"I lied because I wanted to bait him. I was born with a passion for contradiction. My whole life has been nothing but a series of dismal, unsuccessful attempts to go against heart or reason. My heart throbbed. What does it mean? It cannot be that I am in love, though I am so stupidly constituted that such a thing might be probable of me." Pechorin, 'A Hero Of Our Time'.

Blair looked up in surprise as Eric walked into the drawing room. She almost didn't recognise him; she hadn't seen him in well over five years. It was Serena's blue eyes that gave him away.

He didn't waste time taking her hand, but embraced her immediately. She was too taken aback - and too pleased to see him - to protest, though she hadn't let herself be that close to anyone in a while. She hugged him back, laughing.

They had grown up together; he was only a few months younger than she was, and had used to trail Serena around as a child, when he was well enough. Blair had always looked upon him like her own little brother.

"How are you?" he chuckled, looking at her warmly. "It's been a while."

She smiled back - and, for once, it was genuine. "I'm well." It was technically true; she was healthy enough. And she was unused to lying to Eric.

"You haven't been back to Petersburg," he accused gently, eyes still creased in a smile. He had spent his own summer there, catching up with home.

Her smile was fainter this time. "We moved to Moscow."

He just nodded. She could see the silent understanding on his face, and, for some reason, it was a relief. He also seemed to know better than to mention Serena, for which she was grateful. "How's married life?" he asked instead, and she rolled her eyes.

"How's service?" she asked in reply, and he rolled his eyes.

They both laughed.

It was easy; so easy to talk to Eric. Chatter flowed as easily as it once had with another van der Woodsen, though Eric was more softly spoken and had a distinct, quieter intelligence that Blair had always appreciated.

"So," Eric said after a while. "You've seen Chuck." It wasn't a question.

Blair stiffened instantly. "Unfortunately." It was only a slight effort to keep her tone cold, indifferent.

Eric stared at her, and then murmured, "I'm sorry."

She blinked. "For what?"

He tugged at his hair. "If I'd been in Petersburg when Serena and Nate...If I'd known..."

It was her turn to stare.

Eric sighed. "I would've stopped you having no choice but to marry Carter." He smiled gently. "My family probably owe you enough as it is."

Blair felt a lump of gratitude forming in her throat, and she was suddenly overcome with a rush of affection for him. He would've offered to marry her.

"Thank you," she whispered. Then she swallowed, forcing a smile. "But I am fine. I can handle Carter."

"He was furious with me, you know." She was aware that Eric was no longer talking about Carter, and she frowned. "Furious that he didn't know," he explained quietly.

She tried to keep her face blank. "Well," she managed at last. "That always was Chuck's way, wasn't it? Blame everyone but himself."

"Or blame everyone else because he can't blame himself enough." There was no reproach in Eric's tone.

She fell silent, biting her lip to prevent herself from agreeing to what she already knew was the truth. Because she hated Chuck, she reminded herself for possibly the thousandth time.

The silence was broken by the slamming of the front door, and the sound of Carter's voice.

Eric smiled, and squeezed her hand. He knew that was his cue to leave. "Look after yourself," he reminded her gently.

She managed another smile. "You too."

He was tempted to leave altogether. It would be easy, so easy, almost habit, to pack up his carriage and move to the next town. He could do it that very day. He had already half decided on it.

But he had to see her, just one last time, before he left. Even if it was his last opportunity. That was what he told himself as he headed to the gardens he'd learned were next to her house. There was no real reason for her to be there - she could have been anywhere, really.

Except the garden had pine trees like the ones in Petersburg. And it was three o'clock on a Sunday afternoon. And his instinct - wherever that had come from - told him, taunted him, that Blair was still Blair.

He saw her sitting at the little table outside, shielded by a large parasol.

She was reading, but he could tell at a glance that her mind was anywhere but absorbed in the book. Her eyes kept skimming across to some point that he couldn't see - a clear sign that she was troubled. Over-thinking or plotting something; he didn't need to see her face to know that her eyes would be narrowed, her lips pursed.

The afternoon sunlight slanted across part of her skin, setting it alight, despite the protection of the parasol.

"Something occurred to me," Chuck remarked, emerging from the shadows to drop down easily next to her.

She made no sign that his sudden appearance had startled her; if anything, Chuck could have sworn she'd sensed his presence. She probably had.

"Please, do share it," she bit back. "I'm on the edge of my seat."

He ignored her, suppressing his smirk that he'd finally got his sparring partner back. Even if she did loathe him.

