'Bitter you, bitter me
My better half has bitten me'.
It was semi-dark in the Waldorf kitchen with just the side lights on. Midnight had passed a while ago. Carter, at the counter, scrolled lazily through his laptop as he helped himself to scotch. Eleanor had never approved of night caps, and Harold had rarely drank anyway. But he remembered drinking once from the bottle his mother had confiscated from him - with her - after a particularly bad fashion show. Just one glass, as she'd sternly told him how bad alcohol was. They'd both known they would never need to tell Blair or Harold.
He glanced now at a photo of Tish that had popped up on his newsfeed. She was sprawled langurously on the banks of the Cam, red hair tipped back against the grass and that familiar idle smile. Which was no doubt what she spent most of her days at Cambridge doing. Carter knew Tish was hopelessly dyslexic, but she was far too vain to ever acknowledge that. She chose not to study instead. It didn't matter, anyway, when her father was master of one of the colleges.
There was another grinning photo of Max with some blonde, and then some photos from Ibizia that Tish obviously hadn't bothered putting up till now. Carter flicked past one of Tish splayed on his own lap - it was all right, Max must have taken it - and rolled his eyes at a particularly unattractive photo of Serena and Nate mid make-out. Tish had probably put that one up deliberately. He noticed one of Chuck and Blair, the camera tilted. Tish was obviously tipsy by that point - it must have been in the car on the way to that first club. Carter's own memory of that night was pretty hazy. (The long legs of a particular red-head were the only things he really remembered.)
In this photo Blair was tugging at the champagne bottle in Chuck's grasp, face turned away from the camera and up at him. And Chuck was grinning down at her with such genuine fondness, almost admiration, that he looked practically innocent. Chuck never grinned like that. Or he hadn't done for a long time.
Carter remembered him letting Blair go just a few hours earlier. Which Carter knew couldn't have been easy for him given he'd have to face the night alone with his parents. He did know that Chuck cared about her - he just wasn't sure the guy knew how to put anyone first. Particularly where his libido was concerned. But he'd put her first tonight, that much was obvious.
Carter sighed. Bass was his own breed of irritating. Well, Carter concluded with as he drained his glass, as long as he carried on putting Blair first.
He was on his way to his own room when he heard it.
The faintest whimper in the silence of the penthouse. He wished he could say he'd never heard that whimper before; he stilled for a second, and then he was heading for his sister's bedroom. He pulled the door open. She was curled in a ball on the bed, sheets gripped in her hands as she sobbed in her sleep.
He switched the light on.
"Blair."
She jolted upright, still shaking - Carter was gripping her. It took a moment for her to get her breathing under control, and she was aware of her brother's eyes on her the whole time. He knew. He knew now.
"What was it this time?"
She just shook her head. Her voice was unsteady and her eyes still wet. "Nothing."
He sat down next to her on the bed, and she was suddenly infinitely glad for his presence. Just like she'd been when he'd used to sleep here all those years ago. Her big brother guarding the door. His eyes were narrowed and wary as they regarded her.
He glanced around the shadows. "Being here isn't helping, is it?"
She wanted to tell him she was fine and it was just one bad dream, but the thought of him leaving her to the darkness of this room overwhelmed her. "No." Her voice stuck, stupidly; he exhaled and wrapped an arm around her. She leaned against his shoulder and tried not to succumb to the relief that engulfed her at his presence. Her heartbeat was gradually returning to normal.
No. Being here wasn't helping at all.
So something, Carter knew, had to be done.
The night couldn't really have ended worse. Evelyn had succeeded in winding the reporter up so much that he'd nearly stormed out, only to end the night following her into her bed anyway. Another reporter. She'd come downstairs afterwards to find Bart making a conference call. Chuck had heard, from his room, the violent smash of glass. No doubt more of their wedding crystal. He was sure she'd done it just to mess up Bart's call; he'd heard her laugh too.
So it was with bitter satisfaction that he moved into his apartment the next day. Bart had clearly been cold with disaproval at his disappearance onto the balcony during the party. He'd asked him, curtly, if that was his idea of taking things seriously. Chuck was willing to bet he'd disapprove of Blair, too, purely because Evelyn wanted her. So thank God he was leaving for Hong Kong this week.
