What was it Carter had said? You won't want to miss this game. Because there, sitting next to the man himself, was a new player. New to their game – but not new to Chuck.

Because it was Harold Waldorf.

Chuck's gaze shot straight to his best friend - what the hell was this?

But Carter merely smirked, eyes gleaming. Chuck wasn't going to get any answers out of him. Not yet. He knew what Baizen was like at the table; he took gambling seriously.

He turned, slowly, back to Blair's father. The man didn't look well. He was pale and haggard, dark circles ravaging his eyes and his suit creased. He shuffled the cards in his hands, dropping his chip as he studiously avoided Chuck. Chuck hadn't seen him in years – not properly, not since he was a little boy playing at Blair's house. He remembered him as a warm presence, the only kind adult at the Waldorf's.

Nothing like the worn shell of the man that sat before him now. Was that why Harold could no longer meet his gaze?

Or was it because he was at a gambling house, of all places, where only the lowest of the low frequented, to be watched by people like Chuck who revelled in their misery? Strangely enough, he didn't feel too much like revelling now. This was Blair's father, for Christ sakes. A Waldorf. He didn't belong here.

Still, Chuck's face was quite blank as he took the seat on the other side of Carter. Going home and getting drunk was the last thing on his mind now. Now, he wanted to play. And it seemed so did Harold.

Chuck could already see that the man wasn't doing too well; and he watched as he continued to play the game of a desperate man, raising the stakes wildly ever higher as he struggled to maintain a neutral expression and ignore whatever awful hand he kept getting dealt with. Chuck knew for a fact that Blair would have a better poker face than he did. She'd be far better at this game than her shaking father.

But still Harold played on.

"I raise you a million." Everyone at the table froze, and Chuck stared at Carter - who had just spoken - in disbelief.

They didn't have a fucking million to gamble away. What in God's name was he doing? Two more folded, till it was just the three of them. Carter, Chuck, and Harold.

Harold's hands quivered.

"I raise you another million." His voice was unstable and hoarse.

Two million? What kind a joke was this?

No one in their right mind betted that kind of money in a game. But he couldn't help the thought crossing his mind, anyway. Two million. A jolt of excitement. If they won -

Then he glanced at Harold again. Because it made no sense. Because no one betted that amount unless. Unless they wanted it for themselves so desperately that they'd risk it all.

And how could Harold Waldorf ever be that desperate for money?

Could he be that desperate for money? Chuck glanced at his own – rather poor - hand as his thoughts raced. Eleanor's apparent desperation for Blair to marry Nate. From what he remembered, the woman wasn't the kind to take real interest in her daughter's love life. Not unless it would benefit her. Blair's pursuit of the prince; but then, it was Blair. And a prince.

Sure, Blair still had all her dresses and her pearls. But then an Upper East Sider would never dream of appearing anything less than loaded; they would eat out of silver plates even as their house was being repossessed. And Blair was damn good at pretending.

His gaze slid back to Harold. The man was sweating.

Chuck's hand was probably still better than his.

Ordinarily this was the best part of the game – when you knew your opponent was onto a loser. Even better when it was obvious they didn't actually have the money to pay. Because then the debts started. Then they started pleading. But something about the idea of Harold Waldorf pleading – being in debt to him, of all people – made Chuck feel a little queasy. He didn't want this, he realised. And it wasn't a pleasant realisation.

"I fold," he muttered.

Carter snapped round to stare at him, frowning slightly; Chuck just narrowed his eyes like it couldn't be helped. What the hell was Bazien up to? How had he even got in touch with Harold Waldorf?

Chuck knew Carter well enough – knew his tells – to know that Harold now didn't stand a chance. He wanted to stop the game. He wanted Harold to go back to his damn apartment on the Upper East Side and pretend he'd never seen him here, where he didn't belong.

Harold's hands were shaking as he laid down his cards. Chuck didn't even need to look at the full house in Carter's hand, or the triumphant gleam in his eye. It was over.

"I-"

"That's two million." Carter's tone was quite cool as he gazed at the man, entirely unaffected. Like he was just another player. But he knew damn well who Harold Waldorf was.

"I-" Harold swallowed; Chuck saw him wipe his hands on his trousers and had to look away. This was so fucking wrong. "I don't have it."

Carter raised an eyebrow. "You don't...have it?" Each word was clearly enunciated as he stared at the man. Pathetic.

