A/N: I know an apology cannot even begin to excuse how long it took me to get this update to you, but regardless, I apologize. I've been sick for the past week and barely had the energy to get out of bed, let alone write - although that's not quite an excuse either - and for some reason, this chapter just took me forever. But here it is. Finally.

Also, thank you Robin (Noirreigne) for your lovely reviews for every chapter so far. They are so detailed and thoughtful.

Thanks for reading! Enjoy :)

P.S. The title is from Salutatory of the Liberator by William Lloyd Garrison.

Chapter 10

I Am In Earnest

I know this love is passing time
Passing through like liquid
I am drunk in my desire
But I love the way you smile at me
I love the way your hands reach out and hold me near
I believe...
- Elsewhere by Sarah McLachlan

The slight whistle of the wind woke Blair, and she sighed dreamily, burrowing into the warm cocoon of Chuck Bass' strong arms. Her eyes fluttered incessantly, begging relief, but she refused to let the light in yet.

The moment was much too precious to interrupt. After years of struggling to be perfect with Nate, Blair had found someone she no longer felt the need to impress. Even as her eyes reveled in the momentary darkness, she knew the sight of her naked body would not revolt her as it once had when she at last awoke. She would appreciate the curve of her hips now, would trace the shape of her breasts in wonder as Chuck had only the night before. She would love her body.

Granted, it would take more than one night of fabulous love-making – because Blair could not bring herself to call it "sex" yet – to heal her damaged self-esteem, but she had a life with Chuck now. It would all fix itself eventually.

But something elusive tugged at the edges of her consciousness. She wondered fleetingly what would happen when she and Chuck awoke.

And suddenly she realized that the night had meant nothing, at least not to anyone who mattered. The fact that she had slept with Chuck Bass was a point of much pleasure for her, but she was sure, a point of shame for her mother and all her friends. And besides, the night spent in Chuck's arms did not mean that Blair and Chuck were going to be in a relationship. She wanted it to, but it was not assumed. She would have to fight for it.

She cringed at the thought. She would have to fight for Chuck Bass.

What kind of alternate universe had she stumbled into? What kind of place would have her, Blair Waldorf, demanding that a Bass want her?

But she immediately retracted the thought. She wasn't ashamed of wanting Chuck. She wouldn't let herself be.

And yet…there was another reason she was afraid of fighting for Chuck. She was wary of the panic that was sure to creep into Chuck's eyes once he awoke and found her in his arms. This was the sort of thing he shied away from, she reasoned. He abhorred cuddling, even after sex. It was just who he was.

Of course, Blair couldn't help but hope that this was different, that she was different. But she knew that she shouldn't be disappointed if he demanded that she leave immediately. He had done it so many times before, to countless other girls he had fucked 'til they screamed his name...just as Blair had done. Several times.

She smiled a little, but promptly wrenched herself to reality. Because hadn't he once bragged that he never slept with the same girl twice? She was sure she was no exception.

And yes, the sex had been wonderful, better than she could have ever imagined. He had been so tender, so sure, so soft. So...not Chuck.

Blair was beginning to understand that the man she had fallen in love with was far removed from the boy she had thought she knew. She had been so sure he was just a typical womanizer, her partner-in-crime, Nate's best friend. She had never thought there was anything more to him. She regretted that, she did. She realized it had been so obvious, and she had just never cared enough to look.

Her resolve faltered shortly. Because, she realized, Nate had treated her the same way she had treated Chuck. She had never bothered to understand Chuck. And Nate had never torn his eyes away from Serena long enough to love her.

Blair sighed a little. She should have seen it, she knew. She should have seen Chuck's struggle to be enough for his father and his well-disguised contempt for his best friend. She should have seen it all.

She clenched her fists unconsciously at the thought, and Chuck shifted against her. She froze, her muscles locking as if for impact, and waited anxiously for his breathing to subside.

She sighed in relief when he pulled her close and buried his nose in her hair, his chest heaving steadily, rhythmically. The feathery wisps of his hair tickled her ears, and she laughed slightly, content rolling off her in waves. She settled in his arms, breathing in the scent clinging to his bare chest. She was certain that same smell of scotch and sex would linger on her skin too, long after she and Chuck parted.