It was currently late afternoon, and he and Nate were sprawled on his new leather sofa watching The Matrix with sushi and a bottle of scotch between them. Chuck suspected his best friend was also glad to move away from his mother's worrying. His own father was still in jail, and Anne had never quite got over the humiliation.
They were interupted by the elevator's chime.
Chuck raised an eyebrow at his best friend. "More take-out, Archibald?"
"You should be careful," a sweet voice agreed. "Even Serena might find you less attractive if you get fat."
The blonde's laugh filled the room; and Nate and Chuck turned to find Blair and Serena at the door. And, behind them, the doorman. With several huge bags.
"Serena's mom is finalising her divorce," Blair announced. "And Carter has decided I'm cramping his style. It's harder to bring home a different girl every night if I'm there. So." Her eyes fell on Chuck. She wore a tight printed white summer dress, arms bare with the last golden glow of her tan. A smile curled at her lips. "Does the offer for moving in still stand?"
The four of them were helping themselves to drinks from Chuck's new and freshly stocked bar to celebrate their new apartment. Serena was still at the bar, giggling with Nate, as Chuck dropped onto the sofa next to Blair. He was aware of her bare legs against the black leather, and was very glad summer was so late this year. She smirked at him over her glass.
"We're not going to cramp your style too," she purred. "Are we?" Her head was tilted playfully, fingers brushing his thigh under the guise of putting her drink down.
He caught her hand on his lap. Their fingers twined together as he smirked back. "I don't think so," he murmured. He still held her slender wrist as he fingered the edge of her dress, tracing her thigh underneath. She grinned and shifted away, crossing her legs. She gave Nate and Serena a pointed little glance.
Still, Chuck reflected - he'd take having to hide from the blondes over Carter any day. Which he was still wondering about. He looked at her. "So big brother doesn't mind you moving here?"
Blair pursed her lips. "It's not really any of his business, is it?" she asked lightly. Carter had actually agreed, provided she agreed to seeing Dr. Sherman about her nightmares. But she wasn't about to tell Chuck she had to go to a shrink again. She didn't plan on anyone finding out - but especially not Chuck.
Chuck sensed she was keeping something from him. But Serena and Nate had collapsed on the sofa next to them before he could ask.
"So," Serena grinned. "What's the plan? We need to celebrate our first night in style."
"But I don't want go out," Nate complained, running a hand through his hair. They'd obviously been discussing this by the bar. "I mean we've been out every night this week, and I'm kind of exhausted. Plus I have a lacrosse game tomorrow morning."
Serena gave him a little elbow. "All right, old man."
"And you expect us to believe you're wild," Chuck added idly. He gave his best friend a droll look.
"Hey!" The blond tried to protest. "Just because you don't do any physical activity-"
"Well," Blair mused. "That's not entirely true now, is it?" Serena arched an eyebrow at her; Chuck just smirked. There was wicked light in his eye as he glanced at the brunette. "Anyway," Blair went on. "I have eight o'clock class tomorrow too. And I need my beauty sleep."
He could help her get her beauty sleep, Chuck reflected as he eyed the line of her throat. "Staying in it is."
"Fine," Serena sighed. "As long as we get first choice of movie." She spared the TV a glance, still paused on The Matrix. "Preferably something with Channing Tatum. Maybe a dance number."
Nate pulled a good-natured face at his girlfriend. "Then I'm calling my dealer." He saw Blair wrinkle her nose and he paused, suddenly smiling as something occurred to him. "I know what we can do."
"No way." Blair shook her head. "I am not making pot brownies."
"Come on," Serena grinned. "Nate has the best recipe." They'd already dragged the her into the kitchen as Serena yanked bowls down from the cupboards.
"And I bet you missed out in boarding school," Nate agreed. Blair tried not to wince as she saw how much sugar he was pouring out.
Chuck watched, amused, from the kitchen counter. He'd eat the brownies afterwards; but he did not take part in baking. She could feel his eyes track her instead.