And all Chuck could think was that Harold Waldorf's brown eyes were exactly like Blair's, except he'd never seen Blair this weak. Even that terrifying look on her face in his car -

God, he was playing poker with the father of the girl he'd just tried to seduce in his car. The girl who's perfume still lingered on his jacket. The girl he'd just got drunk enough to throw up. Her father. Harold Waldorf, head now bowed shamefully in front of Chuck and his best friend.

"So you bet two million – and now you have no way of actually paying up?"

Carter was relentless. He seriously seemed to be enjoying this. Hell, the intimidation was normally Chuck's favourite part too. But not like this.

"So what am I supposed to do now?" Carter enquired calmly.

"Baizen." Chuck glanced at him and him alone, eyes dark. "That's enough." His voice was dangerous.

Carter paid it no heed. "Two million dollars is a lot of money, Mr. Waldorf." The name was all wrong, sneered out of his mouth.

"I can – get a loan-"

The other man folded his arms. "And how long will that take?"

Harold swallowed again, and Chuck wished more than ever that the man would just disappear. Just leave, right now. He felt even sicker as Harold's gaze shifted to him – just for a second. He soon looked away. It was like he couldn't believe he'd sunk this low either.

"I don't know."

Baizen sighed. "I run a business. You are aware of that, presumably? Mr. Bass and I-" Chuck shot him a venomous glare at the mention of his name; he wanted no part in this. A glare that Carter ignored, of course. "We need that money, Mr. Waldorf. Money that we won fair and square." He flexed his knuckles idly. "I don't think you're being very reasonable."

Chuck couldn't actually look at the desperation in Harold's eyes now.

"I can't pay you. I – I already owe some money as it is. But – perhaps we could come to some sort of agreement-"

"Agreement?" Baizen cocked his head. "Like...what, exactly?"

"I'm a very good lawyer – perhaps I could-"

Carter's scornful laugh echoed around the room. "A good lawyer? What kind of lawyer loses this much money gambling?"

Chuck had had more than he could stomach. He jerked to his feet; Carter's gaze narrowed on him.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," Chuck snarled. "I said that's enough."

Carter eyed him coldly. "I told you you wouldn't want to miss this. Sit, Bass."

But Chuck was already heading for the door. If Carter thought he could order him around like some kind of dog -

"All right, Mr. Waldorf. I've thought of something you can do for us. For both of us, actually." Chuck paused, despite himself. He turned slowly and stared at his best friend. What was he up to now? "Chuck here has developed an...interest, in something belonging to you."

"Baizen-"

"Or rather, someone," he added like Chuck hadn't spoken. "Your daughter."

For a second Harold just stared. "My – Blair?"

Why did he have to say her name? And say it like that?

"So I'll tell you what." Carter smiled as he leaned across the table. "You give Chuck permission to marry Blair, and you can consider your debt paid."

Chuck was staring at him now too. Had this been his plan, all along? He was pretty sure there was no way Harold would agree to something so -

But Harold had stopped. "What if Blair doesn't...what if she doesn't want to marry you?" His gaze shot to Chuck once more, struggling to hold it. And he said it like it was only a possibility. Perhaps he didn't know his daughter all that well.

Carter's eyebrows arched again. "You're her father, aren't you? Don't you have a say in who she marries?"

Harold paused again. "I suppose."

The idea of this man ordering Blair to do anything should have been ridiculous. But if Chuck remembered correctly – and he did – then ordering wouldn't even be needed. Blair would do anything for her precious daddy. Hardly surprising, considering he was the only parent who'd ever shown her any sign of affection.

But this?

Chuck gazed at Harold, wondering how he could possibly agree. This was his daughter, for Christ's sake. Wasn't Harold supposed to be a good person, or something?

"You suppose?" Carter snorted. "You'd think you'd be a little more convincing when the alternative would cost you two million. I'm doing you a favour here." His eyes were cold and unforgiving; Harold visibly flinched.

"I'll make it happen." He couldn't look at Chuck any more, and Chuck didn't blame him. He managed to spit out the next words anyway, climbing to his feet like that somehow gave him back any shred of dignity. His head was still bowed. "I'll talk to her tomorrow."

Chuck waited till he was gone before he turned to Carter. He was so – what? Angry? Sick? - that for a moment he couldn't even bring himself to speak. His head was still reeling – had that actually just happened?

But Carter was already grinning. "You're welcome."

"Welcome?" Chuck hissed. "What was that?"