As the thought flitted through her lazy thoughts, she felt Chuck's eyelids flutter against her hair. She shuddered a little, whispering teasingly, "Wake up, Bass."

It was a gentle, soft, loving murmur, and his answering words were just as relaxed. "Good morning, Waldorf."

She smiled and waited for him to say more, but he was silent. She almost relished the still of the morning, the breath hovering in the air above their heads. It was peaceful. They didn't have the chance to ruin the perfection of the moment.

But finally, she rolled over, her lips curving upward as his arms moved to accommodate her, and gazed into his unfathomable eyes for a long moment. His right hand traced the curve of her body and came to rest on her hip, his fingers stroking the skin beyond her stomach. She sighed in content and closed her eyes, whispering, "This is easy, isn't it?"

Chuck laughed and pulled her closer, restraining himself as her hip clashed with his. It wasn't so easy for him, really, to be this tantalizingly close to the epitome of beauty herself, Blair Waldorf. He was a self-defined sex addict, after all. And despite the many times he had ravished the raven-haired vixen the night before he hadn't quite sated his thirst. Somehow, he doubted he ever would.

But there was much to be said between them, apologies and explanations. And, perhaps, promises.

His reminiscing was interrupted by the words spilling from Blair's pristine mouth. "I suppose it's not the best idea to kiss you," she laughed, her fingers curling around her lips as she stifled the sound.

He nodded in amusement, his voice dropping as he whispered, "And yet somehow it surprises me not in the least that you are about to do that very thing."

She smiled coyly and tilted her head, capturing her lips with his. He moaned against her mouth as she deepened the kiss, his hands circling her waist as her fingers stretched around his neck. She entwined her legs with his as their lips rubbed red and skies erupted with fire, heat spilling and faltering. The slip and slide of smooth skin and rough hair collided and broke, and Blair sighed in acute relief. Their lips remembered every touch, every caress, every breath from the night before as the air flowed from mouth to mouth. It was easy, simple, familiar.

There was no strain, no rush that morning. He had lost the aggressive tint he was so well known for, and she had dropped the façade of perfection.

Because, she realized, there was no need to impress him.

Blair ached to close the space between her body and Chuck's, but she was afraid of what remained unspoken. There was so much that needed to be said, so much they needed to resolve. And so she dragged her mouth away from his and shook her head, trying to resist the heat emanating from his lips.

"Chuck, we need to talk," she insisted.

He nodded and let darkness seep into his eyes, averting his gaze as he murmured sarcastically, "Such wonderful words."

She laughed but couldn't banish the doubt coloring her lips as she spoke. "It's just…what did this mean?"

Chuck groaned in reply, casually lifting his hands off Blair's hip and threading his fingers through his messy locks. Blair shuddered at the sudden lack of heat on her skin and crossed her arms across her naked chest, trying to protect herself from his penetrating gaze. She wasn't sure she entirely enjoyed the determination lingering in his eyes. She felt bare, stripped of all pretenses. Vulnerable.

She almost drew her body away from Chuck's, as if to punish him for making her question herself, but stopped when he winced. A fleeting affection colored his caramel eyes, and she raised her chin defiantly, subconsciously stilling the trembling of her hands as she waited for her lover to speak.

But was that what he was? Just a lover, someone she could use and then discard?

No, she reasoned, he wasn't. He could never be.

And still, Chuck said nothing. Blair wished there were words for a moment like this, words to ease the tension and break the heavy silence. But every time anguish and affection swelled on her tongue, she clamped her mouth shut and forced herself to wait for Chuck to speak first. It was his turn now.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a mere whisper, his eyes downcast. "I don't know," he murmured, truthfully, Blair suspected. "What do we want it to mean?"

He was confused, and slightly incoherent. He wasn't his usual eloquent, smooth self. And somehow, Blair relished the sound of his stumbling voice. It was strangely gratifying.

She knew what she wanted the night to mean. She wanted it to mean that she and Chuck were now in a relationship, that they would defy their parents' reputations and just be together. She wanted to tell him that, too. But she didn't have the courage yet. And so instead, she replied loftily, her words teasing and worse than dishonest, "Bass, don't flatter yourself. I want nothing more than to forget that this ever happened."