"I didn't miss out on anything. I don't take mind-altering substances. And you shouldn't either, Archibald, given how slow your reactions are anyway." She gave him a dark look but he just grinned back and kept pouring the sugar. Then, as she noticed the bag of something green; "You're not seriously planning on using all of that?"
"Relax, B," Serena laughed. "I told you - Nate knows what he's doing." She nudged him playfully as he slid the first tray into the oven. "At least when it comes to pot."
Blair peered into the rest of the chocolate mixture very dubiously, arms folded. Serena had already picked up the spoon and started licking it.
"Ok, I refuse to eat any of that if you put the spoon back into the bowl."
Serena cocked her head at her best friend, spoon still very much in her mouth. She licked it again, slowly. "This spoon?" There was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Come on, B. We're practically sisters." She used her finger to scoop another piece of chocolate batter off, pausing around her lips.
"But not that close," Blair informed her.
Serena suddenly leaned forwards, and she'd wiped the chocolate on Blair's nose before she could react. She danced away with a smirk of delight as Blair froze in horror. The smudge was sticky on her face.
Then she'd lunged straight after the blonde, and Nate had to cover his hands against Serena's squeals.
"Hey, watch the bowl-"
He was cut off when Blair shoved a lump of mix in his face. "This is all your fault, Archibald!"
Nate spluttered, trying not to laugh through a mouthful of chocolate. He gazed at the smaller girl. "You really shouldn't have done that."
But Blair slipped behind Chuck before the blond could come after her. Chuck's eyes narrowed at his best friend. "Don't even think about it. This suit is Saville Row." Blair smirked from behind his glower, safe.
Neither of them had noticed Serena. "All your suits are Saville Row," she pointed out as she emptied the last of the flour over his head.
"How old are you," Chuck howled, "Three?" His thick dark hair was now coated in white. This time he grabbed the blonde before she could get away, and Blair took great satisfaction in seizing an egg to crack over her golden tresses.
The oven timer pinged.
"First batch is ready," Nate announced with a grin, mess of the kitchen already forgotten.
"I should really...go to bed. Get that beauty sleep."
Blair Waldorf, Chuck reflected as she tried to get up off the sofa, was high. Actually high. She giggled a little as she swayed on her feet. He reached out a hand to steady her; and she stumbled against him, landing with a little mmph on his chest. Her brown eyes were wide, hair tickling his face and her little silk slip rucked up. They'd changed into their pyjamas at some point in the evening, their actual clothes now covered in flour and chocolate. She grinned and twined her hands around his neck, suddenly finding this hilariously funny.
"Hey," Serena called out from the other sofa, just as giggly. "Get a room."
Blair's eyes lit up. "That's a great idea! Mine or yours?" she asked Chuck.
He rolled his eyes for Nate and Serena's benefit – Nate just grinned, hazy. "I'll make sure Waldorf gets to bed in one piece." He stood up, pulling her with him. She leaned happily into the arm curled around her waist, one hand pressed against the small of her back.
"As long as you join me in bed," she burbled as he guided her into her room. He shut the door behind them and she grinned again. "I like your thinking." She tried to pull him onto the bed, but she ended up falling on the mattress instead. "Oops," she mumbled. "Maybe those brownies were stronger than I thought. This is all Nate's fault," she sighed as her curls splayed against the pillow and Chuck caught the comforter. "I told him not to put that much in..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes met Chuck's. She stretched on her back. "Are you joining me or not?"
He raised an eyebrow down at her, hands still framing her as his mouth twitched. "I think Nate and Serena might get suspicious."
"Please! They're high. They won't notice anything." She giggled again. "I think I might be high too. But don't tell anyone."
He smirked faintly. "Never." He'd tucked her under the covers now. But she wriggled out of them as he went to stand.
"Where are you going?"
The sight of her reaching for him – wanting him – gave him an odd feeling in his stomach. He tried to remind himself that she was high as he sighed and got back down on the bed with her. She made a little noise of contentment as she seized his collar, nestling her head against his chest. One of her legs slipped in between his as he felt her breath hit his neck, slender fingers tracing haphazard circles against his skin.
"You know," she said drowsily, "You should just sleep here every night."