"That," Baizen smirked, "Is how you handle things." He reached for a cigarette, tipping back his chair; and then let out an exasperated sigh as he saw that Chuck still wasn't smiling. "What's wrong with you? I just got you Blair Waldorf."

"What the hell was her father doing here in the first place?" Chuck demanded.

His friend just smirked again. "It seems good old Harold has a bit of a gambling problem. The family tried to keep it hush hush, of course – Eleanor packed him off to France after he got into trouble with the law here, ran up a few million dollar debts." There was a particularly unpleasant note of glee in Carter's voice. "But it looks like he just got into more trouble in France. I heard from a...friend that he was back in Manhattan, looking for money." His smirk broadened as he dragged, deep, from his cigarette. "I could see you weren't making any progress with the girl, so I figured I'd get us some insurance. Help move things along."

"By inviting him to a poker game?"

Carter just shrugged. "It worked, didn't it? I have to say, I didn't think he'd give in that easily. But now that I got you the girl-"

"Stop saying that," Chuck snarled. He didn't know why it was getting to him so much.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Carter's face. "What's your problem? You should be thanking me."

Chuck clenched his jaw. "I told you I'd handle it myself."

"Please." The other man snorted. "At the rate you were going, you'd be holding hands – at a push – by some point next year."

"You can't barter people, Baizen," Chuck spat at last. "What the hell was that?"

Carter's eyes narrowed. "You can't barter people – or you can't barter her? Because you've never had a problem with it before. So don't pick now to grow a conscience." He tilted his head, and Chuck suddenly wanted to punch him. "Don't tell me you've got feelings for her?"

Chuck just looked at him icily. "Don't push me." His jaw was still clenched.

Carter rolled his eyes. "Come on. Stop being so miserable. It's not like your intentions towards her were ever honourable to begin with – all I did was speed things up." He got to his feet, discarding of his smoke. "I'm going to get a drink. And you should too – you should be celebrating." He smirked once more as he slapped Chuck's shoulder. "This time tomorrow we'll be one step closer to two million dollars!"

Chuck let him go. The last thing he felt like doing now was celebrating – not when he still felt this sick and he didn't even know why.

Blair was woken by the curtains being viciously tugged back, as sunlight attacked her sore eyes and pounding head. Her mouth still felt fuzzy from last night.

"Up!" Her mother was in her room. "Come on – up you get!"

Oh, God. She wanted to bury under the covers and stay there forever. But Eleanor was already yanking the duvet back, Blair's dressing gown thrust out.

"We have an important brunch today, Blair. Now hurry up and get ready."

She swept out of the room, leaving her daughter in a state of despair. Since when did Eleanor come and wake her up? Since never. The last thing she felt like doing was having brunch with her mother. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to keep the food down.

But she couldn't let herself think about last night. Not even for a second. So maybe it was a good thing that she was being kept busy. Maybe it was a good thing that she got back to doing what she was supposed to as soon as possible.

What was she thinking?

There was no maybe about it.

So she forced herself out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. She scrubbed till her skin was pink, and then brushed her teeth till they actually hurt. Her reflection was awful, hair limp and circles under her eyes. She scowled as she selected a brown and beige floral dress from her wardrobe – conservative as possible, down to the lace on the sleeves and the high collar. She spent even longer on her make up than usual, perfecting it over her pale skin and tired eyes, and then attacked her hair with a comb, curling it as tight as she could. She regarded her reflection particularly savagely. She looked blank. Prim and pale and – ugly. Washed out. She slipped her feet into a pair of low heels and headed downstairs; no doubt to be told the same thing by her mother.

There was an unpleasant surprise waiting for her in the parlour. Unpleasant in the form of the Archibalds. Not just Nate – Anne and Howard too. And Serena wasn't with them. What on earth was Eleanor up to now?

She smiled as she kissed Anne's cheeks and shook Howard's hand, hating the way they both looked her over like a buyer would a horse. It was no secret that Anne had never liked Serena. And Lily had no time for Howard – so Nate and Serena's union was not exactly a peaceful one. Nate, meanwhile, was pressed into a crisp suit and looked decidedly uncomfortable. Blair was glad she wasn't the only one.

"Blair." Eleanor's smile was tight. "Why don't you fetch Nathaniel a drink?"

Blair threw an eye-roll in Nate's direction – he smiled, faintly, and she kept up her perfect hostess facade as she went dutifully into the kitchen.

Sometimes she hated her mother.

Chuck had spent most of last night drinking - with the result that he was probably now even more hungover than Blair. In fact, he was probably still drunk. The point of drinking was to forget, surely; so why hadn't that happened?