Her eyes fell on Chuck's elegant features just as the corners of his mouth slumped in defeat. She gulped, regretting her teasing words. Just as before, she had forgotten how much things had changed between them. She could no longer joke with him. Because now, they had both admitted the fall of the truth. And there was no room, she realized. No room to pretend that something monumental hadn't happened.

Chuck whispered stiffly, "If you so desire, Waldorf." His voice was faint, disdainful, broken. It was slightly too mournful for Blair to handle.

She laughed uneasily and cried, "I was joking! Obviously my ability to make you laugh has been severely impaired, but you must know that I was not being serious!"

"I know nothing," Chuck murmured coldly, his eyes burning into hers with an intensity that both frightened and enticed her, "As you have so dutifully pointed out."

Blair shook her head, wringing her hands in despair, barely noticing the way Chuck's eyes fell to her now bare chest. She was afraid that he would leave her for the third time, that he would argue that the night had meant nothing to her and that she obviously still had feelings for Nate. But she didn't want Nate, and this time, she would not let Chuck go, even if he begged her to, even if he insulted her beyond their usual witty banter.

"I didn't mean it, Chuck," she affirmed quietly, not daring to meet his eyes just yet, "I was trying to lighten the mood."

"What a wonderful attempt," he murmured, lifting himself off the bed in a fluid movement that drew Blair's eyes to the delicate lines of his strong body.

She drank in the sight of him hungrily, wanting nothing more than to allow his hands to grip her waist and his lips to caress her skin. Her every nerve tingled in anticipation, and she knew she must rectify this situation, no mater how hard it was.

She stood up, stretching a little, and moved towards Chuck, who was now standing by the window, his shoulders tense as the muscles rippled underneath his pale skin. Blair hesitated for a moment, then clasped his hands in hers, her fingers stroking his as she breathed with him. He froze, but soon relaxed.

Blair sighed in relief – as she had done so many times that morning already – and took another step forward, resting her head on Chuck's back. Her lips traced the curve of his spine delicately, and he hummed under his breath, a content sound that reverberated through Blair's hands and flitted through her ears. She almost laughed, but restrained herself. There was something she had to say.

"I love you," she whispered, her lips hovering by the shell of his ear as she took a chance. She knew somehow that those three words were true, knew that the cracks and holes in her heart were healed and filled because of him. She had Chuck now, and despite what everyone might think, she was happy.

She had loved Nate, she thought. But that was over now. Because he had no longer been enough for her. She had grown up, and he had not.

She smiled at that revelation, basking in the welcoming silence between her and Chuck.

It didn't occur to her that he wouldn't say the words. She didn't know if she wanted him to, didn't know if it really mattered. She had heard him say it, had heard him whisper the words when he thought she was asleep. And that was enough.

When he said nothing, Blair sighed again, but not in disappointment. She felt the morning air still, felt the light spill in through the windows and caress the pristinely pale crevices of her face, and she let a smile curve her lips. She wasn't sure why, but she knew she would remember this moment forever.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. Because she was, and she needed Chuck to know that. She knew she had to be careful about what she said, because she and he were so used to games that nothing seemed real anymore. He had no proof that she wasn't just toying with him in some twisted plan to get Nate back. He had no way of knowing that she cared.

After a long moment, Chuck squeezed Blair's hands a little tighter and spun around effortlessly, pulling her into his arms so swiftly that she almost cried out in joy. His strong hands held her close as she let her head rest on the hollow beneath his throat, her tears soaking his skin. He kissed the top of her head, once, twice, then again, his bare chest trembling with emotion.

"Chuck," she whispered, sorrow and joy mingling in her voice.

"Yes?" he murmured in reply, his hands gripping her waist, his arms encircling her fragile body.

"I'm sorry." She felt the need to repeat it. Because she had hurt him, time and time again. She didn't want him to think that she still wanted Nate. She didn't want him to think that she cared about what her mother would say or about the post Gossip Girl would supply or about the reaction of the girls at Constance. What she wanted, she realized, was to be with Chuck. She wanted to let him love her, if it was the last thing she ever did for herself.