He glanced down at her. (He had a feeling he knew the real reason she'd left her own penthouse.) His grip tightened, unconscious, as he lowered his head and his mouth pressed against the softness of her hair.
"I'm not pathetic," she promised into his chest, eyes closing. "You're just...warm." He felt her sleepy smile curve against him. "Hot, actually." She wriggled a little closer. "Can I tell you something, Chuck?" His name was so soft as she breathed it against his body, hand stilling at his neck. "Just because I'm...high, so you won't think I'm being serious. So you won't freak out. Promise me you won't freak out?" Her voice trailed off in the silence. "It's a problem, you see. It's a...secret."
"What?" he murmured into her hair.
"I..."
"You what?" His hand covered her spine.
She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and buried deeper into him. I love you. "Nothing." Her eyes stayed shut as clung to him. "Never...mind."
He stared down at her in silence, but she'd already drifted asleep.
Blair's hand was still curled around his collar in her sleep, her head still against his chest as he felt her even breathing. But he was awake. He was wondering what she'd been going to say to him, and wondering at the same time if he already knew.
What was he doing with her?
Pretending, still, that this was no strings attached? It had never been that and they both knew it. If he'd had any sense, then he'd never have started this in the first place. Because the more time he spent with her, the closer he was dangling her to his mother's web. He'd realised that at the anniversary party - and he'd been stupid not to think otherwise.
Chuck and Blair were always supposed to end up together. He didn't want to end up with anyone else. He didn't want anyone else. But that fear - that guilt, in the back of his mind - as he gazed down at her sleeping face suddenly made his stomach churn. Blair Waldorf didn't need his protection, even though he knew he'd kill anyone who hurt her. But what if that person was him? And that person was him. As long as he carried this on. Because what would happen in the end? He couldn't stand the thought of losing her, and he couldn't stand the thought of her being with anyone else. But he couldn't stand the thought of her becoming so much as his girlfriend, because it would mean that Evelyn had won. It would mean that Blair could be paraded round on his arm like some sort of trophy.
He'd told himself that would never happen because this was Blair, and she'd never let it happen.
But, he realised bleakly - he couldn't do it to her.
Because he was a Bass. He wasn't like Nate, whose murmur he could hear on the other side of the door - Nate who reluctantly went along with his family's plans because he loved them, who questioned his place as an Archibald or a van der Bilt and wondered if any of it was really him.
Chuck had never been anything other than a product of his parents. Just like them, he did what he did because he enjoyed being miserable. He was every bit as bad as Bart, every bit as bad as Evelyn. The only goodness he'd ever had in him came from the girl now lying in his arms.
He'd spent the last six years ignoring that every part of him already belonged to that girl; ignoring a single kiss in a limo and the taste of a single tear -
She was his best friend and his childhood sweetheart and his scheming partner and his fuck buddy, and it still wasn't enough. And he still couldn't let her go. He slotted his chin over her head and shut his eyes, breathing her in.
She clung tighter to his shirt like she couldn't let him go either.
"Blair." Dr. Sherman smiled at her as he shook her hand. "It's good to see you again."
Not really, Blair thought as she took the couch. She straightened her grey skirt over tights; it had got noticeably cooler this week, and rain had started to fall outside. Fitting for the miserable hour she had planned in this room. She hadn't been to see Dr. Sherman since she was twelve. Until the incident at the beach, Carter had shown nothing but scorn at the idea of therapy for either of them – and she'd been glad. But once they'd got back from the Hamptons he'd signed her straight up for Dr. Sherman. Who she'd seen until going to Canterbury Academy, where she'd been transferred to the school shrink.
His oak-panelled office didn't seem to have changed in over six years. She still felt ridiculously small on the vast couch, like it was set to swallow her. She sat on the edge of the seat, just like she had when she was twelve, hands in her lap.
"So. Tell me how you've getting on, Blair."
She sat up a little straighter. "Fine. I'm glad to be home. I'm enjoying Columbia. I've just...had a couple of nightmares."
Dr. Sherman nodded. "The same as when you first came to me?"
"Not exactly," she shrugged a little. The truth was that she wouldn't know – she'd lost track. "I mean, it being dark. I can't see. Hiding. Knowing there's someone in the room...that kind of thing."
