only Blair. She's the key out of his misery…
This realization never failed to fill Serena's eyes with tears.
"I can't do this anymore, Nate." She rasped.
Nate spun around, surprised to hear so much pain in her voice. "S…?"
"I love you. I always have…but it has become too painful—" Serena pulled the covers up to her chin. At this point, any act of self-preservation was futile, foolish even, but she felt so naked, so raw, she was afraid that she'd shatter in front of him, "I can't be her substitute anymore!"
Substitute. Yes, she was a substitute. A substitute that fell in love.
How trite.
"I can't…" With beseeching blue eyes she looked up to him, hoping that he could understand, "Nate, I can't go on sleeping with you anymore."
She clawed her fingers over her head, her forehead wrinkling, her usually bright eyes losing their light, "I almost lost Blair because of this. I can't lose myself too…"
Her tears fell, and she didn't want him to see them, so she folded up and pressed her face on her knees, hiding.
"Serena…" Nate felt his heart go out to her, hating himself for not anticipating this, for not seeing what he was doing to her. All he wanted was a break. A friend. A warm hug. A place where he could be ugly and imperfect. A place where he could not be Nate Archibald—an icon of sham divine-like virtue, of misguided worship. Never in his mind did he intend to hurt her or make her suffer like this…nor did he intend for her to fall in love with him.
"Don't cry! Please!" Bursting with uncertainty, Nate pulled her shaking frame into his arms. Way to go Archibald! Serena is your precious friend! She had always been there for you, and the last thing that you should be doing is making her unhappy, fucking things up with her too! "You don't have to come anymore!"
"Do you hear me? S? You can leave. Don't worry about me." Nate kissed the top of her head. It was his form of saying goodbye. Serena raised her head at this, apprehension clouding her face.
"But what's going to happen to you?"
"Like I said, I can manage on my own."
"No! I'll still be your friend! Some things would change but not our friendship—Please, Nate." Serena pulled his hand, shaking it in between her palms. She didn't want to think of the consequences of him being alone; he's much too…fragile to be on his own.
"You have to stop doing this." She pleaded.
"It's easier said than done."
"No it isn't! I'm here for you…Let me help you!" Serena pressed his hand to her heart, wanting him to know that he could still count on her, how far she could go, "We'll think of another way…but we have to call and tell Blair. You need her."
But Nate, he wasn't ready. With all his supposed perfection, Blair Waldorf was the one person that he knew he couldn't reach. He wasn't worthy, for he was ugly inside, and he couldn't bear it if Blair knew the extent of that.
"No Serena." Nate pulled his hand away, "We're not telling her anything."
"But Nate—"
"This discussion is over." Nate declared with finality, completely breaking away from her to stand beside the bed. Serena watched as he quickly bent down, spotting his wallet lying on the floor, his face a picture of overwhelming serenity even after their emotionally charged discussion.
"I'm hungry. What about we grab some lunch? I have a table in the Salon de Ning…"
Serena's heart dropped. Not again.
They're back to square one.
Fourteen years ago, Paris, France
Like any other ten year old boy faced with the first pangs of Cupid's arrow, Nate Archibald only had one thing in mind when Blair Waldorf is concerned: He wanted to impress her. So when the right opportunity presented itself, he pounced on it like the agile, would-be athlete that he was in the future, his half-baked plans to sneak away from their nannies surprisingly effective, that they were out on the Parisian streets, unchaperoned, five minutes ahead of schedule.
But of course he let Blair take all the credit. Let her think that it was all thanks to her acting skills. She got the bodyguards on the palm of her little hand at 'I-miss-my-Mom-I-wanna-see-her-then-cue-adorable-little-girl-with-ringlet-curls-crying', so he let her be. It was a big contribution anyway.
Blair—she was so much fun, that way.
"Nate, wait up!"
In the side street they've been walking, just innocently looking around, and Nate didn't notice that she fell a few steps behind until a little while later. Is this what they call a date? He was preoccupied with this question, observing as Blair tottered up to him in a pretty Burberry dress. Maurice told him that in the old times, when two people leisurely walk long enough under the moonlight, it was considered a date. He looked around. Night, check. Moon, check. Leisure walk, check.
This is a date.
"Hey! Why didn't you wait for me?" Blair puffed her cute cheeks up, feigning distress. She raised her hands up and that's when Nate realized that she brought her doll with her, "One of Audrey's shoes fell off and I had to look for it! It's a Burberry limited collection, for Christ's sake!"