"No need," he muttered gruffly, his voice fading into gentleness as his eyelids fluttered against Blair's chestnut curls, "I already forgave you."

In truth, the words she had whispered so determinedly had done him in. She loved him, he marveled. She wasn't drunk, she wasn't crying, she wasn't desperate. She just wanted him to know that she loved him.

He would say it back, he resolved. Just not now. He would say the words once things were more peaceful.

And so he pulled back, gazed into Blair's guileless eyes, and whispered smoothly, tucking a stray lock behind her ear, "We'll talk over breakfast."

She nodded, pulling him close to her, wrapping her arms around him in a feeble attempt to make him stay exactly where he was forever. She would be content if they never left his suite, she thought.

But soon the sun pierced her eyes, and the morning came upon them. They both knew it was time to face what had happened.

Blair threw on a robe casually and averted her eyes as Chuck pulled on a silk pajama shirt, his hair mussed, his eyes dark and, if she wasn't mistaken, a little lustful. She smiled to herself and sat down on the bed, whispering, "Let's talk then, shall we?"

Chuck nodded and sat beside her, gesturing for her to lean against him. She did, resting her head on his chest as he stroked her hair, and murmured, "You're better at this than you think, you know."

"Better at what?" he asked curiously, amused.

"Being sweet." Her voice was teasing, gentle, affectionate, and he bit back his instinctive indignant reply. There was too much he needed to tell her to waste time on frivolous comments.

"Blair…" he began, his brow furrowing as he tried to put his thoughts into words, "Last night meant whatever you want it to mean."

Blair struggled to suppress a smile at how careful he was being. It was so unlike him to be gentle, so unlike him to respect her feelings, so unlike him to stroke her fingers delicately, as if she were the most fragile of glasses. And so she closed her eyes, relishing the fleeting moment, and murmured, "I daresay we both know what we want it to mean."

She felt Chuck stiffen behind her, and she twined her fingers through his lazily. She tilted her head sweetly and brought her free hand to his feverish cheek, watching as he unthinkingly rested his head against her palm. They fit so perfectly, she mused. Perhaps they were meant to do this.

"I love you, Chuck Bass," she said seriously, her eyes blazing with long-concealed emotion, "And I want to be with you."

He began to shake his head doubtfully, gently extracting his fingers from hers as if to prepare her for his inevitable departure, but she twisted around to face him and grasped his face with both of her hands. She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes soft. A haze of toffee and caramel slipped over her eyes, and she trembled in the heat of his gaze, wondering idly why she had never bothered to really look at him before. It was a humbling experience.

His eyes were smoldering, his lips curving, almost as if he was smirking. His hair swept across his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed over the crystalline depths beneath his eyelashes, he gazed at her 'til she thought she might faint.

But finally, she continued, "I know my mother will hate me for it, and I know Nate will probably never speak to us again –"

"Isn't that reason enough?" Chuck interjected, his voice far quieter than she would have expected.

Blair shook her head again, her right hand stroking his cheek lovingly. "No," she whispered, closing her eyes reverently, "It's not."

"Nathaniel's my best friend, Blair," Chuck whispered disdainfully, as if he couldn't believe she had suggested they disregard that fact., "This is worse than betrayal. If you recall, you and dear Nathaniel ended your lovely relationship only yesterday."

Blair flinched at the painful memory – it had been so radical, so final – but averted her eyes and murmured, "Obviously, I got over him rather quickly."

She let her gaze rise to meet Chuck's, and there was astonishment and admiration in his eyes. She smiled a little and whispered, "Maybe I already was."

Some unidentifiable, indistinguishable emotion flitted through Chuck's dark eyes, and Blair shook her head gently, almost as if she was chastising him for believing she still cared about Nate. They had been through so much, she and Chuck, and she knew that much more would happen to them. But she didn't want Nate; she wanted Chuck, and perhaps she always had.

The silence lingered, still in the light of the morning, and Blair's eyes remained fixed on Chuck's. Her gaze dared him to speak, dared him to kiss her, dared him to do anything.

