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Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing and checking whether or not I've been updated! I love all of you! This episode is kind of short but very important... lmao you might hate me but trust me that it's essential. Otherwise, enjoy.

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"Thanks for giving me a lift, Blair." I say over the blaring horns of the morning New York rush hour. I wince as it ignites my headache into a full-blown migraine. "And thanks for the breakfast." I groan as I take a massive gulp of the black coffee which is warming my cold hands.

"What are friends for?" She mutters suspiciously as she eyes my unattractive snotty nose and equally unattractive fingerless gloves. "Just don't get bagel crumbs or you germs on my Italian leather seats." I scoff, which makes a disgusting 'squelch' in my throat. "I'm serious! Nate said that he'd take me to lunch during break and I need this car to be clean and for me not to be sick."

I'd had this cold for the last few days and it was wearing me down – I'd hardly been able to get my homework done or even pay attention in class. I just want to curl up in bed with a mug of soup but unfortunately that doesn't get you into Princeton. I just couldn't bear to get the bus again so I'd called in a favour.

"I'll be careful." I croak out before stuffing the rest of the breakfast bagel into my mouth. As I do so ketchup escapes from my barely touching lips and lands on my white shirt. A muffled expletive grunts out from the food I'm chewing as my fingers try to clean up the mess.

"Don't worry, you can sort it out when we stop off at Victrola."

Swallowing the goodness, I look at her with an accusing eye. "Why are we going to a burlesque club before school?"

"Chuck wants to get my advice on his proposal for his father."

"Chuck? Chuck Bass is taking an interest in something other than parties and girls?" A disbelieving laugh is tagged on the end of the shocked admittance, "I'll believe it when I see it."

A few minutes later, we arrive outside of the club, which is as quiet as you'd expect it to be at 8 o'clock in the morning. Chuck waits outside, leaning against the wall with an excited and proud smirk on his face. Instead of his uniform, Bass is in a suit and tie. I'm surprised at the seriousness that he's already showing towards this plan he has. Despite my earlier admissions it's definitely a nice change to see him actually excited about something real.

Climbing out of the town car, Blair and I are greeted with an enthusiastic (or as enthusiastic as Chuck Bass can sound), "Good morning." Before he quickly ushers us inside the establishment. However, just before he begins my phone rings. The screen lights up and an unknown number rings. I give a quick apology to Chuck and he excuses me with a wink and I flip open the phone and answer with a "Hello, this is Evie Elma?"

"Hi there Miss Elma, it's Jane Matthews, your landlord. I'm calling about the rent."

Starting to get worried, I think back to how much money is in my bank and how much money I needed to pay for the loft, "Is everything okay?"

"Not really, I've received no payment from you for this month or the last. Will you able to pay it in the next two weeks?"

Crap. The money my parents leant me must of bled out and I really don't want to ask them for more (purely because the last thing I want is for my parents to get worried and fly back) and I haven't even thought about finding a new job.

"Um… yeah, yeah that's fine. Sorry about that, there must be a mix up at the bank." I lie. In reality, I could probably afford to take out half of it from my savings account. But the other half I'd need to earn. Fast.

"Alright then. I expect to hear from you in a fortnight. Have a nice day, Miss Elma." And with that, she hangs up.

Part of the requirement for my emancipation is that I need to have a job. The only exception to this rule is for special circumstances and the court agreed to allow my parents to temporarily fund me whilst I… resolved these special circumstances. This included not having to be employed. But now that I'm back in school and there is no reason for me to be out of work I need to get a job quick otherwise I'll have to move to Russia to live with my parents. Which would be a disaster of immense proportions. Trust me on that.

Stalking grumpily back into the club, with a face that could make a thousand babies cry, I interrupt Chuck and Blair with a sigh so loud I'm sure my landlord could hear it from wherever her evil castle is.

"Something wrong, Evie?" Asks Chuck, leaning against the bar top whilst I plump myself on a seat.

"I have to find a job in the next few days or I'm screwed."

A Cheshire cat smile spreads across his face as he gestures around him, "Look no further! I can get you a job here like 'that'." He snaps his fingers, emphasising his point. "In fact, I'd happily pay top dollar for a few private shows..."

Bleakly, I reply, "Gee. Thanks. It's been my lifelong dream to strip naked in front of strangers and hide behind feathers."

"Like that's ever stopped you before." Interjects Blair smarmily, obviously referring to my wild party days when I would in fact dance semi-naked in front of strangers. I give her the finger.

"Anyway, enough about my own problems," I turn my attention to Chuck, "So do you think your father will go for it?" I ask seriously, looking around at the joint which has its own unique charm to which I can see why Chuck has become so interested in it… but Bart Bass on the other hand might not feel the same way.

"It is exactly the kind of innovative thinking upon which the Bass Empire was built. It is the perfect thing." He grabs a hold of my shoulders, almost embracing me in his excitement and I can't help but get excited with him, "I've been waiting for this."