Nate pfft-ed. For Christ's sake? He didn't know anybody else allowed to say that! His own mom would be horrified if she ever find out that he heard it from Blair Waldorf of all people!
Blair is so cool.
"So where are we going?" Blair got up on tiptoe, surveying the area around them. She spotted several cafes ahead filled with people wearing baseball caps and fanny-packs and Nate saw the moment she scrunched her nose, a telltale sign that she wasn't pleased with them.
"Uh, wanna take a taxi to the Eiffel Tower?" He suggested.
Nate immediately knew that he hit the jackpot, because Blair's eyes glowed at him like he was Snow White's Prince Charming (She loves Snow White by the way, and she claims that her features were the inspiration for the said tale. Never mind that it was first created way before her mother was born). This made his little chest puff out, and the glory that he felt was similar to when his father accidentally discovered his gift for Lacrosse.
Blair was sent squealing at the prospect, "Let's do it! Oh and, what about dinner at Le Jules Vernes too?"
"But wouldn't we need prior notice for that? I heard that it's really difficult to get a table up there."
Blair smirked, already showing signs of being a master manipulator at an early age, "Oh c'mon Natie. You're an Archibald. I'm a Waldorf. I've got my Mom's Gold Card, and my backstage pass for tomorrow's Fashion Week…"
Nate shot his brows together. She lost him somewhere after 'Waldorf', "What does any of those have to do with us securing a reservation?"
Blair sighed, but her mood wasn't diminished. You see, she's very used to kids slower than her. "We'll get in, don't worry."
And they flagged for a taxi.
It's gonna be awesome! Nate excitedly thought as a cab slid by and stopped before them, gallantly opening the door for Blair. He could already see it: Blair and he having the time of their lives on the Eiffel Tower. They'll have fun over dinner and they'll look over the great Parisian sights and maybe if he gets lucky he could hold her hand or something.
Maurice would be proud.
Unfortunately, as it happened, Le Jules Verne was never graced by an Archibald or a Waldorf that night.
Present Time, Sag Harbor, New York
Diana Payne was purposefully walking towards the estate's backyard, when she unceremoniously stopped, clenching a cold fist on the stack of folders that she held close to her chest. It was a little pass six and the sun was setting, which only became apparent to her now that she has finally managed to emerge from her office. It has certainly been a long day; the events of the last twenty-four hours not making it any better. Now already at her forties, she should be traipsing the world with her well-deserved monies, drinking margaritas and 'cougaring' shamelessly, yet she is not.
She should have ran away, far, far away, the moment she first set her sights on Jack Bass.
"You, most certainly, give a newfound definition to the word sexy, Diana. Why does it seem like you grow even hotter everytime I see you?"
"Shut up, Jack."
Insert Bass smirk here.
Diana padded her way out to the enormous patio, Jack following her from behind. Due to the urgency of the situation, she was hideously sporting an oversized Dartmouth shirt and tights under a Donna Karan sweater—two decades of perfect sartorial choices thrown out of the window, just like that. Not that she cared how he viewed her ensemble, mind you; it was all due to the desire of being his equal, and looking like a hobo who hasn't seen the confines of a shower stall for ages isn't helping.
"So what did you find?" Jack comfortably sat on one of the lounge chairs. He looked at her pensively for a moment, which didn't turn out to be 'pensive' afterall, "Like the outfit by the way." He motioned a finger to her shirt.
Diana rolled her eyes, and then rapidly shrugging it off. The quicker she gets him out of the house, the better. Now that she thought of it, she should begin planning for a vacation away from all his crap. She, then, was about to disclose the contents of the folders, but abruptly changed her mind.
Before she lets all the crazies out, she wanted to be sure of something.
"How is Chuck doing?"
Jack let out an exasperated sigh, "Diana? Why must you shit on my parade?" When Diana didn't reply, looking ridiculously adamant for a woman wearing ungodly tights in front of the Jack Bass, he shook his head in disbelief, "I am told that he was informed of Bart's accident." He stated dispassionately, frowning at her for forcing him so, "Can we now please get into my real reason for being here?"
"Not yet." And to this Diana saw him scowl at her. She didn't care. Even though her allegiance to Jack was unquestionable, there were just some things that were more important than their two decades of casual romping, no matter how satisfying they were. "I want you to promise me that you won't touch him, Jack. I want your word."