She didn't need a shrink to tell her they were all a result of trauma from that night. She'd known as much six years ago.
Dr. Sherman nodded again. "And how often do you have these dreams?"
Blair tried not to squirm. "I don't know."
"Every night?"
If she told him every night, then she'd be in therapy for the next six years. She knew as much from school. Besides – she hadn't had any for the past week. Not since she'd moved out of the penthouse. As ever, not since she'd been with Serena, Nate and Chuck.
"No. Just a few times. And now that I'm not in my old room, not at all. I think that must have just triggered them."
She wished Dr. Sherman would stop nodding so understandingly. "So you say you're happy to be home?"
She cleared her throat. "Yes."
"I'm glad to hear it. Did you find it hard at all, having been away for so long?"
"No."
"You don't feel like things have changed since you used to live here? Your friends, for example?"
"No."
The therapist regarded her. "Do you feel that you've changed?"
"No," she said, tightly. "Only for the better."
"The better?"
"I'm the same person I was before my parents died. I feel more like the person I was before then."
There was a moment's silence. "Blair," Dr. Sherman said gently. "Do you remember when you first came to me, when we talked about one of the biggest problems you face?"
"Trust issues? Paranoia?"
"Denial." He readjusted his glasses. "I told you then that it wasn't healthy to go on acting like what happened never did. It's a part of your life, Blair. Accepting it is part of a healthy process."
Blair's eyes narrowed at the man. "I've accepted it. Just because I'm not denying it doesn't mean I have to let it define me."
"No," he shook his head. "Of course not. But it's also about accepting the effects that it has on you. It's natural to want to go back to your old life – human nature clings to the past. But you have to allow yourself room to admit that you've changed. You've adapted. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's growth – it's a part of who you are."
"I'm not clinging to the past," she snapped. Was that what she was doing with Chuck, she wondered? Clinging to him because he'd used to be the only thing she knew? "I'm not," she said rigidly.
Chuck let her be the girl she'd used to be. The girl she wanted to be. The girl that didn't spend an hour in a therapist's office whining about her feelings. A stiff, good little girl who sat with her hands on her lap and let other people tell her how important growth and acceptance and healthy were.
She wasn't weak. With Chuck she was never, never that weak.
"I'm sorry." She turned her attention back to the therapist. "Could we just...take a break? I need some water." She was already on her feet. She walked out of his room and she walked straight past the girl at the desk and out of the building.
She sent Chuck a text.
Meet me in 10? At Bloomingdales.
She'd already told him she'd be shopping. She hailed a cab and climbed into it without a single glance back at Dr. Sherman's clinic.
And, she realised, she had no intention of going back there at all.
Blair had decided that class with Serena was a downright liability. She'd turned up fifteen minutes late to their business lecture, blonde hair flying everywhere and not even a pen to take notes with. Blair had considered pretending not to know her best friend as she smiled brightly and plonked down next to her, much to the lecturer's obvious disapproval. And a number of dark looks from a group of girls in headbands that Blair had already decided were minion material.
Blair, in contrast, had been poised and ready with pens in ten different colours, highlighters, and two different notebooks. Serena had then leaned over to check that this was definitely their psychology class. The lecturer had looked about ready to ask her to leave at that point.
"So," Serena was asking now as they filed out of the building. "I need to ask you about Chuck." She fixed the brunette with a look. "Can you please tell me what's going on? And don't say nothing!"
Blair was suddenly very interested in her purse. "Nothing, S - because there is nothing going on."
"So why were you so long in the shower this morning?" Serena suddenly demanded. "You know, when I went to ask Chuck if could use the boy's bathroom, there was no sign of him. And," she went on, triumphant, "I heard noises." She pulled a face. "No one is that...happy, in the shower."
"The water pressure is very good," Blair replied crisply. "And Chuck had probably already left. He had a big meeting the morning." Which was exactly why she'd helped him unwind in the shower.
Serena's blue eyes narrowed at her best friend. "And you know that why?"
"Because I actually pay attention to my surroundings?" Blair sighed. "Honestly."