"I'm happy for you, Chuck." I commend, with a genuine smile – not derisive or sarcastic. "I hope it goes well." Warmth radiates in his eyes at my praise and a fleeting moment of what seems like normality passes between us. Just two friends, sharing the happiness. No underlying tension or angst.

Blair looks at her watch with increasing impatience, "We are so late!" She says, grabbing my elbow and pulling me towards the door. "Are you coming?"

Chuck shakes his head, holding up his leather case which I assume has his presentation in it, "Gotta pitch it to Bart. Victory party here tomorrow! Evie, make sure you're there."

"I wouldn't miss it." I say, wiping my nose with one hand whilst Blair drags me out by the other.

"I'll send a car."

"Don't be nervous." Blair calls from behind her shoulder. "He's gonna love it."

And if he doesn't, I think to myself as we get back in the car and head towards school, then its back to the old Bass.

…

"So," begins Blair as she, Serena and I sit on the steps of the St Billiards' courtyard, snacking on berries and nuts for our lunch. "I heard on Gossip Girl that you were having sex with Dan out here…" She turns an accusatory smile to her blonder best friend, "In streaming video."

"Ugh! God, Kati and Is filmed us?" Serena groans whilst I chuckle at the predicament, knowing full well what it's like for everyone on the Upper East Side to have access to your not-so-private life.

"Oh, it's all very 'High School Musical' scandalous." I take a strawberry and plunge it in the pot of Nutella, making sure that there's more chocolate spread then fruit. "And no, they haven't streamed it yet, but… I heard it was… aggressive."

I scoff, "By that she means it was full blown pornographic."

"Yeah sure, almost as pornographic as you licking the chocolate dip off of your fingers." My middle finger pops out of my mouth as she says this, poetic. "But joking aside, I must say that Dan has been surprisingly good at everything we've done."

Whilst I pretend to hurl, Blair's virgin interest peaks, "Which is… everything?" She spurs on.

"No!" Serena laughs, shocked, "But feel free to ask any personal questions."

"But you've talked about it, right?"

"No, mom, we haven't." Serena leans back and slaps my hand away from her food, "and stop stealing my food."

"Hey," I say with a wink, "If Dan can eat your strawberries, why can't your best friend?"

"Don't be so crude, Evie, you sick potty-mouth." Scolds Blair with a face as though she's sucking on a lemon, making Serena and I laugh more, "And may I remind you S. that this is your first real boyfriend, and in relationships you talk about stuff."

"I know, I know," Serena reasons, her laughter dying down, "but I don't know, sometimes talking about it or planning it can ruin a good thing, you know?"

"Oh, get over it Serena and get laid. At least one of us need to be having sex." I put forth, feeling the frustration of the situation get to me: Blair wanting to do it but not being able to make it perfect and Serena avoiding it like the plague because she's scared of what it might lead to – but there's no need to over think it. If it's safe and consensual, it'll happen naturally. "As long as you're not worried."

"Well, I'm not," Serena certifies, "But I don't know, he might be. Is it possible for a guy to want to slow things down?"

"Only the guys we like." States Blair, "But with you, I can't imagine why." She finishes on a sombre note probably remembering the fact that her own boyfriend won't have sex with her but he'd definitely do it with Serena, who just rolls her eyes and shoves another strawberry into her mouth.

…

The first place I went into, they wouldn't even look at my application. It was a high-end fashion store (one of those places with white wash walls, minimalist furniture and staff who wear frankly depressing expressions) and they took one look at my ripped jeans and worn sweater and turned their expensive noses up at me. The second place was arguably more successful: the poor woman behind the sandwich counter grabbed my application without really thinking, nodding without looking at me as she stumbled about her little shop, sweaty and frantic to fill all the orders given to her by the rowdy crowd. Many of the other places I tried were the same – either they didn't want me or didn't really need me. I had been working my way up and down Manhattan since the end of school and I was no closer to getting a job than I was this morning. I'd handed out almost all of the job applications I'd filled out and all that was left was a few copies of my resume. Hopeless and pissed off, I collapse into an empty bench on the sidewalk and watch the cars drive by with their icy clouds of smoke and petrol fumes making a satisfying distraction, as I wait for my solution to appear out of nowhere.

I was only just starting to feel the cold when my phone chimed.

Spotted: Bass drunk off his ass at the palace bar, drinking away his woes and his investment capital.

A year ago, reading something like that would've made me crack a snarky smile and think 'Oh, poor Bass. Heaven forbid he can't buy a strip club' but what is making me click on his caller ID is an emotion that is entirely new when it comes to Chuck: sympathy.

He picks up on the fourth ring and this is how I know that he's more than a little tipsy.

"Normally I'd be ecstatic that you called me. But today is not one of those days, Angel." Chuck speaks into the receiver, his voice coming out in his usual huskiness but the hint of despondency isn't missed by me. "I'm not at my best."

"Yeah," I reply with an exasperated laugh, "that makes two of us." A chuckle is heard at the other end of the line but it's not Chuck's usual hearty chortle.

"Do you want to drink about it?" He proposes suggestively, the slight tone of playfulness already beginning to cheer me up.