Jack shot her a calculating stare, "I still don't get why you're so concerned about that boy. I mean…unless you've developed a certain 'fascination' over him? Wait. You've slept with him? IS that why?"
"You're disgusting."
"Yet you let me fuck you anytime I want." Jack nonchalantly gestured for her folders, tired of this unnecessary delay, "You're testing my patience, D, and I'm surprised that you're doing it of all people, given how much you know me. Now, let's start this all over again, shall we? Since I've played your little charade, why don't you be the good girl that I know you are and tell me what's in those folders?"
Diana pressed her lips together. She's always been a realist, which is why she never expected any sort of special treatment from Jack's part. They might have been bedfellows, on and off, all these years, but that didn't change anything. She knew his true capabilities with every fiber of her being, familiar with them like the lines on her hands.
He could still have her killed if it suits his fancy. What makes Jack Bass, the Jack Bass, was his ability to make you feel like he's a good ole harmless friend.
Be that as it may, Diana wasn't swayed.
"I want your word, Jack." Diana held on to her folders with tenacious look on her face, "Chuck stays safe. You are not to touch him. Take it or have somebody else do your snooping for you."
"Fine." Jack crossed his arms together, "I won't touch him, you have my word. And by the way, I'm deeply wounded by your assumptions, D. How could I do that to my own nephew? Plus, he's the fucking heir of Bass Industries. You don't simply screw with that."
"And you're Jack Bass, the next in line if anything happens to him. That's enough motive now, isn't it? It's my turn to be insulted, Jack. I wasn't born yesterday, you know."
Jack shrugged, impatient now that he yanked the dossiers without warning, "I'll chalk that up on our proverbial scoreboard." Diana slapped his arm in frustration, giving him a glare that he could only describe as, well, cute.
"That's really immature." Diana grumpily sat across from him.
"And you're stuffy." Jack flipped on the pages, quickly scanning the report in his hands, "Stuffed shirt."
Diana immediately knew when he finally stumbled on the details that he so desired to know.
"Nathaniel Archibald?"
"Yes." Diana's face became sullen. "Same boy."
"So you're saying that Chuck went to New York because he wanted to amend a certain something-something that has happened a decade ago? I can't believe this."
"Jack, if you must know, the experience of being kidnapped doesn't qualify under the category of 'something-something' for normal people."
Jack cackled, somehow finding her absurd. Diana wasn't new to his kind of insanity that she just sighed.
"Well, excuuuuuuse me, Miss Stuffed Shirt, for being the uncivilized one around here." Jack grinned widely, not in at least disturbed. Looking over the dossier again, he flipped to the next page before pointing at a name that he recognized, highlighted in yellow, "And this Waldorf? I think I read something from the paper this morning about her being engaged to him?"
"Yes." Diana nodded, "My sources say that Chuck attended a party hosted by her the moment he landed. I dug around and nothing came out of that party, though. Nathaniel wasn't even there. Perhaps, Chuck attended the party to befriend the hostess? You know, warm up to her so that she could help him with Nathaniel?"
"Maybe." Jack flipped to the next page, finding a flattering picture of Blair Waldorf coming out of Bergdorf Goodman. She was one pretty thing; he'd give her that.
"Chuck sleeping with her?" the question suddenly came out of nowhere.
Seemingly.
"I don't think so. So far nobody has seen them alone together, and if they were together, they'd be in some party or with the company of people. Mostly Nathaniel's."
Jack was quiet for a while. Diana saw him stare at the picture, like trying to figure something out. He flipped to the next page where several pictures of Chuck where neatly organized. They were mostly solo pictures, except for one that was taken in the Palace with Archibald. Jack flipped back again to Blair's picture, memorizing the lines of her face, as if the act in itself would give him the answer that suited him.
Minutes later, he tapped on the picture lightly, and to Diana's horror, he flashed this smile that she knew he only reserved for his friends in the Black Market.
"I want you to look into this girl, Blair Waldorf." Jack slammed the dossier closed, standing up as he prepared to leave, "Find everything that you can. You know where to find me."
"What? Why? Did you figure something out?"
"Oh yeah. Something big, Darling." Jack tossed the dossier back to the table, turning away, "You might not believe this but, it seems that our Chuckie's all 'growed' up."
"You're talking nonsense, Jack."
"Or am I?" Jack laughed, a sinister laugh, "Oh Chuckie. Why did you fall in love with the Little Lady?"
A/N: Pweeeese R&R! And go CHAIR and Harry Winston, woo-hoooo!