That mouth was still pursed at her. "Why do I think you're the one not being honest?"
"Because you have an overactive imagination," Blair informed her. "And I left my notebook in class." She was already turning away. "See you at home, S!"
Serena rolled her eyes good-naturedly and went on her way. She didn't believe her best friend for a second. There was definitely something going on.
Blair waited till the blonde was out of eyesight before she skipped over to a waiting black limo. She was smirking as she slid into the seats, turning to see -
"Carter."
She froze. She turned, too late, to see another limo pull up behind her. As in, Chuck's limo. She twisted back to her big brother.
"This is a nice surprise. I didn't know you were picking me up."
"I'm taking you out to lunch," Carter told her idly. "I haven't seen you all week."
Blair managed a smile. "Oh...yay."
Not that she didn't want to have lunch with her brother. But there were certain other things she'd had planned for her break between class - and they didn't involve sitting in a restaurant.
"So." Her brother gave her a look. "How's living with Chuck?"
"And Serena," Blair pointed out with an eye-roll. "And Nate. And," she admitted, "It's good." She gave him a little grin.
So he had at least made the right choice by suggesting she move in there. Provided Chuck behaved himself, he thought darkly. But she did seem genuinely at ease. "Any more...?"
She shook her head quickly. "No." No, she hadn't had any nightmares since she'd moved in. Though she also hadn't slept alone since she'd moved in, but she pushed that thought away.
"And how's therapy going?" he enquired. "Dr. Sherman as dull as ever?"
"Yes," she forced a smile. "It's fine." Then, more truthfully; "I really do feel a lot better."
Carter's face softened for a fraction of a second. (Not that he'd ever admit it.) "Good," he murmured. "So Greek or Italian?"
"Hey, man." Nate's brow was furrowed in confusion as he stopped next to Chuck's limo, notcing his best friend with the window wound down. "What are you doing here?"
Chuck scowled as he watched the limo Blair had just climbed into pull away. He recognised Carter's lisence plates all too well. Damnit.
Nate, however, had started to grin. "Waiting for someone?"
"Who would I be waiting for?" Chuck responded, still scowling.
"I don't know." Nate paused and gave his friend a look. "Blair, maybe?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Really? So how come your bed doesn't look like it's been slept in at all this week?"
Chuck pulled a face at the blond. "It's called maid service, Nathaniel."
"Uh-huh." Nate was still grinning, anything but convinced. "Whatever, man."
Serena had been so right.
"Is the coast clear?"
Blair slipped out of the elevator and peered round the apartment. Chuck was sitting on the couch with a sheaf of papers; but they were forgotten as he drank her in. She was wearing a trench coat, her hair pulled to the side. She looked delicious.
"Clear," he smirked. Nate and Serena were at the van der Woodsens - Chuck had never been more glad. The blondes had got even more insistent with their questions lately. Blair smirked back as she advanced on him, slowly unbuttoning the coat. His mouth went dry as it slid off her shoulders. She was wearing a cream teddy underneath, lacy underwear and nothing else. His eyes raked over her body. Her tan had finally faded, her skin smooth and pale as she slid onto his lap. His hands ran automatically up her bare thighs. She grinned down at him as her pulled her closer, fingers playing with his tie. She unfastened it and her kisses slipped from his jaw to his neck.
"I missed you," she murmured, teasing.
He tugged her even closer, her hips grinding against his arousal as she raked her hands through his hair and he caught the soft spot of her collar bone. "Then let me make it up to you."
"Carter! How's it going?" Max's contented voice filled Carter's ear as he picked up his cell. "So, guess what? Me and Tish are coming to New York! I take it we can stay at yours?"
"Sure," Carter drawled. Oh, hell. If Tish came to New York he was bound to end up in bed with her again. Especially if she was staying in his apartment. They'd have to be extra careful this time. "Can I ask the occassion?"
"Tish's uncle died," Max said brightly. "Her daddy never got on very well with him, but they're reading the will in a couple of days - so here's hoping!" He chuckled. There was a girl's voice in the background. "Tish?" Max was speaking to whoever it was now. "No, angel, she's no one."