But he'd had all night to think about it, and he'd reached a conclusion. It was all clear now. This was all her fault. This was all Blair Waldorf's fault. If she hadn't been so goddamn challenging and smug and perfect then he wouldn't have wanted to take her down. He would have given up. Hell, if she'd been just a little sluttier or more like Serena then she wouldn't have been a candidate for this whole marriage in the first place.

It was her fault she'd teased him. It was her fault she got under his skin like no other girl even knew how to. It was her fault she kept herself so pristine that she was begging to be violated. It was her fault they'd even been friends as kids to begin with - her and her schemes that had made him think she was actually a girl he could like. Her fault she'd fallen for that dolt Nate Archibald and probably her fault he'd wound up friends with the asshole that was Carter Baizen.

Her fault he'd ended up in a thunder storm, of all things, with her. Again. Her fault she smelt so delicious. Her fault she did stupid things like licking cream off her lip that he couldn't get out of his head. Her fault he'd ended up showing her Victrola, her fault he'd taken her back there and got distracted by her misery. Her fault for being so...so not Blair Waldorf when she was drunk. Her fault for letting her guard down. Her fault for not letting her guard down. Her fault for trying to kiss him in his car - her fault that he hadn't been able to take her - and then her fault for that look in her eyes.

The only thing he couldn't quite find blame for was the Harold Waldorf mess. But that had to be her fault too. In fact - it was her fault she was such a damn daddy's girl. So if she wound up married to Chuck Bass, then she had only herself to blame. And it was her fault, definitely, that he felt so weird about it.

He wanted to destroy her.

Just - for some reason - not quite like this. He wanted to personally destroy her, not get someone else to trap her into marriage with him.

He glanced up as he realised the car had stopped, scowling over the seat at his driver.

"Arthur? Why the hell are we at the Waldorf penthouse?"

He just saw the man's eyebrows lift in the mirror. "You kept saying Blair Waldorf, sir. Is this not where she lives?"

He'd been cursing her - not saying her name. Definitely not telling Arthur to take him to her.

"Shall I turn around, sir?"

Chuck paused. "No," he muttered at last. "Wait here." He climbed out of the car, squinting in the sunlight. What the hell was he doing here? He didn't know, but he was heading for the elevator and for her penthouse.

Blair was feeling about ready to scream. Her dress was suffocating her - but not half as much as Anne's glances and Eleanor's none too subtle hints. She took another sip of tea, the cup's china handle digging into her hand. Nate kept shifting in his seat, gaze drifting to the window, and it was driving her insane. How could she have forgotten that he didn't know how to sit still for longer than five minutes? He and Serena had that in common.

She tried to focus on the polite conversation. She tried to sit up straight and keep her smile fixed in place. Because if she didn't, then her thoughts drifted in a dangerous place and she wanted to burrow into the ground and die.

But she really didn't know how much more of this she could take.

"Miss Blair?"

She'd never been more relieved to hear Dorota's voice; so relieved that she almost missed the shifty look on the maid's face.

"There is...visitor, for you."

She could feel the weight of Eleanor's frown; she leapt to her feet before the woman could stop her.

"Who is it?" Eleanor demanded.

Dorota paused. "It is...gentleman."

The matriarch stiffened, gaze moving straight to the Archibalds to judge their reaction. Anne's brow puckered, but Nate grinned suddenly.

"It's not that Humphrey guy, is it?"

Eleanor looked positively appalled. "Not that awful Brooklyn boy, Blair?" She shot a despairing glance at Anne; "I really don't know what to do. Blair's made it perfectly clear that she's not interested, but he can't seem to take a hint."

Blair rolled her eyes. She'd actually take Humphrey now over the present company. "Don't worry. I'll go and get rid of him."

She nipped out of the room before her mother could add anything else. She couldn't help but exhale slightly once she was out of the confines of the parlour. Free - if only for a few minutes.

Although she did hope that it wasn't Humphrey. She wasn't in the mood for dealing with him today.

She wasn't prepared for who it actually was. Her breath actually caught in her throat - what the hell was he doing here? After last night? Why on earth had Dorota even let him in?

He was sitting on the chaise long in the hall - and as he climbed to his feet, she realised that while his suit was as slick as ever, he himself was - not. He was drunk, she realised. She could smell scotch mixed under his cologne, and as he removed his hat she could see that his hair was almost dishevelled.