And finally, he did.

With a soft sigh, he reached out a trembling hand and stroked her cheek, his arm maneuvering through the warm hold of her hands on his face. He murmured, "You know I don't have the power to resist you."

She smiled in reply, her finger tracing the outline of his lips as she whispered, "Good. We'll figure it out. We always do."

He nodded slightly, leaning towards her as he asked gently, "So what do you propose?"

His choice of words sparked a sort or flutter in Blair's throat, and she averted her eyes, afraid of what her expression might reveal. For just a moment, she caught a glimpse of what a life with Chuck would be like. First, there'd be a romantic proposal, in the middle of Paris perhaps, with spectators oohing and aahing in delightfully accented French. Next would be a spectacular wedding, the very best that money and class could afford, with she dressed in a white Alexander McQueen sweeping gown and he suited in a devilishly handsome black Dolce tuxedo. Then would come a child – Blair almost cringed, but then resisted when she realized that perhaps that would not be the worst thing in the world – a beautiful girl with Chuck's instinct for seduction and, hopefully, lacking Blair's never-ending need for perfection.

But then Blair blinked, and pushed those thoughts away, because she and Chuck were far away from a fairytale ending like that.

She whispered finally, "We must tell them all."

Chuck's jaw dropped, and darkness slipped into his toffee eyes so quickly that Blair averted her gaze as heat flooded her cheeks. "Unless, of course," she struggled to offer him a way out, to clarify exactly what she meant and perhaps save herself some embarrassment, "You don't want to be with me, in which case – "

But Chuck didn't let her finish her sentence. Instead, he leaned closer to her and brought his lips to hers, his hands wrenching her face to his in an almost gentle manner. She relaxed under the grateful haze of his touch, relishing the dart of his tongue between her chapped lips and the scratch of her nails on his cheeks.

After a long moment, they pulled apart, and Blair whispered, her eyes delightfully closed, as if of their own volition, "I'm assuming that means you're not afraid of the commitment?" There was a sort of wry affection lingering in her voice, as if she wanted to tease him but also wanted to reassure him. She wasn't planning to leave him, not now, and not ever. She needed him to know that.

And so when Chuck said nothing, instead touching his lips to hers again, she let her eyelids flutter open and murmured, "But there is something I must talk to you about."

Chuck flinched, perhaps because of the serious note attached to her words, and withdrew his hands from her face. A black tint held in his eyes, and he nodded slowly.

Blair took a deep breath and stroked his cheek once more, the almost smooth contour of his cheek giving her some obtuse strength. She murmured, "I'm not one of your bar whores, Bass," she tried to retain some semblance of composure, even as her lower lip trembled and tears sprang to her eyes, "I'm in for the long haul. And if that's not what you have in mind, then this right here –" she gestured to the empty space between them and then folded and unfolded her perfectly French-manicured hands, "Then this is not going to work."

Chuck smiled at her, surprising both of them, and reached out to still her shaking hands, whispering reassuringly, "Then, Waldorf, be comforted with this statement of fact:"

She waited anxiously for a long moment as he looked at her, as if searching for the words to illustrate his meaning, but he said nothing. Her face fell, and she averted her eyes, afraid to hope for much of anything.

But finally, Chuck murmured, "I have no immediate plans to leave you."

Blair sighed in relief, for it was a start. She didn't expect much more from him; he was Chuck Bass. She couldn't reasonably expect him to ask her to be his girlfriend and then announce it to the whole world. He wasn't like that. And, she decided, that was okay.

She nodded solemnly, quelling the tugging sensation in her throat as she fought back joyous words, and merely said imperiously, "All right then. Who should we tell first?"

Her words were uncharacteristically childish, Chuck noticed, and that change in it of itself was more than enough for him to realize just how much the idea of telling people about their "relationship" scared her. He resolved to make the process as painless as possible. Because, he realized, he didn't want her to suffer because of him. Her love for him should never make her unhappy. At least, not if he could help it.

He almost snickered at the laughably corny, simpering nature of that thought, but resisted the urge. Instead, he laced his fingers through Blair's tentatively and offered, "Perhaps your mother first?"