Carter's phone beeped with another call. "I've got to go. Just call me when you get in." He picked up the other line, frowning. He didn't recognise the number. "Hello?"
"Mr. Waldorf? This is Dr. Sherman. I'm just calling because Blair hasn't turned up for her session again today. She hasn't been for the past three weeks - I just wanted to check she's all right?"
Carter had gone very still. "What?"
Blair's sweet skin was flushed against Chuck's as she lay under him on the couch. Their hearts were both still thumping as he gazed down at her dark hair curling around her face. She leaned up to kiss him, grinning, and his hand ran over the soft curve of her neck.
"That's one more surface of this apartment," she murmured as she caught his lower lip, nipping. His grip tighened on her collar bone.
"I can think of three more in this room alone..."
They both suddenly froze as they heard the elevator. Nate and Serena must be back. What the hell were they doing back so early? Blair was already shoving him off, scrabbling for the coat to cover herself up -
And then they both turned to find Carter in the doorway.
Carter stared between the two of them in silence. Chuck's open shirt and discarded tie, Blair's coat buttoned up all wrong. Both their dishevelled hair.
"What the hell is going on?"
His voice was very quiet.
"Carter-"
"I get a call," his voice was low with barely controlled fury, "Saying you didn't turn up to your session with Dr. Sherman - and you're here?" His gaze shot around the room. "With him?"
Eyes narrowing, Blair moved a little closer to Chuck - and at that, Carter lost it.
"You," he spat at Chuck. "You take her out of therapy so you can fuck her-" Blair flinched despite herself, but Carter was beyond noticing. His eyes were on Chuck alone. "-My little sister." His eyes were hard. "You, of all people? After everything you fucking said to me then?" He advanced on Chuck. "You little hypocrite. You knew," he hissed. "You know. And you did it anyway. You can sleep with any whore you want, and you do this to her? After all those fuckinglectures you gave me? After the Hamptons?"
Blair was staring now; staring at Chuck. "What lectures? What are you talking about?" He knew about the therapy now, but she realised that was the least of her concerns. A cold dread had started to fill her. Shame. Carter wasn't talking about the Hamptons trip they'd just taken. He could only be talking about one thing - one time. But Chuck? Chuck had talked to him about it? Chuck had -
'You were the one," Carter snarled, "Who told me she needed help."
Needed help.
Blair Waldorf had needed help. And Chuck had known.
She couldn't quite lift her eyes to look at him - but she was waiting. Desperate. Waiting for him to say he had no idea what Carter was talking about. (Lectures?) Waiting for him to deny ever knowing she needed help. Waiting for him to tell them she was Blair Waldorf and of course she hadn't.
Nothing.
He'd known.
He'd know, the whole time that she was...pathetic. He'd even told Carter about it. And still he was silent now, and suddenly the icy realisation struck her that maybe he'd pitied her. Why else the silence? They didn't do weakness. Not in front of each other. Had he - pitied her? The thought made her feel physically ill.
"I knew it," Carter was spitting. "I knew I should never have let you near her." He grabbed Blair, starting for the door - and she was too humiliated to stop him, because it would have meant looking at Chuck. And she couldn't.
The door slammed shut.
Chuck sank to the couch that had held her just five minutes ago - that still had her indent on the cusions, that still smelt of her - and closed his eyes.
The Hamptons. Six years ago. He'd been lounging in the lifeguard's chair, bored with the heat and his best friend who'd picked the middle of the day to play soccer. Carter was getting high somewhere, and Chuck was watching Blair. Yes, he'd made comments to Carter. If Waldorf doesn't start eating soon, she'll blow away. Waldorf's not fine. Blair's not all right. Serena had noticed too; but what could they do? (What could Chuck Bass do?)
She was functioning. She was functioning too well.
And his comments to Carter did nothing because Carter wasn't all right either. He spent every other day drunk or high. He only stayed in the country for his sister. Otherwise Chuck was sure he would have lost himself in Prague or Dubai long ago. Lily had taken them in, but Lily's life was too hectic for her own two children, let alone two more.