"You and Carter have been married almost four years...and yet there are no children from your happy union." His eyes gleamed. "Don't tell me your dear husband is barren?"

Blair just rolled her eyes.

Chuck recalled the air of frustration that Carter had - recalled his desperate leers at other women - and paused.

"Unless," he said slowly. "Unless the marriage is unconsummated, perhaps?" He stared at her.

"Perhaps," she snapped back, "The affairs of my marriage bed are none of your concern."

But he didn't let that deter him. He was still staring at her. "You don't let him touch you." He was probing, but there was a note of marvel in his voice.

She stiffened. "A wife must submit to the will of her husband," she replied shortly.

Her eyes had flashed, though, and Chuck felt a grin spread across his face. "Unless the wife is clever enough to find some way to avoid it," he murmured.

She didn't reply; but he'd already seen the answer in her eyes.

He laughed, genuinely impressed (even if he had no right to be). "You never fail to amaze me."

"I wish I could say the same about you," she answered icily. She got to her feet, taking up her book. "Good bye, Chuck."

But he stood up, too, before she could leave. He didn't touch her, just stood in front of her.

She stared up at him coolly, but didn't move.

"What are you reading?" he asked. His voice was low, almost dangerous, and his eyes never left hers. It wasn't goodbye until he said so.

She rolled her eyes and went to side-step him, but his hand shot out, and he grabbed the book before she could react.

Again, he hadn't touched her, but tugging it out of her hand had inadvertently brought her closer. He turned his eyes to the cover, instead of her face.

"Eugene Onegin?" [1] he mused. "Indulging ourself in a little Pushkin, are we?"

He had read the series when they'd come out a couple of years ago. "This must be one of the first complete publications," he noted. "A gift from a devoted husband, perhaps?"

She didn't bother answering his question, just held her hand out for him to give it back.

He highly doubted Carter had bought her a book.

He passed it back into her outstretched hold, smirking. "Does the story remind you of something, by any chance?"

She smiled sweetly up at him. "You know, it does. The hero is a miserable man who thinks that he's highly intelligent. In reality, though, he's just a heartless fool who ends up with nothing."

Chuck arched an eyebrow back down at her. "Oh, but he's not the only one who ends up losing, is he? What of the heroine? Does she remind you of anyone?" He deliberately leaned in, bringing his face closer to hers. "A beautiful young woman doomed to spend the rest of her life trapped in a miserable marriage?"

Her eyes flared. "No," she snapped, "She doesn't. You see, she makes the mistake of thinking she still cares for the foolish hero. And, fortunately, I can't think of anyone who would be that stupid."

Chuck didn't flinch. "Perhaps she recognised that they were inevitable."

Blair stared at him for a second, eyes widening, and just for a second, her expression was almost stunned.

Then she scoffed in his face. "Inevitable? Have you heard yourself, Bass?" She sneered at him. "I wasn't aware you believed in fate."

"I don't," he snapped back. God, how he wanted to provoke her; he longed to push and push her till he broke that barrier. His mouth twisted. "Just human nature." His voice dropped, eyes raking over her very slowly. It had to get under her skin. "Its inability to withstand temptation."

She merely rolled her eyes. "As I said, not all humans are that stupid. Some can actually use their minds to control their bodies." She appraised him. "A hard concept though that may be to grasp."

And suddenly he closed the gap, tilting her face up to him, very gently, fingers cupping her chin. To make those eyes stay on his.

"I'd be careful, if I were you," he murmured, very softly. "Declare war on me, and I'll show you no mercy."

But, to his surprise, she moved in instead of away, slender fingers suddenly closing on front of his shirt.

"Well," she whispered back, "Then it's a good thing I don't need your mercy to destroy you." And with that, she pressed her small foot down on his, hard, making him wince in genuine pain.

She smirked at his expression and released him, stepping away.

"Now good bye, Chuck."

And she sauntered off, tossing him a triumphant glance over her shoulder, eyes gleaming back at his. He watched her go, and he couldn't stop his own, very small grin from forming, despite - or perhaps because of - his now throbbing foot.

That was when he knew he wasn't going anywhere.

[1] 'Eugene Onegin' - a book in verse by Alexander Pushkin, written a few years before Lermontov's 'Hero Of Our Time'. The 'hero' of the book, Onegin, is a lot like Pechorin's character - bitter and cynical. The 'heroine' is a young girl who falls in love with him, but he abandons her because he doesn't think he cares about her. When he sees her again, she's (unhappily) married to someone else, and he realizes too late that he does love her...and they can never be together.