"Truthfully I don't know if I'll be able to catch up with you." I say with a smile, "But, now that you mention it, I could do with a teeny-tiny favour?"

"Let me guess. You want a job?" Resigning myself to humiliation (as it's never pleasant to ask for help when you know you can do it by yourself), I bare my teeth and pluck up the courage to agree. "And what do I get in return?"

I could've pretended to think about it, to play dumb or act as though he was still the same sleazy Chuck Bass who propositioned my best friend on our first day back in New York but that would be lying. Chuck Bass has made me think that he isn't all he seems to be and a question like that isn't what is seems to be.

"How about a date?" I question, unabashed and unashamed. If Blair were here she'd tell me to give him a chance and that is what I fully intend to do. After the night of the masquerade ball he kind of deserves my better judgement.

"I'd me a complete fool to say no to you Miss Elma. It's a deal."

I made my way home after that, more than relieved to get through the door of my heated apartment, shed my boots for warm slippers and relax, knowing that employment was secured – and that Chuck was the one to help me secure it.

…

"Crap. Crap. Crap." The mantra is repeated, my voice rising in volume as I become increasingly frustrated. With two minutes until my cap arrives, one shoe dangling off my foot and the other missing, with my house keys seemingly disappearing into thin air and my styled hair already falling apart, I feel like a mess. "Shit on it." I exclaim as the foot that is bare hits the side of my sofa as I rush towards the telecom when the insistent buzzing continues. Pressing down on the mic with more force than I necessary I burst out a "Yes, yes, I'll be down in two minutes!"

"Evie. It's Nate. Can I come up?" Suddenly, I freeze. Thinking that I'm going mad, I check the time. And then check it again because I was meant to be at the club 45 minutes ago and yet, here Nate is on my doorstep when he should've been there already.

"Yeah, sure." I reply, buzzing him in autonomously. "I guess I should put the coffee pot on." I mutter to myself as I resign to take my one shoe off and pad my feet into the kitchen to start making drinks. Nate sounds like he needs it. A minute later my door opens and shuts with a soft click. I turn towards Nate with two mugs of black coffee in my hand which I almost drop when I see his bloody and bruising lip. "Jesus Christ! What happened?" I exclaim, setting the drinks on the coffee table, grabbing a damp cloth and ushering Nate over to my couch.

"It's kind of a long story. You don't have to hear it if you want to go and see Chuck… I just don't really want to go home just yet."

"Are you kidding me, Nate? You look like a kicked puppy." I start to dab at his swollen lip to clean the blood, cringing in sympathy every time he winces. "As if I'm going to leave you upset and alone. Chuck will understand." Or at least I hope he does.

"The day of the masquerade party Chuck and I found drugs belonging to Dad." I pause in my administrations, shocked. I drop the cloth and lean back on the sofa, utterly dumbfounded that Howard could've gotten into something like this. "He's got a serious problem, E. He'd rather pin the drugs on his son then face his mistakes and I've had enough of it."

"Is he the one that hit you?" A sullen nod is my answer and I immediately wrap my arms around him. "I'm sorry, Nate."

After that Nate told me everything on his mind: Nate's bitterness towards his father's choices and how annoyed he is that Blair never seemed to have the time for him – only when it was convenient to her. Hearing about their breakup startled me as I know how deeply they do care about each other but I suppose it was just the wrong time for them to be together. In return I spilled some of my own guts. It was so nice to have everything slow down for a second and Nate was a good listener. I told him about my worries about money and not wanting to have to fall back on my parents (who are just waiting for me to fail. I also told him about Chuck who, up until recently, I had no faith in. However, so much has changed in such a short period of time and Chuck Bass is no longer the spoiled and ruthless playboy. Instead he's driven rather than vain and charisma and charm have overtaken his previous sleaziness.

"Be careful with him." Nate said when I had finished presenting my observations, "I've noticed it too but that doesn't mean who he was a month ago isn't very much still apart of him."

"You remember what I was like a year ago," I remind him, "and if I can change, why can't Chuck?"

Nate didn't say anything after that, instead he chose to call it a night – or morning as time had flown by and by the time we'd finished talking it was almost one o'clock and our coffees were stone-cold – giving me a friendly hug and slipping out of the door, his shoulders not carrying as much weight as they were when he walked in.

Stretching out a huge yawn, I loosen my hair from its bun, climb into the cosiest pyjamas I own and crawl into bed finally feeling the effect of the last two days. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I send Chuck a quick apologetic text explaining why I didn't turn up and assuring him that we'll celebrate his win on another occasion. Having clicked 'send', I drop the phone and snuggle into the duvet, fully content with the world.

And then the chime of my phone breaks the content silence.

In the dark, I fumble for my phone assuming it's a reply from Chuck only when I open an eye to look Blair's ID presents itself on the screen.

Evie, please call me when you get this. Something happened.

Can you guess why you should hate me?

Just know that Chuck and Blair's limo scene isn't as romantic as in the show - you'll find out more next chapter.

I also apologise for any mistakes (I haven't proof read it) and for the lack of Evie/Chuck scenes - their will be MANY more in the next chapter.

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