His gaze was quite sharp as it roved her figure, though. "No pearls today?" His voice was lazy.

She drew herself up, instinctive. "No."

"Didn't feel...classy enough?"

Her lips turned white, though she didn't flinch. "What are you doing here?" Even she could hear how stiff and cold she sounded.

He didn't answer her question, nodding his head instead in the direction of the parlour as Eleanor's laugh drifted out. "Am I interrupting something?" His lip curled. "Don't tell me you've finally introduced the prince to your mother?"

She studied him, well aware of the sneer. "It's not Louis. The Archibalds are visiting."

Chuck's face betrayed nothing. "Of course. The other suitor. So are you engaged to him yet? Or did the prince get in there first?"

Blair gave him a cruel glare. "In case you've forgotten, Nate's marrying Serena."

"Not if you have your way," he smirked. "I'm sure."

For a moment she looked like she wanted to slap him; then it was like her face closed off again. "I think you should leave. Now."

But he clearly had no intention of going anywhere. "I need to tell you something."

She folded her arms. "I don't think I want to hear it."

He took a step closer, cutting off her personal space; and for a moment he just gazed at her, eyes flickering over the pale skin of her face. His lips were suddenly very close to hers. "I-"

She lifted a brow. "You what?"

He paused - and then he closed his mouth. "Nothing." He was already turning to leave.

Incensed, she went to grab his arm to stop him; and then she remembered herself and snatched her hand back. "Why did you come here?" she demanded.

He just lifted a shoulder and pulled his hat back down. "I wanted to check you hadn't been mugged or something last night." He spared her a glance. "I don't want a dead body on my conscience either."

She gritted her teeth together in sheer frustration. Well, what else had she expected?

"You waited till morning to check? Some help you are." She folded her arms again, glowering as she watched him leave. "You'd better not come back here again."

He stilled briefly by the elevator again, eyes scanning her one last time. "Sorry, princess." And that was all he said before he disappeared; and with his back to her, she couldn't see the odd expression on his face.

"Hey."

Chuck paused - and then wished he hadn't. Great. That was all he needed. Nate Archibald, of all people, was hurrying after him. Chuck could even make out the Captain some way behind.

"Don't worry, Archibald," Chuck sighed. "I'm leaving." They were outside Blair's building now; he would have thought that was pretty obvious.

Nate, however, refused to budge. "What did you want with Blair?"

Chuck spared him a look of contempt. "I fail to see how that's any of your business." And why the hell was it his business, when he was engaged to Serena?

The blond crossed his arms. "Blair's one of my oldest friends. I care about her. So it is my business. Especially if you're doing something to hurt her."

Chuck finally stopped, at that. "Oldest friends?" he sneered. (Actually, he was pretty sure they'd been friends a long time before Archibald had). "From what I hear, the two of you were more than friends." His eyes slanted as he looked the other man up and down. "You sure you're not just jealous? Hanging onto old feelings?"

Nate frowned. "I have a fiancee."

The other man's mouth twisted. "So why don't you focus on her? Sounds like she needs a lot more help than Blair does."

Nate's frown deepened as he registered the insult; he took a step closer to Chuck. "Hey. Watch it."

"Or what?" Chuck scoffed, almost amused. Did Nate Archibald seriously think he was threatening?

Golden boy's perfect blue eyes narrowed. "Just stay away from Blair."

"I'm pretty sure Blair can take care of herself. But thank you so much for warning me." He gave the blond a nasty smile. "I'll make sure to keep it in mind."

Nate drew himself up again - but the Captain arrived at that moment and interupted them. He blinked a couple of times as he took in the other young man before crying, "Chuck Bass! Is that you? I haven't seen you since you were a kid!" He held out a packet of cigars. "Smoke?"

"I'm afraid I have to be on my way," Chuck retorted drily. "Such a shame." He glanced at Nate again. "Have fun with daddy, Archibald."

And then he was gone.

"Now that the men are out the way," Anne exchanged a glance with Eleanor, grinning slightly over her teacup; "We can get to business."

Blair felt a pit of dread creep up in her stomach as she forced a smile back. Her mother was looking far too pleased with herself.

Anne set the china down. "Blair, I have to be honest. When you and Nate called it off - it nearly broke my heart. It really did." She looked anything but heartbroken now, Blair reflected. And she doubted Anne had cared all that much till she'd realised who Blair's replacement was. Serena was pretty much any mother's worst nightmare.

"It was such a shame," Eleanor agreed, sighing.