He'd seen her get up from the towel - he'd seen her heading for the sea. Blair didn't like swimming in the sea. It destroyed her hair. He sat up, frowning. He watched between narrowed eyes as she went further and further in. And he realised that his breathing had suddenly caught, because she was too small. She was too small and the sea was too big - and what the hell was she doing?
He pushed down from the chair, picking up the pace as he neared the shore.
Shit.
He couldn't see her any more.
He couldn't see her, and he plunged in without thinking. He caught a flash of white through the salt and he shoved through the water, fixed on getting to it. Getting to her. She was struggling and he nearly lost her as he grabbed her, pulling at her arms, pulling her to his chest and struggling to keep her head above the water.
What the fuck had she been doing? He yanked her through the waves, desperate, lungs bursting till he was finally, finally able to stand up - he lifted her out of the water, limp, dark hair drenched. Her skin was white against the sand as he dropped her there, tilting her head up and searching frantically for a heartbeat - he was aware of Serena running up behind him, shouting - and then Carter, shoving him aside.
The other boy had sobered up instantly - swearing or sobbing, Chuck wasn't sure - as he tried to make his sister breathe; then silent as she coughed, as she turned her head and breathed.
Chuck had found him that night, sober and still grey-faced. "She's not all right."
Chuck had said nothing.
"I thought she had everything together," Carter muttered. "I thought - she goes to school. Her report card's all fucking A pluses. I though she was fine."
Chuck hadn't bothered putting any blame or reproach in his voice. What was the point?
"She's not."
Blair was silent the car journey back, and Carter was too angry to speak. She wasn't about to start a scene in the foyer, anyway. Or the street.
She waited till they were back in the Waldorf penthouse. "Carter," she said, very flatly. "That had nothing to do with you."
He looked at her in disbelief. "My friend," - it was curse, spat - "Is using you, and it has nothing to do with me?"
She didn't bother retorting that he wasn't using her. "Actually, he was my friend first. So, no. Nothing to do with you."
"Chuck Bass," Carter said very lowly, "Is scum." His eyes were hard. "He will chew you up and spit you out. Don't think he won't, Blair. I've seen him, and I've seen the way he treats girls."
Blair folded her arms, furious. "The same way you treat girls, Carter. You've never had a problem with it before - where's this moral high ground coming from?"
He just shook his head. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so angry. "You think," he hissed, "That you can trust him just because you played together in kindergarten? He's not a five year-old any more, Blair." There was so much scorn in his voice that she nearly snapped.
"I'm not an idiot," she seethed. "I don't trust him. But I know him."
Brother and sister faced each other, two pairs of eyes equally fierce. But she did know Chuck. It didn't matter if she'd been away for six years - she knew him. Sometimes better than she knew herself. She knew his faults - every one. She wasn't naive, and she'd never been any under illusions about any part of him. She knew he was selfish and nasty; knew he could be cruel and vain and arrogant.
(Which was why the thought of him pitying her - even helping her - was making her insides cripple. They didn't do that. He didn't do that. Her vanity could deal with anything but that).
"You know him," Carter said at last. He was gazing at her. "So you know that he's nothing but a coward. You know that all he'll ever do is let you down." He was getting at something - Blair just didn't know what. She stiffened, and Carter continued regarding her. "You know that he couldn't even handle seeing you that summer. That he ran away to daddy's hotel."
"Bart wanted him there," Blair said very quietly. She knew what he was talking about. Her first summer back from boarding school.
"When does Bart," Carter sneered, "Ever want him anywhere?" He shook his head. "He ran, Blair. He did what he does best and got the hell out of the country before you could get back from school."
(He'd pitied her).
He'd pitied her, and he'd run. That made sense. That was Chuck. Neither of them could deal with pity. What surprised her was how empty it made her feel. A hollow anger. But why anger? Because deep down, however much she denied it, she knew she couldn't have run, even if she'd wanted to. Not if she'd thought he needed her.
And it was anger at herself for expecting Chuck to do the same. She knew him. Anger. Anger at the thought - the knowledge - that she'd needed him.
"If you'll excuse me," she said icily, "I'm going to my room." She couldn't got back to Chuck's now. Couldn't face him, she realised.
"Blair," Carter snapped.
She jerked out of his hold. "I'm tired."