Blair flinched involuntarily, a movement so instinctive that Chuck wanted to flinch with her. He couldn't believe that the thought of disappointing her mother repulsed her so. It almost made him retract the idea of romanticizing the stunningly beautiful woman before him. Almost.

But he cared too much about her to allow her departure, to let her go. She was his, and he intended to keep that way.

And yet he remained silent, waiting for Blair to speak. At last she did, averting her eyes, her gaze flitting and spinning and resting on anything but the eyes of the man she spoke to. "I suppose."

It was a curt answer, one she wished she had the courage to speak honestly. But she did not want to talk to her mother about this.

And so she changed the subject. She could bear it no longer. "I think we should tell Nate next."

She raised her gaze suddenly, so rapidly that Chuck did not have time to conceal the panic in his eyes. She shuddered softly, angered at his apparent lack of trust in her feelings towards him, and spat through clenched, gritted teeth, "I do not want him. I only mean that he should hear it from us before anyone else."

Chuck visibly relaxed, and for a moment, Blair felt like slapping him. She was tired of trying to prove herself, tired of demonstrating her lack of affection for Nate.

She snapped anxiously, "It would do you good, I think, to trust me."

Chuck looked at her inquisitively, wondering what she meant, and she shook her head impatiently. Men could be so dense sometimes. But she was used to it; Nate had been far worse. She muttered under her breath, hoping he'd hear her somehow, "If only he understood."

"Understood what?" Chuck drawled, trying desperately to conceal the curiosity burning in his voice.

Blair suppressed a smile and replied loftily, infusing her words with as much candor and affection as she could, "That Nate and I are over, and you and I have barely begun, and you're ruining the moment with all this talk of previous relationships."

"Oh."

The word hung in the air, piercing the silence. Suddenly it was as if nothing remained but Blair and Chuck. They were stripped of all outside forces, and the absence of lingering uncertainties was slightly gratifying.

Almost alarmed by the still of the silence, Blair blurted out, "I just want to be with you."

Chuck looked startled, but she barreled on, choosing to ignore the mischief dancing in his eyes. "I know this whole thing is problematic, what with Nate being your best friend and my mother being Eleanor Waldorf and our living on the Upper East Side and all that. But last night was beautiful, and I can't let go of it. I won't."

She let a single tear run its course, trembling on her eyelid, spilling out of her eye, rolling down her cheek. It felt like acceptance, somehow.

It was an embarrassing speech, she knew. He'd probably laugh at her for it later. But she was tired of suppressing her true feelings. He brought out so much more in her than that. She felt light when she was with him. She felt…happy. She had never thought it possible to feel like Serena, but when she was with Chuck, she did. She felt carefree and alive.

And if that meant giving up social status and perhaps her friendship with Nate, she would do it.

Chuck stared at her incredulously for a long moment, as if waiting for her to withdraw her statement, and she trembled in the heat of his gaze. She wondered if she had made a mistake in so blatantly stating her feelings. Perhaps she should have endeavored to seem more indifferent…

But then Chuck whispered, "Neither will I."

She breathed a sigh of relief, and suddenly his lips were on hers, and she was crying and laughing and his arms were around her and she knew somehow that everything that had come before this moment simply didn't matter. She sank into his embrace, smiling as her hands reached out to his and she pulled his shirt over his head. And she trembled in joy and anticipation as he untied the tie holding her robe together and took her again.

They made love that morning. It was the culmination of so many things, of trials and loves and heartaches. It was like the night before, but this time, it meant more. Because they knew now that they would survive this. Somehow.

And in the midst of the love, as the sun streamed in through the windows and Chuck's lean body pressed against Blair's, he whispered, "I love you."

And Blair looked at him, and she smiled and she laughed and she cried, because lately that was all she could do. And he pulled away and gazed into her eyes, and she brought her lips to his in the kind of kiss that only exists in movies. The kind of kiss that saves lives, because it has to.

And when Blair at last left his suite, when she threw on her clothes and flung open the door and called out a hasty goodbye, Chuck sat in dazed contentment on his bed and whispered after her one solitary phrase that he felt he had to repeat.

"I love you."

And this time, she heard him.

tbc