"And Serena - well." Anne's lips were pinched. "I knew there was something...off, right from the beginning. Don't get me wrong," she added. "I'm sure that Serena is a lovely girl. Deep down. And losing her brother like that-" Blair looked up, sharp, and Anne cleared her throat and swiftly moved on. "I'm sure things haven't been easy for her. But," she exchanged another glance with Eleanor. "Some things have recently come to my attention about her...conduct. And I just don't feel I can ignore them."

Blair flashed her teeth in a perfect smile. "I can assure you that anything you've heard about Serena is false. You know what these rumour mills are like, Mrs. Archibald. Girls are just jealous."

Her mother shot her an annoyed look that she ignored; Anne simply shook her head.

"I don't think so. Not this time. I've heard from a very reliable source-"

"Who?"

"Blair," Eleanor hissed at the girl's sharp tone. She managed a smile as Anne glanced at her. "I don't think it's polite to question Anne's credibility. Obviously, she's heard enough."

Anne nodded in agreement. "I just don't think that Miss van der Woodsen is right for my son," she sighed. "I'm afraid that any marriage would only make him unhappy, ultimately."

"With all due respect, Mrs Archibald-" by which Blair meant none at all, "I don't see how Nate could ever be unhappy with a girl that he loves as much as he does Serena."

Oh, she was going to be in so much trouble with Eleanor later. The woman was practically fit to burst.

"Well that's all very nice, dear," she snapped; "But we're talking about suitability here."

"Exactly," Anne agreed. "And I'm afraid that Serena simply isn't approppriate for Nate."

Blair pinched her lips together. She'd already known that there would be no point in arguing. "Right."

Anne smiled over at her. "You, on the other hand-" she took Blair's hands in hers, and it was all the girl could do not to jerk away. "You and Nate have always been perfect together." She beamed at Eleanor. "Haven't we always said what a wonderful couple they make? We always thought the two of you would end up married, Blair."

Blair could feel the single pastry she'd eaten repeating on her. She hated Anne Archibald, she decided. The stupid, stupid woman.

Neither of them were listening to a word she was saying. What else had she expected?

"But Nate is still engaged to Serena."

Anne had obviously misinterpreted her fake smile for something else; she laughed lightly anyway, waving a hand.

"But let's be honest here. Van der Bilts - they don't end up married to girls like Serena. Nate has a brilliant future ahead of him. Howie and I both agree that this Serena thing is just a phase-"

Blair couldn't listen to another word.

She rose, stiffly, to her feet. "I'm sorry." She was still smiling, even though it hurt her face. "Could you excuse me for a moment?"

She didn't wait for their permission, either, heading straight for her bathroom. She promptly threw up, and this time she didn't even need the help of her fingers. She stared at her reflection afterwards; her face even paler than it had been earlier, almost grey in the light of the bathroom and her eyes still strangely blank.

This was all her fault.

She'd slipped again - started to question the plan. And look where it had got her. A humiliating night with Chuck Bass - she'd kissed him, and she'd been sick in his car, and she didn't even know which one was worse - and now this. Anne and Eleanor teaming up to try and destroy everything she'd built. Only a couple of years ago she'd have given anything to hear those words coming out of Anne's mouth; worse still, she'd have believed them.

How deluded was she?

And now Louis was her only way out, which meant that she was worse than pathetic. She was desperate.

She'd sunk so low that she had Chuck Bass coming to check up on her to help his own non-existent conscience. Even worse, she'd confused herself so much last night that she'd -

She jerked the faucet, hard, splashing icy water on her face till it felt numb. Then she breathed out and smoothed down her curls. She felt too drained to even cry about it. Her reflection was hollow eyed as ever - she turned her back on it, heading out of the bathroom. And then she paused, because she thought she'd heard a familiar voice.

Was she hearing things now?

Slowly, she crept out of her room and peered over the banister.

And then she was flying down the stairs with no thought to anything else - flying towards the figure in the hall and straight into his ams, burying her face into his jumper and breathing in the familiar scent of his soap.

There were almost tears in her eyes as she gazed up at him; because she knew everything would be all right now. It had to be.

"Daddy."

Harold was home.

A/N Thank you all so much for your amazing reviews! So I couldn't leave you hanging for too long...also, I apologise if parents in this fic seem a little OOC - it's more that I'm trying to exaggerrate their bad qualities. I realise that now on the show Harold and Eleanor have been remade into practically perfect parents - they won't be here!